#nightmare knows he should have returned sooner

[skittlesking]

Cross calm down

Nightmare talk about why he's here & then judge from there okay?, don't jump to conclusions just yet.

At least listen to what he has to say, it's the least you can do

Cross is a bit more understanding now. He won't let Nightmare off easy, but obviosly there are much more pressign matters

(also replies may be a bit slow. between the storm and me falling ill again. started this earlier but fell asleep my bad-)

[entwined-fxte]

never let go.

a/n: listen i know i just wrote nightmare trope on my other blog but this is for my fragmented dreams fans (it's me i'm the fan). also BIG shoutout to that anon a few days ago cause i wasn't feeling motivated until i saw that in my inbox anon u are my whole world

content: soothing a certain doctor after a hard night.

WARNINGS: brief depictions of a nightmare (zayne's pov)

zayne × gen!reader (you/your).

fluff + comfort.

it was hard to see zayne like this. already exhausted from long nights of risky procedures, he could barely get any rest from his nightmare plagued mind. day after day, you saw the fatigue building up, his eyes dull no matter what he did. you decided you'd seen enough, and if anything, you were sure that he'd had enough as well.

luckily, it wasn't hard to get zayne to accept an invitation to stay overnight at your place. perhaps it was the tiredness that made his mind bleary, having him say yes before he even realised. or perhaps it was the idea of having you around him; sleep wasn't easy whether he was alone or with someone else, but zayne couldn't deny that you being close soothed his mind ever so slightly.

“ready to go home?” you poked your head through his office door, catching a glimpse of a the tail end of a yawn.

zayne turned his head to look at you, gaze foggy as he tried to process it all. he gave a low hum in return, pushing his chair back to give him room to stand up. “you're earlier than i thought you'd be.”

you slipped through the doorway, shutting it behind you with your foot as you made your way in. “i cleared the wanderer zone pretty quickly. after all, i'm a really good hunter,” you laughed, setting your backpack down on the ground to stretch.

“really now?” the corners of zayne's mouth curled up in amusement. you wondered when the last time he really smiled was. he stifled another yawn as he hung his lab coat up, exchanging it for a grey cardigan. “let's get going.”

you ordered delivery to your apartment while zayne drove back to your place. the silence was comforting, and yet, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more going on in zayne's mind that he let on. as you stepped out of the car, you shot the doctor a worried look. “i know you're usually not talkative, but is there something that's bothering you?”

zayne said nothing, instead shrugging his bag onto his shoulder and nodding towards your building. although quiet, you were certain you heard him whisper a low “later,” as he locked the car doors and headed off.

the delivery man caught you just before you closed your front door, handing the bag off to you before scuttling away. the sight made you laugh, and to your delight, zayne was also chuckling under his breath. after a moment, you shuffled him inside, setting the food down on the counter and your bag next to the couch. “you shower first, zayne. i'm gonna make some tea first.”

“sure.” with muffled steps, zayne disappeared into the washroom, leaving you to your own devices. it wasn't long before there were two cups of tea on the counter, and you carefully sipped yours while waiting for zayne to finish. he was silent when he came out; you didn't realise he had finished until you felt his arms wrap around your waist and his nose bury into your hair. you placed a hand on top of his, ghosting over the backs of his knuckles as he spoke. “you’re warm.”

“mmhmm. and as per usual, you're freezing.” you craned your neck up to look at him, reaching up with your other hand to trace his jawline. “here’s your tea. you can go ahead and start eating if you're hungry, too. i should freshen up.” zayne made a quiet sound of affirmation, slowly releasing you from his grasp while you shifted off your chair. a part of you hurt to leave him like that, but you figured that the sooner you could finish your night routine, the better.

you came out of the shower not long after, padding back into the living room to find zayne sitting comfortably on your couch with a book open. “zayne,” you called softly, waiting for him to turn his head up at you. when he did, you grabbed at the spine of the book, folding it closed before taking it away from him. “i invited you over to take it easy, not to read the medical journals you snuck back with you. did you even eat anything?”

zayne hummed in response, as he always did. “yes. i set aside your favourites already.”

“that wasn’t exactly necessary,” you mumbled. “anyways, it’s getting late. aren’t you tired?”

he placed the book down on the coffee table, shoulders slouching as he leaned forward. “it’s nothing more than usual.”

“liar.” with your lips pressed into a thin line, you leaned down towards the raven haired man, poking at his forehead accusingly. “you actually look even worse than usual.”

“how kind of you.” you tapped at his forehead a few more times, only stopping when zayne took your hand in his and pulled it down. you could hardly feel the way his fingers tightened around yours, but his expression gave him away.

with a sigh, you took your free hand and ran it through his hair. “come on. if i can protect linkon city from wanderers, i think i can protect you while you’re asleep.”

in a rare moment of vulnerability, zayne pressed further into your palm, exhaling softly as he did. “then i suppose we can give it a shot.”

cheering internally, you couldn't help the smile that creeped onto your face. the hand that zayne had trapped in his began to pull him up from the couch, waiting until he was steady on his feet before leading him to your bedroom. once inside, you crawled on top of the mattress, never once letting go of him as he followed suit. the last remaining traces of the sunset glow slowly disappeared from sight, leaving your bedroom under the gentle cascade of moonlight. you let go of zayne for a second to hop off the bed again, switching off the ceiling light and then returning to lay down next to him.

a low chuckle sounded from his chest as you bounced in your spot. “well? what's your great plan this time?”

“the plan is to wait until you fall asleep.”

“and do you expect that to happen soon?”

“i do.” you adjusted yourself onto your side. with some effort, you threw the blanket over yourself and zayne, burrowing your body in for a brief second before stretching out and beckoning to him. “come here.” zayne didn’t bother with a response, only giving you an unreadable look. but after a few seconds, zayne resigned, bringing himself towards you. you couldn’t help but give him an exasperated look when he stopped further from you than you wanted. “closer,” you murmured, sliding an arm around his waist and tugging him in. “i can’t hold you if you’re so far away.”

a sigh slipped past his lips. yet despite the way he sounded annoyed, zayne accepted the invitation, tucking his head down into the dip of your shoulder as he wound his arms around you. legs became tangled in seconds, and you could’ve sworn you felt him sigh in relief when you started carding your hand through his hair. “so your plan is to make sure i can’t run away,” zayne hummed against your skin. you laughed at the accusation, and for a fleeting second, zayne felt like the sound could heal him from anything.

“i might as well try to keep you from working.” were it possible, you would have pulled him closer. instead, you settled by pressing your lips to the crown of his head. “sleep, zayne. i won’t let go.”

the words echoed in his mind, resonated in his heart; but the next time he opened his eyes, there was only an empty space next to him. “y/n?” panic rooted in his chest, sitting upright to find nothing but silence. zayne climbed off the bed, fear driving him to look through the windows. outside, wanderers flooded the streets, turning it into a sea of black. for a moment, zayne caught a familiar face; and he could do nothing but watch as you were drowned in the abyss.

you kept stroking up and down his back rhythmically, attempting to soothe zayne’s restless movement. eventually, his eyes flew open, gaze misty as he suddenly gripped onto you. you waited until his breathing steadied, continuing to draw circles into his skin even after he had calmed. “another nightmare?”

zayne exhaled deeply, turning his face down so he could press his forehead against your collarbone. “you didn’t let go.”

your other hand returned to his head, playing with the hair at the base of his neck. “i told you i wouldn’t.” the way zayne shivered didn’t go unnoticed. unsure if it was the cold or his fear, you tightened the blanket around the both of you as best you could. “go back to sleep. it hasn’t even been two hours.”

zayne spoke again, barely audible. “will you let go?” and then he felt your chin, gently moving side to side across his head.

“not in a million lifetimes.”

silence fell like snow, with only the sound of your intertwined breathing filling the room. with a final sigh, zayne closed his eyes and pressed himself into you, searing your warmth into his soul as if it were the last time he could.

and this time, when zayne dreams, he dreams of a certain hunter, and of a field of jasmines.

a/n: happy actual first post!! the urge to write "rei" instead of zayne and "MC" instead of "y/n" was ridiculously high. also his new card?!?#?@?@: i'm on the ground ......

reblogs are really appreciated (´ω｀) ♡

[freelancearsonist]

so scarlet, it was...

➔ post-outbreak Joel Miller x afab!Reader - series masterlist

➔ 1.3k words

➔ “Go ahead, yell your fucking head off. That’ll make everything okay, won’t it?”

➔ Rated MA for dark fic kinda, a/b/o themes (alpha joel, omega reader), established... situationship? i guess, pregnancy/contemplation of termination, contemplation of self harm, reader is not in a good headspace. one instance of vomiting, joel is not very nice, this fic in general is not very nice. takes place three years post outbreak. [please let me know if i missed any warnings so i can add them in :)]

➔ thank you so much to my darling @bitchwitch1981 for the prompt, i'm so sorry this is probably very much not what you wanted 🤣 extra special thank you to @perotovar for making this wonderful joel gif for me, if ur reading this ily <3

You’ve never actually used one of these things before. You’ve only read about them in books or seen them in movies from years ago, and they’ve only ever been an object of abject horror.

You understand why now, looking down at those two little lines on the stick cradled in your hand. You’ve never been quite so terrified in your life.

You never should’ve pocketed this test when you found it in that miraculously untouched drug store. You could’ve stayed blissfully unaware. Better yet, you should’ve been more careful. Three years of living like this has been more than enough to make you firm in your decision to never bring life into this broken world. This isn’t a place for a child, this is barely even a place for you. Every day is a fight, every waking moment is a nightmare. But you’ve been so careless with him and now it’s all crashing down, this blissful bubble where you can pretend that everything might be okay because you have the pack and, more importantly, him. 

You won’t have him for much longer when he finds out about this.

You wonder what it’ll take to right this wrong before he finds out about it. It must be pretty early, so maybe it won’t take much to reverse it. Maybe all you’ll have to do is bump into something just right, or trip over the right log.

The thought makes you sick–more stomach bile than anything else coming up because you’ve hardly had more to eat than stale beef jerky and some precarious berries in the past few days. Resources have been so slim; another reason this can’t be happening. You hardly have enough to tide you over, much less a child. And it’ll be even worse once the pack abandons you.

You bury yourself into the haphazard nest of blankets and his worn clothes, letting the heavy, musky scent of him soothe your wracking sobs. 

Maybe you should just accept your fate now, sacrifice yourself for the good of the pack. Everyone is going to die eventually, after all–sooner rather than later in this world. You’ve only been postponing the inevitable. They never have to know why you do it, and it’ll be one less mouth to feed. Two, technically, but they’ll never have to know that. He won’t even really miss you, it’ll be one less burden on his hands. On all of their hands.

You don’t hear them return early from scavenging–maybe because the volume of your own sobs drowns out any other noise. Or maybe because he can sense something is wrong as he enters the run-down little shack you’ve been holed up in for the past few weeks, and he softens his approach because of it.

Joel has never been quite as tender as he is when he takes you into his arms, pulling your face out of the pile of fabric to wipe at your tear-streaked cheeks.

“My omega, shhhh, I’m here. It’s okay,” he murmurs, wrapping you into his big, strong, safe arms. He doesn’t know. Maybe he thinks you had a nightmare, or you just missed him, or a million other things except the truth. But he doesn’t know, and you know he doesn’t know because you feel the moment he connects the dots. His eyes drop to the little white stick clutched tightly in your fist and his entire body stiffens like a board. Suddenly there’s no more warmth or comfort to his touch, nothing soothing about the pheromones drifting from him. He pulls away like you’re infected, and maybe you are. Maybe the thing that’s taken root in you is worse than cordyceps could ever hope to be.

You’ve never been terrified of him before. Joel is dark and brooding and imposing, but he’s only ever fought to protect you. His omega, who wormed their way under his skin despite him fighting it every step of the way. His omega, who’s been the only source of anything remotely close to comfort he’s had since outbreak day. His omega, who’s given him purpose in this dark world.

His omega, who’s betrayed him in such an unforgivable way.

“What the fuck.” There’s nothing but venom in his tone–he looks at you with pure disgust and your resolve crumbles.

Maybe there was a little, tiny, miniscule part of you that hoped it would be different. That he would be excited to be a father, or at least be understanding. But that hope dies so suddenly when you look up into his scowling face. He towers over you, dark eyes flashing with anger, and for the first time since you met him two long years ago you’re scared.

“You were supposed to be careful.” His voice rises further and further with each syllable, as if this isn’t partially his fault too. As if he wasn’t the one in such an uncontrollable rut last month that he kept you in bed all week, losing the willpower required to pull out with each powerful thrust of his hips. As if it isn’t his seed blooming in your womb as you speak.

“What do we do now, huh?” He growls, eyes darkening, fists clenching at his sides. “I’ve fucking marked you, I can’t turn you loose! And we barely make it by as we are! How the fuck are we supposed to handle this?”

He rants for what seems like hours and you flinch with every booming word, curling tighter around yourself in a desperate attempt to simply disappear; to not have to deal with this any more because your heart shatters with each irreversible word he throws at you. You shrink and shrink and shrink in hopes of vanishing because this is undoable. No matter what happens, nothing will ever go back to the way it was and that’s the knowledge that crushes you completely.

Your voice is so small when he finally quiets enough for you to speak. “Go ahead, yell your fucking head off. That’ll make everything okay, won’t it?”

Joel stops in his tracks, white knuckles unclenching for the first time in minutes. He sees the fear and regret in your eyes, and he almost lets it soften him. He loathes himself for this look on your face–for making you scared of him.

His omega. So small and fragile, curled in a pile of his clothes because his scent brings you comfort. He’s dedicated two years of his time and effort to keeping you safe and comfortable, if not happy. He’s supposed to protect you, not hurt you. He’s supposed to give you children and raise them with you, be a family with you. That’s what being your alpha means, and he has so sorely failed you. 

But he knows he can never do that again. That’s never what this was supposed to be. He didn’t mark you out of anything but necessity–if he had let your uncontrolled scent waft every time you went into heat, every alpha in the country would be targeting your little pack of four. You’re his omega out of biological necessity–a warm hole to fill when his rut threatens to tear already strenuous ties with his brother and Tess. That’s what he tells himself because the alternative is so startlingly incomprehensible that he won’t allow himself to even consider the fact that he might care about you; that the urge to care for you and protect you is more than primal, biological instinct; that you mean more to him than anyone ever has.

Not just his omega now, but his mate. His unborn child is growing and growing and growing with each passing second inside your womb and he’s powerless to stop it.

“We’re thirty-seven miles from the Boston QZ,” he growls from somewhere deep in his chest. “We leave at first light.”

You don’t get a chance to argue or plead your case before the door slams shut behind him. 

➔ beta: @beskarandblasters and @fhatbhabie

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[blindmagdalena]

The Cuckoo's Nest

18+ 6.3k siren!homelander x f!reader. dub/noncon, infidelity, mind/emotional manipulation, gaslighting, voice kink, masturbation, penetrative sex, fingering, blood, gore, cannibalism? creampie, stalking, minor character death, praise kink, good girl/pretty girl.

The gentle and pleasing voice of the cuckoo bird has made it a renowned herald of spring, and perhaps one of the most famous of songbirds. One would never guess merely by looking at it that it is a predatory parasite.

What you thought would be a dream job working for Vought as Homelander's very own secretary turns into a surreal waking nightmare as reality and dreams converge in a confusing mess. The only coherent thread that strings it all together is the alluring pull of Homelander's unnatural voice.

written for Monsterlander Mania. fair warning, this fic is fairly dark! thank you so much @anon-nee for this amazing banner art. 🖤

When you were hired as Homelander’s secretary, the gig had been pitched as a cushy desk job. Now that he’s the new face of Vought, and Ashley the company CEO, he needs someone who will keep his day to day affairs in order. Apparently, you’re just the person for that job.

“You probably won’t see much of him,” Ashley tells you distractedly. She rarely ever looks away from her phone for long.

“There are two landlines on your desk. The left one is for general business, and the one on the right, the red one, is exclusively for him. Don’t make calls on it. He has the number memorized, he’s the only one who’ll ever call it, so make sure you always answer it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you say diligently.

Glancing over, Ashley does a double take. “Aren’t you married? Where’s your ring?”

You falter, looking down at your hands. “Oh,” you say, taking said ring out of your pocket. “I put hand cream on earlier, I just forgot to put it back on.”

“Make sure you keep that on,” she says, giving you a critical look before returning her gaze to her phone. “He’s particular.”

What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Nevertheless, you make sure to always keep your wedding ring on while you’re at work.

True to Ashley’s word, you see neither hide nor hair of Homelander during your first three days. You make his appointments, you take calls on his behalf, and you organize his bookings.

In your office, directly across from your desk, hangs a borderline comically oversized portrait of him that stares relentlessly at you as you work. You often find yourself staring back at it, the back of your neck prickling with the irrational feeling of being watched.

You know that it’s just in your head, but you can’t help but be put off by the feeling. Sometimes you consider covering the portrait, but the last thing you want is for the man to appear out of the blue and see a blanket thrown over his likeness.

Your instinct proves correct.

“Hey you,” comes a voice like silk. You startle, looking up from your desk to find a shock of red, white and blue standing in your doorway, his arms folded casually behind his back.

“Homelander,” you say, nearly choking on the name. “Sir, hello. I’m–”

“I know,” he interjects smoothly, cape swaying behind him as he passes the threshold, making his way over to your desk. That voice. He’s not even said five words to you yet, but it lingers in your ears like warm honey, causing a flush of warmth to roll through you. You convince yourself that you’re just embarrassed to have been caught so thoroughly off guard. “My new secretary. Sorry I couldn’t stop by sooner.”

“Oh, there’s no need to apologize, sir. I know better than most how–” you hesitate, watching as he takes a turn and begins walking directly towards you, circling behind your desk. “–busy you are,” you finish, looking up at him as he looms over you. You wonder if you should stand, but he’s so close to you now, you’d just knock right into him.

He smells good. Earthy and slightly sweet, like vetiver.

“That’s pretty,” he remarks, gesturing to your ring finger. “Sapphire, huh? Unusual choice.”

You swallow, trying desperately to reign in the cadence of your breath. Your heart is pattering as wildly as rain drops. “Thank you. My husband chose it, it’s his birthstone.”

To which Homelander giggles. It’s a delighted, slightly off-putting little noise. “P’wow, he gave you a ring with his birthstone, huh? Really staking his claim,” he says, reaching down to take your hand. He looks at you just before he makes contact. His eyes are even bluer than the stone in your ring. “May I?”

Dumbstruck, you nod, lifting your hand and placing it in his upturned palm. He sits on your desk and turns your hand this way and that, watching the way your ring catches the light. Eventually, his gaze slips back to yours. “Happily married?”

“Very,” you say immediately, your throat suddenly dry.

He smiles, and only then do you notice how unusually sharp his canines are.

“Good. Glad to hear it,” he says, giving your hand a gentle pat before he lets it go. You immediately drop your hand into your lap, touching your ring. You feel strangely lightheaded all of a sudden, unable to look away from his piercing gaze. Even when he isn’t speaking, you can still hear the warmth of his tone echoing all around you.

“Well, it was a pleasure to meet you,” he says, standing from your desk with preternatural elegance, as if he’d floated more than lifted himself.

“Please, the pleasure was all mine,” you say with a smile, somewhat dazed. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

He looks pleased as punch at that. “I’ll try not to be such a stranger, hmm?” he purrs, reaching out to give your shoulder a friendly squeeze. You feel the rumble of his voice roll all the way down your spine and into the core of you, leaving a light throb nestled between your thighs.

“I’d like that. Thank you, sir,” you say, your voice sounding dreamy and distant in your own ears.

Flashing that same toothy grin, he shoots you a wink before he turns face with a slight flourish of his cape, the fabric billowing in his wake as he takes his leave, disappearing down the hall.

The second he’s gone, it’s like the spell of his presence breaks and you come crashing back to yourself, eyes wide. A hot broil of shame rolls through you when you realize how aroused you are, that throb lingering. You’re equal parts shocked and disgusted with yourself, sickened by the hot prickle lingering on every inch of your skin.

Holy shit. What the fuck was that?

You wind up leaving an hour early, eager to be home. The shame makes you desperate to see your husband, as if touching him will erase the residual traces of the effect that Homelander had on your body.

It doesn’t. In fact, that feeling of being watched follows you all the way home, the feel of it becoming a specter haunting your house. When your husband seeks intimacy from you in your bed later that night, you push his hands away.

“Sorry,” you say softly, shaken. “Not tonight.”

Your body still remembers him too viscerally.

That night, you dream of songbirds.

Two days later, the right landline rings for the first time. You stare blankly at it, your stomach immediately twisting into knots. It rings, once, twice, nearly a third time before you hurriedly snatch it up off the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart,” comes Homelander’s familiar drawl. His voice falls over you like a wash of sunlight, warm and heavy. “Thought you might be ignoring me for a second there.”

