Tumgik
#emotional angst
ayyy-imma-ninja · 7 months
Text
"Hey, chin up, kid...It'll be okay-"
Tumblr media
Felt like doodling THAT scene from chapter 2 of "Terror Comes In Twos"
619 notes · View notes
asterdisaster06 · 7 months
Text
i love you, ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?
ghost x reader [exes], slight soap x reader [mostly platonic], platonic 141 x reader
1. 2. 3.
summary > "Don't trust people like me. I will hurt you in the most beautiful and intoxicating ways so that you can never go back to your normal life without my ghost following you."
...
"If you always put yourself before others, one day you'll look behind and see that you're all alone."
...
Simon "Ghost" Riley had fucked up. Massively. He had pushed you away because he was scared of losing you to the life he lived. He didn't want to see you go down the same path and lose that beautiful intoxicating spark that you always carried in your eye. And now he didn't even recognize you. Not after you had done so much work to fulfill yourself, changing the person he once knew. You had successfully climbed the ranks of the 141 Taskforce and was now crowned the second lieutenant of the team. However, you can't dodge the piercing looks that Simon sends you every now and then. You can't pretend forever.
warnings > simon riley is alluded to be a bit of a dick in this chapter
a/n > reader cenetred. author has family issues so will be found family-ing this shit. author has no military knowledge so don’t crucify me. also have no idea how long it takes to officially become a Lieutenant but we’re going with around 5 years - shortened from 7+ because us readers are smart and can go to college. it’s very much just poetic feels, but I promise the angst with Simon directly comes eventually. He’s kind of a dick tbh but that’s cause he’s emotionally repressed. i’m romanticising this because i’ve lived through similar and wish this was how it ended lmao
ao3
Simon Riley was the bane of your existence. His very being pissed you off to no end, and it wasn’t unwarranted. That anger had once been crippling sorrow and grief over what you had lost. The anger had begun as a small seed, planted in the harsh words he growled at you through gritted teeth that night. The same words that you hissed back in his face. But eventually you had managed to move on from the love of your life. Managed to move on after weeks spent with tear stained pillows and the stuffed animal he had won you once hugged to your chest. You would’ve shoved that thing in the back of your closet, but you figured you shouldn’t take your anger out on the poor thing. 
Thinking of him still makes you wince like hitting your shin against a table leg, but less so. It’s faded to a simple bruise on your heart that still aches from time to time. A phantom pain for the ghost that still haunts you. Like smoke in the wind. You still fear whispering his name at night as if his spirit will come back to haunt you. You still have the keys to his apartment in your bedside drawer. You still remember where he keeps his spoons. Sometimes you wonder how many cups of tea you’ve wasted from pouring them down the drain after realising you’re still stuck in the habit of making two. 
However, you know it’s for the best that you’ve parted ways. It reminds you a little of a moment in your life with him, ironically. There was this one time that you had managed to drag Simon to the beach as a small celebration for him and were out swimming as the sun had set. He only stuck his toes into the water as you swam out until you couldn’t reach the bottom. He had told you he wouldn’t save you, and you shouted back in response that you didn’t need saving. You almost want to thank him now for saying that he’d let you drown. Thank him for teaching you that you never needed saving. Not from him anyways.
It was this exact night that had led to the complete and utter dismantling of your relationship with one Simon Riley. Recalling it stings like sand in the wind against your bare legs. The kind of pelting pain that leaves no visible marks but hurts nonetheless. It steals the breath from your lungs and puts a stone in your heart. 
You were so happy, so very happy. And you thought that Simon would be too. Especially for you. You broke the news to him as you were laying there on the beach that you wanted to join the military. You wanted to continue that it was because you had looked up to him so very much and wanted to do good just like he did. Even if he didn’t exactly believe he was. Before you could do so though, he had blown up on you. Completely. It was a complete shift from the Simon you thought you had known. You shudder to recall exactly what he had said, but it escalated enough for one of you to call it off. 
It had gone silent after those words were uttered. 
Complete silence.
You had refused to let the tears fall until you had grabbed your shit and booked a flight back to your home town. The airport bathroom had offered a greater sympathy than he had ever given you. He never even called you. You think that’s what hurts the most. That you didn’t mean enough to him to even try and work this out. You expected better from him. You truly did. 
“I can’t fucking believe how bloody stupid you would have to be to do that.”
Nonetheless, you picked yourself up and signed up for the military with your family and friends supporting your every move. Your every breath. You learned to defend yourself, learned to love yourself. You had gotten around here and there, but nobody ever truly measured up to Simon. Sometimes you wonder what would’ve happened if you two had met when you were already in the military, but you always shut down those what if thoughts quite quickly. No use dwelling on something that could never be.
“This is a big fucking mistake, love.”
You rose the ranks quickly, using your spite to your advantage. Every man that reminded you of Simon always made you fight even harder. You had always told a half truth when someone asked why you wanted to join. Not the story of pain and bitterness, but the one of hope and admiration of an old friend. It made you want to throw up after the third time of giving that response, so eventually you simply changed the subject when someone asked. You didn’t even spill your past when you were blackout drunk; it being too painful even then. You drowned your sorrows in liquor and nicotine, going out with your top tier squad every Friday. Sometimes when it came to a close and you were left with the quiet of your own deafening thoughts you went outside to smoke a pack of Simon’s favourite cigarettes. A weakness that you hated yourself for. 
"You are no saint, and you are no saviour either. You're just lying to yourself."
Those words ring out in your mind every time you fail to save someone. A fellow soldier or a civilian, it doesn’t matter. Self doubt creeps up on you, smothering you in its grasp. Your hands remain stained with their blood, no matter how much you scrub your skin raw in the shower. You hear their screams ring out in your brain at night, piercing the thin veil of fitful sleep that you’ve resigned yourself to after you had lost the warmth of your other half that used to hold you tight at night. Your eyes had lost their brightness, though you can’t say it’s exactly correlated to the loss of the victims. You couldn’t prove Simon right in that aspect. Not after you’ve come this far. 
"Anything would be better than this!"
You wanted to believe that so badly, but your heart longed for this career almost as much as it did him. You took pride in those you had saved; albeit still haunted by those you could not. The abilities you had earned your right to were presented proudly through tactical patches displayed on your uniform - chest candy as he would’ve called it. But if he couldn’t support you through this, you didn’t know how to trust him for future endeavours. The lack of apologies simply cemented your decision and mindset. 
"Why would somebody do this on purpose?"
It’s a question whose full answer still eludes you to this day. All you know is that you felt homesick for this life before even experiencing it. It’s the ache in your bones and has been carved into your ribs so you may feel the torment and euphoria all at once when your heart slams against the cage that keeps it safe. Contained. 
It’s these thoughts that occupy your mind on the plane trip to the infamous compound that houses the 141 Taskforce. Anxiety pierces your nerves, sending what little food you had that morning tumbling around your stomach. Forgetting your meds this morning was likely the worst thing that you could have possibly done. Except for completely ghosting this experience. How odd it is to be haunted by someone still alive. Someone who has no idea if you’re still breathing, let alone travelling to your very location at that moment. 
There was no logical reason for you to turn this collaboration down; in fact, in any other circumstances you would be proud of rising so far that you were sent to this facility. Except for the fact that it was this facility. The very one that your ex who has tormented you through night a day for years. You hadn’t spoken a word of his name to anyone after the first month following the breakup. You wanted a life where your friends didn’t even know his name, let alone his significance. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to be a part of your life anymore. 
You repeat this mantra to yourself as you realise you’re finally landing. 
Shit.
That syllable is the only thing bouncing around your head as you’re greeted by John Price. The John Price. Alone, you notice. You had heard bits and pieces of Ghost’s team, but mostly of either Soap’s shenanigans or Price’s rulings over him. You swallow harshly and shake the hand of the powerful Captain. The very same one that had no idea that one of his subordinate’s had been your previous lover. And you planned to keep it that way at all costs. 
“Welcome to the base Lieutenant, I’ve heard great things about you and your stealth skills on the battlefield,” Price spoke, shaking your hand firmly. 
Lieutenant. You had always loved the sound of that word in front of Simon’s name, and had similarly always wondered how it would sound in front of yours. It brought a sense of satisfaction rushing through your veins, and yet at the same time it brought you to your knees from nausea. It reminded you too much of him.
“There was the callsign ‘Angel’ in the details Laswell sent over. Would you say that still suits you?” Price says, almost amused. 
Angel. You had never intended for it to be ever spoken to you again considering its connotations with a nickname Simon had always called you. His little angel. He claimed that you were sent down from the heavens to save the sinners; although, you had never considered him one until the breakup. 
How you had gained this callsign is a story that makes you want to shake like a wet dog. Shake the memory off until it vanishes from your grasp. When you were simply doing your job and slowly climbing the ranks through your initial trade training, you had this sergeant that had taken a liking to you. Much to your chagrin. He had started every conversation with the classic pickup line about you falling from heaven. It was pure torment that you had to endure for almost a full year; a year in which the nickname stuck. Nobody was willing to do anything about it, and you weren’t willing to cause a fuss by tattling on your - at the time - superior. It ended up following you out of that academy into your career. 
Although, you had quickly earned the added benefit of having ‘Angel of Death’ be your full callsign after you had proven your covert operation skills - effectively wiping out an entire compound by yourself with none the wiser. Safe to say that mission was a success. The name now had something to do with your actual skills instead of your physical appearance and led you to cringe at the honorific less and less. 
“I don’t think I’d be able to answer to anything else, Sir,” You answer, wincing at the mention of your callsign nonetheless.
He sends you a questioning look at your small recoil, but brushes it off in favour of moving onto a general tour of the area. It was a sizable facility with many accommodations that made you almost smile with anticipation of taking advantage of all of them. I mean, you even got your own personal shower with your room. Who is going to complain about that?
“So, that’s basically it,” Price finishes up the tour in his office. “I know you already signed off with Laswell on your contract, but just for the record, may I have you sign a few documents here in this folder? Feel free to take your time going through them.”
You overlooked the folder, noticing what little details you had shared throughout your career being asked to be confirmed by your penmanship. It makes you give a shallow smile at the memories you’ve contracted through your experiences. Some less than savoury, but many you wouldn’t give up for the world. You were looking forward to catching up with your friends back at your old base once you were settled in, but until then you scratched pen against paper. 
You had finally completed signing on all the lines, getting a little tired at being told ‘here, here, and here’ over and over again. Your eyes burned with exhaustion, not quite realising how much your anxiety had taken out of you. Your hands had a small leftover tremor plaguing them as you handed the pen back to Price, but you felt better. Significantly better. 
“I can tell you’re tired, so I’ll lead you to your quarters and let you rest there for tonight,” Price says, sending you a small quirk of his lips.
“Thank you, Captain,” You reply, sending a tired yet appreciative look in his direction. 
“Oh, please, call me Price. If you know Kate as well as she says you do, you’ve earned that at the least,” He laughs. 
You flush red, letting out a bashful grin at that. It was true that you had run into Kate a few times before realising what a big part she played in your field of work. Most of the time at the coffee shop where you held a part-time job while attending the military academy. However, the time you had sat across from her and her wife after getting stood up really sealed the deal. You being introduced as the ‘person that actually gets our coffee right’ which gave you all a good laugh. They had comforted you once you opened up about why you were at a fancy dinner alone, they welcomed you into their open arms, and that was that. The topic ended up on what you were studying for, and it all came out into the open. The silent conversation those two had with their eyes before opening up had almost made you shit yourself before Kate explained. 
You had tried to stay slightly distant after figuring out exactly what she did for a living, but she had shut that down real quick - saying that if anyone had dared to call you a nepo-baby that they wouldn’t live to tell the tale. You really hoped she was exaggerating. 
Back in the present, you were letting out a laugh at Price’s words before there was a knock at the door. Your heart dropped to your stomach, making your breath stumble before completely halting. In your heart, you knew who it was before Price even told him to let himself in. The gruff voice saying he didn’t expect Price to have company so late made you feel like a deer in headlights, unable to move as their untimely demise stares them right in the face. 
Except this time around, this deer had broken through the freeze reaction long ago. You had learned and adapted, unwilling to relive being frozen as Simon yelled in your face yet again. You couldn’t face the shame quite yet, not unprompted at least.  
You quickly turned away from your initial reaction of turning to the door. You mouth goodbye to Price and nod in respect; hoping that he would forgive you for abandoning his office without any notice. You kept your eyes to the floor, feeling his eyes staring holes through you, burning your skin like a bullet wound. 
You had changed a lot throughout the years, more so in preparation for being moved here. You weren’t going to turn down this once in a lifetime opportunity just because of a silly disagreement over half a decade ago. You remember staring at a face you barely recognize today while gripping the porcelain off white sink in your shared bathroom. Past you taking actions to change your hair into something that ended up being the new normal. You had taken a page out of Ghost’s book and invested in DIY-ing a personalised mask that resembled a bird with tinted glass shielding your eyes from anyone that could recognize you simply off that. You actually had quite a few - each one for a different occasion. 
Nonetheless, the mask you currently wore, its only purpose that you cared about right now was hiding your identity. Simon didn’t immediately react, so you took that as a good sign. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was simply concealing his emotions, but you had a feeling that wasn’t the case. You peruse the halls, not entirely sure how to get to your room. You had a vague idea, but backtracking made it a little more difficult. Especially since you were more concerned with conversing with Price than memorising the exact layout. 
You take a turn around a corner, immediately bumping into someone with a familiar face, your eyes betraying your displeasure as you wordlessly stared into the Scots eyes.
190 notes · View notes
cpt-winters · 1 year
Text
Whump Thing I Wrote #1
TW: Contains Brief Torture Description, Whumpee-Turned-Whumper, Emotional+Physical Angst, Some Violence+Blood
"You're a tough one to crack, I'll give you that. But everyone breaks," Whumper commented idly, slowly circling the Whumpee, bound in the chair. A slow smile crawled onto Whumper's face as they paused. "Sooner or later..."
Whumpee kept their jaw wired shut, gritting down their teeth as Whumper let the blowtorch glide across their arm, the blue flame searing Whumpee's flesh. A guttural scream threatened to tear through their throat as the skin melted away, but they refused to give Whumper the satisfaction, only letting out a shaky groan. It seemed an eternity before Whumper finally pulled back, leaving the pain to fester.
Whumpee panted heavily, struggling to catch their breath as they glared up at Whumper, their face slicked in sweat mixed with blood. "You'll be dead before I break," Whumpee spat.
Whumper merely scoffed, pausing for a moment before grabbing Whumpee by the hair, yanking their head back, their eyes forced to meet. "We'll see about that, won't we?" they taunted, anger leaking through their usually calm voice, but despite the pain, Whumpee's defiant gaze remained steady.
-
It took months of subtle movements and fidgeting for the ropes to start to loosen, most of the skin of Whumpee's wrists now worn too. But that didn't matter, and neither did the burns, cuts, and bruises when the restraints were lax enough for Whumpee to get free. The very second Whumper stepped into the room, Whumpee lurched forward, tackling them to the ground.
While severely weakened from their lengthy captivity, Whumpee had the element of surprise, using that to their advantage as their fists mercilessly pummeled into Whumper. Their knuckles thudded into Whumper's face several times, turning bloody before Whumper managed to claw them off.
Having been so much bigger and stronger before, Whumpee wasn't expecting to be tossed aside with such ease. They desperately scrambled across the ground on their palms as Whumper started peeling themselves up from the floor. Whumpee's injuries screamed out in protest, agonized by the movement, but they pushed on. With Whumper's nearing footsteps, Whumpee called on whatever meagre strength they had left and grabbed the leg of the chair, slamming it into Whumper as hard as possible.
Whumper stumbled back a few paces, allowing enough time for Whumpee to find their feet and smash the chair over their opponent's head with all the force they could muster. Whumpee clutched their side, staring as Whumper's body collapsed to the floor, a pool of blood forming by their head.
"I told you..." Whumpee muttered over the corpse, their voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper. "I told you, you f-fucking bastard."
————————
A/N: This is my first time writing a whumpy post, so hope y'all like it okay! This brief thought turned out longer than planned lol
202 notes · View notes
westidia · 1 year
Text
I understand why people are upset with dick (I understand why Kory is upset with dick), but being “realistic”, dick hasn’t come to terms with his feelings for Kory yet (he knows he has them), and him and Kory aren’t together (yet) so how could he go about telling his partner “oh by the way I saw our daughter when I died from getting shot in the neck and thrown in the lazurus pit and looks just like you *heart eyes 2x*” when they aren’t together. Like I get it. And on top of that we (the audience) KNOWS that that’s the future that he wants WITH KORY. They have to have several talks before they even get together he couldn’t just throw that on her. Now Kory I get her side as well, they’re partners they’re not supposed to keep secrets especially something huge and she feelings slighted I get it. I’m on both of their sides. They gone get it together. 💜💙💜💙💜💙
204 notes · View notes
Text
Secret Santa!
Heyo y'all, I am participating in @creweemmaeec11's Secret Santa yay!!!! My prompt was from @beanswoo, and I really enjoyed writing it, so I hope they and you'll enjoy reading it just as much!
Hope you enjoy!
Word Count: 1,123
[Hero] glanced around their roo- cell for what had to be the twentieth time. It was nice on the outside. The walls were painted, the floor was a plush carpet, and the furniture appeared to be made of high-quality wood. It was all a front. [Hero] knew it was all a front. The dresser was just wood glued over hard metal, and the walls were painted cement.
It was a trick, it was always a trick when [Villain] was involved.
They wrung the sheets in their hands as they glanced towards the door. It, too, was wood, or at least it looked to be. There was undoubtedly hard metal under the thin planks and a variety of different sensors and locks keeping the thing closed. The windows must also be bulletproof.
[Hero] nearly tore the bed sheets apart as they felt the walls closing in on them, the air growing thicker and thicker, their impending death looming over them like a ticking clock. They didn’t know what [Villain] planned for them, but they had some ideas.
[Mentor] had told them of the things [Villain] had done to their other students. Awful, horrible things. Some of the students even survived long enough for [Mentor] to save them, but not for very long. [Mentor] said they had high hopes for [Hero], hopes they would surpass their other students, and their failures.
They knew they were letting [Mentor] down, and after everything, they had done for them. They were disgusting, they were a failure, they were nothing but tra-
The door to the room creaked open, and it sounded so much like a real wooden door. [Hero] guessed there was some kind of speaker in the door or next to it, making it seem more realistic.
They caught their breath and made sure their face was neutral, just as they had taught themself for when [Mentor] would check on them in their room after training. [Mentor] hated it when they looked upset.
[Villain] silently entered the room, closing the door afterward, and the creaking sounded different this time. They must have multiple recordings of the creaking.
“Hello [Hero],” they spoke, their voice calm, but not in the way [Mentor]’s was. [Mentor]’s calm sounded hard, measured, and judging. [Villain] sounded soft and almost warry, like they were approaching a wounded animal.
[Hero] hated it.
“Let me go,” [Hero] snarled as they bunched up the sheets in their hands.
[Villain] frowned, but they remained patient, “[Hero]...”
“Let me go right now!” [Hero] shouted, leaning forward in bed, their face flushing hot with anger.