“No, no, never. Sorry, sir,” you say, reaching for your water. You take a quick sip. “What can I do for you?”

“Nothing too dire, just a little shuffling. Can you bump tomorrow’s 4pm to Thursday for me?” He asks, voice slipping around your throat like a noose. The press of it makes you slightly breathless.

“Of course,” you say, balancing the phone on your shoulder while you manipulate your tablet. “That’s no problem at all, done.”

“That’s my girl,” he says, the phone turning his voice into an intimate rumble in your ear.

You blink, feeling like your mouth is full of cotton. You can’t seem to form a response.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” He asks, and you swear up and down you can hear a smile in his voice. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Was there anything else, sir?” You manage to blurt out, words leaving you in a clumsy spill. You’re breathing shallowly, mouth parched. You snatch up your water and take another quick sip. There’s a long pause on the line, the silence so deafening you think for a moment you must have missed something. “Sir?”

“Touch yourself.”

Your heart falls into your stomach, but that feeling is nothing compared to the unbidden liquid heat that those words erupt throughout your body.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he says patiently. Amused, even. “Touch yourself. Take your hand–no, no, the left one,” he says in response to your right hand drifting down. You weren’t even aware you’d started moving. You swap the phone from your left hand to your right, and grab hold of your thigh with your left hand.

“I don’t understand,” you say, the words feeling as thick as molasses on your tongue. “Why are you–”

“That’s good. Now, move those pretty fingers in. Just like that,” he directs, and to your own distant horror, your hand moves, sliding between your legs and lifting up your skirt, your sparkling ring disappearing beneath it. You press your middle finger directly to your beating clit and let go a shuddering breath, massaging it through your panties.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Show me how you like it, mm? Bet your husband still doesn’t know the first fuckin’ thing about how to make you feel good. He ever watch you do this to yourself, ever bother to learn how you like to be touched?”

Disoriented, you shake your head. Your hips reflexively lift to meet the smooth figure-eights you rub yourself with. You’re sure you’d agree to anything he said so long as he keeps talking.

“Didn’t think so. Don’t you worry your pretty little head, sweetheart. I know exactly what you need.”

The heat of his voice envelops you, makes your whole body feel aflame. You’ve never been so sensitive in your life, already shuddering and squirming in your seat from the intensity of sensation building beneath your fingers.

“Slow down. There’s no rush. You’re as good as mine now.”

His voice is like velvet but his words sting, needling something inside you that squirms. You screw your eyes shut and shake your head more fervently. “No, no, m’not… I don’t…”

“Shhhhh,” he hushes, the hiss of it like a serpent in your ear. “Give it up for me, sweetheart.”

A whimper escapes your throat, the noise all but choked out of you. You can’t move, save for the increasingly frantic stroke of your fingers. His voice is a physical caress that slips down the line of your throat, between your breasts, slinking in serpentine patterns until it spills over your fingers and–

You gasp awake, staring wide-eyed at your blurry ceiling as wave after wave of pure euphoria crashes over you, stealing your capacity for breath. You ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm in a state of delirium, the shadows on your ceiling dancing like a voyeuristic crowd. You’re not sure if it takes seconds, minutes or hours to end, your perception of time distorted by the sheer intensity of sensation.

Looking to your side, panting, you see your husband sleeping soundly beside you. His snores are faint and peaceful. The curtains of your balcony door billow softly with the night’s breeze.

Your day comes back to you in a slow blur. The phone call was real, you’re sure of it… Aren’t you? Reaching for your phone, you hurriedly log into your Vought calendar and check the schedule. Sure enough, in your history, you can see that you bumped his next day R&D meeting to Thursday. That was real.

You wrack your brain for the details of your day, trying to piece together how you got from there to here, and whether or not any of Homelander’s voice cooing lewd commands in your ear was real. 

It couldn’t have been. 

The more the dream fades from your mind, the more you remember the rest of your day. You remember hanging up the phone, finishing your work day as per usual, and going home to your husband. Though it’s all something of a strange blur, the memories are there.

Even so, the dream somehow feels more real than any of it.

It’s 5am and you doubt you’ll be sleeping again. You get up early, shower, and make breakfast all before your husband even makes it to the kitchen. Your dreams and the haze of yesterday fade with the rising sun, as all dreams and memories often do.

You’re in the process of putting your dishes away when he walks in, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “You got an early start today?” He asks, biting back a yawn.

It’s cute. He’s cute. You feel an irrational spike of guilt.

It was just a dream.

“Didn’t sleep well,” you admit, kissing him on the cheek. You wrinkle your nose. “Oof, morning breath,” you say playfully, but there’s an edge of truth to it. You can’t explain it, but there’s something off about the way your husband smells this morning.

Your mind drifts wistfully to the pleasant memory of sweet vetiver.

By the time you make it to work, your morning is nothing but a distant recollection at the peripheral of your consciousness. 

Nonetheless, the sight of that bright red landline still makes you blush. 

You don’t see Homelander again for another three days. At least, not at work. In reality, you’re more aware of him than you’ve ever been in your life. His face is everywhere, be it TV or billboards. You see him in the grocery store, the post office, and even the goddamn DMV. You never really noticed until now how inescapable Homelander truly is.

It’s no wonder he continues to appear in your dreams, too. You can’t seem to remember any of them very well, but you know without a doubt each time you wake that you were haunted by sapphire blue eyes and a voice as decadent as sin.

Sometimes you recall a gorgeous view of the city hundreds of feet in the air. Other times you recall a blue bed, but the thing you remember most is mirrors. You see yourself clearly in them. You see him with you.

All the while a budding friction between you and your husband continues to grow. You find yourself telling him more often to brush his teeth, shower, anything to combat this bizarre stink he’s taken on. Some days it’s so bad, you swear you smell rotting meat before you realize it’s him. Even the sound of his voice grates on you, both rough and shrill in a way that agitates you further and further into isolation in the house you once happily shared.

On that third day at work, you’re penciling in a meeting regarding a potential collaboration with Superplastic when a rhythmic knock at the door jostles you from focus. You look up to call them in, but Homelander is already striding inside, stealing the words right off the tip of your tongue. 

“Goooood afternoon,” he drawls, the door falling shut behind him. For as much as you’ve continued to see and hear of him, you had forgotten how different he sounds in person, the force of his presence instantly a weight upon your body.

Your brain completely malfunctions. Night after night of erotic whispers suddenly crashes down upon you in visceral detail, how multiple times you woke to the throes of an orgasm with his voice still echoing in your ears. Humiliation and arousal flood you in equal measure, turning your skin hot.

Homelander smiles at you from the other side of your desk all the while. 

“Cat got your tongue?” He asks slyly. The question hurdles you backwards in time to the moment you were seated in this exact spot with him whispering downright pornographic filth into your ear, coaxing you into touching yourself into a frenzy.

It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was a dream.

“Good afternoon, sir,” you finally manage to say, wincing internally at the sound of your own voice.

“Don’t be so formal,” he says, giving a dismissive little wave. “C’mon, call me Homelander,” he says, once again circling around behind your desk. Your eyes widen slightly, mouth bone dry when you try to swallow. He sweeps his cape out of the way before taking a leisurely seat on your desk. He lifts his brows, pinning you with an expectant stare. “Go on, try again.”

“Uh, good afternoon, Homelander,” you correct yourself. His proximity to you is making it hard to focus–there it is again, the scent of vetiver. He smells like summer grass warmed by the hot sun, and he has a gravitational pull to him that has you leaning subconsciously towards him.

His smile widens. “Much better.” His eyes narrow a touch, flickering down briefly before snapping back up to meet your gaze. 

“So! How’s the office, everything nice and cozy?” He asks, one hand braced next to him on your desk, the other gesturing vaguely about. Before you can even answer, he points to your lap. 

“Chair good? I know how important lumbar support is when you’re sitting all day.”

Discussing your lumbar support needs with Homelander certainly had not been on your bingo sheet.

“Uhm, yes, it’s–” Again, before you can get a real answer in, he’s sitting up and making sweeping motions with his hand.

“Let’s see, up, up, lemme take this bad boy for a spin,” he says, making your heart leap up into your throat when he catches you by your waist and effortlessly lifts you up out of your office chair, turning to set you on your feet. With a flourish of his cape, he drops down into your chair, legs spread wide.

You gawk momentarily, watching him spin side to side.

“Oop, there’s that lumbar,” he says, leaning back into it. He’s grinning at you all the while, the moment entirely surreal. You huff an incredulous little laugh, crossing your arms. He’s a little ridiculous, you realize, but personable. 

Have you been the problem this whole time, turning him into something he’s not? You’re starting to lose yourself in your thoughts as you watch him.  

“How about we test the suspension? C’mere,” he says, giving his thigh a pat. “Sit.”

You snap back to attention, your smile falling away. “Pardon?”

“Sit,” he says again, his smile a predatory curve of his lips. He pats his thigh again “Right here.”

You look down at his lap and then back up, your ears buzzing with the timbre of his voice. Logically, you know that what he’s just demanded is wildly inappropriate, yet the silken tone he said it in leaves you utterly agreeable. Slowly, you lower yourself into his lap, uncertain of why you wouldn’t abide by such a request.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he coos, bracketing your waist with his arms.

 ”That’s better, isn’t it?” He asks, his hands moving up and down your thighs. You shiver, a chill running down your spine despite the fervid heat of his body pressed along the back of yours.

A distant voice in the back of your mind whispers it wasn’t a dream, though you can barely hear it over the pounding of your own blood in your ears.

“Relax,” he murmurs, the word a warm huff on your neck. 

Like a marionette whose strings have been cut, your body goes slack against him. Your heart continues to race even as a wave of calm sweeps through you, the two sensations frantically battling one another. Eventually, however, your pulse succumbs to the warmth seeping from him, and you begin to calm, soothed by the slow sweeps of his palms and the way he’s muttering sweet nothings into your ear. 

“Good girl,” he breathes, the smile audible in his voice. “That’s it. Feels good, hmm?” His hands move more firmly on your thighs, closer to a massage.

You make a thin noise of pleasure, tipping your head back to rest on his shoulder.

“When I tell you… that I have been looking forward to this,” he murmurs, lips brushing your neck. 

“But I had to be sure you were the one. Most people start to go insane after the first night, maybe the second, but not you.” His teeth, sharp as razors, delicately graze your throat. “You’ve been… perfect.”

“What’re you talking about?” You ask, feeling slightly slow and disoriented.

Homelander chuckles, the rumble of it moving from his chest through your back. 

“My voice. It tears apart people's minds… But not yours. Why is that?” His lips are warm on your skin, trailing lower. He lifts a hand to pull your collar askew and kiss at the exposed crook of your neck.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, eyes flickering shut. His mouth feels incredible, the slight dampness that his lips leave behind making you especially sensitive to the air as he exposes you to it. It’s difficult to focus on anything other than the drag of his mouth. 

You don’t even realize he’s unbuttoned your shirt and slipped it off of your shoulders until he’s kissing that newly revealed skin, nipping playfully at your bra strap.

“Here I was thinking you were just a pretty, tasty little thing… Turns out you’re so much more,” he purrs between kisses. A jolt of pain makes you gasp and then whimper, the sting of it soothed by the way his tongue drags over the spot afterwards.

It takes you a beat to comprehend that he’s just bitten the junction between your neck and shoulder, sunk his sharp teeth in so deep you smell the faint tang of blood.

“Turns out you were meant for me all along,” he says between slow drags of his tongue, lapping at your soft skin. He moans for the taste of it. “Watching you writhe in your bed, wanting me, touching yourself while your useless husband slept. I thought I was the one going fucking insane.”

Comprehension is a slow, creeping thing to your addled mind.  “You were watching me. The dreams, you–”

“Whispered them into your ear while you slept,” he interjects, kissing at the shell of your ear. “You took to ‘em like gasoline takes to a spark,” he says, that voice of his wrapping around your body and limbs like a dozen slithery tendrils. 

The touch of his voice is just as tangible as his hands sliding up your thighs, your stomach, cupping your breasts through your bra. You let out a shuddering moan.

“Every night, I was so sure you’d break. But you didn’t. You won’t.”

His confession brings back images in a flood, untangling dreams from memories. You remember a silhouette standing over you, you remember piercing red eyes glowing in the dark, and you remember the filth he spoke over you that made your body twist and sweat and come harder than you ever have.

All of it intertwines with this very moment, with his hands on you, his body against yours. It has you moaning, writhing back against him the same way you did in your bed beneath his gaze.

“Call your husband,” he tells you, hand slipping between your legs, hooking under your skirt.

“What?” You rasp, clutching at his wrists. You shiver at the hot slide of his tongue just behind your ear.

“Call your husband,” he repeats, thick gloved finger rubbing sparks between your thighs. “Tell him you’re coming home early. Tell him to wait for you in the bedroom.” 

Leaning forward, Homelander snatches the left landline off the desk and pulls it into your lap, resting it atop his hand while he fingers you in slow, precise circles.

You pick up the receiver and dial unsteadily. It doesn’t sound like something you shouldn’t do. Even as it rings, you feel no dread or apprehension. Just the drive to obey the voice cradling your mind and body so very sweetly.

“Hi,” you exhale when he answers the phone, screwing your eyes shut. It takes everything in you just to focus on speaking. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m coming–” your breath catches as Homelander pushes your panties aside and breaches you with a single finger, sliding into your soaked pussy in one slow, continuous slide. 

“I’m coming home early today,” you say, holding both the receiver and Homelander’s wrist in a white-knuckle grip. “Can you wait in the bedroom for me?”

He’s thoroughly confused, but all that does is frustrate you. His voice comes through ugly and nasally over the phone, grating through your nerves instantly. You feel the urge to yell at him, but the breath is stolen from your lungs by the sweet press of Homelander’s thick gloved finger crooking inside you, stroking exactly the right spot to make you see stars.

“Just–just do it, please? Wait in the bedroom, I’ll be–I’ll be home soon.”

You slam down the phone just in time, letting out a cry, lurching forward. The phone tumbles from your lap with a clatter and Homelander catches you with an arm across your chest, pinning you back against his chest.

“Good girl, that’s it. Give it up for me. Lemme feel that pretty pussy come,” he moans, grinding up against you, the sound of his finger pumping into you obscenely loud and wet. 

“C’mon, sweetheart. Whet my appetite. Gimme something before it’s time to fucking eat.”

You come loudly, clenching your legs tightly around his hand. He stops just to feel you tighten and convulse through his glove, his lips and teeth and tongue all wreaking havoc at your throat.

“Fuck,” he sighs, followed by the low rumble of a chuckle. Your thighs shake as he pulls his hand away. You can smell the heady smell of your own slick when he brings his finger to his mouth and sucks the taste of you from it, the sound lewd in your ear.

“You even taste pretty,” he hums, voice frayed like a growl. There’s an inhuman split to his voice, like there’s three of them layered over top of each other.

The whole world feels like it’s spinning. You have no center of gravity, just the sensation of movement as Homelander effortlessly maneuvers you up into his arms. Your head lolls against his chest, vision swimming.

Warm lips press sweetly to your forehead. “Rest up, pretty girl,” he murmurs. The words instantly make you drowsy. “I’ll wake you up when I’m done.”

The world slips into darkness. The last thing you’re aware of is the feeling of flying.

When you come back to consciousness, the darkness remains. You recognize your bedroom ceiling above you, familiar shadows dancing across it, beckoning you awake. 

A dream…?

Your limbs are leaden, weighed down to the bed. You try desperately to untangle the fantastical from what is real, walking backwards through what you remember. Touch, smell, sound, and pleasure unlike anything you’ve ever known. You remember Homelander’s hands on you, in you, his body and voice all around you, the sound of–

Sound. What is that sound? It’s close to you, but you can’t move your head to see. It’s a series of wet, soft squelching noises akin to someone manipulating piles of drenched laundry. Then you hear a crunch like a tree branch snapping, and you start to recognize another sound; panting breaths followed by an erotic moan of pure indulgence.

You open your mouth to speak, but your throat is too tight, and nothing escapes it. As you come back to yourself more and more, you realize the bed beneath you is warm and wet.

You manage to force a noise from the back of your throat, a strained sound born of the effort to move. Next to you, something shifts. 

“There’s my pretty girl,” coos Homelander’s familiar voice. Your heart crashes against your ribcage, the only part of you that can freely move expressing the shock of hearing his voice here in your bed.

“Shhhshhhh, no need for that,” he murmurs, moving into your line of sight, hovering over you. His face is spattered in something dark, but when he smiles his sharp teeth are white and bright, even in the dim moonlight of your bedroom. His voice soothes your frayed nerves almost instantly.

“Take a deep breath,” he says. You do so easily, as if you were never paralyzed. “Good. Perfect timing,” he tells you, his tongue sliding along his teeth, his lips, threads of saliva stretched between his teeth snapping. “I’m still plenty hungry for you.”

He kisses you, swinging his leg over to envelop your body with his. All at once you can move again, your bones no longer weighed down. You relax beneath the press of his lips and the weight of him, exhaling a breath through your nose. 

“Kiss me,” he mumbles fervently. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him with everything you have, your lips sliding slickly against one another. He licks the taste of copper into your mouth.

Blood, a distant part of you realizes. Whatever horror you should feel is replaced by building excitement, his touch reigniting heat throughout your body. Like gasoline takes to a spark.

His lips move to the corner of your mouth, your jaw, trailing bloodied kisses down your throat. He has less patience for your clothes now than he did in your office, tearing your shirt and bra from your body with a feral noise. His hands are upon you instantly, spreading the blood on his hands down your chest, massaging your breasts until he works a needy moan out of you.

“Can’t believe I almost ate you, too,” he says with a smile.  Before you can respond, he leans down to suck your nipple into his mouth, hands sliding lower. You gasp and push your hands into his hair, slicking it back with what sprayed into it. His mouth is inferno hot on your skin, goosebumps erupting over every inch of you. His tongue is a devilish thing, working your nipple in circles, but it’s the light pinch of his teeth that make your whole body lurch.

He makes quick work of your clothing from the waist down, too, stripping you until there’s nothing left between you and the blood soaked fabric of his suit. His hand disappears from you, and you hear a metallic click followed by the hiss of a zipper. He nudges your legs apart to settle properly between them, pulling off of your breast with a satisfied pop. He licks his lips of the blood he had spread to your breast, eyes wild and glowing faintly red.

“Let’s get rid of this while we’re at it,” he says, lifting your hand. He kisses the tip of your ring finger before taking it into his mouth, gaze flickering up to meet yours as he takes it all the way down past your knuckle, your ring disappearing past his lips. He catches the metal band with his teeth and drags it slowly off, sucking your finger clean of it. A chill runs down your spine at the crunch the metal gives as he effortlessly chews and swallows it.

You stare in numb, abject shock, but even that rapidly fades to the fires rolling through you. 

Hands on your thighs, he easily pulls your ass into his lap. You look down to see his cock freed from his suit pants, thick and nicely curved. He bends over you, hitching your legs up over his shoulder, and you feel the flat curve of the bottom of his cock press against your cunt. He grins down at you, rocking his hips to grind through the slick mess he’s made of you.

“Let’s see if you feel as good as you taste,” he says, claiming your lips once more. He pulls his hips back, and you feel the head of his cock drooling precome as it slides over your clit, down to your soaked cunt. The dull stretch of it splitting you open burns, has you keening against his lips. He kisses you again and again and again.

“That’s it, baby. Open up for me. Lemme feel that perfect pussy,” he grits out, voice frayed at the edges like he’s finally beginning to lose that cocky composure of his. Even still, his voice retains that otherworldly aspect to it. He bottoms out with a low moan, hips flush to your body.

“Oh fffffuck,” he groans, cock throbbing against the velvety walls of your cunt. You can feel the pulse of him, even more so when you squeeze. It gives you an unexpected and intoxicating shot of power when doing that makes him gasp. “Perfect. My perfect fuckin’ match, fuck. I knew you would be, I knew you were made for me,” he babbles, bordering on incoherence as he starts to thrust, gripping your ass with one hand while the other goes to the headboard, slamming it against the wall with each snap of his hips.

“H-Homelander,” you moan, tangling both hands in his hair, dragging your nails harshly down his scalp, the back of his neck, throwing your head back against your pillow. 

He gives your ass a sharp slap just to feel the way your cunt clenches with it, a growl rolling from his throat.

“Come with me,” he demands, instantly sending the pressure building in you into a soar. He moves faster, deeper, each slam punching out pitchy noises from you. Every drag of his cock feels like a spark inside you, like the strike of a match igniting stars in your peripheral vision. You come with a near scream, nails biting fruitlessly into Homelander’s skin. 

He rides your orgasm fiercely, fucking you into the bloody mess of your bed until he, too, succumbs to the clench of your cunt. He lets out a guttural cry, the wood of your headboard snapping in his grasp as his release floods you, so hot that it nearly burns.

You’re both panting into each other's mouths, lips occasionally brushing. There’s a possessive growl to the edge of Homelander’s breaths, as if warning anything that might hear of the danger of approaching.