[Villain] raised their hands, their palms held outward placatingly, and it made [Hero] even angrier.
“[Hero], I’m just trying to help-”
“How the hell are you helping me by kidnapping me!” [Hero] screamed.
“I didn’t kidnap-”
“Then how did I get here?!” [Hero] demanded.
“You walked here yourself,” [Villain] explained, and [Hero] felt hysterical laughter bubble up in their chest.
“Seriously?” they felt tears well up in their eyes as they laughed incredulously, “That’s the bullshit you’re trying to spin me?”
“It’s true. Let me sho-”
“Cut it out!” [Hero] screamed, the anger back in full force, “I won’t let you confuse me! I won’t let you! I won’t! [Mentor] taught me better than that!” they screamed at them, their teeth gnashing as [Villain] slowly approached.
“They told me all about you! About all the different things you did to their other students! About what you would do to me if I disobeyed them if I started from their orders and showed weakness! If I-!”
[Hero] stopped as the words caught in their throat. [Villain] held up a tablet so they could clearly see. On the screen… was them. They looked disheveled and dirty. Tears were streaming down their face as they stood on [Villain]’s doorstep. Even from the angle, they could tell they were shivering in the warm air.
“Please,” they begged, “I can’t do this anymore, I can’t,” they sobbed.
[Villain] wore the same face they were wearing now, the pain only being drowned out by the bone-deep defeat in their eyes.
“I…” [Hero] finally spoke as [Villain] paused the video, “I don’t remember that….”
“I’m not surprised. You were really out of it,” [Villain] sighed, “[Mentor]’s little mind tricks can really do a number on people. I’m just happy you were able to get out, to get to me.”
“Why would I come to you?” [Hero] asked, their surprise and confusion laced with disgust that made them feel guilty in a way they couldn’t put their finger on.
“Because you remembered when you were here before,” [Villain] smiled sadly at them.
“I’ve never been here before!” [Hero] shouted.
“Yes, you have, [Hero]!” [Villain] pleaded, “So many times!”
“What the hell are you talking about!” [Hero] shouted.
“[Hero]! There were no other students of [Mentor]’s!” [Villain] urged, “It’s only ever been you!”
[Hero] felt like they had been stabbed, as tears welled up in their eyes. They slowly began to shake their heads, the motion quickly growing rapid and desperate.
“No, that’s… That’s…” they gritted their teeth. “That isn’t possible!”
[Villain] flicked through their laptop as [Hero] kept shouting at them, kept resisting, kept trying to fight against… Whatever was going on. But when [Villain] handed them their tablet once more, a collage of pictures of [Hero] in all the different suits of [Mentor]’s previous students, they finally fell silent.
[Hero] couldn’t move for a long moment. They just stared, desperately searching for the trick, the ruse, the… whatever the hell explanation that could make all of this make sense. That could make everything simple again and could cause [Hero] to wake up back in their cot, where they were supposed to be.
“[Mentor]’s power is memory manipulation, you know that,” [Villain] spoke softly, their voice slipping into [Hero]’s ears as they kept staring at the collage of their own face. “They use it to quicken explanations and manipulate people. Manipulate you. Over and over, and over again.” tears welled up in the corners of [Villain]’s eyes.
“I’m so sorry [Hero]. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you all those other times, but this time is going to be different. I swear it,” they vowed as they wrapped [Hero] up in their arms, knocking the tablet out of [Hero]’s limp hands.
[Hero] sat there, frozen for an indeterminate amount of time as [Villain] held them and stroked their hair in a way that their body remembered even if their mind didn’t. [Hero] didn’t even realize they were crying until the tears began to soak into [Villain]’s clothes and their body began to shake. They buried their head in [Villain]’s shoulder, hoping that would be enough to drown out the sounds of their broken sobs.
157 notes · View notes
unknownmusing · 6 months
Text
Baldur's Gate - Halsin x Astarion Fanfic: 'Always there to Travel the Same Path which One Walks' - Prologue 1 to 3 (Act 1) (Spawn Astarion and Ascended Astarion Route)
----------------------
Note:
Spawn Astarion and Ascended Route will start with same prologue then it will be separate chapters as rest of fic progresses to represent both routes
-------------------
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Notes:
A Baldur's Gate: Halsin x Astarion fic inspired by the game Baldur Gate 3 and watching ongoing playthrough of it on Youtube
Slight canon diverge with some made up Background stuff for Astarion and other characters
WIP mode as use the wiki fandom and playthroughs to get idea of characters
Title refers to how Astarion and Halsin join up with the rest of the *company ( *will be introduced in later on chapters) but also travel a path together which leads to something more.
Starts off with Astarion's P.O.V
-------------------------
Prologue - 'A Pale Elf in a Grove' (1 of 3)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
------------------------------------------------
Location - Emerald Grove, Western Heartlands, West Faerun - Approaching Early Morning
Astarion's P.O.V:
"Is Halsin a fool?!!! Why has he brought this 'thing' here!!!?"
"I do not know….it greatly concerns….Archdruid Halsin!!!… We…..yes…..we understand…."
Voices.
Whispering amongst themselves before going silent, footsteps fading into the distance of somewhere which smells moist, lush and fresh - like it's not been tainted by any pollutants - and movement of something large, warm and furry choosing to lay down beside me.
Why couldn't I remember what had happened? What even had happened? Had I been attacked by someone or something?
Those questions remain swirling around my aching head - like I been hit by something very heavy and large - that it is difficult to even force myself to wake up so can check my surroudings, only sink into deeper sleep like I'm being made to do it to help me heal. So different when my Master Cazador treated me - his more of punishment so cruel, unkind and harsh it border on machositic that he didn't really care how many times he hurt me.
I must have whimpered because a soft chuffing noise comes from the large, warm furry thing beside me with wet snout nudging me to force me to roll onto my side to face into a warm furry belly and chest of what scenting register is in fact bear at least I think it is. I want to wake, I need to wake.
But the drowiness is settling in so fast, a soothing calming wave washing over me that find myself relaxing for the first time in centuries, allowing myself to fall asleep against the warmth of the large bear beside me.
TIME SKIP
"Hnngh…..Gaahhh!!!?" It is the sensation of sunlight from above burning it's way up my exposed arm which forces me very rudely awake from the deep, healing slumber I had been placed under trying to get up when realise a large, muscular arm - human?…. No….scenting the air…..again….a Wood Elf - is over my waist effectively trapping me against a very muscular, large and naked Wood elf bearing a tattoo mark on one side of his face and horredenous, but oddly enough appealing scars from no doubt from being attacked on his face as well.
Concerned about promixity of our bodies, I shuffle my lower half backwards away from the Wood elf's groin area only to give out a yelp when the large hand which has been around my waist immediatly yanks me flush against the large, muscular chest forcing me to place both my hands on it - or more accurately on top of the Wood Elf's pecs on both their dusky hued nipples to my embarassment even though this unnamed Wood elf does look like a fine specimen.
The sudden hiss of sunlight touching my exposed skin causes me to thrash soon in their grip, managing to wriggle free to quickly roll over to the shadows.
Collapsing slump up against a base for a statue of a wolf carved from stone, I wince at the stinging ache from the sun-burn on my arm hoping my healing factor kicks in, only to notice the wood elf has woken up looking straight at me.
"It's alright, I won't harm you." the wood elf says, voice so deep, husky and soothing it sends a strange shiver through me at the sametime that luring scent of his sweet, smelling blood reaches me.
It is so tempting, I don't realise I prowled out of the shadows into a shaft of sunlight until I'm scrambling back into them cursing myself with my fangs unsheathing themselves, steam still rising from the sun-burnt wounds until finally wisping away and bits of my burnt skin turned to ash to flutter to the ground
"I…need you….to stay just there…" I warn them, only for them to ignore my warning coming over to kneel down in front of me taking hold of my wrist to pull my arm out straight investigating the damage, seeing when I turn my face to one side to wince with eyes slipping shut or peeking open slightly to watch what he's doing.
------------------------------------------
Notes:
Title refers how unexpected emotions begin to form in Astarion that he's not used to and how he loses control to them and Halsin the same.
Third part will deal with introducing the Leader of the Party and their background, plus the start of the Mindflyer attack then moving into Act 1
-------------------------------------------
Prologue (2 of 3) - 'Losing Control to Unexpected Emotions Rising within One'
Location - Emerald Grove, Western Heartlands, West Faerun - Early Morning
Astarion's P.O.V:
Halsin – as the Druid or Archdruid to be precise of Emerald Grove is called – is an enigma of a Wood Elf, with most of his time discussing about Nature, protecting the Grove and in his spare time doing mostly mundane things which some to admit were interesting to know about:
his whittling of little carvings of animals so detailed it actually fascinated me to watch from afar doing his work; seeing him resist the temptation of honeyed treats being sold by travelling merchants that couldn’t resist haggling with them to include more of new variations every-time they came back to just watch his eyes sparkle and pretend he’s not drooling over them and finally, seeing him in his bear form allowing children to ride on his back.
Looking over to where he’s discussing something highly important with another Druid – a female Half-elf called Jaheira, who keeps on flicking her gaze over to me wariness showing in her eyes - probably about myself.
Deciding not to hang around, I keep myself to the large grove's shadows, avoiding the spots of sunlight to head to the extensive cave-system of the Emerald Grove.
Within the cave-system, I make my way down towards the halfling merchant - Arron - located nearby a Altar busy checking his wares he's ascertained from his travels.
He stiffens though, ears twitching side to side then turns his gaze to look at me leaning up against a rock pillar in the shadows causing him to give out a ‘Tch, it’s you’ turning to face me where crosses his arms over his chest.
“I told you already, Pale Elf, if you want to sample my wares find out who’s pickpocketing around here.” Arron states, forcing me to raise an eyebrow because it sounds like he's accusing me of being the one doing it.
"And you think I have something to do with it. Heh, I would not resort myself to such lowly act." I state back, slipping myself away deciding I need to go hunting to distract myself from the mutiple heartbeats that head up to the main entrance.
Reaching where the gate is, I stop myself just in time.
The sun has risen at it's highest peak meaning the gate area is completely flooded with light leaving no shadows for me to use to reach it.
Choosing to lean up against a pillar, I find myself looking over at it trying to ascertain whether make a dash for it or wait until nightfall to go hunting for Prey.
Tilting my head backwards, my mind floods to fact I've not felt any sense of my Master Cazador trying to will me back to the Lair where I took lured Prey - most ended up dead and flung into giant pit, others turned in Spawn like me or completely disappeared that even asking would have risked the ire of him so never asked.
"You seem lost in thought, silver-tongue." the disdaining, dripping tone of the female druidess half-elf Jaheira reaches my ears, I lower my head down un-leaning myself from the pillar I brush past her quickly refusing to even acknowledge when find myself suddenly yanked backwards by a glowing tendril of energy straight into large area of sunlight I'd been trying to avoid.
-----------------------------------------------------------
“Jaheira, what have….you done…!!!?”
“You are too soft, Halsin. We cannot trust this, silver-tongue. You must have noticed how ‘it’ avoids the shadows!!!”
“That I already know. It doesn’t mean you act irrational by doing what you did.”
Shuddering into wakefulness, the first thing to reach my nostrils is the scent of wildflowers – a mixture of so many it takes time to list – with my eyes fluttering open to reveal I’m lying naked in a on a bed of vines and wildflowers entwined together in a cocoon with no sunlight penetrating it.
My acute hearing had picked up Halsin berating until finally blessed silence with me having to use my Predator senses to see how many heat signatures are outside of the healing cocoon – only one – with a gap appearing to reveal the large, wood elf.
Realising he may see the circular scar on my back, I try to move myself only for so much agony to shoot through my body I curl into myself with my bandaged hands wrapping around my bandaged waist shaking so much at it.
“Hgnnnhh…..shit…..shit…..”
Cursing under my breath, biting my bottom lip along with his large hands rolling me onto my back – checking me over – until finally a soothing healing wave from both his hands spreads over me. He is leaning over me in the process, I find myself eying the throbbing, pulsing vein in his neck that pumps his lifeforce within his body.
“Is something wrong?” He asks me, so suddenly I don’t know how to give a proper answer to him which may convince him I'm just appreciating his body and not his blood flowing in his veins.
"I…..umm…may I taste…." I begin to ask, only for him to sit back resting his hands on his lap finishing my sentence. "…to taste my blood." it makes me scramble upwards needing to leave only for him to take hold of me turning my chin to force my face into the crook of his neck.
"Drink."
A command, but not a forced, soft and gentle with myself fully turning in his arms to rest up against his large, muscular chest slipping my hand up cradle the back of his head to tilt his head backwards by his soft, hazel brown locks.
Fangs unsheathing themselves, I sink them straight in hearing him give out a stiffening grunt at it knowing he will react to the venom which will give a numbness and pleasured feeling to the Prey being subdued.
All is quiet, except for occasional soft grunts coming from each-time I take a sip of his blood until finally his large arms are pushing me back seeing how drunk I've become on the taste on it - a blush rising on my cheeks, lips coated still in some of it, that it is so addicting it is feat in me trying to avoid going back for more.
Instead, moving myself over him and placing one hand on his chest to push him down to lay flat on his back noting his hazel brown eyes ringed with gold looking up at mine. Putting my hands either side of his head, I bend down my head down to rest my forehead against his wondering should I do it, licking my lips.
“Thank you.” I tell him, finding weird saying it because I’m not used to saying it – I been ingrained in Master Cazador’s rules and have already broken one – before sealing my lips over his, feeling him stiffening underneath me only to respond with soft, equal fervour it is something part of me wants and other is rebelling at it.
I try to pull away, but he pulls me back into devouring my mouth with his own – lips changing position each-time to deepen the kissing between us both, his tongue flicking across them begging admittance so allow for it to happen.
My whole body quivers up against him.
The sensation of his large hands wrapping around my body, one cradling the back of my head and other resting on my back with his warm, moist tongue entwining with mine inside and outside my mouth makes me want to pull away from him.
Managing to release my lips from his, I gasp breathlessly with my face turned to one side willing myself to calm down - use the seductive techniques I use for Prey to take back to Cazador on him.
“Astarion…..look at me.” Halsin says, voice husky with arousal making me turn my face to look up at him seeing how affected he is – his pupils dilated, lips still swollen from our kissing and no doubt his aroused below – then continues to speak. “I…. don’t whether I can control myself in what happens next.”
Bringing both my hands up to cup his cheeks, looking up into those hazel brown eyes ringed gold I realise what is happening to me - I'm losing control to unexpected emotions rising up within me.
And it is frightening me.
------------------------------------
Notes:
Connected to Prologue (2 of 3) - 'Losing Control to Unexpected Emotions Rising within One'
Introducing Asdalen - a drow elf with Dark Urge Origins and also Halsin's Half-brother (more will be explained about that later in further one chapters) and Lesia, his adopted fae child; Asdalen will be the main leader of the party and romance partner will be Gale.
What happens to Astarion and Halsin will be told in flashback.
------------------------------------
Prologue (3 of 3) - 'When an Unexpected Event Separates Those Close to Others'
Location - Baldur's Gate, Sword Coast, Western Heartlands - 'Whispering Weave' Tavern near the Harbour - Approaching Mid-Morning 
12 DAYS LATER
Making my way through the streets of Baldur's Gate towards the 'Whispering Weave' Tavern, I keep an eye on Lesia who is running ahead - her wispy fae form so different from the various Baldurians and other travellers walking back and forth - of me.
My mind is thinking about my half-brother Halsin - an Archdruid of the Emerald Grove located in the Western Heartlands, Western Faerun - knowing it's been quite some time we have met up to discuss things or even talk properly.
Approaching the Tavern, which is near the Harbour, I see two people are walking down towards it - though one of them seems to be keeping mostly to the shadows I notice and the other I recognise is Halsin, who spotting me goes to say something when I finally reach the both of them only to bite his bottom lip which his companion notices before flicking his gaze over to me.
Lesia, spotting Halsin runs up to him to greet him and hold out her little hands to be lifted up by him.
I wait to see whether he will do it, part of me - an unknown, uncontrolled side whispers, 'Kill them both' and other horrendous things - and the more rational side - though don't know how long it will last - knows he can't deny her.
Finally, he bends down to lift her up, surprising his silvery white-haired companion beside him that approach though still with caution because it's been quite some time since seen him.
"Hello, little one." Halsin says, smiling softly with his companion - keeping to the shadows - admiring in their own way until finally turns their gaze to me.
Behind the white-bone mask I wear to cover my face a strange, prickling sense that I'm being analysed by a Predator hits me.
My own unknown Predator's senses soon wanting to confront back and tear their throat out.
----------------------------
Astarion’s P.O.V:
Coming back to Baldur’s Gate after twelve days, I know at some point Cazador will send out my ‘siblings’ to collect me but he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to do so as myself and Halsin walk through the marketplace close to the Harbour.
Stopping in the shadows of archway, Halsin turns to face me when sees I seem to be not my usual self – my body tone is showing wariness – so brings a hand up to cup my cheek to reassure me everything is alright with him being here for me.
Immediately resting my forehead against his, hands moving to rest own on his large, muscular chest it makes me realise the twelve days and nights we’ve shared together – his soft, breathless kisses he will give me; reassuring me when nightmares overwhelmed and finally, making sure my bloodthirst is sated – it has felt like freedom.
“I…don’t want to leave you….just yet….” I admit, knowing we must go our separate ways with him heading back to the Emerald Grove and myself back to my ‘prison’ kissing him soon on the lips where he uses his other hand to pull me flush up against him.
Around us the noises of the Harbour and the Marketplace reach my ears – Market stallers shouting out the wares; dock workers heading up and down ramps on ships delivering various goods back and forth and Baldurians going about their daily lives – but I’m not listening to it, just relaxing to kiss my ‘Mate’ is giving me.
Finally pulling back from it, licking my lips at his taste, I smile softly up to him slipping one hand down to clasp my fingers with his, while we soon begin to make our way to the Tavern called 'Whispering Weave' to share a last moment drink before going our separate ways.
Discovering that Halsin had a ‘brother’ of some kind is unexpected, because he never mentioned anything about having a family until now so meeting them – who wears long black thief clothing with hood included, plus bone-white mask hiding their face – along with a little fae child called Lesia, it is taking me some time to try and make sense of them.
I can tell they are like me almost – a Predator fighting their own instincts to attack the presence of another Predator in front of them.
Deciding to introduce myself is the better option of being silent and not saying anything to them.
“You have a beautiful child.” I comment, making them turn their gaze to me.
Body language still showing signs of wariness but relaxing enough to respond back to me.
“She’s….Thank you…Umm…” they begin to say, allowing me to introduce myself. “…Astarion Ancunin, a pleasure to meet you…”
“Asdalen.” They nonchalantly reply, causing Halsin to lower the little one wanting to say something but closes his month instead like he knows it may not help the both of them.
Torn between the awkwardness I’m sensing rising between them both, I decide to relieve it by deciding to say something which is mundane yet helps "I'm famished. How about we all get a bite to eat and all have a good chat together. Maybe even hear some of your lute music, Asdalen.' clapping both my hands together seeing how Lesia jumps up and down at hearing the words 'bite to eat' pulling her adopted father's sleeve.