“You’re mine now, you understand?” He says lowly, his velveteen voice hoarse, almost animalistic. “My match, my mate, mine.”

Deliriously, you nod, mind still lost to the aftershocks of your climax, your pussy quivering around the girth of his cock. It’s not enough for Homelander, who gives another sharp thrust, knocking an overstimulated moan out of you. “Do you understand?”

“I understand,” you gasp, meeting his gaze. His harsh expression softens at that, the crimson glow fading from his eyes, leaving only that familiar ocean blue in its wake. He kisses you leisurely, but with no less hunger. He lets your legs slip carefully from his shoulders, but remains buried deep inside you, staking his claim as thoroughly as possible. He kisses your neck, makes you wince when he sucks at the mark he bit into your skin.

“You got no idea how long I’ve been looking for you,” he mumbles, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You stroke your fingers through his hair, soaking in the feeling of his superhuman body thrumming against yours. You tighten your grip in his hair and lift his head, bringing his gaze up to meet yours. He looks curiously at you until that curiosity flips to surprise as you kiss him, earning a pleased little hum from him. 

When you part, his surprise has melted away into something dazed and soft. Something like love, or maybe satiation. The two look so very similar.

Homelander kisses you a while longer before he nestles down against you.

Your head lolls to the side for the first time, and only then do you see the full scope of the horror resting next to you; bones jut out from the mess of viscera and meat, shredded clothing thick with blood and innards. It looks like the work of a rabid animal, something vicious and hungry.

You know instantly that the mess is all that remains of your former husband. 

It occurs to you that you should feel a dozen different awful things about the pile of gore splayed out on your bed, but ultimately, the only thought that lingers is how he finally suits that rotten meat smell.

Looking back to the ceiling, you continue to comb your fingers through Homelander’s hair. His weight is a comfortable thing upon you, and beneath the smell of gore, you’re soothed by the gentle, warm scent of vetiver. Your eyelids grow heavy, and within minutes, you drift to sleep.

When you wake, there is no tang of blood heavy in the air. You sit up in a bed that is both alien and familiar. It isn’t until you see the mirrors around you that you realize that this is the bed from your dreams.

You feel warm, despite the early morning chill beyond the blankets. You feel a tug, and as you look down, Homelander pulls you back down into his arms.

“Mornin’, pretty girl.”

“Morning,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him. He hums pleasantly as you touch him, your hands roaming the naked scape of his body, testing that he’s real. You draw back, brows furrowed.

“Everything alright?” He asks, his voice as rich and creamy as ever.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, a touch uncertain. “Weird dreams.”

He smiles, bringing your hand up to kiss. “Well, you’re awake now.”

Somehow, you’re not so certain. 

Regardless, you huff a little laugh and snuggle back into his arms. 

“Love you,” you say, losing yourself to the familiar comfort of a partner in your arms, in your bed, in your heart. The longer you’re there, the more the dreams fade away, replaced with the reality of your waking world and the sweet smell of vetiver.

Homelander squeezes you to his chest, stroking idly up and down your back with his knuckles. You can hear the smile in his voice as he returns, “I love you, too.”

[sparkletastic-cookiedough]

I’ve seen a number of imagines where due to interdimensional shenanigans or being liminal, Danny Phantom is more durable than most people in the dc dimension.

And those are cool and fine and all, but imagine if it was the opposite?

Danny Fenton gets punched twice and dies.

Which is fun on its own, but Danny is half ghost. He’s cursed to an existence where he can never truly be alive or dead for all eternity. Meaning that after a little while, Danny is back at it again, on the streets of Gotham in the same fleshy body he just died in.

He has to turn into ghost form first, but he can turn invisible as a ghost, so it’s fine, no one sees him glowing before he heads into an inconspicuous alleyway to return to life.

The blood stains would be a problem, but it’s Gotham so no one bats an eye.

Except for the bats.

(Warning: some death, corpses, and gore ahead)

—————

It always haunts Duke when he fails to save someone. He’s a hero now, and that’s part of the gig, but still.

He keeps wondering if maybe he had been faster, or stronger, or just a moment sooner, maybe then the civilian would’ve lived.

He sees the corpse in his nightmares, a reminder that he wasn’t good enough. It’s not rational, but Duke can’t get the image of the dead teen out of his head- the lifeless blue eyes, the dark hair, the…

… is that him?

No, it can’t be. It looks a lot like the kid, but his mind must be playing tricks on him or something. Because he saw that kid die. This kid, across the street, they must be someone else. Maybe they’re related?

Duke hears a commotion down a nearby alley, and leaves the mystery for later.

—————

Cass is concerned about this dead body.

In her line of work, it’s normal to see a lot of corpses. What’s strange about this one is that it makes no sense.

It’s splattered on the ground like it fell from a skyscraper. The tallest building in the area is five stories high.

The body is too fresh to have been from a while ago. It doesn’t show signs of having been moved. There weren’t any helicopters in the area recently it might’ve fallen from.

She surveys the area again. Perhaps this is a trap?

No security cameras or bad guys in sight.

She turns back to the body-

It’s gone. Only a pool of blood remains, undisturbed.

No one could have snuck past her. Something strange is going on.

—————

The bullet Jason shot shouldn’t have done this much damage.

The teenager was accidentally hit in a hostage situation. Usually Jason doesn’t miss like that, but the bullet should have just nicked him. A bandaid should have done the trick.

But this kid is leaking blood like a fire hose. It’s absolutely gushing out.

You never realize how much blood a human body has in it until you see it spread out all over the floor.

Jason puts pressure on the wound, damn the bad guys he is not having a dead civilian on his hands if he can help it.

He grabs a tourniquet from the first aid pack he carries. Fastens it around the kids arm-

- and the kid’s arm flops off. Not normal. Either Jason has just gotten Superman-levels of strength, or something is wrong with the kid.

The kid’s rapid breaths devolve into quick gasps. The blood from his wound slows to a trickle. Jason feels the kids heart go from pounding to nothing-

Fuck.

Instinct driving Jason more than any sense of reason, he puts the kid on his back to do chest compressions.

Jason pushes down. He hears a loud Squelch. His hands go through the kid’s torso.

Double fuck. Jason might know CPR, but he doesn’t know how to deal with this. His panicked-brain remembers he’s in a fight right now, and Jason turns towards the people who held the kid hostage.

They immediately surrender.

[ellewritesalright]

The Lost Princess - Part 2

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

Part 1

Synopsis: The old Queen Mother of Kerch's former royal family is offering a hefty reward to whoever returns her rumored-to-be-alive granddaughter to her. Kaz being Kaz hears about the reward and hatches an elaborate plot involving a fake princess. Reader is a lowly amnesiac orphan and escaped indenture who flees to Ketterdam where she gets tangled in Kaz Brekker's plot.

A/N: Hi folks!! I hope you've all been good--it's been a busy time for me but I'm so excited to be posting part 2! Just a reminder to everyone that the story is inspired by the movie and musical Anastasia. Once again, I hope it makes sense lmao

Warnings: mentions of sickness, death, drowning, violence, the Kerch indenture system. Me rambling. pls let me know if I've missed anything

Word count: 2901

.........

The dreams were worse tonight.

The once gentle, whispering voices turned to screams. Someone was calling for you, crying into the pitch black night with a painful tremor in their voice. You wanted to call back but couldn't find the strength. Honestly, when have you ever had that kind of strength? You're not brave, not like you should be. There were times at the big house where you would get so angry with the other servants, angry enough that you felt ready enough to cuss them out, yet you never did. You were too afraid of the consequences that stepping out of line would yield.

Your nightly visions only further prove your cowardice. In the dark of your nightmare, there was no hope, and you woke up shaking and nauseated.

The streets below the window of your room were still populated despite the late hours. It was the end of the week, though, and you figured people were using the night to let loose. The lantern beside your bed had long burned out, and you rummaged in your trunk for the pair of shiny candlesticks and matches you had stolen from Devisser's home--the wax had almost all burned out but there were still the holders. The brass would fetch enough money for you to survive maybe two weeks. It was not enough, though. Nothing was ever enough. You could have stolen his wife's entire collection of jewelry and you still wouldn't be able to get a ticket out of Kerch. No amount of money could strike your name from the lost indentures list.

There was always that Brekker that the shopkeeper had steered you towards. If he could do what she said and help you get to Ravka then you should find him as soon as possible. You had nearly gone to see him several times in the last few days, but you always chickened out. You would head over to the Crow Club with every intention of meeting Brekker, and yet, you could never bring yourself to go inside.

You were about to light one of the candles but instead you packed them away and pulled your day clothes from your trunk. You probably looked disheveled as you hit the streets, but not less composed than most of the people around you. A man stumbled past you, drunk, before he leaned into a post and emptied his guts into the street. The barrel really was a lovely place. You should have come sooner.

You pulled up the collar of your jacket to protect yourself from the wind that seemed to pick up the closer you got to the Crow Club. People were milling about the streets, their chatter and whispers carrying through the crisp air. What kind of secrets did they share? And how long would it take before their secrets infected the entirety of the barrel? In the short time you had been here it seemed you had heard the phrases "I heard it from" and "I assure you it is true" a thousand times. Everyone was a gossip, which made everyone dangerous. All it would take for you to be found by Devisser or the stadwatch was a rumour about your origins. Speculation about you might lead to the uncovering of your deserted indenture or people might think you were a runaway Grisha. The last thing you needed was for people to think you were valuable or worth notice. You were just another face in the crowd; your only goal was to go to Os Kervo.

The club was bustling with people as you arrived. You stood back a bit, biting at the inside of your cheek. For a moment you debated whether you should just go home, but you couldn't seem to make up your mind. You could only wait. As for what you were waiting for, you had no idea. A sign from the saints, maybe? Anything at all that would tell you to trust the club and the Brekker inside of it.

A young man stood against the building, staring directly at you as you eyed the crow sign above the door; it swung in the breeze, as though it was about to take flight. The man had been outside before when you passed by, watching you closely then as he was now. He called out to you.

"Have you finally plucked up the courage to come inside this evening?"

Your stare snapped down to him. He palmed a pair of pistols at his waist, but there was no threat in the action. It looked like more of a comfort or a habit that he had. He had never interacted with you before, just stood watch.

"I don't know," you answered, truth in your words. You stepped closer to the building, closer to the man. "I was thinking about it."

"Well, you look cold, perhaps you should think about it inside," he smiled.

A short scoff escaped you and you moved to stand before him. "If I entered the club I wouldn't need to think about entering the club."

"Sounds logical to me." He tilted his head at you. "What are you afraid of?"

You paused. There was nothing innately scary about the club. You weren't a gambler nor were you a drinker, so you wouldn't be trapped in a cycle of either if you decided to go inside. What you were doubting was the person you were supposed to see. If you were to believe the shopkeeper, this Brekker could be the key to your future. He could help you attain your lifelong dream of finding your family in Os Kervo. It was the idea that you might finally be getting what you wanted that made your stomach turn to lead.

"I just… I have to ask a big favour of someone I've never even met and I don't know how they'll react," you decided to tell him. It was close enough to the truth, and he considered what you said.

"There's no use in worrying over it, then," he said. "It sounds like something you just have to do."

His words were encouraging, and you smiled at him.

"If I may, who are you asking a favour of?"

"Someone called Brekker."

His mouth desperately wanted to curve into a smirk and you could tell that he was doing all he could to stifle a laugh. This reaction made your fear return, and you frowned up at him. He noticed your pointed look and managed to clear his throat.

"What's wrong with Brekker?" You questioned.

"Nothing at all. It's just funny to me that you're so afraid of seeing Kaz."

"You know him?"

"Know him? We're great friends. You're gonna love the man." He leaned towards you, raising a brow. "In fact, why don't you and I go inside and meet him right now."

His tone was playful with a hint of deceit, but you could tell he was not entirely dishonest. If you had to go out on a limb you would say that he was not trying to lead you astray.

You nodded, and he grinned, leading you inside.

……….

The breeze caught the curtains in Kaz's office. He had been doing the books when Inej came in, giving him a report of the whispers on the street. She was still there, explaining to him about an actor that Pekka Rollins was training to be the missing princess. Apparently the actor was very convincing, and--to add insult to injury--she had been one of the ones Kaz auditioned and ultimately turned away. But if he rejected her it must have been for a good reason. Still, the thought of Pekka fooling the old lady and getting the reward put a sour taste in Kaz's mouth. That reward was his. She was his pigeon.

Inej was interrupted by the door squeaking open, making a wedge of space just big enough that Jesper poked his head in.

Kaz spat his name, glaring daggers into his friend's face. "What could possibly be important enough for you to be here? I told you to watch the door."

"I was watching the door," Jesper replied, "when I came across someone who wanted to meet with you."

"Tell them I'm not seeing anyone right now," he dismissed, turning back to Inej. He knew he was being harsh, but the information he had just been given put him in a foul mood. He would likely seethe for the rest of the night, snapping at anyone who bothered him.

"Oh, you'll want to see them, I can promise you that." Jesper opened the door, gesturing for someone to come in with a "here we are, my dear."

You stepped past the threshold and immediately Kaz felt his anger diminish. After waiting for nearly a week since that day in the shop, you had made your way to him. There was apprehension in the muscles of your shoulders as you took in the room. Your eyes fell on him and he stared back, studying your features properly for the first time. There was something uncanny about your face, and you certainly looked more like the missing princess than everyone else he had seen for the job. You murmured a quick introduction, eyes darting to Inej but quickly falling back to him as you told them your name and began to explain why you were here.

"I have an issue I was told could be solved by a man named Brekker. I assume that's you." You tilted your chin at him, uneasiness in your stance. It didn’t take a genius to tell that you were nervous.

"You assume correctly, Miss Vos." He motioned for you to sit in the armchair before his desk, and he stepped behind the surface. Jesper and Inej stood by the wall, and you glanced over your shoulder at them before meeting Kaz's waiting stare. "Your issue?"

"I need to go to Ravka, but I don't have the money for travel papers. Also… it's not exactly legal for me to leave the country."

He half expected you to lie, to say something other than what he had overheard in Eugenia's shop, but you didn't. You either trusted him enough to be honest--which didn't seem likely judging from the way you sat with your spine as rigid as a marble post--or you had no other choice but to be frank with him. It was probably the latter.

He looked down at you, responding smoothly, "Normally I wouldn't be able to help you with something like that, but as luck would have it, I can obtain the proper documentation."

Your shoulders relaxed a bit, your face softening. But you had barely any time for ease as he spoke again.

"However, my offer is conditional," he said, leaning into the desk. You swallowed, brows pulling together as you looked up at him. "Have you heard the rumours of a missing princess?"

You gave a quick nod.

"And have you heard of the Grand Duchess Marien?"

"I know the name."

"Good. Then perhaps you'll know that the Duchess is the mother of the late king," he explained. "She's been searching for any leads on the missing princess."

"I don't see the relevance of this."

"I can help you get to Ravka, but only if you help me by posing as the princess."

You scoffed. "That would never work."

"Why not?"

"I-I was brought up in servants’ quarters, not a palace--I wouldn't even know where to start if I were to pretend to be a princess."

"That's where we come in," he said, nodding to Jesper and Inej. You looked at them, and he kept on, saying, "We can teach you everything you'll need to know."

"This is ridiculous. I'll find my own way," you huffed, moving to stand. Kaz was quick to react, his cane blocking your path to the door.

"Sit down," he ordered. Your glare, piercing as it was, could not rival his. The sight of yours did nothing to intimidate him, whereas--after a long, unblinking moment--his had the required effect. You took a seat.

Kaz pulled a book out of his desk drawer, flipping to a dog-eared page. He turned it around, motioning for you to look. A portrait of the royal family peered up at you, and you stared at it with pursed lips.

"The princess was six years old here, and though the resemblance is not exact, it is there," he explained, pointing at the youngest girl in the image. She stood beside a little boy, hands folded atop his shoulder. You stared between them for a moment. When you looked up at Kaz he swore he saw a glint of sorrow in your eyes. You recovered in a split second, shaking your head.

"No way." You crossed your arms, casting an irate stare at Kaz. "I'm an orphan. I don't have a family. I know for certain that I don't because if I did I would remember them--especially if they were a royal family."

There was a bite to your voice, a bitter sting of something which seemed to pain you. It was hopelessness that marred your words, and yet a lack of hope should have led to despair or exhaustion, not bitterness. Perhaps you hadn't lost hope. Perhaps it was the slim possibility of hope he presented that made you recoil. He could work with that.

Kaz sat down in his chair, levelling with you in the aim of coaxing information out of you. He wasn't trustworthy enough when he stood over his desk. If he wanted you to be vulnerable, he had to show vulnerability, and sitting would do that. He even briefly considered sending Jesper and Inej away but figured you seemed comfortable enough already with them in the room. They weren't as imposing as him, he supposed.

"What do you remember?" He asked, trying to be gentle with his words. You stared at the wall over Kaz's shoulder at a painting of the harbour. He saw Jesper start to fidget where he stood and even Inej looked slightly disinterested, but once you started to speak they listened carefully.

"I was ten or so when I was pulled from the True Sea. A group of fishermen found me floating on a barrel, said I probably jumped from a slaver ship. I was barely breathing, at least that's what they told me. They wrapped me in blankets, gave me food and a name; I still can't remember what my old one was."

You picked a bit of fluff on your pant leg, averting your stare even further. Your words were ghostly, devoid of all feeling like you had rehearsed them your entire life, and yet there was a faint tremor to your voice. How curious.

"When we got to shore they handed me over to their boss, a mercher named Devisser. I worked in his second home on the southern shore until a few weeks ago. Almost all of my memories were made in the kitchens of that place; I don't remember anything before the fishing boat." You met his eyes again, folding your hands in your lap, a neat little pile of rough knuckles and calluses, nothing fit for a princess. "Look, all I want is passage to Os Kervo. I don't even need to be taken all the way there, just as long as you get me to Ravka."

"And we can help you," Kaz insisted. "If you pretend to be the princess, learn the etiquette, the history, you can get to Ravka in mere months."

"I don't want to lie to make my way in the world."

"But if you think about it, It's not really lying," Jesper jumped in then, and Kaz held his breath. If he ruined this for them… "For all any of us know, you could really be the princess. I mean, you look like her, right? Plus, you've got family in Os Kervo, she's got family in Os Kervo."

If it weren't for the softening in your brow–your thoughts rolling through your mind with Jesper's words–Kaz would have put a stop to his friend. But, as it was, you seemed to be coming around to the idea. Jesper was playing on your lack of childhood memory in order to alleviate your guilt about tricking an old woman, and Kaz might have commended him for it if he really wanted to.

"We can show you to the old bat; if she says you aren't her granddaughter then there's no harm, no foul." Jesper smirked at you, "Plus, you'll have made it to Os Kervo where you can look for your real family."

You stared between the three of them, perhaps measuring the degree of sincerity in each of their eyes. In a rare attempt to be like Jesper, Kaz let his expression fall, making his face friendlier–or, at the very least, neutral. When you looked at him he looked back with eager eyes. They ought to do the trick.

"Are you in?" He asked.

"Why not?" You sighed, folding your arms. "If it gets me to Os Kervo…"

Jesper was grinning behind you, Inej had a small smile, and Kaz felt his mouth nearly imitate them. All the anger he had ten minutes ago had melted away. Pekka Rollins was far from his mind. The only thing that mattered now was making this amnesiac orphan into a princess.

..........

A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment if you want to read more, I really appreciate the feedback! If you want to be tagged in the upcoming parts of this series please comment on this part or send me an ask. And if you want to request a fic, please feel free to send in an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Masterlist

Taglist: @clockworkballerina @happyhauntt @mysticalfuncollectorus @aislinrayne @littleshadow17 @tooru-bread @katrina0-0

[paperdice]

Um reader who is tried af but can't sleep ....with hayato suo ....fluff

𝐇𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐨 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 (𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭)

"oh mister, can you make me believe this is not a dream?."

જ⁀➴ ♡ It was rather frequent for you to have nights like these, sleepless nights where no matter how tired you are, you can't sleep. A literal nightmare to go through without needing to rest, how much longer will it take to finally shut down? Will it be longer than last time? Or will you be spared and get some Zs sooner?

જ⁀➴ ♡ This problem was no surprise to your boyfriend, you can try and hold back your "I'm so tired" complaints but he can tell your restraining the urge. He knows it's been affecting you a tad bit often as of late, so when he finally gets to the scene of the crime you trying your hardest to sleep, he helps.

જ⁀➴ ♡ Hes had a few irritating nights of his own, so he tries his techniques on you for starters, to test the waters. His first attempt was trying to drink tea before bed, the kind that makes you sleep quicker, so he pulls out a row of options that he has stocked up in preparation. As expected hes already done his research on which ones actually work and read the facts.

જ⁀➴ ♡ He'll try melatonin teas first to see if that'll knock you out, if you're already tired then it should work yes? No, if anything the aching for sleep seems to either stay the same or worsen, you say that you're too tired to tell.