Halsin having composed himself, slips his arm around my waist to pull me against his side and giving me a certain look of 'I didn't know you had an interest in music' it makes my chest ache at the look he gives me. The sudden thought is that I want to know everything about him - how he become Archdruid, what was his childhood like, how did he find out about his brother - and his brother.
Repair what feels like a fragile relationship between them which could easily be broken anytime.
------------------------
Location - Baldur's Gate, Sword Coast, Western Heartlands - 'Whispering Weave' Tavern near the Harbour - Mid-Morning
Asdalen’s P.O.V:
“Have you been travelling far?”
“Only to certain areas. There’s been some places refusing travellers entry.”
Drunken laughter, chatter and clinking of mugs fills the air with myself and Lesia sitting with Halsin and Astarion in an alcove at the far back of the Tavern where Astarion sitting next to my half-brother is asking me about my travels.
Most of what I tell him is about how on my travels where noticed Missing Poster had been appearing a lot; some places were wary of new travellers due to whispers about raise of Cultists and more monsters beginning to appear in certain areas.
“I see. To admit, I’ve not noticed….that kind of thing due….” Astarion begins to say only tail off, taking a sip of the wine he’s ordered with Halsin moving a hand to place it over his – squeezing it lightly to reassure the pale, High elf who gives weak smile.
‘You’ve been hiding in the shadows for too long.’ I state internally, not saying it out loud lest the Gur Hunters sitting only a few feet away from where we’re sitting overhear and come over to investigate.
Halsin, is happy. A soft, warm glow Lesia describes it to me in silent communication which reassures my brother will be alright in the relationship he has with Astarion leaving me to think of one person who I miss the most – Gale Dekarios, my lover and chosen Mate.
Where is he now?
Is he coping?
Has he returned to Waterdeep?
“Bard, do you play?” A new voice asks of me, leaving the internal questions in my head unanswered, so turn my face to the source seeing a figure wearing fine refine stands there indicating to the lute in the holder on my back.
“I play, yes. It depends on the crowd though and what they would like to hear.” I reply, seeing the newcomer raise one delicate eyebrow in amusement at it. “And you…. what would you like to hear?” asking them a question back to them.
“Me?! Well, let’s see…” They reply, bringing one hand up to tap their chin in deep thought until give small smirk at me. “How about an original composition. I believe this one should suffice ‘Beautiful Voice of the Past’ for you, Bard.”
A violent visible shudder goes through me, Astarion placing his hand on my arm to pull me back down into my seat – I hadn’t realised I had stood up to confront the newcomer – my mind torn in how they knew about the song – a song I composed only for Gale and no-one else – and who played it.
“I don’t play it for crowds.” I whisper under my breath, voice breaking with so much emotion I get back up with Lesia sensing I need to leave allowing me to pick her up.
Politely excusing myself when brush past the newcomer, I weave through the patrons and tables to reach the main Tavern door or would have if it hadn’t been for sudden explosion sending myself and her still in my arms flying backwards over the Tavern bar into the alcohol drink-rack hard.
Followed by tinkling noise of smashed apart bottles of wine, beer and brandy to name a few.
The wooden shelf collapses under my weight, forcing my body to fall to the floor in wounded, bleeding heap of a mess with Lesia beginning to whimper in my arms – her little fae body fading in and out focus due to being very frightened of what is happening – seeing the blurred image of the Tavern patrons running out in all directions only to be cruelly snatched up by what appear to be Mindflyers.
Another explosion rocks the tavern, sending shockwaves through the floorboards which begin to crack and splinter in all directions – sending shards of wood flying in all directions – feeling below me the wooden floor give out on myself with Lesia being wrenched out of my arms by something leaving me to fall into the blackness of the underground cellar.
The faint roars of my Brother’s Wildshape, Lesia crying out my name again and again reach me with Astarion lunging himself towards the collapsed hole made by the falling floorboards to grab hold of my wrist trying in vain to pull me back up – even though I can see he’s struggling due the wounds he’s ascertained.
“Asdalen, quick…..give me your other hand before the next wave hits!!!? It seems to be full-scaled attack on Baldur’s Gate!!!? We need….NO!!!! GET THE HELL AWAY ME…!!!!?” He cries out, only to panic heavily looking over at something or someone I cannot see due to my disadvantaged angle.
A fast, but to me blurred, inky-black shadow speeds it's over to him in such a blink of an eye to knock him over to the other side, leaving me with nothing to grab hold onto to help pull me back up to safety.
Falling for quite some time, I finally reach the bottom of what turns out to be the underground lower cellar for the Tavern with sickening, bone-crunching thud – worse agony than what my own people, the Drows have done to me – it shatters everything instantly, finding myself going limp at it immediatly.
So, this is how I die?
Separated from my half-brother who just met again?
I never got to even tell him…..everything……
Halsin…..Astarion……Lesia…
My thoughts wander in my head, my body is lying shattered beyond compare and any chance of moving is not probable with how serious my injuries are from the shards of glass embedded in it and large wood splinters.
My blood can distantly feel is pooling out from underneath my body or over it to trickle off it to cover the cobbled stones of the cellar in various array of crimson petals.
The unknown, uncontrolled side seems to be gleefully laughing in my head at the demise – death by falling, shattering every bone in my body and allowing my lifeforce to drain away.
It's the last thing I hear before blackness swoops in dark like raven’s wings and I remember nothing thereafter.
------------------------------------
21 notes · View notes
icypantherwrites · 2 months
Text
Fic Update: Missing, Chapter 6
Summary:
Lance isn’t sure he’s ever felt this tired before. It’s not just from the lack of sleep. It’s not just because of the near endless list of chores he does because everyone else has far more important things to do and he should try to pull his weight where he can. And it’s not entirely from the heavy disappointment that seems to emanate from Shiro every time he looks at Lance knowing that Lance doesn’t measure up as Red Paladin no matter how hard he tries. But all of those things together (although is he missing one? He’s so tired, it’s hard to focus) are heavy and exhausting and Lance is tired.
So, so tired.
Chapter 6 snippet:
“Ouch!” Lance yelped as Kaltenecker’s blunted teeth latched onto his hair and pulled in a way that was far more aggressive than her normally gentle nibbling affection and he nearly knocked the milk pail over as he flailed his hands upwards to push away at the cow’s mouth. “Kaltenecker!”
The cow released his hair with a low groan that did not sound happy even as she swung her head back around to face front.
Lance brought one hand up to rub at his tingling scalp and turned his attention to the milk pail.
That was overflowing.
And Kaltenecker’s udders were no longer wet with milk.
His eyes widened as the pieces clicked.
How…
How long had he been milking her when she hadn’t needed him to?
How much had that hurt?
He stumbled to his feet, apologies falling from his lips.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry girl,” he pulled her face into his hands, one going beneath her chin to scratch her favorite spot, “I didn’t meant to hurt you.”
Kaltenecker lowed and a rough tongue licked his wrist, her big eyes gentle and no grudge in them.
It was already behind her.
But it wasn’t behind Lance.
Read it here
(posted up to chapter 3 on AO3)
10 notes · View notes
julemmaes · 1 year
Text
Mimi
Nessian week 2022, day seven: free day
A/N: I'M LATE TO THIS??? UNHEARD OF! Not-funny jokes aside, I once saw a tiktok that said how nobody talks about dads' struggles during the pregnancy and the early months of their kid's life and Idk I had ideas and I threw them at Nessian as usual. "Mimi" is a chunky, very emotional-angst baby, so be careful with this one
This is also a very late happy birthday gift for @simpingfornestaarcheron cause she's the best and she asked for some hair-pulling-angst
Thanks to @starksravings for beta reading this, love you❤
@nessianweek
Word count: 7.374
"Okay," Cassian whispered, looking around, counting the number of suitcases and bags scattered on the floor. The pram, the baby carrier, the bag they were going to take on the plane with everything for any eventuality. He turned towards the stairs and called out loudly. "Sweetheart? Did we get everything?"
Nesta didn't reply, but he heard the bathroom drawers being opened and closed quickly, as if his wife was checking one last time that they hadn't forgotten anything. He nodded once, sighing. Great minds think alike.
He was about to call her again, ask her if she needed a hand, when the tiny baby he held on his chest with just one hand moved a leg, jerking a little. Cassian lowered his gaze the exact moment Jamie opened her eyes.
Irises so clear they were worthy of the clearest sea stared back at him, and he smiled without even realising it. Every time his daughter looked at him as if he hung the moon.
Nesta liked to joke that Cassian had sold his soul to the devil to be the child's favourite, to be admired by someone the way Jamie did whenever she found herself in the room with her father. It was enviable, a love as strong, as visible as the one between him and the little creature who was already falling asleep in his arms again.
He brushed his fingertip over her rosy cheek and then gently laid her down in her carrier, being careful not to wake her up as he cradled her head and left a kiss on her forehead.
He lost track of time looking at her, making sure her tiny little chest was moving, that she was breathing. He was unbelievably scared of that nightmare becoming a reality, even if their pediatrician had told them multiple times that Jamie was one of the healthiest babies she had ever treated. They had discussed this ad nauseam with doctor Towers after Nesta had found Cassian kneeling on the floor next to her crib, just after they had brought her home from the hospital. He was passed out, his face pressed against the wooden bars, a hand on the baby’s torso, covering her entire body.
He was so deeply absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Nesta coming down the stairs right behind him, and he startled when she gently placed a hand on his back, taking a step to the side.
He pulled himself up, bringing one hand to his chest with wide eyes. "Jesus, woman," he breathed, "next time stab me directly, will you?"
Nesta raised both her brows, an amused grin curling her lips. When she spoke, she was whispering. “Oh yeah, I’m sorry,” she didn’t sound sorry at all, “would you rather put a bell on me?”