જ⁀➴ ♡ Alright now there's a challenge, if that doesn't work he'll try to find something to fill your stomach. Hes heard that having a full stomach while being tired already will help, I mean it happens to everyone when they've been tired and just ate a warm meal. Though it's already late and it'll take some time to make food, it's better trying now than later, and even a few hours of sleep is better than nothing.

જ⁀➴ ♡ Usually by this time you'll feel some affect being done to you and yet when attempting to sleep again, it doesn't work. Annoyance grew and he can tell by looking at your dissatisfied face, he reassured you that you will get some rest by the end of tonight.

જ⁀➴ ♡ How about changing your sleeping position? Moving to the other side of the bed could also help, when he suggested this to you, to you it was like he was getting desperate. Why would that help when you do it all the time when you're like this? You toss and turn no matter where or how you lay down nothing works.

જ⁀➴ ♡ He agrees with you. "but this time you have me, I'll be sleeping with you tonight. maybe that'll help." He smiled so softly and unbothered by the words he struck your heart with. Man he gets you everytime when your hearts guard is down.

જ⁀➴ ♡ You agree with him. Now laying on the opposite side of the bed waiting for him to come back with more pillows. You don't know why but you get the feeling he's taking more time getting pillows than usual. If you try and get up to see what's taking so long, he'll return just in time, and give you a mocker coated smile. "Did I take that long? I'm sorry."

જ⁀➴ ♡ The final stage, the one that always works, cuddling with Suo. A thought he had in mind to help you sleep better since the very beginning, but he'd never say something so bold to you. Not now at least, if he did you'd become a blushing mess and it'll interfere with the process of helping you sleep.

જ⁀➴ ♡ He usually sleeps on his back with his hands on his chest, he never sleeps on his sides. But just for you he'll sleep on the side, hold your head on his chest, place his lips on the top of your head for easy kissing access and wrap his arms around you just the way you like it.

જ⁀➴ ♡ He would rather prefer you lay on top of him so he can still sleep on his back, but he believes it'll make you lightheaded due to your current state. He just wants to hold you close at the moment

You were so unbelievably tired, your body ached more than someone your age should be. Today had you on a time crunch and you overdid yourself, but oh was luck on your side, you couldn't sleep.

"out of all the days.. this whole week I had been just fine and yet the one day I'm tired I'm not able to sleep.." whining to yourself, right now you just got done with changing and getting comfortable. Hopping in your bed and all, just to realize the rather unpleasant familiar feeling.

Worst part was, your boyfriend was over and you just got done making a big deal about how exhausted and overstimulated you were. So when he suggested if it's alright he'll leave you be tonight, you said yes.

Great,, if you go back and tell him nevermind after the scene you made he'll give you that smile. A smile that looks friendly and kindhearted to others but you can see right through it, it's a good thing hes a gentlemen and won't push buttons things further. To you that is

"Whatever.." was what you thought while making your way towards the room he was in. "Your never gonna believe this but,, I can't sleep." When he heard your voice he faced at you with his eyes slightly widen, then smiled. But not the smile you were just thinking of a minute ago..

A genuine smile that felt like he was saying "that's okay".

"You having another one of those nights tonight huh, I feel bad for you, after all you were exhausted."

Nevermind. Smartass felt like pushing buttons.

"yeah yeah I get it" sighing at being both wrong and right of what you were previously thinking, "could you please help me sleep I really don't wanna deal with this alone again.."

Suo hums at your request, giving it some thought.

"How bad would you say it feels? Would just cuddling with you help enough?"

"I dunno,, we can try.."

Now here you were, laying on top of Suo holding him like a koala. Arms wrapped around his body, head placed between his neck and shoulder and legs caging his own. His arms were holding you, one hand wrapped around your body and the other on your head, your body slumped on top of his.

Unfortunately, you didn't feel as if this was gonna work. You felt just as awake as when you walked into the house, this realization had you huffing through your nose. "How was your day?"

".. it was way too much, I honestly didn't expect it since this week was chill." 'I thought we were trying to help me sleep, talking isn't going to help' "tell me about it, how was this day the most tiring than the rest of the week?" Internally questioning his actions, you told him everything.

Monday to friday, thoughts and feelings about events that occurred, new faces you met and other stories you remembered mid way through. Suo was brushing your hair as you spoke, commenting and responding to your words. Pouring expressions into the info you were dumping on him.

"..mmhaannd yeah,, pretty much I was trying to, you know- at least help her-" your sentence was interrupted by a yawn. "Hhaa-hum- hhelp her understand how to do things.." speaking was getting a bit harder now, words were sloppier and felt more droopy.

"Did she get a hang of it? I'm sure your effort in helping her made her grateful." He added, his voice sounded so calming. And yet he still sounded interested.

You always loved the shared warmth you and your boyfriend made together when curled up like this. It always made you melt feeling him this way, just the two of you, where no one could intervene. And his soothing voice helped your mind slowly shut down, a feeling like no other.

"Mhhmm.." Fighting the urge to just lay there silently breathing was getting tougher, by now your eyes have already been closed.

"You tired?"

"..Mmm.."

"Thats good to hear, goodnight.."

thanks for the request anon! Ive been working on a load of requests and double checking them like crazy, when I saw this one I knew it would run smoothly. And I was right! you asked at the perfect timing, come back again if you're thinking of rolling again!

[spectres-n-soap]

Your Warmth is Fading - Soap x You x Ghost

Content Warnings - pregnancy complications, hospital stuff

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

It was late at night, long past visiting hours but your nightmare still haunted you. The taste of bile still lingered on your tongue and sweat still stuck to your skin. At least your breathing returned to normal. The quiet of the military hospital room was off putting but the machine showed Soap was still alive. The pattern of his heart beat, the IV bags hung up and the soft breathing of his soothed you.

You slinked over to the chair next to his bed and sat down. Soap looked better, no longer on death's doorstep even if all the tubes and wires connected to him unsettled you. His face was relaxed despite the discoloration of his right cheek. You thought back to what the doctor who had first reviewed the two of you had said. The comment was still bitter in your mouth. The doctor had called you both lucky. What a load of shite. Luck would have stopped it all from happening in the first place.

You kept an eye on Soap a little longer until sleep started to pull at you again. You stood up and before you left, your lips grazed his forehead. At least he was still alive.

"You're joking." you say, looking at the doctor with your brows pinched so tight you could feel your skin pulling tight.

"You should be in bed rest for the last month of your pregnancy." the doctor reiterated. "For your safety and the baby's." Simon looks between you and the doctor. He wants to side with the doctor and also strangle him. How could he have not caught this sooner? "Your baby being positioned like this will only cause more harm to your body the longer you move around.”

You shake your head, anger making your face turn hot. Those fucking Braxton Hicks hadn't been all Braxton Hicks but a major sign of your baby, Johnny's baby, being sideways. If it wasn't so fucking terrible you might be laughing. "How did you not catch this sooner?" you snarl.

"This is why we insist on check ups every week. So we can catch things like this.”

"But what about all the other check ups?" you huff and sit up, grasping onto Simon's arm for a little extra support. "What if you had missed it completely?”

"Ma'am please, getting aggressive will not do any of us any good.”

"A month I have to spend doing nothing." you grumble and cross your arms over your chest. You wonder, a thing you've been doing often, how Johnny would react to all of this. Wonder if he would be spitting mad and yelling at the doctor with a thick Scottish accent. You can almost hear it. Pulling from memories of him training recruits or yelling at an insubordinate recruit.

"It's for the best." Simon says, physically stopping himself from adding a 'love' to the end. He was sure you would throw your shoes at him if he let it slip. You had always been a firecracker and pregnancy seemed to amplify how quickly your anger flared up. It would be cute, he thinks, if he didn't know that you could gut him like a fish.

You glare at Simon the entire trip back to the flat, refuse his help getting out of his truck and slam the truck door shut hard. The last few weeks you've struggled up the stairs to your flat and now you're marching up them like you weren't advised to keep exercise low. “Would ya fuckin’ wait?” Simon huffs. Your glare could melt steel and you slam the flat door behind you. Simon groans and opens it to find you pacing back and forth.

“Just sit down.” Simon says and grabs you by the shoulders. You push him away a little, stumbling yourself from the force needed to do such an act.

“Don't tell me what to do.” you snap and run your fingers through your hair. You were sure you would lose your fucking mind if you had to rest all day for a month.

“You should update Mrs and Mr MacTavish on the situation.” Simon suggests, “Maybe Mrs MacTavish has gone through this before.” You glare at him but pull out your phone anyway and begin to type.

You're there when he wakes up, this time not high on pain meds. “Lass?” he groggily muttered and tried to rub at his eyes. Soap hissed when he felt the IV needle in his arm at the movement. “What ‘re ye doin’ here?”

“Waiting for you to wake up.” you stated, voice cool and Soap sunk further into blankets and hospital bed. He knew that look in your eyes, you were on the verge of an explosion. “What the hell were you thinkin’?” you snapped and flicked his forehead for good measure. “Running into that building like a man with a death wish.” you tossed your hands up in the air.

“Well I'm not dead.”

“I had to perform CPR on your MacTavish!” you snarled, “Blood loss might've fogged that part over but I remember!”

“Lass-”

“Do not ‘Lass’ me.” you stood from your chair, the spot you had nearly grown roots into if not for the different appointments you had due to the wounds on your hands. “You nearly died and I had to watch it. Do you seriously think I wouldn't be upset?”

“Lass I'm fine.” Soap tried to say and sit up. He groaned and clutched his side when the pain shocked through his system. “Bleeding Christ.”

You sat back down in your chair and wiped at your tears so he wouldn't see them. “You pull that shit on me again MacTavish and I'll let the crows eat you.”

“I'm not on bed rest yet Simon.” you huff and nudge Simon away and out of the kitchen. “I can make my own food.”

“Never said ya couldn't.” Simon mutters as he takes a step back.

“Go finish setting up the baby changing station.” you say, swallowing the snarl. You keep reminding yourself that this isn't Simon's fault. Mrs. MacTavish has texted back, telling you that she once had a friend with the same complication but not to worry. The month would pass quickly. You had to also turn off your phone to stop from messaging something hurtful. The military had always kept you moving. Running courses, training recruits or deployed into the field. Pregnancy had already shown you down and put you on light duty until you took leave.

You tap your foot as you stir the soup and your eyes drift to the front of your hands. The scars had faded well thanks to treatments but sometimes you wish they hadn't. Just as a reminder, something to run your hands over that wasn't your bulging stomach. You reach and turn on your phone, holding your breath as well as you could bring 7 months pregnant as the brands sign flashes.

You stare at your lock screen, a group picture of the 141. Back when Soap was alive. A ding as a notification pops up, a message from Mrs MacTavish from several hours ago.

“Would you like a baby shower before you have to go on bed rest?”

A baby shower? You had a small one at four months. Just Price and Gaz, Simon wasn't invited. The baby clothes you had were from those two. You really didn't want another. So much stress and surely more people. You had seen the family pictures on the wall in their house.

I owe it to them, you think as you type up the one word response, at least I owe them this much.

“Yes.”

[mask-of-prime]

VG: Something in the Water - PART 2

Weeks of rejoicing in the clear weather had lifted everyone's spirits. Taking advantage of the right weather, talks of Kiara and Kovu's official crowning as king and queen had made its way through the Pridelands. Dear friends and family were invited, including Kiara's brother, Kion, and his queen, Rani, who had not yet seen the Pridelands for herself.

The last few weeks consisted of rehearsals that both the royals and the Guard had to practice. However, in these same weeks, sudden, mysterious disappearances had taken place. It was recently found out that said disappearances had been drownings, as the unfortunate victims would be found risen to the surface of bodies of water.

The incidents made Simba and Nala wonder if maybe the ceremony once again had to be postponed, but their son and his friends were already on their way. Vitani and her Guard promised to investigate the situation with caution.

____

Today was the big day, the day of Kiara and Kovu's official coronation. It wasn't common for a predecessor to step down and watch their successor rise. For generations, it was tradition for the old monarch to pass away in order for their child to succeed the title. Simba wanted to see Kiara rule so he could someday join the Kings of the Past knowing that the kingdom was in good paws.

Simba believed Kiara was ready. Kiara, herself, however, was a nervous wreck. She didn't tell anyone except Kovu, who knew the feelings of the pressure of filling a role very well.

Meanwhile, Vitani and her Lion Guard flanked Pride Rock. They proudly watched as Kovu and Kiara walked up the ledge upon being called over by Makini, who had also made her return to the Pridelands.

During the ceremonial march, the Guard chatted amongst themselves in hushed voices. The clearing of the weather reminded them of the strange monsoon that had taken place for nearly a month, and a conversation came up where nightmares they'd all seem to simultaneuously have had come to a stop the minute the monsoon ended. Nightmares that all had to do with their youth in the Outlands.

Vitani felt correct in her theory that these dreams would occur every time it rained. She considered Tiifu's theory that the dreams had been trauma-related due to the scent and sound of rain. Lately, there was also the addition of these drowning incidents.

Did the stress of these investigations play into these nightmares, too? No matter what, It all seemed to involve water... No... That's too superstitious. That's jumping to conclusions... But, was superstition so out of the ordinary for one who possessed the Roar of the Elders? 

"Lion Guard!"

The five lions in question looked to the sky. It was Anga.

She perched to their level, standing at Vitani's shoulder. The Fiercest lent an ear. Anga had told them she caught sight of a violent drowning incident near Misingi Falls.

Not another one... The Lion Guard left Pride Rock on yet another detective mission, hoping they could maybe save this latest victim. ____

"We should split up to shorten the investigation. We don't want to be gone too long before their official crowning." whispered Vitani.

The Guard obeyed the order, deeming it a sound idea. They all went their separate ways to inspect each area of Misingi Falls that they were assigned to. Vitani walked towards the grove that was on the way to the namesake waterfall, lost in the fond memories of falling in love with Tiifu in that very place. She hadn't noticed the mist rising from the ground. Mist that made her disappearance undetectable to the rest of the Guard.

Meanwhile, the sky seemed to grow dark unusually sooner than it normally would. It had been getting oddly dark for the past hour, now. Vitani gazed up at the sky, hoping it not to be any more rainclouds. It felt as if the sun was being blocked by something, but Vitani couldn't truly check without risking blinding herself. Overall, the phenomenon could not be more eerily-timed...

A noise from above scared Vitani out of her wits. She gasped as she jolted. She looked towards the source of the sound to find that it had only been an eagle owl, which flew away from its perch just then. It was confused by the sudden darkness of the sky, thinking it to already be evening.

Vitani chuckled to herself in relief and from the comedic timing for a mere owl to be there. She sighed after catching her breath, inspecting her surroundings to find that she'd wandered rather far from the group, unbeknownst to her, and apparently the rest.

All of a sudden, an all-surrounding, enticing hum rang through Vitani's ears. In order to get a better listen, Vitani followed the sound, not realizing she was, in fact, being involuntarily pulled towards the source of the song.

The song echoing in the mist sounded familiar... nostalgic... comforting... a lullaby Vitani once knew, one sung to her and her brothers in anticipation of victory and a new home. Though, it was unusually slow in tempo, with a somewhat unnerving, demented tone.

No matter... It made her feel like a child again...

She had to find the voice, it was calling to her. She continued to mindlessly make her way through the grove, stepping carefully through bushes as her head remained perfectly still, staring straight ahead.

She felt desire... desire that was being... deliberately preyed upon...

The owner of the voice was elated at the creature she caught this time. She was going to spare this one...

"Yes, come to your mother..." it crooned. She had her now... The Fiercest found herself slowly stepping into the pool at the base of the waterfall. The splash of her paws and the cold, wet sensation up her legs had snapped her out of her trance. She frantically looked around at her surroundings, not sure how she ended up at Misingi Falls. Her bewilderment was cut short when she saw a glowing form emerge from the waterfall. A familiar face eagerly grinned down at her.

"It's been too long, my dear..." Vitani was shocked, to say the least. The water had taken the form of her deceased mother. She knew that smile, that singsong voice, that petname she'd sometimes call her. It was her, it really was her...

"I... I couldn't agree more..." Vitani finally responded, choking up a bit as she smiled.

She quickly caught herself, wiping away tears that were just beginning to form in her eyes. She knew her mother would comment on her crying. It was unprofessional, immature, dramatic, she would say.

"Hah, sorry..." the daughter sniffled.

"Now, now," Zira's apparition purred, "it's alright. I'm here, now, and that's what matters."

Vitani spent a good while reeling from what was happening. She still wasn't sure if it was a dream, hallucination, something. She had seen ghosts, before, possessing the divine Roar of the Elders. She knew very well that it was possible. She felt her paws dig into the muddy ground under the rushing water, her mother's bellowing voice rattling her chest. The sensation was absolutely real, as far as she knew.

"You've really bulked up," Zira remarked, "and I see a certain marking on your shoulder. That's new..."

Vitani expected that, she'd always been prepared to hear her mother comment on her physical attributes. She did gain quite a bit of muscle mass in her upper body, making her resemble her mother all the more.

"Oh, Mother. You have no idea... So much has happened since you've been gone. I'm a leader, now. I'm in charge of the new Lion Guard, and we've been keeping Kovu and our pridesisters safe like you'd always hoped we would. You'll be proud to hear this, Kovu and Kiara, they're about to b -- "

"King and Queen of the Pridelands?" Zira's tone and face were unreadable, either intrigued or unimpressed. Possibly both.

"Y-Yes..." Vitani's soldier-like stance dropped as her head craned closer, "How did you know that...?"

"How else? It's like you said before, my dear; I have been watching you from the clouds." her voice barely contained a slight hint of a grudge, "I've been watching all of you. All. This. Time. I was there to watch you become corrupted by the Pridelander since you left me to die in favor of them..."

Vitani's mind flashed back to all of the rainstorms that took place since her mother's death, from the weeks-long monsoon to the occasional thunderstorms scattered throughout the past year. It all made sense. The strange dreams everyone seemed to have at a time, the faint whispers in the raindrops that Vitani could swear was the voice of her own mother's, her scent, the flashbacks... It had all played a part in something that the Lions of the Past were trying to tell the Roar-wielder for some time.

"But... shouldn't you have been with the Lions of the Past all this time if you lived in the clouds?"

"I did, until you conjured a Dark Roar and sacrificed one of your precious subjects to turn me into this vengeful spirit." "S-Sacrifice?" Vitani's eyes grew wide, "What are you talking about?"

"Does this look familiar?

Suddenly, something was being pulled out of the water under Zira's hydrokinetic control. A large, greenish-gray form was plopped down in front of Vitani, as if she were being presented a kill from a hunt. Vitani grew sick to her stomach.

It had been the bloated, rotting corpse of Ngurumo. He was barely recognizable, yet there wasn't a single scratch on him. It seemed as if his cadaver was protected from the predators that lived below.

"Take a good, long look, my child..." Zira deadpanned, seeming to disregard her daughter's visible distress.

"You're... you're a monster..." Vitani muttered, petrified.

"You made me, Vitani. You let your temper slip when you unleashed your Roar. I'm a monster -- BECAUSE OF YOU!"

"No..." Vitani grew hot. She felt herself shaking as her heart began to pound. "Yes..." purred Zira, "Help me, Vitani. Help me, and I won't appear this way again..." Fear overcame Vitani. It wasn't like her to disobey her mother, but she could not stay here. She frantically trotted out of the water, and turned for the grove. "DON'T LEAVE ME! I AM WHAT YOU MADE ME!" Zira's voice echoed through the trees, not seeming to grow any quieter the further Vitani bolted through the confusing maze. Vitani ran for her life. Twigs snapped and bushes flattened as the lioness brushed through them. She could still her her mother, and felt like she was right behind her if she were to ever dare to look back.  Just before the drop down the hill, Vitani hadn't noticed a large branch hanging about, near eye-level. She smacked her temple against it. It had only been the beginning of misfortune, as she made a painful tumble down to the hill's base. She landed on her back, out cold. Zira lost track of where Vitani had ran shortly into the chase. She stared on hatefully, feeling once again betrayed by her only daughter. She idly sifted the water that surrounded her, letting it softly rise and fall. Her hydrokinesis growing more powerful the more she stewed. Until... The blood that dripped from the branch that Vitani cut herself on began to move as well. Zira watched the droplets defy gravity like the water did. A low chuckle escaped her throat. A plan had been forming. She learned more and more of new ways to start total chaos with anyone she's ever known. Everyone who ever wronged her will now pay... ____ "Vitani? You okay?" said a muffled voice. The lioness on the ground blinked away her double-vision. The twelve -- no, eight? Four grayish forms became clearer. It was her Lion Guard, staring down at her with concern. "Uhhh..." Vitani moaned, squeezing her eyes shut from the pain on her temple becoming exasperated by the bright yellow sunset. "That was quite a tumble, dude." said Shabaha. "Hnngg... how long was I out...?" Vitani slurred. "Couple of hours." Imara replied. Vitani shot up, becoming more alert. "The ceremony! I-Is it too late?!" "The ceremony... kinda didn't happen..." Kasi cringed awkwardly. Vitani stood up, "What?" "Kiara panicked. Bad." Imara answered, "Ran back into the cave. When we got back to Pride Rock, everyone was checking on her." "When it started getting late, we noticed you were gone. We had Tazama locate you while we ran back home real quick. She stayed by you until we came back." Kasi said. "C'mon, Vitani..." Shabaha let her leader put her weight on her shoulder, "Gonna wanna get that thing patched up. I mean, might give Tiifu a panic attack on top of Kiara's, but... it's... y'know..." Shabaha's voice trailed off. Vitani absentmindedly nodded just before glancing back. She looked into the grove, gazing at the glow of the falls deep within. Did her interaction with her mother even happen, or was it all just a bad dream? She couldn't bring it up, now. Not with a gash on her head. No one would believe her... ____ ((Author's Note: Water Spirit Zira is finally revealed! Looks like Vitani's having a not-so-good (belated) Friday the 13th 😱. A MUCH fuller version of this story will be uploaded later on my Ao3, including that very summarized prelude as well as Kiara and Kovu's B-plot. Here, I just provided the portion of the story providing context for the thumbnails. Art Note: You may have noticed a strange phenomenon in the sky in the first image. This is a nod to an annual solar eclipse that happened today that both Americas had the opportunity to witness. Also, as you may have noticed, I did indeed do a paint-over of my one drawing of Water Spirit Zira when I first introduced her in her model sheet. I liked the drawing too much that I thought I'd adapt it into a more detailed, full image with her daughter included four years later.))