Cassian nodded, smirking in turn, letting his hand reach for her arm, brushing the exposed skin between the tank top and the knitted cardigan that had slipped from her shoulder.
“I think that’s an awesome idea.” He joked, bending down just enough to be at eye level with his wife. His eyes fell briefly to her lips and then back up to her eyes.
She never failed to make his heart skip a few beats.
His next words came from a place deep in his soul, and Nesta seemed pleasantly surprised. As if she wasn’t expecting him to say such a thing at that moment.
“You’re stunning today.”
Her eyes softened, and she brought her hands to his chest, closing the distance between them until their bodies pressed flushed together. She went up on the tip of her toes and left a soft peck on his lips.
Cassian smiled in the kiss and she huffed, taking a step back and crouching to the floor, moving the bags closer to her.
“I’m pretty sure our taxi is gonna be here in a minute or so. Why don't you take Mimi and take her outside?” She said, putting more and more bags on her shoulders and arms. “I’ll be there in a sec.”
He frowned, “What?”
She ignored his question as she placed one of the biggest bags in the stroller, overloading it and making it almost topple onto the floor. Cassian’s hand shot out, gripping the handle of the thing and taking one of the bags from her when Nesta groaned.
“What are you even doing?” He asked, searching for her eyes.
Nesta leveled him a look, conveying all the sarcasm of a thousand comedians in her next words, “I’m obviously trying to make an omelette.”
He snorted, a smile breaking out despite his attempt to hold it back. “Such a smartass.”
“I wanna see,” another groan from her while she tried to balance yet another backpack on top of everything on the stroller, “if I can manage to bring all of these by myself, so your arms will be free to take Jamie when she needs to be picked up.”
Cassian wanted to laugh, glancing at the stuff they’d packed, covering almost the entirety of their entrance’s floor.
“Yeah, no.” He shook his head.
Nesta sighed, “Yes.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but a horn honked outside, making Jamie whimper softly. Both parents’ stares snapped to the baby, and when she blinked awake, Nesta melted and kneeled next to her, all the rest forgotten in a flash. Jamie grinned toothlessly at  her mom, sleep still clinging to her body as she tried to lift a tiny fisted hand.
Cassian’s heart swelled in his chest when Nesta slightly bowed down, moving closer to their daughter's face, briefly rubbing their noses together and whispered, “Hello, Mimi.”
Jamie wiggled her feet excitedly and squealed high enough that Cassian cringed.
Nesta looked up at him over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “So we have a deal?”
His face fell. “No, we do not.”
She huffed, ready to argue back, but he held a hand up, stopping her. She frowned.
“Listen, Nes, we have to cross the entire airport, and you know it’s gonna be crowded as fu-”
She shot to her feet, both hands up and a threatening look.
“Fudge,” he coughed, failing to hide his amusement as he stepped back. “Crowded as fudge. And you can’t take all of this by yourself. You’ll be sore by day one if you do.”
“So you think I’m weak.”
He ran a hand over his face, “No, I didn’t say that.”
“I smell misogyny,” she joked.
Cassian huffed a laugh, “Stop that.”
She smiled at him, shrugging.
The taxi driver honked again, and Cassian stepped just outside the front door to let him know they’d be ready in a moment before getting back inside.
“I’m serious, though,” he went again, “you can’t bring everything without letting me take something.”
Nesta raised her shoulders until they reached her ears and she eyed Jamie, who was now staring at Cassian with big, shiny eyes. He fluttered his fingers in a subtle wave at the baby, and she cooed.
“I just think I’d feel safer if you had her, you know?”
He studied Nesta for a second and nodded, letting her continue.
“You’re right, the airport will be crammed, and you know I get skittish around large crowds. So I’d rather you carry her and let me deal with the bags and trolleys and stuff. I don’t know if I can handle people slamming into me while I hold her.”
Cassian scowled, mumbling quietly, “I don’t think I can handle people slamming into you, period.”
Nesta took a deep breath and put a hand on his chest. His own instinctively reached for it.
“Listen, it’s not just the two of us anymore, and we knew what we were signing up for when we booked this trip.” She tried to sound sure of herself, but Cassian knew she was just as worried as he was. “We try to enjoy ourselves and the vacation, but our priority is making sure she’s comfortable and safe, and I can’t do that if I have to keep my anxiety at bay. So please, please just let me take everything. Who cares if I have a sore body for a few hours?”
“I care,” he promptly said, passing his thumb over her knuckles.
“Just, please?” She closed her eyes. “I feel safer knowing you have her.”
He squared his shoulders, “I get the baby and a few bags.”
“Cass-”
“It’s called a compromise. Thought you knew about those.”
Nesta grimaced and then stared for a long moment at the bags. “Fine, whatever.”
Cassian’s smile could have lit up the night.
***
“Babies shouldn’t be allowed on planes. It smells like shit in here! I can’t even breathe!”
Cassian had always considered himself a patient man, someone who could keep calm in a difficult situation and that managed to make people see reason.
Since Jamie was born, he had found living up to his beliefs difficult.
Sitting on his left, Nesta glared at the man only four rows in front of them, now standing and screaming nonsense at the flight attendants that were calmly telling him to take a seat as he was impeding the plane from taking off.
Cassian clenched his fists around the handles of his seat, taking a deep breath. The smell of poop hit him like a punch to the temple, and he grimaced.
The stranger was not wrong in saying it was hard to ignore the foul stench, both couldn’t deny that it was true. However, the man's attitude and entitlement was pissing Cassian off.
“I won’t sit down until you do something!”
Nesta shook her head and huffed.
“People are so fucking stupid sometimes,” she whispered. Cassian would have pointed out the swear word had he not been so focused on the argument happening just a few metres in front of them.
One of the flight attendants neared the man, talking with hushed tones. He couldn’t hear what was being said by the staff members, but every single person could hear the passenger’s words.
Cassian was on the verge of getting up and screaming at him to just fucking sit down, but then the man spoke up, “This is why animals travel in the hold, so we don't have to endure the smell of piss and shit for hours!”
“Oh hell, no.”
He didn’t have time to unbuckle his belt before something small and soft and really, really cute was placed on his lap. With rage boiling in his veins and the muscles in his arms twitching with the will to hit the stranger, Cassian forced himself to calm down. He circled his daughter’s body with a hand and pushed her back against his stomach, firmly securing her to him. He couldn’t look at her, even if her little hands were pulling at his fingers. He wouldn’t risk Jamie seeing the anger sizzling in his eyes and thinking it might be directed at her.
Cassian assumed Nesta had passed Jamie over as a diversion. A distraction meant to occupy Cassian from getting up and going for the man's head. It wouldn’t have been the first time his wife pulled something like this. The entirety of their friends and family knew the calming power Jamie held over her parents.
But surely, what he hadn’t imagined was Nesta slowly raising to her feet and fisting both hands by her sides, coughing to draw attention to her and calmly saying, “I swear to everything good on this planet that if you try and call my daughter an animal one more time, I’ll throw her poop at you. And-”
Cassian pulled her back with wide eyes before she could say something that might have them banned from the flying company for the rest of their lives.
One of the now three flight attendants rolled their eyes to the ceiling, muttering something that sounded like a prayer before looking at them both.
“Ma’am, please, let us handle this.”
Nesta’s lips tightened, and then she nodded, sitting down again and buckling her seatbelt.
Cassian was still staring at the love of his life when a loud snort escaped his control. Jamie threw her head back at the sound and hit him straight on his solar plexus, making him burst into breathless laughter. Nesta frowned and glared at him, and then she snorted as well. She brought a hand to her mouth and started laughing like a madwoman as she thought through what she’d just said.
“Oh my god, Nes.” Cassian chuckled, his eyes shining with love. “Did you just threaten to throw Jamie’s poop at a stranger?”
Nesta was still smiling, “I guess I did.”
He was about to rebut, but the man shouted something else.
An old woman across from them was shaking her head with such a confused expression that when Cassian turned and noticed her, he wanted to laugh again. The boy sitting next to her, who couldn’t have been older than twenty, was soundly sleeping.
He glanced around the plane and noticed that everybody was glaring at the man. Some were pinching their noses but were keeping silent. And even then, they weren’t staring daggers into him or his daughter. Everyone on that damned flight was pissed at the man.
“It would be so easy to let those two take the child to the toilet-”
“We’re following protocol, sir. Could you please-”
He interrupted the attendant again and Jamie shifted on his lap, making him look down at her. She was growing tired and uncomfortable. He couldn’t imagine sitting on your own shit for more than what was necessary was a pleasant activity.
It was driving him insane.
Cassian didn’t notice Nesta had turned in her seat and was whispering something to him, because he was focused on the man. It wasn’t until his wife closed her hand around his bicep that he dared pull his stare from the stranger and focused on her.
“Cass,” Nesta put her chin on his shoulder, talking directly in his face, “relax. You’ll be able to change her in a moment.”
He nodded and tilted his head, trying to crack his neck, “I’m calm.”
Nesta just hummed, and then they went back to look at the passenger.
He was flailing his arms in the air and was yelling at the pilot, who’d come out of the cabin to see what all the fuss was about. The pilot raised a hand in front of the man’s face and clenched her jaw, nailing him to his spot with just a deathly glare.
“What’s your name, sir?”
He frowned, shaking his head, “I- that’s not important. You have to do something about the smell.”
He sounded like a broken record.
The pilot nodded her head and curled her lips in a scary smile, “Your name, please.”