[spacebarbarianweird]

Lost and Found

Synopsis: Astarion dissapears, and Tiriel goes looking for him.

Tags: dadstarion, dhampirs, hurt/comfort

Alethaine's age: 6 years old

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons This one is more Tiriel x Astarion centered but Alethaine has her role, too

Astarion can’t move - his regeneration doesn’t catch up with the damage he received. His ribs are broken and so are his hands. There is nothing left of his renowned vampiric strengths - he is helpless in front of those warriors.

Kill the vampire. Kill the vampire. Kill the vampire.

He feels  dawn is close. His body stirs, and a wave of panic floods his mind. The sun will kill him. The sun will burn him.

Astarion tries to stand up but a strong blow knocks him down.

The first rays of the sun cut him like blades.

The last coherent thought comes to his mind.

Tiriel was right. He should have listened to his wife.

**

Tiriel is worried sick.

Astarion left a month ago with those men from Tunland - promising it would take only a dozen days and she wouldn't be stuck home with their daughter all alone.

But it’s been four weeks and he still hasn’t returned.

Alethaine sits on the ceiling with a book. Her adorable little face looks so serious that Tiriel can’t resist smiling every time she glances at her daughter. 

Like every elven child Tiriel has seen, Alethaine looks a bit like a perfect doll - a bit smaller than human children, with soft silver hair, and pointy ears that twitch, reacting to sounds. The quarter of human ancestry doesn’t manifest at all in her. She could pass for a high elf if it wasn’t for her vampire fangs, skin too pale for a living girl, and the fact she barely breathes. Sometimes Tiriel can’t resist  waking Alethaine up just to make sure she hasn’t died in her sleep. Just motherly anxiety, besides, nothing could have prepared Tiriel to be the mother of a dhampir.

Well, what did she expect, taking a vampire as a husband - but she had no idea dhampirs were anything but a myth.

“Mum.”

“What is it, Kitten?”

“When will Dad come back?”

“I don’t know”, Tiriel says.

The six-year-old flips the page. Tiriel notices elven letters, Espruar. Meanwhile, she is barely capable of reading a page in Common without having a headache, Alethaine easily reads books in both of her mother tongues. 

She is smart, her daughter. Just like Astarion.

Who disappeared without a trace.

It’s not like him. Of course, dealing with pacts and contracts isn't a fast job. It often takes Astarion days just to understand what exactly happened between his client and whatever force they’ve decided to sign papers with (because no one wants to admit to their mistakes). 

But Astarion doesn’t like to be away for too long. Tiriel knows it too well. They have been together for twenty-six years but what is it in comparison with two centuries of slavery, considering his previous life is completely erased from his memories? Astarion still has nightmares, he is still haunted. He needs her as much as she needs him. 

He would have come back already - to her, to their daughter, to their home. 

Tiriel is sure something bad has happened.

Vampires are vulnerable to the sun. To silver. Astarion could have been killed and she would never know about it. 

Tiriel didn’t like Astarion’s last client at first sight—an obnoxious chieftain from the Tunland who was so similar to Tiriel’s abusive drunkard of a stepfather that she almost had a panic attack. He even spoke with the same shitty dialect native to Tiriel’s human relatives.

Tiriel even suggested finding someone in town to look after Alethaine in her absence. Hells she was going to let him go alone! But Astarion talked her out.

I love having you as my bodyguard, but let’s not leave Alethaine without both of her parents.

Tiriel feels a gentle touch of fingers on her hair.

“Mum.”

“Hm?”

“Your mum and dad were half-elves like you? Or one of them was an elf like me and Dad?”

Tiriel looks up. Well, sooner or later she would have asked. For some reason the absence of Astarion’s family doesn’t bother Alethaine (at least now), maybe because she understands the concept that “dad was killed and resurrected and it was so long ago it was all forgotten”—but the  fact that Tiriel doesn't have anyone except for her husband probably surprises her.

“My mother was a human and my father was an elf.”

“But where are they? Is grandma dead?”

Tiriel is quiet for a second. Grandma. Well, sure. Tiriel did have a mother. A woman who gave birth to her. And hated her so much didn’t even bother to give her a name. 

Tiriel does mental math. She has no idea how old her mother was when they last saw each other but considering some of Tiriel’s brothers had already had children,the old hag must be around ninety. If she is alive, which is dubious considering the living conditions in the Tunland and, especially, in the Sunset Mountains.

“And grandpa? If he is an elf, he is still somewhere!”

“Alethaine, I don’t know who my father was or is. I don’t know his name, I don’t know where he was from. And as for my mother… she wasn’t a good person.”

Alethaine winces her nose. 

“But she was your mum!”

“She was a woman who gave birth to me. But she was never my mum. Alethaine, sometimes it happens. Sometimes mothers don’t love their children. And sometimes fathers just disappear without a trace. There are plenty of adults who shouldn't become parents at all.”

Alethaine shakes her head. 

“What if Dad has disappeared too?”

“No,” Tiriel says firmly. “Your dad will come back.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am. Because he loves us.”

Alethaine squeezes her lips.

“Mum.”

Tiriel smiles. Once Aletaine starts asking, she doesn’t stop.

“Were you happy when I was born?”

“Of course! We were very happy to have you!”

Tiriel feels tears pricking her eyes. Of course, she can't know it but she is sure her own birth was met with curses and insults once her bitch of a mother and the midwife saw that the newborn had pointy ears. 

Elven bastard. Dirty blood. Pixie. 

Holding her own daughter in her arms for the first time, Tiriel couldn't understand how anyone could carry a child in their own body, experience childbirth, and still hate such an innocent human being.

“When I have a daughter, I will love her very-very much, just like you love me”

“Well, then she will be lucky to have both a mother and grandmother.”

Tiriel looks outside as if hoping to see a familiar figure approaching the house.

Nothing. 

There is only one thing Tiriel can do about it except for waiting.  

“Alethaine, I need to go away for a few days. You will live with the innkeeper's family.”

“You will go looking for dad?”

“Yes. And, please, don’t make me feel sorry I’ve left you with them.”

Alethaine nods. The innkeeper, his husband, and their five children are the only dwarves in Daggerlake - and almost the same “weirdos” as the Ancunins. Besides, the innkeeper is a retired adventurer and brews the best ale Tiriel has ever drunk. 

“And promise me you won’t crawl on the ceilings. Even if you are asked to.”

“But it’s fun!”

“Yes, but people usually don’t like it when the child they are asked to look after can run away from them to the ceiling.”

“Bu muum…”

“ALETHAINE.”

Tiriel rarely uses her “rage” voice on Alethaine but it always works. Anethaine flinches, her eyes wide open and the book drops to the floor.

“Alright! I won't crawl on the ceiling!”

“Good girl. Now, get dressed and take what you need”

Tiriel hopes it will take her less than a week to find Astarion.

She is even ready to provide an offering to some deity to ensure she won’t coming back home  a widow.

**

It’s hunger. Pain. Desperation.

Astarion wanders through narrow stone halls looking for prey. Nothing. There is nothing. This place is lifeless. 

He is still there, in the dungeons, isn’t he?

Still locked somewhere under his master’s mansion. Starved, beaten, tortured.

It was all a dream

The sun. The warmth of a mortal body. The kisses, the hugs. Home, wife, daughter. It was just a mind trick.

The memories fade so does his consciousness.

A red-haired woman. Freckles on her back. She is saying something to him. Who is she? He can't remember.

A little girl. Cold pale skin, no breathing, blood with a bitter scent of wormwood. Dhampir? Or just an unfortunate child turned into a spawn?

No, they are not real. He is going to hear HIS voice. Humiliating orders. Astarions waiting for it like a lash.

Boy, don’t slouch before me.

Astarion lies on the cold stone. His body is paralyzed. Vampires can spend decades like that - they can’t die of hunger, they just freeze in a neverending torture.

The woman. She keeps invading his thoughts. Who is she? The vision slips away.

You’ve brought cattle, boy.

Yes, the master is here. He is disappointed. He will flay Astarion’s skin and chain him to the wall. But what did astarion do? Did he run away? Did he fail to bring the food? Did he break one of the unwritten rules he couldn’t possibly remember?

The night vale, the stars in the skies, the mountains in the distance. A bunch of red-haired warriors. Kill the vampire. Kill the vampire.

Sun is burning Astarion’s skin.

Did they just return him to his master?

Astarion doesn’t move. Soon there is no name, no reason. Just an empty starving shell.

BLOOD.

Astarion’s body stirs up. Someone alive is close, close enough for his vampiric senses to catch them.

HEART BEATING.

So loud he hears it from a distance.

He jumps on his feet and walks toward his prey.

A woman. Probably, a half-elf. He catches her mixed scent. She is armored with a two-handed ax.

And she is alone.

“Who is there?” she asks, ready to thrust her skull-crushing weapon. Too bad the prey has  dark vision. It gives her some advantages. But she will be dead soon anyway, once she satiates his starving body. 

He bares his fangs and almost physically senses her fear. The blood of a scared creature is the sweetest.

“Astarion?” her voice trembles. She takes a step back.

And drops her weapon.

He rushes toward her and knocks her to the ground. She doesn’t resist for some reason but the vampire doesn’t pay attention to that.

Astarion pierces her neck. Blood streams down his throat. 

So sweet, so delicious. He can’t stop - he won’t stop. Every drop of this woman’s body is going to be his, he is going to satiate himself and then he will go hunting for someone else…

His body slowly gets warmer and his sanity slowly returns.

Astarion. My name is Astarion.

He doesn’t have a master.

He can… feed… on mortals…

Freedom. Sunlight.

Tiriel.

He pulls away and the woman falls on the stone floor, unable to move and barely breathing.

“Oh no…” he mutters observing what he has done. “Tiriel…”

Astarion crawls back to his beloved. Her eyelids are half open, and her skin is almost as pale as his.

“Tiriel!” he slaps her cheek. “Tirel! Stay awake! Look at me, look at me! Oh gods!”

He presses her weak body to his chest, cradling her in his arms. His darling Tiriel, his wife, his thiramin… 

“M-my bag… There is… a… potion” she whispers.

Astarion opens it and finds a small bottle. He unclenches Tiriel’s jaw with his strong hands and pours the liquid into her mouth.

The color returns to her cheeks and her heart stops beating so fast. Her eyes are still full of fear and it hurts Astarion even more.

“Tiriel… I…” Astarion mutters but he can’t say anything else.

What is he going to say, after all?

“Astarion, what the hells happened to you?” she finally says. “You looked like a fucking ghoul! Well you still do… a bit”

Astarion gulps. His throat hurts. He needs more. He is too weak, too exhausted. Astarion looks at his hands to avoid Tirilel’s eyes and horror pierces him once again.

His hands are all covered in burns. Nail plates are broken, and the skin hangs in shreds. 

“Hey! Astarion, look at me!” Tiriel finally makes herself sit up and grabs his mutilated hands. “Hush, I am here, I am here!”

She hugs him and he feels how weak she is. His body trembles, the panic crushes his mind with boiling hot waters, tears stream down his face and his mouth is open in a silent scream.

“Hush, my love, it’s going to be alright. We are going home. Alethaine misses you”

Alethaine. His daughter.

He is safe. His master is dead. He has it all.

And he’s almost lost it.

Tiriel cups his face. “Astarion, I shouldn’t have let you go. I knew something was wrong. Did they try to kill you?”

“I don't remember.”

“Where are your things? Daggers? The armor?”

Astarion looks down - his feet are bare, the trousers and the shirt are all in rags. He does look like he just emerged from a tomb.

“Damn. Well, let’s hope no one will attack us on the way back. Come on, let’s go outside and get you more blood. And then we are going home and the fuck I am letting you go alone next time!”

**

Tiriel lies on the bedroll. She’s set up the tent in the cave—close enough to the surface but with access to the underground tunnels.

She didn’t manage to understand what exactly happened to Astarion and why he was that feral when she found him. But the burns on his skin betrayed the only reason—the sun.

It seems like whoever did this managed to overcome Astarion in a fight and then let him burn in the sun. Astarion managed to get into the tunnels but lost his way. And since the tunnels were completely empty the hunger didn’t let him heal.

She knew they couldn't trust those bastards from Tunland! She has a good intuition after all. Next time Astarion had better listen to his wife!

Her whole body hurts, especially her neck. Astarion rarely feeds on Tiriel—her blood is more like a medicine to him rather than food but when he does he is always gentle, making sure the process doesn’t hurt her. But this—this was a full-fledged assault. He ripped her throat with his fangs and she is alive only thanks to the fact he returned to his senses before it was too late.

She hears light footsteps.

Astarion is back. His hands are healed and he looks like himself, not the starved monster she encountered in the tunnels.

She elbows up, but Astarion pulls away in embarrassment.

“Astarion, come here,” Tiriel asks. “I’ve spent a month in an empty bed. Don’t deprive me of your presence,” she takes his hand in hers.

Together they sit on the bedroll and Tiriel hugs him nuzzling the crook of his neck.

“I am sorry,” he says.

“Don’t.”

“I’ve almost killed you.”

“But you didn't. Astarion, please, you’ve lost yourself because of hunger. I won’t deny I was scared,but it doesn’t mean it has to change anything about us.”

“I almost killed you,” he repeats. “I would have stepped in the sun if I had done it.”

“Hm, and left our daughter an orphan? I don’t think there are many people ready to raise a dhampir.”

“Where is she?”

“I left with the innkeeper’s family. Good thing I went out looking for you. Who knows where the darkness would have taken you.”

He nods and presses his legs to his chest. Tiriel hugs him from behind. When they just started being together she did it daily—a ritual to console him. But it’s been a while since he needed it.

She kisses the nape of his neck. Then she kisses his cheek. Caress his ears. Plays with his curls.

“I love you,” she whispers. “You are the best thing that happened to me.”

Astarion weeps and Tiriel tugs him closer.

“You need to meditate, love” She kisses his forehead. “Think about something good. Remember how we left Baldur’s Gate twenty-six years ago? We hit the road at sunset and just walked hand in hand. Or when we were stuck in some shitty northern town for the whole winter? I couldn’t make myself leave the room and one night you came back with a pair of rings. You just put one on my finger and kept staring at me as if you saw me for the first time.”

“I prepared the whole wedding speech but forgot it all,” Astarion says, not even trying to get into reverie.

“Or remember how we were both freaking out because of the pregnancy? One day you just knelt in front of me, placed your hand on my belly and burst into tears because your vampire hearing allowed you to hear Alethaine’s heartbeat.”

“We need to go home, Astarion, and you need to rest. Then we can talk about anything that bothers you.”

**

Alethaine flips the page of the book. Thanks to dark vision she can read in complete darkness. The story catches her mind—it is a story of old times when elves ruled Faerun. Thousands and thousands of years before the Age of Humanity, her ancestors walked those lands, building the towers and castles and practicing the ways of long-forgotten magic.

But the intrusive thoughts keep getting into her young mind. First, Dad disappeared without a trace and Mum was so worried she could barely do anything. Then, Mum left town and Alethaine was all alone. Sure, the dwarven family is friendly and they don’t mind taking care of one more child (it’s not a big deal if there are five or six of them), but with every passing day Alethaine was getting more anxious.

What if both of her parents had died? What if she was already an orphan? 

Two months passed like this. And then, she was woken up by familiar voices, and her tiny world was restored.

The dhampir puts the book away and takes her plushie. It’s nice to sleep in her own bed for once, but she feels so lonely it cripples her.

Alethaine walks to her parents’ room. Mum and Dad lie in each other’s arms. They discuss something she can’t understand.

“I think we have a visitor,” Astarion chuckles. “What is it, princess?”

“Can I sleep with you?” Alethaine asks, pressing the plushie to her chest.

“Sure, come here!” Astarion opens the blanket up inviting Alethaine in. The dhampir immediately nestles between her parents.

Tiriel hugs her and kisses the crown of her head and Astarion adjusts a bit so he can see both of his girls.

Alethaine relaxes. Her mother’s heartbeat is so loud it’s basically the only thing she can hear. Dad doesn’t breathe and his heart doesn’t beat, but she finds special comfort when he holds her—there is something more natural about his cold hands than her mother’s warmth.

“Did something scare you, princess?” Astarion asks, intertwining his fingers in Alethain’s long soft hair.

Alethaine feels a wave of sadness and fear rising up in her body. Before she manages to say anything coherent she bursts in tears causing both of her parents to immediately rush to comfort her.

“Were you afraid we were absent for so long?” Tiriel asks, placing Alethaine in her lap. Her motherly kisses are so tender the dhampir cries louder and more desperate.

Astarion sits up and wraps his hands around them both.

“I am sorry, princess. We aren’t going to leave you anymore, we promise.”

Alethaine sniffs, pressing her nose into Tiriel’s chest. 

And then she hears a quiet lullaby.

Astarion hums it in Elven. Alethaine can’t decipher words but the song soothes her as Tiriel sways her a bit in her arms as if the dhampir was still a baby. 

Both her mother’s warmth and her father’s undead coldness weave a perfect sense of comfort for her. 

Of course, they were going to come back. They are her parents. They can’t disappear, they can’t die.

As Alethaine drifts into sleep, she notices the way her parents look at each other. 

This image is being engraved in her mind and Alethaine will remember this even years later.

Even centuries later Alethaine Ancunin will remember the way her mother smiled to her father and the way Astarion held Tiriel’s hand. The way they talked to each other, the way they saw the world in their lover’s eyes.

Three centuries later, when Alethaine takes her own daughter in her pale hands, this image will flee into the dhampir’s mind, and she will weep, mourning her long-dead mother.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @queenofthespacesquids

[zafirosreverie]

Little furry friend (Bruno x F!Reader) part 2

For @hectic-hector (ily 💕)

Part 1

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

"Julieta!! Do something about your sister!!"

The healer sighed and rolled her eyes fondly before turning to see Pepa effortlessly carrying Bruno into the kitchen. She knew that her brother justified that with the weight loss he had while living in the walls, but the three of them knew that Pepa had always had incredible strength and that she could lift both of them on each arm without breaking a sweat.

"Julieta!! Tell your brother to stop being a crybaby!!"

"I'm not a crybaby!"

"Yes you are!"

"Julieta!!"

"Okay, that's enough" the older one said, trying not to laugh at Bruno's pout when Pepa sat him down in a chair "what's going on?"

"Your sister is a nightmare"

"Your brother is an airhead"

"...okay, something else I don't already know?"

"HEY!!"

Julieta laughed at her siblings’ expressions and rolled her eyes again. Sometimes it was exhausting mediating their fights, but she truly loved them with all of her being and wouldn't have them any other way, no matter how many gray hairs they gave her in a day (definitely more than the six grandchildren combined).

"And you're supposed to be the good triplet?" Pepa crossed her arms with a pout.

"I always said that we should be careful with her, she has a mischievous glint in her eyes" Bruno whispered to the redhead

"So it's against me now?" the older one said, putting her hands on her hips "two seconds ago you were arguing for god knows what"

"oh yeah! You're right"

"Oh no, did you have to remind her?"

Bruno growled when a rainbow invaded the kitchen and Pepa got a little closer to her older sister, taking her by the hand like an excited child. It was always funny how Pepa could change her mood so quickly, especially when she was with her siblings, when she felt safe from being judged. But it wasn't as funny when he was the victim of her plans.