“Beron Vanserra.” He gritted out, his face turning red. “I don’t see why-”
“Perfect, Mr. Vanserra, I’m Nehemia Ytger, your pilot for this flight. I’ll give you two options now,” she started. “I’m sure you’re a smart man, so you will understand when I explain what will happen. First option, you sit back and buckle your belt. We take off and you wait not even fifteen minutes before we’re stable in the air so that the parents involved can go change their child’s diaper. You will keep quiet for this entire time and everything will be solved. Second option, I take this plane back to the layby and you get off it.”
Mr. Vanserra gaped like a fish.
“Your choice.”
He grumbled something under his voice and then he finally sat down.
The plane filled with cheers of triumph and howls.
It wasn’t even twenty minutes later that Cassian could get up, the seatbelt signs now off, and walk down the aisle towards the toilet, a mumbling Jamie chewing on his knuckles.
Nothing could have stopped him from slowing down his pace while passing next to Mr. Vanserra and whispering, “Dickhead.”
***
Rhysand had warned Cassian, sometime during Nesta’s third trimester, that he would stay up all night with the baby while she cried  her lungs out as if someone was pulling her insides out. Cassian had scoffed that time, saying that was nothing new, that every soon-to-be parent knew their immediate future featured burps, shitty shirts and sleepless nights.
But Cassian still wasn’t prepared for those nights. Not really. Not when it felt like someone kept scratching at his chest. Digging until they reached the bone, cracked open his sternum and fisted his heart in a tight, imperishable squeeze. That they would feel like he couldn’t get enough air in. His daughter was in pain, and there was nothing Cassian could do to assuage her. It was the slowest and most painful torture one could endure.
Nobody had warned him about that.
Nesta was worriedly looking at him from her spot on the bed, her arms crossed over her chest as she bit her lip, clearly wanting to say something but holding back for both their mind’s sake.
Jamie wailed again in his arms, back arching in what Cassian could only describe as torment. Her face was twisted in agony and they knew there was very little they could do, apart from waiting for it to be over.
One of the things Cassian had loathed most since the beginning of Nesta's pregnancy was the unsolicited advice from people who thought they knew everything about their child's behaviour. As if he or his wife hadn't spent quite literally Jamie's entire life with her.
They both knew very well that there were no remedies for their baby's colic; only many attempts at what parents around the world had suggested could make babies calm down. But what could they do about something that not even doctors knew what caused it or how it could be treated?
Either way, Cassian was condemned to hear his daughter's agonising screams and atrocious wails, helpless in the face of an invincible enemy. It made him feel like the worst dad on the face of the earth.
“I don’t understand what might have set her off.” He said to Nesta, attempting to go through with the fourth step in the “Five S” strategy, something he’d seen on google. “She’s been fine for two whole days, I don’t…”
He trailed off and took a trembling breath. Jamie was pushing her legs out, stretching her arms wide like she wanted out of her own skin, so Cassian put the pacifier in her open mouth. Her tongue pushed it out with such force that he didn’t even try a second time, knowing it wouldn’t work.
“Cass.” Nesta called him.
He positioned his daughter across his forearm with her head resting in his hand. He’d read somewhere it was easiest to calm a crying baby when they were lying on their side or stomach. Jamie seemed to like the new arrangement even less, because she let out a shriek that could have shattered glass.
Cassian whined with her, looking up at the ceiling. “I know, baby, I know. I’m so sorry; I wish I could do something for you.”
“Hey, look at me.” Nesta’s voice was harsh, and he had no choice but to do as she ordered. She was now kneeling on the comforter of their way more-than-fancy hotel room. She reached out to him, making a come hither motion with her fingers, to indicate he passed over Jamie, “You’ve held her more than an hour now. Give her to me.”
He hesitated, briefly closed his eyes and stepped to the edge of the bed. But the moment he went to place her in Nesta’s arms, Jamie’s cries became impossibly sharper, and her hand tried to fist a shirt that was not there. He shook his head and straightened his back, bringing her closer to his naked chest.
“No, sorry. I can’t.”
“Cassian.” Nesta chastised.
“No,” he said again, “she-”
Nesta was visibly holding back, considering the time and the fact that they were both exhausted.
“She’ll be fine if you give her to me for a few minutes. Nothing will happen, and I can assure you she won’t feel like you’re abandoning her.”
But he would. It was a given fact that Jamie could calm down from a crying fit better in Cassian’s arms. They weren’t really sure why that was. Probably the fact he had been the one to console her every night for the first month, while Nesta tried to recover from a rough birth had something to do with it.
It wasn’t that Jamie couldn’t fall asleep in her mom’s arms, she did, but she always seemed to prefer Cassian when feeling upset.
So that was why, whenever Jamie cried and neither of them managed to soothe her, they both went insane.
“Give me our daughter and go to the bathroom for a few minutes. Now. I’m not even kidding, Cassian.” She got up from the bed and strolled to them, taking the baby gently from his arms and pushing him towards the only other room in the room they’d booked.
He swallowed loudly and tried to ignore Jamie’s whimpers and sobs as he entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Silence welcomed him, he could only hear some muffled cries from time to time. Cassian hadn’t realised just how much it was affecting him, but Nesta had. And that was why they were the perfect team.
He sat on the edge of the tub and counted to a hundred. Then to two hundred, until he got lost in his own head and was only staring at the tiles of the floor, trying to blink sleep out of his eyes.
When a particularly loud wail managed to reach him, he huffed, got up and started to fill up the sink with warm water for Jamie, something that had worked only a few times.
Once he deemed the sink full enough and prepared a warm towel on the side of it, he went back to the room and stopped in his tracks by the door, admiring his girls.
Nesta had her eyes closed, whispering something to Jamie’s ear, keeping her close to her chest with her head tilted down, towards their daughter’s. She cradled Jamie with both arms, trying to keep her warm while they swayed around the room.
The baby didn’t really seem to be listening, but her cries had died down to more of a hiccup, sobbing and only whining every other second, no more desperate for some kind of relief.
Cassian smiled at the picture, finally hearing what Nesta was murmuring.
“I love you, Mimi. So much.” She was talking so close to Jamie’s cheek that every word was a soft kiss on her rosy skin. “Momma loves you and dada does, too. And we would do anything if we could free you from this pain.”
When Cassian was close enough to touch her, he brushed a hand down Nesta’s spine, placing it on the small of her back. Nesta loosened against his chest, her shoulder pressing into him as she melted under his fingers. His other arm went around Jamie, who promptly looked up with watery, reddened eyes.
He stroked her cheek with a thumb and offered her a tired smile. Jamie only yawned, squeezing her eyes shut, making a few tears spill out, and munching on air afterwards.
If Cassian had to describe what cuteness overload felt like, he would describe this moment.
He left a kiss on Nesta’s temple before stepping back, pointing to the bathroom.
“I prepared her a bath.”
Nesta nodded and thanked him in a low whisper. Cassian helped Nesta undress Jamie and then kept a hand under the nape of her neck, helping her stay above the surface while his wife laid the baby in the water.
Jamie let go of a shuddering breath, and right after, a bubbly laugh erupted from her, making Cassian and Nesta relax against the sink. They played with her for a good thirty minutes, tickling her and carefully cleaning away her sweat and tears.
By the time they were in bed, Jamie soundly sleeping between them, it was well past four in the morning.
Nesta was sitting up against the headboard, stroking Cassian’s hair with one hand while the other was tracing patterns on Jamie’s belly. Cassian, instead, was drifting off to sleep as well, trying not to worry too much about what had gone down that night.
Just before he was dragged under, he heard Nesta whisper to him how much she loved them.
***
It was a nightmare.                
His very own personal hell.
Jamie was asleep in his arms and seemed undisturbed by the screeching of the wagon wheels on the rails.
The underground brakes in Toronto, which they had initially thought would ease their movements between one tourist attraction and another, had proved to be the thing Cassian feared most.
Holding one arm firmly under Jamie's body, the other itched with the urge to move from Nesta's shoulders to his daughter. Talking to his wife was not an option to take his mind off things, because the noise was so loud they would have to shout to be heard by the other. And none of the people around them seemed to have noticed that he was holding a small grey fluffy bundle  because no one had offered him their seat. Which made it quite difficult for him to keep his balance every time the underground braked and restarted.
Cassian just wanted to make sure Jamie kept sleeping.
When at one of the main stops half the car emptied, he was finally able to sit up and some of the tension that seemed to bind his shoulders in a press melted away. At least it did for ten seconds.
Then the train started up again. And the pounding with it.
Jamie twitched in his arms, chewing on the dummy Nesta had put in her mouth just before leaving the hotel, when she had still been awake.
Automatically, Cassian rearranged the baby so that one of her ears was pressed against his chest, and with the hand that wasn't holding her he went to cover her other ear, praying that the noise that showed no signs of abating would stop.
He had never felt so restless in his life, so stressed. Scared that the little one in his arms was not just sleeping, but had passed out from exhaustion.
It had been a week since they had arrived, and the previous evening they had been convinced they would be able to finish their holiday without any more colic after that first night during the first few days. They had been wrong.
Jamie had not stopped crying until five in the morning, starting at eleven from nowhere and stopping abruptly at dawn, falling asleep so fast that both parents had almost screamed with joy as they danced around the room, clutching each other in celebration of that small victory.
Now, after almost six full hours in which they had taken seven different subways and visited two of the main squares and a museum, and Jamie had shown no signs of life, Cassian was beginning to worry that something was wrong. He imagined it was expected, sleeping so soundly after consuming all energy in crying, but he couldn't help it.
When a group of teenagers climbed into their train, making far more of a commotion than necessary, Cassian felt the urge to yell at them to stop talking.
Nesta must have noticed something wasn't right, from the way Cassian's leg wouldn't stop bouncing and the nervous tics that seemed to have taken full control of his shoulders.
That was why the moment they found themselves outside the metro station, in the park where they had decided to relax that afternoon, she put her hand on his arm, silently ordering him to stop.