"Let's invite Y/N to dinner!"

"What?"

"We are NOT going to invite her to dinner, Pepa!"

"Why not? You already spend all day with her anyway, Bruno"

"It's different!"

"Why?!"

"Because you are not there to try anything"

"Excuse me?!" the redhead thundered "well sorry but someone has to take the next step if you're not going to do it yourself"

"There is no next step, Pepa, we are just friends!"

Julieta sighed again and pinched the bridge of her nose as her siblings returned to a heated discussion that must have started long before they entered the kitchen. She could understand Bruno's anger or concern, and would usually agree with him that things should happen on their own.

The thing was, this time, she was on Pepa's side. It had been months since you showed up at the house with Bruno's rat in your hand and the whole family had been surprised at how well you got along with him. She had to admit that like her sister, she felt quite betrayed that he hadn't told them about you sooner, but she understood that he had a right to his privacy as well.

And if she was honest with herself, she was relieved at how well you treated her little brother. It wasn't common for townspeople to associate with him of their own free will, even after the candle fiasco, but you didn't seem to have any problem, you were kind to him, you treated him as an equal, and you were even one of the few people he felt comfortable enough about physical contact with.

Of course, the nervous mess he was when you were around him, or the blush that would always come over his face when you smiled at him, or the goofy smile he had all the time when you talked to him, didn't go unnoticed either. Dolores even confirmed that his heart raced every time he saw you or someone said your name. It was obvious to everyone that Bruno Madrigal was completely in love with Y/N Y/L/N, and would be cute, if it wasn't for him refusing to do anything about it.

Her brother was already exhausting the family's patience and even Casita had tried to intervene (which is why Bruno chose to go to your house instead of having you visit them). Julieta was really beginning to consider that they would have to take that step for him.

She snapped out of her thoughts when Pepa's thunder began to get louder. The kitchen began to be filled with black clouds and if she didn’t intervene soon, all her effort would be wasted due to the rain. However, she did not have time to do something when you popped your head through the window, with a small rat on your shoulder.

"Hi Juli!" You said, always smiling "What are you doing?"

Months ago, it would not even have occurred to you to be so open with her, but after the kind reception that the whole family had made, you could not help but feeling comfortable and happy every time you approached Casita.

"These two, always fighting" she returned the smile

"For the last arepa again?"

"No" she laughed, remembering the time Pepa almost threw a knife to Bruno when he took the last arepa, although she quickly calmed down when she saw that he had taken it for you "for something that Pepa wants Bruno to do"

"Ohhhh" you said, with curiosity in your eyes "What thing?"

She was about to answer when Antonio suddenly entered the kitchen. The boy smiled widely as soon as he saw you and ran to greet you. After Bruno, Madrigal's youngest son was the one who more time spent with you.

"Hello Y/N!"

"Hey Buddy!" You answered "Long time no seeing you"

"Yes, you didn't come for three days!" he pouted

"I'm sorry, I had things to do in the carpentry" you apologized

You did not even notice that the black clouds had disappeared, or that the Madrigal triplets were looking at you with curiosity, kindness and nervousness.

"It's okay" Antonio smiled at you "is just that the animals began to ask me where Uncle Bruno's girlfriend was" he shrugged

You felt your cheeks turning red, and you quickly looked where the seer was, a few steps behind his nephew. He did not look better than you, on the contrary, he looked pale and two seconds of fainting, while his sisters smirked and tried to hide their laughs behind their hands, although the rainbow that filled the room betrayed the redhead.

If you were honest, the idea itself was not bad. Actually, you had long accepted your feelings for the younger triplet, even if you didn’t plan to do something about it because you did not think the man returned your feelings. But now, seeing him so red and nervous, you committed to question it.

"S-she’s not my g-girlfriend" Bruno stuttered, resisting the impulse to hide with the hood of his Ruana

"She's not?" Antonio asked innocently

"No, I'm not" you replied

For a moment that seemed frozen in time, you could feel the eyes of the three adults on you, Pepa seemed disappointed, Julieta contained her breath and Bruno looked really defeated. That was what made you take a risk.

"Toñito, your uncle and I share Sebastián, remember?" you said gently

"Yeah?"

"That means we have a child together" you smiled with malice when you heard the triplets gasps "I am not his girlfriend, I am his wife"

"W-what?!"

Pepa and Julieta laughed at their brother's complete shock, and you couldn't help noticing how adorable it was. But then, as if he was a statue, he fell backwards, harshly hitting against the ground.

".... ooops" you said.

[lovethetasteofnothing]

good parenting, bad timing | ghostsoap

silly feverish brain writes silly fluffy scenarios..

part 1 | part 2

singleparent!soap who's bringing his daughter on her first day at a new school. she clearly isn't happy with the fact that she had to move again and she's complaining about how much she doesn't like ("hate is a very strong word my wee angel, yee should use it wise-like") her daddy's job. a sweet frown on her face as he tries to coax her into going into the school by herself because he's already running late.

but he can't help giving in when he sees the tears filling up her big puppy eyes, his arms wrapping around her and squeezing her as if to remind her he'll always be there for her. she was so different, yet so similar to him in so many ways, but the way she was so shy to warm up to people and make new friends was really the biggest discrepancy between the two of them.

so that's how singleparent!soap ended up late for work, choosing to be a good dad and help his little girl navigate the school until she reached her class. he knew how hard it was for her to constantly adapt to the change in environment, moving around or being left in someone's care while he went away, no promise was made that he'd return to her. and to be honest, it hurt his soul to see her suffering so deeply while he served for something he believed in.

and it broke his ego a little when he noticed his new team just staring at him when he showed up 10 minutes late, a specifically loud scoff accompanied by bitter words throwing him off for the rest of the day.

"so we're taking anyone in now, is it?" more of a mock than a remark. singleparent!ghost knew he was being a prick right now but after sleeping for barely a few hours last night he could care less if the new sergeant felt welcome or not.

besides the draining insomnia and the terrifying nightmares he suffered if he managed to sleep, he also had a little scoundrel to take care of. she resembled her pop, of course she did, but he knew deep down that she was so much more of a people-person than he was and would ever be. so when he woke up startled by his daughter's hand gently shaking him awake, he knew he had his fill of sleep for the night.

he had to pull her up and sit her down on his bed, wiping away crocodile tears from her blue eyes as she started talking about her nightmare and then drifted away to easy conversation about her day at school, the details she missed and whatever else she had found interesting that day. Simon couldn't complain, knowing that his daughter trusted, even loved him enough to share all of these things with him.

singleparent!ghost who wrapped her in a comfortable embrace, stroking her hair and nodding along to her story as he felt her drifting off to sleep. he knew he was too awake now to get any more winks of rest so he just spent the rest of the night holding his precious daughter, making sure she wouldn't get another nightmare like her daddy did.

he had promised himself to offer her a (great) childhood, something he had been robbed of and would never experience again. a thorn in his side whenever he thought about his life.

so when her mom left two years ago and simon was faced with the cold hard fact that he had to do everything by himself from now on, he felt like the world was falling apart. besides losing a lover he had put so much trust in, he had lost an important piece of his kid's life. for weeks he'd blame himself and think about the worst case scenario ,about his little princess growing up despising him for making her mom leave.

he had recovered, partially at least. he still blamed himself for the entirety of the fiasco. maybe he should have been a better boyfriend, proposed sooner, asked to be serious after they had had a kid. but he knew commitment meant inevitably losing someone and he wasn't ready to put it down on a piece of paper. to him it felt like signing a contract with the devil, knowing that the end goal was your own personal suffering.

but now he didn't have time to think about home or his ex, not when there was so much to do and so little time before he had to run and pick up his girl, bring her home and continue his tasks.

"get a clock next time, Sergeant. nobody likes a tardy soldier" he didn't know what had gotten into him... he was being oddly rude even for his usual self. Simon blamed it on the two hours of sleep.

even though the day went well and nobody had managed to piss him off except for the unhappy Sgt, he found himself constantly pestering the new man, a few snarky comments unintentionally leaving his mouth throughout the day. there was something about him that unsettled simon.

singleparent!ghost didn't have time for this though as he went to pick up his girl. the happiest man on earth when she ran and jumped in his arms. he wasn't wearing that scary mask anymore, his daughter and her friends didn't like it; or the balaclava because his girl always complained that she couldn't see any of daddy's face and it made her sad.

so he had to compromise and wear a simple black mask instead, still keeping part of his identity concealed.

but today she wasn't alone, no. it wasn't unusual for her to bring a friend over and ask if they could hang out but he wasn't familiar with the girl from today, he hadn't seen her before.

"daddy! daddy! can Blair come and play with me this week? please daddy, please?" his daughter always spoke so quickly, so enthusiastic about the topic at hand that it was hard to understand her sometimes. it was moments like these when he remembered that she was only partially like him, the chaotic and sweet side of her behavior coming from her now absent mother.

"we'll need to talk to her parents, won't we, princess?" he agreed with her softly, kneeling down and introducing himself to the new little girl. she seemed shy to say the least, her demeanor was neutral, almost a frown, even though her tone was so gentle and she had attempted to give him an awkward smile while talking. how come his daughter always found a new type of personality to attach her own to?

"Blair, pet, ah told ye to wait by the front gate. Ye got me all worried-" Soap was trying so hard not to let the shock show through on his face.

he hadn't recognized him at first, not when he saw just part of his face covered by a black mask, but his uniform was a dead giveaway, there was no way he could mistake him. did that fucking lieutenant have to show up here too?

"late again, Sergeant?"

this is the fanart that inspired the brainrot <3

creds divider: @/cafekitsune

[altocat]

‘Ello!! Hope it’s been a lovely weekend!! 💕

I don’t know if I’ve ever asked you this before but shshhshshshhs Can we get some Zack & Seph bonding over Angeal angst/comfort plz?? :3ccc

Yesssssssss of course !

Sephiroth and Zack don't really talk much after the incident in Modeoheim. There's a lot of bitter feelings there. Zack blames Sephiroth for making him have to deal with that heartache. It should have been Sephiroth, not him. Sephiroth could have stopped it. It's not fair! Angeal would still be alive!

Sephiroth is aware of Zack's ill feelings, mostly mourning quietly alone, his nightmares getting worse than ever, barely eating or sleeping. Most of the time, he's mindlessly performing tasks thanks to the cocktail of drugs Hojo is pumping into him.

Despite this, thanks to the dwindling ranks in SOLDIER, both are assigned a mission together investigating some rogue rebel activity in the mountains. It's cold and rainy and miserable. And Sephiroth and Zack can't even bear to look at each other.

They tail the rebels all the way to the peaks, cornering them on the fragile remains of a bridge, now halfway frozen over from the chill.

Zack moodily thinks that now's the part where Sephiroth coldly murders everyone. That's what soldiers do, right? That's what HE had to do to Angeal. Just mindless killing. Callous slaying of anyone who doesn't fit. Ruining lives. Just like Angeal.

Zack isn't paying attention, too agitated to notice the enemy creeping up from behind. He has mere seconds to react before the gunshot rings out, followed by the frantic rush of air as Sephiroth shoves him out of the way to take the hit.

He watched in horror as Sephiroth falls nearly twenty feet, crashing hard into a jutting snowy cliff side below.

He's an absolute mess when the helicopter comes in to retrieve them, Sephiroth's battered body being taken away to Medical the second they land.

Zack's a shaking, helpless wreck, reliving Angeal's death over and over. Oh gods it's happening again. And it's all his fault. And now he's going to lose someone else too. And he was so cold to Seph beforehand. He blamed him for everything when really it was NO ONE'S fault. And now Sephiroth is going to die and he's going to have to bury another friend and and and...

Days pass. Zack endures sleepless nights letting his inner demons eat at him. He is a trembling mess by the time he's finally able to step out onto the main SOLDIER floor again, freezing at the sight of Sephiroth standing near the doorway, alive and well, his arm carefully wrapped up in a sling.

"You're... you're okay."

"Mm? Oh. Yes. It was a bad fall. But my healing capabilities proved to be amply useful for such an occasion. I received clearance this morning to return to my duties, though I've been instructed not to strain myself."

Zack miserably hangs his head, relief and guilt intermingling in his belly, his face hot, eyes red and watery.

"Listen, Sephiroth? I... about earlier..."

Sephiroth tilts his head, seemingly confused, watching as the young First dithers and balks.

"I...you saved me."

"Think nothing of it. It was instinct. A team leader's responsibility is to protect his men."

"I thought you'd died. I mean...gods, this is such a mess. I was so mad at you. I shouldn't have been. But I was. I blamed you for Angeal when I should've just talked it out. I just let it get to me. And... and... and you still..."

He forces himself not to cry, not even when Sephiroth's free hand gently, if not awkwardly, reaches over to pat his shoulder.

"...I was not keen on losing you as well."

And the tears are coming now, his efforts fruitless. He feels like a child, pawing at his eyes, shaky laugh as he shakes his head. "G-guess we have that feeling in common, huh?" He just wishes he understood it sooner.

He spends the rest of the afternoon at Sephiroth's side, holding his tablet up for him to make it easier for him to write. They don't speak much. But it feels different this time, awkward smiles exchanged, a kind of fragile reluctance when it's finally time to part ways for the evening.

But afterwards, Zack makes it mandatory to keep in contact at all times, sending Sephiroth text reminders so they can meet up to unwind together after a long hard day.

This goes on for a long while, an unspoken trust building, both parties emotionally relying on each other without ever saying a word. A pure bond; burgeoning, unexpected, but genuine. Real.

Until Nibelheim.

[doctorstrangereview]

Strange Tales #126

Cover Date: November 1964 On-Sale Date: August 11, 1964

It all changes here! In celebration, Doc reclaims some cover real estate and the blurb even depicts a scene from the story. What changes? Doc meets Dormammu! Up until this moment, Dormammu has simply been one of the funky names Doc calls on to put the whammy on his foes. Also, until now, most of his foes haven't been all that impressive on power level with Nightmare and Loki being the possible exceptions. And Doc doesn't call on either to power up. Dormammu is on whole other level.

Our story continues immediately after Doc's battle with Baron Mordo last issue. We see his astral body returning to his physical body. Now, Mordo's body should be in the house as well, but that never gets addressed. He must have gotten out somehow; we definitely haven't seen the last of him. No sooner than getting up from his comfy, funky chair (sadly, not the one with the dragon head), he's in the grip of a powerful spell, without his consent, that manifests itself as a floppy white and yellow bullseye. There's a nice touch from Ditko. Doc goes in the top of the bullseye and at the spell's terminus, The Ancient One's pad, he comes out the bottom. It even has a funky curl, like it's squeezing him out.

The Ancient One is dressed today in a fine frock. The original coloring is red, but the Masterworks recoloring makes it a vivid fuchsia. Once again I prefer the recoloring. Today's crown has less ostentatious horns that the last story but the detail is more intricate. The Ancient One makes a ghost thing visible to Doc just as it leaves. Doc prepares himself to jump to the old guy's defense, but he's like "Don't worry about it, he's just a messenger of the Dread Dormammu. Oh, by the way, Dormammu is gonna invade our dimension and take over. I just got back from being Mordo's captive and haven't had my old man nap yet. Can you deal with this?"

"Sure thing, daddio! Send me!" And Doc disappears into some whirling and hairy dots. Perhaps this is Ditko's answer to Kirby Crackle. The next thing Doc knows he's somewhere else, floating through a ring of smoke and heading toward a nasty beastie indeed. The smoke ring is a nice call back to the splash page!

The as-yet-unnamed nasty beasty is the G'uranthic Guardian who will show up here and again. I don't know if this is actually a living being or some magical construct that guard's Dormammu's "palace." Doc approaches the nasty beastie who looks down on him and shoots out some light that probes his brain, without his consent. It's a test of some kind that Doc passes and the cool six-sided doors open for him. He steps through, and we get get our first look at how bat-crap crazy Ditko makes this very brightly lit "dark" dimension.

That's right, the other side of this door is floating in nothing and Doc is walking along a floating ribbon all curled up. Nightmare's realm was weird, but this is drug-trippy crazy! What was Ditko on? This imagery continues throughout the story, so get yourself a copy if you want to see it all.

Next, we get our first glimpse of Dormammu. He doesn't quite look like his popular image yet. For one, he's wearing a two-tone green thing with funky shoulder accoutrements and not the purple we're used to seeing him in. His head isn't surrounded by flames, but smoke and his head is blue, instead of red. He only has a hint of eyes. He's also sitting in a funky throne. We will later learn this is the Azure Throne and it is almost never depicted as blue.

Dormammu is like "WTF? Who the hell is this? Where's The Ancient One?" One of the sychophants surrounding Dormammu isn't toadying up enough and dares to question Dormammu's ability to instantly wipe out the mortal and he instantly imprisons them until he doesn't feel like it anymore.

Meanwhile, Doc is facing a series of challenges as he moves toward the big bad. His first challenge is a little yellow creature who feeds on spells. Doc figures this out quickly and feeds him until he pops like a balloon. This is being watched by a certain silver-haired lady. Yes! We are finally introduced to the as-yet-unnamed Clea. At first he thinks this is The Ancient One returning, but realizes it can't be "for he is young -- and fair to behold!" While Clea's libido gets fired up, Doc is drawn into some object that looks like a flying magic carpet. "Oh well," thinks Clea, "better luck next time."

Doc defeats a bunch more of Dormammu's minion who appear before him. Dormie's not happy. He banishes them to limbo.

Dormammu is like "Enough of this! If you need something done, you just gotta do it yourself. Bring it on, earther!" Clea senses things are coming to a head and decides to shout about it.

The entrance Dormie conjures for Doc is just bizarre. It's like a big sheet of paper with a mini, desaturated bifrost coming out of it. Clea attempts to warn him off, but Doc proceeds to the ominous assignation. Doc finally confronts Dormie at last! "I won't kill you until the Ancient One shows up." Doc replies "Nah! You gotta deal with me." "No really, send in the Ancient One." "Nope. It's gonna be me." "You're funeral, blue dude!"

And we break here until next month. Last month was great, but this is just freaking crazy! Ditko is in top form here. Who knows how many pencils were ground to little nubs to draw these 10 pages? Visually, it's spectacular. Ditko had spent a number of stories with lazy backgrounds, but he must have been saving it up for this story. Dormammu's motivation for invading earth isn't exactly original, but it starts a great story. There isn't really anything in the way of plot holes. It doesn't mess with continuity. And it's the springboard of a new era where the villains are more powerful and the stakes are greater. I can't wait for part two!

[slxsherwriter]

Home for the Holidays

Fandom: MacGyver

Pairing: Tim Wexler/reader, Tim Wexler & reader

Word count: 6,471

Warnings: Difficult family relationships, two separate endings, faking dating trope

Author's note: Does this really fit here? No. But I say it does because it's an Englund character. Super niche, but that's never stopped me before. I hope everyone who decides to read enjoys it. Special thanks to the wonderful @tinalbion for all the help with this one, from reading it to helping me figure out the ending(s). This ended up taking on a life of its own and was far longer than intended. Cruddy gif below is my own.

Tagging: @slashingdisneypasta

The holidays were a dreaded time of year. What should have been an enjoyable time with family was an utter nightmare for you. You loved your family, you really did. But the judgment and the nitpicking drove you up a wall. Without fail, there was always a bombardment of questions about your love life and when you were going to settle down. Sure, most of the time it came from a place of good intention but the constant push on the subject made you want to pull your hair out and it was enough to make you feel nauseous at just the mention of the holidays. As always, this year, you planned on grinning and bearing it to the best of your ability.

“You don't get it, Tim,” you complained to your long-time friend. “It's never ending for the entire length of the holidays. From every. Single. Member of my family. You would think a simple response back would be enough. But no. They aren't ever satisfied with the reply that I haven't found the right person yet. No, you would think that is the end of the world.” Tim gave a sympathetic smile, pushing around the rest of his lunch. It wasn't like you didn't know that he was less than fond of the holiday season as well. You closed your eyes and let out a small huff, an apology followed closely after.

“It's okay.” Always easy going and understanding. That was Tim. He had been that way right off the bat during your first meeting in college. “I know it's rough for you, and I know you know it's rough for me. Would rather have you get it out here so you can concentrate at work.”

“Sometimes, I think it would be nice if we could just skip over that time of the year entirely. Not like there aren't plenty of others who hated it just as much.” He chuckled softly.

“Yeah, well, we know that's never going to happen. So, we just have to suck it up and deal with the most wonderful time of year, every year, for the rest of our lives.” You flicked one of the remaining beans from your salad in his direction, as the comment finally brought a smile to your face.

“One of these years, we should say fuck it and just stay home. Me and you. Screw expectations and the rest of the world.” Something that neither of you would ever do, but occasionally, it was nice to dream about it.

“I would be afraid of your mother hunting us down.” He had a valid point. It went without a doubt that your mother would hunt the both of you down and ream you out into the next year. The woman could be outright terrifying when she wanted to be. Nothing would set her off more than missing the holidays. Especially if it would be for unjust reasons in her eyes.

“You're right. As always,” you teased after a second. “Guess that plan is outta the window. We’ll have to come up with something else.” That final thought closed out your lunch as work demanded that you return to your duties. The discussion was tabled for now.

*************************************

The thought came around a whole hell of a lot sooner than you had hoped. After a phone call with your mother, you felt desperate.

It wasn't what you wanted to do, but with little choice, it seemed like the best idea that you could have created. It all hinged on what Tim thought, though, and that wasn't anything you felt you could anticipate. All you could really do was hope that he felt like it was a decent enough idea that would get both of your families off of your backs.

“So,” you started casually, not able to bring yourself to look at him just yet. Things could be made a little awkward. Sure, you had known each other for years. Tim was your best friend and life without him? Well, it was unthinkable.

“Oh, boy. That's never a good start to any conversation.”

“No, no. It's nothing bad or nothing like that.” Your eyes shot up to him in a near panic. Your anxiety about the conversation to come made you overreact just slightly. Tim's smile fell just a bit.

“Hey, it's okay. Take a breath.” Right. The function necessary for living. You let out a sigh and rubbed your face.

“I'm sorry. I had a call with my mother last night and spent the whole night worrying about heading home next week.”

“That bad already? She wasted no time this year, huh?”

“God, no.” You slouched a bit and braced your head in your hands, elbows resting against the counter. “Painful. It was absolutely painful, Tim. I would have rather had teeth pulled.” There was a moment of quiet. Really, what was there to say to that anyway? You managed to pull your head out of your hands and refocus back on Tim.

“Kept me up most of the night, honestly. Spent it trying to think of anything that could get me out of it but came up with nothing. So, I realized I had to change how I was approaching the problem. Instead of removing myself from the situation, I need to change how I'm putting myself in said situation. There were a few scenarios I came up with, all a little worse than the next. Unfortunately.” A pause as you shifted and crossed your arms over your chest, keeping your gaze on the man. “The best I came up with? Bring someone home with me.” His brow rose in surprise.

“Just how do you expect to do that? Are you seeing someone I don't know about?”

“No, there isn't anyone that I'm seeing.” You rolled your eyes. “But if my parents think I am, then my mother would at least get off my back, and maybe my entire family would focus on someone or something else entirely. Some peace would be a miracle and worth it.”

“It might just work. If you could make it believable enough.” He hummed as he thought about the idea you presented. Which was a good thing given what was coming next.

“You think so?” There was a noncommittal sound. Close enough. “The problem is, I don't want to bring home some random person. Would rather have someone I trust, ya know? Make it easier to figure out the whole thing. That being said, how would you feel about coming home with me for the holidays? Escape your family for a bit and get some good homemade food.” The last bit came out in a rush, the words almost blending together. Your eyes slipped from Tim, almost not wanting to see his reaction. The man across from you was the only one that you could remotely begin to trust with something like this. If he said no, it was just going to be another miserable holiday season. You waited on baited breath, unsure what his response would actually be. There were plenty of accurate predictions that you could have made when it came to how he would answer most things. This? It was far out of the realm of anything previously thought possible that you couldn't even begin to venture a guess.

“You're asking me to come home with you on the holidays and pretend to be your boyfriend?”

“I know it's a lot to…”

“You think it would work?” He cut you off before you had the chance to finish your statement. It wasn't an outright refusal. That still left you unsure what the hell was on his mind about the whole thing.

“There really isn't anyone else that I would trust more for something like this.” For a second, just the briefest of seconds, you swore you saw a blush on his cheeks. When you blinked, it was gone.

“It definitely beats dealing with what I'm gonna hear at home. So, why not? If you think we can pull this off, let's do it. Might be fun anyway.” The two of you hadn't really done anything crazy in college like some of your friends had. Playing it safe had practically been built into your DNA. When Tim had agreed, it was like a giant weight had been lifted off your chest and your shoulders.

“God, I owe you. Majorly. Like I can't even begin to pay you back for this.”

“You're getting me away from my house. We'll call It even.” Hardly the case, but you weren't about to argue with him. He might second think the entire decision. Which would be utterly disastrous. And that wasn't an over exaggeration.

************************************

The flight home hadn't been terrible. There was only a three hour delay. Something that you hadn't complained about even if being stuck in an airport was not anyone's idea of fun. It just meant three fewer hours you had to deal with at home.

You and Tim had hashed out the details. It had been surprisingly easy. With your long standing friendship, you both were able to toss out ideas and concoct the story that would be shared with your family. A lot of it was based in fact, something that made it that much easier to remember and be able to spout off with a confidence and genuine nature that would force your family to believe you.

Pulling up to your childhood home, the sense of dread that normally accompanied this time of the year had been significantly lessened due to the presence of the man beside you.

“You ready?” His voice broke you out of the staring contest you had been having with the house. There were already a load of cars present. Tim would have no easing into this.

“As ready as I'll ever be. Are you?”

“I'd like to think so.” Another wave of gratitude and appreciation for the man washed over you. No one could have asked for a better friend.

“All right. Let's do this.” You hoped that if it got to be too much, he would tell you. No backup plan had been created, but you could think well enough on the fly and would sort it out. Your mother was already at the door as the two of you exited the car, and despite having plotted it all out, the way that his fingers laced with yours caught you by surprise. The gentle squeeze had been as equally as unexpected, but the message was clear. Calm down. How he was so calm right then was beyond you. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest.

“Hi mom.” A moment of thought that this wasn't the best of ideas. She hadn't given any sort of indication about Tim. Of course, she had met the man before. It was hard to be friends with him throughout college and not at some point have an introduction.

“Hey, sweetie. And hello, Tim.” Relief. You felt relief as she smiled and greeted both of you. That was the first obstacle to get over. Now, there were just several more to go before you were both back on a plane and heading back west. “I'm so glad you both could make it our here. Your family didn't mind, Tim?”

“It was a bit of a negotiation but we managed.” The lie rolled off smoothly and your mother bought it. The questioning slowed, beyond the typical asking how everything was going and what was new. Thankfully, given the fact that you both worked at the plant, it made it relatively quick to go through the list and be given some peace to settle In before dinner at the least.

“So far, so good.” Tim wasn't wrong in the assessment.

“Yeah, I would say that we have them all fairly convinced.” No real hardball questions had come your way, nor had there been any sort of awkward or uncomfortable situation. You weren't foolish enough to think either of you would make it through this unscathed. “Then again, that was all the basic, fairly easy stuff.”

“You have a point.” He sat down on the bed that you were supposed to be sharing. That part of this entire scheme had not been something that either of you had thought about, and now it crept slowly along the edges of the room. Once. You had shared a bed once before, back in the early years of college. It had been out of sheer necessity. “You know, if it's easier for you. I can sleep on the floor. I know we've technically shared a bed before…” A memory that had clearly pulled forward for him, too.

“It's fine, Tim. I'm not making you sleep on the floor while we are here. I think we can both handle it.” Just another reason to have brought someone that you could trust. “Besides, we both know that if she walks in here and finds you on the floor, she is going to throw a fit and realize that this is all a giant ruse. And that is something that neither of us wants to deal with.” It might be a little awkward the first night, but you were both adults. You could handle it. He gave a nod and a look, the one that told you that he agreed with what you had said. The wrath of your mother was bad enough. Lord only knew how the rest of your family would react to you trying to fool them. That had been a thought you briefly entertained when you had thought up this entire scheme, but It wasn't anything that you had wanted to give a lot of thought. It had to work out. Otherwise, you might never be able to attend another family holiday.

“What's next up then?”

“Dinner,” you offered as you glanced at your watch. “In about two hours. Meaning we have a little time to kill before being put under the microscope again.” Tim rubbed his hands against his pants before he gave his knees a tap and stood up.

“It's not quite cold enough to be stuck inside. Why don't we take a walk? Get out of the house and go over anything you want to triple check?” That was a wonderful idea. How you would survive this without this man was beyond you.

“Yeah, that's a great idea.” You grabbed your coat as he pulled his on. Outside, a little privacy could be afforded. No one to walk in on the two of you. One last chance to smooth out any wrinkles in how you would respond to your family. “Thank you, Tim.”

************************************

A few days passed and the routine became easier and easier to fall into as you both found sure footing. Your family bought the story and the act that you and Tim put on, without too much questioning. That easy level of friendship that you had was the basis and made the fake relationship incredibly believable to those around you.

It was all going too smoothly. There had to be a bump in the road eventually. And it came in the form of your sister prodding at Tim. The sort of way that immediately had your defenses bristling. The sort of prodding and underhanded comments that should have been left behind in middle school. You knew that you had both grown some thicker skin since school, college included, but that didn't mean that it didn't bother you at all. You felt even more indignant about it all since you were the one who requested that he come. He was here, helping you. Your sister prodding and needling about him and you needing to find someone better wasn't going to stand. Even if you weren't really together.

“That's enough.” Finally, you had enough of hearing it. Tim had been quiet the entire time, not defending himself or saying much. Likely, he did not want to cause a problem. Your sister paused, caught off guard by the outburst. As was the rest of the table, conversation fell utterly silent. Great. You hated all attention on you, but there wasn't anything to be done about it now. You swallowed down the worry that welled up and threatened to rob you of the next statement. “You're entitled to think whatever you want, but I won't sit here and listen to you bad mouth Tim.” The words were forceful, more than you ever typically were with anyone.

“I just don't get it. Supposed you've been friends since college. Why get together now? It doesn't seem right. And besides, it's not like you've improved yourself with him.” Your fingers curled into the material of your pants, as you tried your hardest not to lose it entirely.

“Well, maybe that's just the basis of a good relationship. But, you wouldn't know that would you. Just because I don't go through guys like water and have something solid to go off of doesn't mean it's pointless or not real. And why should it matter what he does? He's been my best friend for years and knows me better than anyone. Can treat me better than anyone. And is by far, worlds and leagues smartest than any of those rich assholes you've brought home. He's a nuclear physicist for Christ's sake. I couldn't ask for better.” You tossed your napkin onto your plate, done with dinner. Unable to really eat another bite. No one stopped you as you excused yourself from the table and all but hurried out the front door. The cooler air was welcomed. Settling. The perfect escape from the heat that had become stifling.

Taking a seat by the front door on the porch was out of question. Too close. There was too much risk of someone coming out and saying something. The best option that presented itself was to take a quick walk and hope that it cooled you down.

Ten minutes passed. And that agitation remained. The quiet didn't last, though. The gentle call of your name caught your attention. It was Tim. A rush of embarrassment threatened to overtake the agitation. But out of everyone in the house, he was the only person you would have wanted to find you.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go off like that and cause a scene.” Before you could say anything else or move away from where you were standing, Tim grabbed you by the arms. The words that had been threatening to fall from you were stopped dead on the tip of your tongue.

“There isn't anything you need to be sorry for,” he started, with a squeeze delivered to make sure you couldn't escape. And maybe give a little comfort. “You didn't have to stand up for me like that. I know it's going to cause some problems with you and your sister.” You shook your head immediately.

“Of course I did, Tim. I wasn't going to let her talk about you like that.”

“I mean, she wasn't exactly wrong…”

“Don't you dare start on that.” A rueful smile came, his brow slightly pinched. The sort of expression that always came when there was doubt about himself. One you had seen and knew well. “I mean it, Tim. Screw what anyone else says. You're kind, thoughtful, hard working. Intelligent, obviously. I mean, nuclear physicist and all. But those first traits are important. They make you a good man. Look what you are doing for me now. I don't know anyone else who would have done something like this. And there wouldn't be anyone I could trust more with it. I don't know where I would be without you and all you've done for me.” His touch softened against your arms, and his eyes dropped from your face. Almost like he continued to doubt what you had told him. Insecurity was something you could understand well enough, having a boatload of your own.

Instead of saying anything else, you pulled him into a tight hug. After a moment of hesitation, his arms wrapped around you. Standing out in the cool, wrapped up in each other like you were, that agitation continued to die down. The hug lasted a little longer than intended. When you pulled back, you made sure to give a smile. One that felt far more genuine than forced.

“Why don't we ditch the idea of heading back inside? Me, you, some pizza, and that new Star Trek movie?” Frankly, the idea sounded a hell of a lot better than going back inside and seeing your family. Tim laughed at the plan that you laid out, and the smile that stretched across his face finally matched your own.

“Now, that's an idea I can get behind. Come on.” His arm stayed around your shoulders as you headed back to get the rental car. The consequences could be dealt with later. Some time that felt more normal between the two of you was called for, and it would help ease whatever tensions might remain. There were still a few days that you needed to get through, and it would be best to try and manage it when you felt on more level ground. You leaned into the man beside you a little more, and finally felt like everything would be okay once more.

******************************

The night out had been exactly what you both needed for a reset. You both felt better on the drive back to the house, able to settle in and not worry about whatever the fallout would be from the outburst earlier. As anticipated, your mother wasn't happy, ready to chew you out for leaving like you had, but you managed to push it off with a few placating words and lies. There wasn't a chance in Hell that you would be apologizing to your sister for what you had said, knowing that she wouldn't for hers. Besides, you meant what you said. An empty apology would be symbolic, sure, but you didn't even feel like forcing that. Not when she had insulted Tim the way that she had and meant it herself.

It made things a little tense and uncomfortable in the house, but you stuck to your guns over it. Which was fine by you. It meant that you and Tim had a little more peace. There were fewer pestering questions and the sort of focus that made you a little worried that they would see through the charade that you had fooled them with so far. Fine by the both of you, really.

Lazy walks in the colder weather, movies both in your old room and in the living room when no one bothered with the area, and some quiet reading. Or not so quiet reading. An activity that came as a surprise enjoyment just after college. Reading duties would be traded back and forth, one of you listening while the other read aloud. It didn't matter what it was. While you and Tim spent a lot of time together in general, the close corridors meant more than typical. Tim seemed to enjoy the time, relaxed in a way that you hadn't seen in a while. It was nice.

With a few exceptions, it was actually a nice little break from the usual routine that you had fallen into with work and the usual drum of life. In a way that neither of you had realized was needed.

The gift exchange had snuck up before you knew it. The family? They were easy. Typically, everyone was fairly routine each and every year. Not that you did the exact same thing, but they liked what they liked, and it left it almost an automatic purchase. Tim? Tim was a little different this year. He had come here for you, and you knew that he was going to have to deal with things that he shouldn't have had to just because he was there with you. It had to be something with a little more meaning, something that showed your appreciation for his friendship and what he had done for you. Without being too much, of course. That was a fine balancing act.

You were a little nervous about it all. A few practical gifts that you knew he would appreciate. Small things. A new lab coat pocket protector, this cool new little handheld Geiger counter that he could keep on himself, a funny mug for coffee. The bigger one that you had to go searching for? A signed copy of Feynman's lectures. You had heard him mention it once, just once, while you had been shifting through a used bookstore together. Along with it? A copy of a magazine signed by Einstein himself. It had cost you a pretty penny. Both things. But entirely worth it. Hopefully. The nerves were causing you to feel entirely uneasy. Far more than you ever had since the two of you decided to exchange gifts yearly. How was it different? You couldn't pinpoint it for sure, but even on a subconscious level, you knew it was the case.

Sitting in the living room, most of your family had wandered off. Which was just fine by you. It wasn't like they had a genuine interest, and at this point, everyone was still upset at you for spouting off at your sister. So be it. It meant that if you were wrong with the choices, no one could be there to mock you about it.

“So, I know we typically only do one thing. But with what you agree to do this year and what I knew you would have to put up with here, I felt like I needed to do a little more. Hope you don't mind.”

“You didn't…”

“I did, Tim. Just because you aren't fond of heading home yourself doesn't mean that you had to suffer through all of this. Besides, I wanted to.” The response was a soft laughing sound from him as he held up his hands in defeat. It wasn't an argument that he was going to win. It caused a smile, more genuine and more confident. You felt a bit better about it all now.

“Here,” you offered as you shoved the first two packages in his direction. The practical and fun gifts went over well. Not surprisingly. Those hadn't been the ones that you had been worried about. It was the next two. You knew which was which and hadn't been sure if you gave him the books or the magazine first. In the end, it was the magazine.

The look on his face was priceless. Entirely unexpected, caught completely off guard. You were thrilled with the fact as he stared at it.

“This is…” The words died, and he shook his head. The silence extended for a few moments before he finally managed to speak. “Wow. This is amazing.”

“Authenticated and everything. There's one more before you get too wrapped up.” You moved the heavy package over the table in his direction.

“You really…”

“Don't say it. Just open it,” you offered with a laugh. He rolled his eyes and reluctantly set aside the magazine before he reached for the other package. Nerves heightened for just a moment and the inside of your cheek suffered for it as your teeth bit down hard over and over.

“Where did you find this?” It went over better than the magazine.

“It took asking the right questions to the right people but that isn't important.”

“It's signed?”

“Yep.” He held it as if it was gold, and all those nerves that you had built up finally settled. Before you could say anything else, you were caught off guard by Tim leaning in and pressing a kiss to your lips. Spontaneous and something that couldn't have been anticipated. It was soft and quick, and when he pulled back, red tinged his cheeks. No one was here to witness it. It wasn't for show. He cleared his throat a little bit and pulled out two packages for you.

“Uh, here.” Both of the boxes were smaller. “Feel like I should have gotten you something more now but…”

“Shush, it's fine. This is more than enough.” The first one ended up being a beautiful gold watch. Yours had been accidentally destroyed over the summer, and you hadn't bothered replacing it yet. A long moment passed before you realized that you were holding a Rolex. It seemed that you weren't the only one that had spent more money than you probably should have for the season. “Tim, this is beautiful.” He urged you to try it on, and there wasn't any reason not to. It fit perfectly against your wrist, and you glanced up just in time to see the soft smile that crossed his face.

“Wasn't sure about the fit. Glad to see I got it right.”

“I love it.” It would go perfectly with anything that you wore to work and hopefully, you wouldn't do anything to ruin this one. Though it would be more sturdy than the last one.

“There's still one more.”

“All right. No need to be impatient.” The tease rolled easily, the kiss still lingering in the back of your mind. Neither of you seemed to want to bring it up yet, though. There was no need to make things awkward just yet. You found a piece of jewelry in the second box. A small strip of metal among a delicate chain.

“It's a piece of the IRS.” He grinned outright as he watched the way that your eyes widened at the mention of what it was.

“Are you serious?” He nodded, pleased with himself as he sat a little more straight.

“Yeah. I mean perfectly safe of course but directly from CERN. And, no, I'm not going to tell you how I got it.” He had anticipated your next question before it could even be thought of. Your stomach flipped and it felt like your heart might just beat right out of your chest.

“Mind helping me put it on?” He nodded and gave a little motion for you to turn before he reached for the necklace. You shifted and made sure that he was able to see what he needed to do, head tipped a little bit. The weight settled against your throat but it was comfortable. Fingers brushed over the small piece, your mind racing. His fingers lingered on the back of your neck, brushing down to your back slowly. Almost a sense of hesitation.

It was enough of a jolt to you that you turned and before any thought could be given to any action, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. Fundamentally, it changed everything but things had been subtly shifting since your arrival. Things that hadn't been acknowledged or even really thought about. But they had been there. This was the culmination of it all. When you had made that statement to your sister, acknowledging that there couldn't have been anyone better, it hadn't been initially meant in a romantic sense on your part even though that was what you had wanted them to believe. It had been there though, even then, and it had only grown and shifted, twisted in ways that you couldn't anticipate.

Breaking from the kiss, the two of you were silent. A struggle to figure out what to say ensued. After another few seconds, you started to laugh softly. Unable to help it. He soon followed, and the mingled laughter rang out.

“Okay, so who is going to end up winning the bet?”

“Charlie. Without a doubt.”

“Ahh, shoulda probably have known that one.” The smiles remained. His arm found your shoulders as you resituated yourself on the couch beside him. Comfortable. It wasn't as awkward as there had been worried about. No, it was almost as natural as any other moment of your relationship had been. “We aren't going to hear the end of it.”

“No, no we are not.” It would be worth some teasing and I told you so’s by your coworkers. Even if it was a tad embarrassing, it wasn't like you were going to change a moment of it. His lips pressed to your temple softly, the affection flowing freely and easily. “This might be the best holiday I've ever had.” You couldn't help but grin at his declaration.

“Yeah, I don’t think I can argue. Best holiday I've ever had.”

*******************************************************************************************************************

BONUS: Platonic ending

“It's signed?”

“Yep.” He held it as if it was gold, and all those nerves that you had built up finally settled. You should have known better than to be worried about it. Tim would have appreciated a box from you. He had always been that way.

“I can't believe you managed to find this. Thank you.” He had barely been able to tear his eyes from the books in hand. Just another, sure, sign that you had managed to get it all right. There was no real compulsion to break the silence or the reverie he seemed to be in. It took a few moments before the spell broke. Like it would be anything that you would complain about. You got the same way after all. It was part of the reason that you two go along so well. He cleared his throat a little bit and pulled out two packages for you.

“Uh, here.” Both of the boxes were smaller. “Feel like I should have gotten you something more now but…”

“Shush, it's fine. This is more than enough.” The first one ended up being a beautiful gold watch. Yours had been accidentally destroyed over the summer, and you hadn't bothered replacing it yet. A long moment passed before you realized that you were holding a Rolex. It seemed that you weren't the only one that had spent more money than you probably should have for the season. “Tim, this is beautiful.” He urged you to try it on, and there wasn't any reason not to. It fit perfectly against your wrist, and you glanced up just in time to see the soft smile that crossed his face.

“Wasn't sure about the fit. Glad to see I got it right.”

“I love it.” It would go perfectly with anything that you wore to work and hopefully, you wouldn't do anything to ruin this one. Though it would be more sturdy than the last one.

“There's still one more.”

“All right. No need to be impatient.” The tease rolled easily. Despite everything, all the fake bullshit that you had to spew for your family and the closer than usual affection and contact, nothing in that strong bond between the two of you had really changed. It felt like a testament to the work that you had both put into the foundation of your relationship. Proof that such a strong platonic bone could exist. No matter what your coworkers and lord knew how many others had said. You found a piece of jewelry in the second box. A small strip of metal among a delicate chain.

“It's a piece of the IRS.” He grinned outright as he watched the way that your eyes widened at the mention of what it was.

“Are you serious?” He nodded, pleased with himself as he sat a little more straight.

“Yeah. I mean, perfectly safe, of course, but directly from CERN. And, no, I'm not going to tell you how I got it.” He had anticipated your next question before it could even be thought of. Your stomach flipped, and it felt like your heart might just beat right out of your chest.

“Mind helping me put it on?” He nodded and gave a little motion for you to turn before he reached for the necklace. You shifted and made sure that he was able to see what he needed to do, head tipped a little bit. The weight settled against your throat but it was comfortable. Fingers brushed over the small piece, unable to keep yourself from smiling. Your own little piece of history. He had hit the nail on the head incredibly well. Not that he often missed.

“It's absolutely perfect, Tim. I'm blown away.” You could hear the grin in the words, not even needing to see his face.

“Gotta say, I gave myself a bit of a pat on the back with that one. Didn't think you would be expecting it. And there wasn't a chance that anyone was getting you anything similar.” There wasn't a lie there. You didn't think that anyone thought even somewhat close to the same realm. It was more than you could have asked for and beyond anything anticipated.

“You may have just won it this year.”

“I don't know about that. These both,” he offered and motioned towards the magazine and books. “I'm thoroughly impressed. Didn't think I would ever own anything signed by Einstein, and I really thought it would be years before I would be able to find the Feynman lectures. And signed? Wouldn't have dreamed that.” All those nerves for nothing. You should have known better. You both settled back into the couch, his arm haphazardly thrown over your shoulders.

“Okay, so who is going to end up winning the bet?”

“Charlie. Without a doubt.”

“Ahh, shoulda probably have known that one.” The smiles remained. It wasn't a secret that there was an office pool surrounding the idea of if you and Tim would end up together. Particularly, the guards. When word had gotten out that he was spending the holidays with you and your family? Pandemonium. Complete and utter pandemonium. To the point that it had been wholly amusing to the both of you. “You know, they probably aren't going to believe it anyway.”

“Yeah, I know. We could end up having a little fun at their expense.”

“God, that could turn into a shit show, but it's so tempting.” The laughter that filled the room was genuine and full. As easy as it was when it was just the two of you alone.

“Right again. Unfortunately. It's probably not worth the headache. As amusing as it would be.” He hummed as if seriously contemplating it before sighing out an agreement.

“Can't have them all, I guess.” There was a comfortable silence that fell over the room. One that there wasn't any need to break right away. The entire thing could not have gone better. Your family believed it. They were off your backs, and for the most part, Tim had seemed to enjoy himself. There was no better pick than the man beside you. No better friend.

“This might be the best holiday I've ever had.” You couldn't help but grin at his declaration.

“Yeah, I don’t think I can argue. Best holiday I've ever had.”

[writingintheshadowsforever]

Kate Bishop x Reader Not Who You Think I Am Part 7

"Take off the mask." It wasn't a command this time but a plea. Her bow still laid at her feet with her knees quaking, and her eyes blinking back tears.

Her words barely reached your ears but a gust of wind blew by carrying them to you. Along with the tone of disbelief in her voice as well. Kate was telling herself this was all just one big mistake, or better yet a nightmare. She took a hard fall somewhere between getting off the plane and heading home. You were hovering over her hospital bed right now with glistening eyes begging her to wake up. Because the reality of this situation wasn't something she could handle. Not when she just barely survived her own mother betraying her in so many ways. Not when her mother revealed her father was anything but the hero she remembered he was.

You were her person. Her safe place. Her peace.

She buried herself in your arms night after nighter shedding tears for putting her mom in jail, and every single night you had told she had done the right thing. Out of everything you were to her the most important thing was being her reassurance. But now her entire image of you was beyond destroyed as she watched. Her nemesis who she believed you needed protection from lifted the wolf mask revealing to her. The two of you were actually the same person, and you had been playing her from the start.

What else did you lie to her about? Had you been under Fisk's payroll this entire time? Why weren't you present at the events that went down during Christmas last year? Did Fisk keep you on standby so he could use you later on?

"Why?" was the only word Kate could utter in the moment before she broke. Her bow clattered to the ground along with the arrow. Her legs carried her backwards till she felt her back connect with wall next to the door. She braced herself against for support with her body left with no strength to keep her standing.

You were still positioned on the ledge with your mask sitting atop of your head. Tears cascading down your face at the sight of your beloved breaking down. "Katie please I need you to understand-"

"Understand what" she fired back cutting you back as her voice finally returned. Kate pushed off from the wall to stalk back towards you. "Understand that you have been lying to me this entire time, understand you hired your goons to kidnap Lucky to lure me in."

"That wasn't me I would never put you or Lucky in danger and you know that." You corrected her jabbing a finger at her. Anger crept into your voice as it became harder to keep the emotion at bay. Yet you couldn't help but be bothered at how easy it was for Kate to see nothing but the worst in you. Then again maybe you were foolish to put your faith in the girl who called the cops on her own mother without hearing her side of the story first.

Maybe you should just be grateful Kate was granting you that courtesy.

"Really because I can't tell y/n what do you think you're doing right now" Kate cried.

"I'm trying to tell you the truth but you won't listen."

"Oh please go on tell me the truth. Explain to me why you are working for a criminal like Wilson Fisk."

"I didn't have a choice Kate okay. It was either clean up the Tracksuits mess, or he was going to come after you. I did it to keep you safe and get him off my back for good."

Kate frowned and if it was even possible the feeling of betrayal increased tenfold. "What do you mean for good? How long have you been working with him?"

"I told on the joyride to find Lucky remember. I was born into this Katie I never really a choice. It was only because of my brother Wilson didn't come knocking on my door sooner."

"This is a family legacy type of thing there was no helping me." Kate was replaying every single word from the previous conservation she held with you. Back when you were just a stranger she low-key felt sorry for. All of those words held new meaning to her now. The two of you had grown up together sharing every little dirty secret with each other. She was supposed to know you better than anyone in her life, but just like her parents there was a dark side to you. She knew nothing about till now.

"Where is your brother now? Why did he stop protecting you?" She asked with venom in her voice. Of course she was projecting the blame on him now. Kate was spiraling trying to make sense of all this, and some way to justify your actions in her eyes.

"Kazi is dead" You told her with no emotion. Knowing the revelation would hurt her even more considering she knew your brother after facing off with him more than a few times.

Kate tried to keep her reaction in check and give nothing away, but her mouth opened for just a fraction of a second. Before closing as no words came to mind she knew Kazi had died during the showdown between her and Clint, but only because the Avenger was the one who told her.

Clint had discovered his dead body while trying to round up all the bad guys to make sure. The cops put all of them behind bars where they belonged. He didn't tell her rather or not it was one a misplaced or arrow that had killed him, or something else. She always believed Fisk had doubled back to punish his second in command for failing him, but now she know the crime lord still had use of him. Kate was on the verge of hyperventilate at the thought that her or Clint had caused your brother's death. When you spoke up again easing her mind.

"Maya killed him in self-defense he wanted her dead so he could take over the Tracksuits. She was supposed to die the same night her father and mine's did." You reassured her stepping off the ledge wanting nothing more than to go to her.

"Wait your dad died in a car accident" Kate whispered sounding unsure. She didn't what to believe now.

You shook your head. "That's what I told you to and how it was setup to look like. But Kazi orchestrated those hits on the behalf of Wilson Fisk."

"Y/N' she breathed your name with sympathetic eyes. The night she had came to you crying about putting her mother away. You were grieving the death of your brother.

"Its okay Kate I came to terms with Kazi's death years before it happened. I knew this life would put him in the grave sooner than later. Why do you think I spent most of my teenage years begging him to leave it behind with me?"

"Why didn't he?"

"He was sucked into all of this from day one and no matter what it costed him. Kazi believed this was a legacy worth fighting and dying more. I knew it was a curse the day it took our mother away from me." You said with a faraway look in your eyes. The memory forced its way from the deep dark depths of your subconscious fighting to the surface.

It had been years since you thought about that night when ten-year old you was lying in the bed fast asleep. Until a crash in the living room pulled you from your peaceful slumber.

The sound of breaking glass was followed by your mother's cries of pain mixed in with pleas for her children to be spared. You could make out a few words with the side of your face pressed to the door. Frozen in fear waiting for your big brother or father to come to rescue, in the moment you hadn't yet realized. All of this was happening to the later, and eventually Kazi did burst from his room with a baseball bat in hand.

You heard the sickening crunch of the aluminum bat connecting with a goon's knee knocking out of place. The man let out a cry of pain dropping to the floor to clutch his knee. Before you knew what you were doing adrenaline took over, and you yanked your door opened to rush onto the scene.

Another goon was too busy trying to wrestle the bat away from Kazi who held onto it for dear life. A bigger guy stood in the living room doorway with a shape so big. It blocked out the moonlight trying to peek through from the windows behind him. His focus was solely on your mother who was kneeling before him with her hands folded out in front of her.

No one seemed to notice your arrival till you grabbed the gun that fell from the crippled goon's hands. You pulled back on the mechanism just like your dad taught you reloading it. Everyone's eyes snapped in your direction as you trained the gun on the big man. Unable to make out his face hidden by his over-the-top hat, and the shadows of the night.

"Leave my mommy and brother alone" You ordered keeping the gun steady.

The other goon released his hold on the bat causing your brother to stumble back into the table. He recovered fast enough to put himself between you and the goon. When the man pulled a gun from his waistband to aim it at your head.

"Boss say the word and I'll light the little brats up" came the man's gruff voice.

"No" your mother shrieked pushing herself to her feet to run over throwing her arms around. Both of you into her tight and protective embrace. "Not them Fisk please you can take me but leave them be. I'll make them behave."

The big man named Fisk tilted his head to the side letting out a hmph sound. The goon's finger trembled on the trigger ready to pull it, and bring an end to all this.

"Leave the children be and bring the mother. We shall make an example out of her" Fisk ordered his man. His voice calm and unwavering despite the intensity of the situation. He talked like this was just another business meeting, and he hadn't come here to destroy a family tonight.

Kazi fought his way out of his mother's grip and tried to shield her away from the goon. But the bigger man just slammed the butt of his gun into his head. Your big brother froze for just a second as his body locked up, and the bat slipped from his fingers. A second later he toppled over onto the floor.

"Kazi" you cried attempting to raise the gun still in your grip again. But your mother forced your hands back down and brought a hand to caress your cheek.

"Babygirl I need you to put this down. Can you do that for me?" she asked softly.

You were able to make out her soft features, and the tears glistening her face. "Mom please don't go with them" you whispered covering her hand with yours.

"I have too sweetheart but its going to be okay. They're only taking me to your father. I promise it'll be okay but you have to stop fighting" she tried again.

Your mother never broke a promise so you didn't hesitate in tossing the gun aside. She told you to stay with Kazi and pressed lingering kisses all over both of your faces. Then you watched as she was escorted from the house by the abled goon and the crippled one limped his way out. Fisk was the last to leave the house throwing one last glance at you and Kazi.

It would be the last time you saw your mother alive.

"I know you thought my mom died of a sudden heart attack." You whispered as Kate regarded you with a mixture of pity and pain.

"Did my mom know about this?" She mustered up the courage to ask after a moment of silence.

You nodded. "Its why she was always so welcoming to me. She knew I wanted nothing to do with this life, and tried to give me a little bit of normalcy by hanging out with you all the time."

Kate found herself unable to be angry with all the secrets being brought to the light. Even though she had every right to be after all you knew a good portion of her life had been a lie, and you played a part in maintaining the lies. But then again her mother probably hadn't given you much of a choice. In the matter she wanted to ask but was afraid to her more.

"My father failed and my mother paid with her life. My brother failed and the torch was passed onto me."

"I get why you kept all this from me when we were kids y/n-"

You let out a premature sigh of relief believing this argument was over. She understood your reasons and didn't hate you. Until Kate threw out a hand stopping you from hugging her as you approached her.

"But we're not kids anymore and I'm not a child who needed you to protect me from the boogeyman. I'm an Avenger now who took down Fisk last year. You should've came to me for help instead of doing his dirty work. You're no better than my mom."

It was too much especially the her last comment. You exploded unable to hold back anymore.

"Are fucking serious right now? After everything I just told you how can you still believe any of this was a choice. You know what Katie you are a child" You shouted knocking her hand away.

"I'm a child" Kate repeated your words with a scoff. Although you could hear the agony in her voice that she was trying so hard to mask. It broke your heart to be the one causing it, but you went on.

"Yes Katie I don't care what you did last year Fisk could've snapped your neck in a blink of an eye. If he wanted too but he needed your mom's money. Fisk has been put behind bars twice, and he managed to manipulate his way out both times. Maya put a bullet in his head and somehow he's still standing. What do you think you can do that hasn't been done?"

"I would've figured something out" Kate argued.

"And your plan would've failed Kate the only way out for me was too give him what he wants. It was just a few jobs here and there no one even got hurt." You told her.

"Fisk is still a bad guy y/n who killed your mom, and was willing to kill mine. How can you defend him?"

"I'm not defending him. I'm trying to make you understand I couldn't lose anyone else to him especially you. Kate I fucking love you, and I'll burn down this entire city to keep you alive. Not a day goes by where I don't wish I didn't put an end to him that night he came for my mother.

"Y/N" Kate murmured your name finally letting herself reach out to grip your chin. Lifting your head to making you look in soft blue eyes which were filled with tears.

"I told Yelena you wouldn't get it because in your world everything is black and white. There's no room for a gray area."

"Yelena knew about you" she said raising an eyebrow. The gears in her head started to turn, and there was nothing you could do to come back from it. The little moment of peace was over as Kate frowned.

"Is she the reason we're even having this conservation?"

"She was going to tell you if I didn't come clean on my own" You confessed.

"So you were going to continue to run around and do Fisk's dirty work."

"I only have one job left."

Kate released her grip on your chin to clench her fists. "Have? You're still going to finish the job."

"Do you have a better idea?" You shot back matching her tone of anger.

"You're lucky I haven't called the cops yet" she blurted out turning around to put her back to you.

"Locking me up the way you did your mom" You said looking away.

"You told me that was the right call or did your forget?" she yelled whirling back around.

"I told you what you needed to hear Kate but you were wrong. Your mother wasn't the bad guy. If anybody was it was your father who died and left behind a trail of mistakes. Eleanor did her to clean up his mess and keep you safe."

"So what does that make me then?"

"A blinded hero" You answered.

Kate didn't reply right away dropping into a crouch with her hands tangled in her hair. Turmoil on her face as she tried to process your words while working double time to keep. The guilty thoughts away as you unlocked a door she closed a long time ago.

You contemplated making a run for it while Kate was stuck in her own head. But no part of you wanted to leave things like this between the two of you. You wanted clarity on where your relationship with her stood.

The silence was deafening as both of you waited for the other to say something, but neither of you knew what to say because thing were so broken. It was beyond repair and Kate couldn't deal with that right now. While you wanted to believe all of this was still salvageable.

"You have ten seconds."

You had been staring up the night sky counting the stars to pass time when she spoke, so her words didn't register with you right away. "What?"

"You got ten seconds to get out of my sight and I never want to see you again." Kate said with a bit more force this time. Her eyes wouldn't meet yours.

"What about us" You implored.

"I can't be with you anymore y/n not after this. I'm letting you go that's enough alright so just go please" Kate replied. There it was again agony in her voice but this time she didn't try to mask it.

"Katie please you're my light okay. I need you in my life" You begged covering the distance between the two of you with one stride. You placed both of your hands on either side of her face.

"Y/N no stop calling me that" Kate protested attempting to pull away. Until a arm was secured around her waist and then your lips were on hers in a breathtaking kiss. You poured all of your emotions, all the desperation, and pain into it. You needed her to understand and her lips molded with yours like the perfect fit they were. The two of you were meant to be for better or worse. Hero and villain, good and bad, light and darkness. Nothing was supposed to be able to come between the two of you. She had promised you that herself, and you wasn't going to let Wilson Fisk cost you another promise.

Kate finally gathered up the will to shove you away so hard you fell back on the ground. Her bow was back in her hand in a flash, and before you knew. She had an arrow notched trained right at your heart. "And you were the one person in my life who I thought wasn't broken and messed up. But it turns out it was all a lie."

Her words torn through you, and ripped your heart to shreds. You got back to your feet holding back sobs. But the tears fell again as you had lost count just how much crying was done tonight. Your hand move to your collarbone where the arrow with the heart charm rested. "Wow would you look at that foreshadowing."

You yanked the necklace off and threw it to her feet. "Gooddbye Kate." Those were your last words and you turned around to breakout into a swift run. Leaping from the ledge of the apartment building to the next one. Kate watched as you disappeared into the night taking her heart with you.

Not knowing you left yours behind with her.

A Week Later

Wilson blew up your phone with numerous of calls and text messages in the following days. He sent a few men over to the apartment you use to share with Kate, but they never made it. You intercepted them every single of time, and put an end to their lives. Until he finally got the message to stop sending them on the fourth time. When none of his guys returned back to him to report.

He resorted back to threatening calls which were ignored as you were busy plotting revenge.

"Please please I give don't" the robber pleaded holding up his arm. You dropped to one knee moving his hand aside to sock him in the nose. He groaned in pain as his head bounced off the concrete ground.

Your fist was drawn back for another shot when a baton attached to a metal wire wrapped around wrist and tightened. Till the point your hand went numb with blood circulation cut off. The person on the other end gave tugged hard pulling you away from the beaten and battered robber.

"You are one hard dude to find you know. I've been trying to get your attention for days."

You twisted your around as your body was dragged backwards deeper into the alley. Your legs were extended out catching your assailant in the chest. He absorbed the kick with ease due to his armored suit.

"So you beat a bunch of street thugs within an inch of their life"said the mysterious man. His identity concealed under a yellow horned mask, but strangely enough it was only covered the top half of his face.

"You got an update on the suit I see it doesn't really go with the whole Devil of Hell's Kitchen title." You commented observing his suit for every little detail.

"I go by Daredevil now" he said with a shrug.

"That's catchy and less of a mouthful I guess."

He began to unwrap the wire from around your wrist and once you were free. The baton snapped back into place with the other end. "What do you want with me?"

"Your help you and I share a common enemy. The name Wilson Fisk ring any bells?" You asked ready to judge his reaction.

He hid his facial expressions well but his body tensed up at the sound of his number one nemesis's name. "I actually do my best too stay off his radar these days. He's not my concern anymore."

You nodded in understanding. "I would back off too if a man like that uncovered my secret identity, but what happens you should know better. Matthew because believe Fisk still keeps tab on you and your friends. Foggy Nelson and Kare-"

Matthew Murdock didn't give you the chance to finish your sentence before bone-rushing you. Slamming your body into the brick wall pressing the side of your face with vicious intent.

"Keep her name out your mouth" he sneered right in your ear. He was so close you could feel his breath on your neck.

"Who are you?" He growled.

"Someone who wants Fisk dead just as much as you did a few years back, but unlike you I intend on going through with it." You said through gritted teeth.

"What does that have to do with me? I wasn't going to stand in your way."

"I know but others might and I need help keeping them off might back."

"Why would I do that? Its not my style" Matt argued but he stepped back letting you turn around to face him.

"Because you're tired of walking eggshells around your home careful not to step on his toes, and bring upon his wrath again. You want to go the bed at night without looking over your shoulder or your loved ones's."

Matthew reached up to pull his mask off revealing his entire face to you. His dark hair was a mess and his eyes were guarded. "What did Fisk take away from you."

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"Everything so I got nothing else to lose so what do you say? Think you can go back to being the Devil of Hell's Kitchen for one more night."