When Cassian turned towards her, Nesta's fingers slid down to his wrist and with a gentleness he had only before seen her use with her daughter, she forced his hand away from their daughter's head.
Cassian hadn't even noticed that he was still holding Jamie pressed against him.
The baby girl stretched, bending her head to the right and arching her back, looking for a new position after being forced into one for more than thirty minutes. Cassian moved as fast as he could without waking her to change arms, settling her in the niche of his elbow. Her little body relaxed again, her lips parted, releasing a relieved sigh, and the dummy fell onto her chest.
Despite the situation, despite the stress, Cassian smiled.
Nesta took the dummy, quickly slipping it into his jacket pocket.
“I think we should talk,” she murmured.
He took a deep breath, keeping his eyes on Jamie. He lifted one shoulder slightly, “I don't think that's necessary.”
Nesta approached him, and, his body be damned, Cassian relaxed at the warmth her proximity brought. One of her hands reached out to his face, and when both of Nesta's hands cradled his cheeks, her thumbs brushing his brow, he was forced to shift his gaze to his wife.
"I'm worried about you."
And it was the pain, the veiled frustration Cassian heard in her voice, that made him shut his eyes in embarrassment.
Nesta tightened her grip and then her forehead pushed against his, their noses nuzzled together. Cassian leaned forward slightly, letting himself be lulled for once.
"I want you to talk to Dr. Towers when we get back," she continued, never stopping to rub his flushed cheeks. "And I want you to tell me now what's going on because I can't help you if you don't tell me what the issue is."
When Cassian spoke, his voice came out rougher than he would have liked, and he was grateful to have Jamie in his arms, serving as a shield between him and comfort he didn't think he deserved.
"It's fine. I'm just stressed about the holiday."
With their heads so close together, he could feel Nesta shaking hers in discord.
"No, love, it's not just the holiday."
They remained silent, listening to the chirping and laughter of the children in the distance and the barking of the dogs running in the meadows. One of Nesta's hands slid over his neck, moving into his hair, and his body twitched in shivers.
"You can talk to me, Cass," she reminded him. "I'm not here to make your life harder. We're a team, remember? If it becomes too much for you, you can... you have to tell me. I don't want it to get to this point."
"I-" he cleared his throat, clearing his thoughts as well, searching for the right words to describe what had been plaguing him for weeks and was peaking on this holiday of horrors. "I feel like I'm failing her. Like I'm not doing enough."
Nesta nodded, "I understand that, Cassian, much more than you can imagine."
At those words, he moved away from her, but not enough so that she was no longer touching him.
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
That he had paid too much attention to himself? That he hadn't realised that Nesta was fighting her own demons alone, worried about making things even more difficult for him?
It wouldn't have been a surprise; after all, both of them were quite well known to be people who didn't actively seek help when they clearly needed it. But he never thought Nesta wouldn't trust him to the point of withholding that she was going through that same turmoil.
And then, as if they were connected by an invisible magic thread that allowed her to feel his emotions, a flash of anger passed over her face. "Don't give me that look. Like you haven't done the exact same thing for months now."
Cassian inhaled through his nose. Fair. He couldn't be angry with her. Not for this.
"And don't even try to feel bad because you didn't notice." In a teasing tone, she added, "You know I'm a pro at hiding my emotions."
"That doesn't mean you should feel obliged to do so so as not to give me any extra worries."
Nesta looked him in the eye at that point, a small smile blossoming on her lips.
"For once, I wanted to be the one to take care of you."
Cassian nodded and closed his eyes again, tilting his head back. And then, with the faintest voice he could muster with all those emotions clogging his throat, he whispered, “I love you.”
***
He would have rather been anywhere else on the planet.
Anywhere at all.
In the cone of an active volcano about to erupt.
At the bottom of the Mariana trench, being mauled by a killer squid.
At the top of a tree, with no way out, a grizzly bear climbing towards him, only two metres away from reaching him.
At that moment he would also have relived the grief and despair of his mother's death if it had meant even a moment's peace for his daughter.
The cry Jamie was gracing them with was a cry of anger. Discomfort. Pain.
Cassian had been insistently rocking her for two hours, stuck inside the airport because of the Hurricane of the Year, as the various news reports had dubbed it.
When only three hours ago the sky had been covered with clouds and the rain had started to fall, neither of the two newly parents would have imagined such mayhem. By the time they had finally realised the gravity of the situation and the airport staff had announced the cancellation of all flights, Cassian had been unable to find a single available hotel room.
He had begged the owners of houses, hostels, and dormitories to give them even just a bed, using the newborn-child card. At one point he had managed to find something, until he heard a family next to them say that the very hotel he had just spoken to had been overbooking. And that so many people had been forced to travel back, being held up outside the airport.
Security had stopped letting everyone in. Those few who had managed to get back in were only allowed if they still had someone inside the building.
It was utter chaos.
Cassian was growing increasingly frustrated by the minute and he was trying with all his might not to pay attention to the people complaining about the crying baby in his arms, but it was starting to become impossible.
Nesta was sitting on the ground, surrounded by all their things. She clutched her phone with a hand, pushing it against her ear and cupping her other to hear Feyre’s voice over the hustle around them. She was screaming something into the phone about the hurricane and about people’s rudeness.
He was about to go near her and kiss her, looking for some kind of comfort in such a bad moment, but someone touched his back and when he turned, a lady who couldn’t have been older than forty was frowning at him.
He hoped the stern face conveyed all the rage he knew he couldn’t put into words.
“I’m sorry,” the lady screamed, trying to be heard over the din. Jamie let out a strangled sob and then a wail, arching her back, screaming bloody murder. The lady grimaced and brought her hands to her temples. She turned her head, rolling her eyes in an annoyed expression and then whispered, probably thinking he couldn’t hear her. But her words reached Cassian loud and clear, “Just kill me already.”
When she looked back at him, she was wearing the attempt of a smile.
“I have to ask you to move. My family is trying to sleep and it’s kinda difficult to do so with your kid crying like that. So if you could just, you know…” she trailed off.
Cassian looked her up and down and frowned deeply. She wasn’t wearing the airport uniform and she had no tag indicating that she was working there to help with the damage the hurricane was causing.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” The bite in his voice was a clear invitation to leave him alone.
The woman looked taken aback for a moment, blinking rapidly at him, “I’m-” she looked over her shoulder and a man started walking their way.
You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, he thought. He didn’t have time for this kind of shit.
When the woman’s husband reached them, he plastered the fakest smile Cassian had ever seen on his face and said, “Good evening, what’s the problem here?”
His lips twitched up, and then he clenched his jaw, trying to keep his calm, “I don’t know. I was just asking her wh-”
Jamie kicked out and hit a nerve in his bicep, making his entire arm spasm.
“Fuck,” he cursed, looking down at his daughter. She was silent for a second, her breath heavy as she panted and stared him right in the eyes, probably scared by that unusual outburst of rage. Guilt filled him to the brim and he tensed up even more when the crying took over again.
“You know, maybe you should-”
Cassian stopped listening. He had had about a couple of hundred people come up to him with solutions that didn’t work. He had thanked the first ones who had tried to help them out, even making small conversation, taking the time to explain Jamie just suffered from colic. Now, nearing midnight, he couldn’t have cared less about other people’s takes on his daughter's wellbeing.
He interrupted the man brusquely and turned his back on them, starting to walk towards Nesta as his entire demeanour changed, “I don’t care.”
Nesta was now standing, looking at him and then behind him and the couple who seemed stuck in their spots, their mouths hanging.
When her eyes went back to his, her lips parting to surely ask him how he was feeling, Cassian heard the man speak to his wife.
“What an asshole. He can’t make his own daughter stop crying and won’t even take advice.”
His heart clenched in his chest and his lungs spasmed, not letting enough air in. His steps faltered and the fight in him just disappeared, completely gone by the time he reached Nesta.
She stepped forward, ready to fight for him, but Cassian shook his head and whispered a weak “don’t” near her ear, leaving a soft kiss on her hair.
Nesta studied him as he sat on the floor, careful not to cause any more distress to Jamie. He cradled her body so that she was now somewhat laying on his thighs and when he bent his legs, bringing her much closer to his body, he also bowed his head down, covering her reddened face from the blinding lights of the airport.
Cassian had once heard someone say that what Jamie—or babies in general, he guessed—was feeling during these times was something him, as an adult, could not experience anymore. Grownups always have their emotions mellowed by several layers of other emotions and anticipation of the future, and can’t experience emotions of the same intensity, the podcast said. That Jamie’s discomfort could only be described as “shattering”, because that’s exactly what it does to a parent. All your instincts tell you to drop whatever you’re doing and fix whatever is wrong with your child. You are incapable of ignoring it, and even incapable of coherent thought that isn’t focused on the child.
Doctor Towers had warned him during the prenatal course. His never-ending questions had made her near him at the end of the course, telling him that he should be careful managing all those fears he was already showing during Nesta’s pregnancy. That nothing good could come from him thinking of himself as not enough before their daughter was even born.
But he had been on the edge of a cliff for the past month completely ignoring all the warning signs and the bells going off in his mind at any given time. This trip had only given him that slight brush on his back that made him tumble down the hill.
The first sob came as a surprise even to him and when the image of Jamie blurred with his own tears, Cassian looked up at Nesta, feeling a pang of fear rise in his chest like a tidal wave.
She was there in the blink of an eye, kneeling next to him.
“Hey. Hey, baby, listen to me.” She said, placing a hand near Jamie’s head, on his knee, and the other on the nape of his head. “You’re okay. Listen to my voice.”
Her arm went around his neck, her elbow just below his chin, and she pressed her palm against his ear, exactly as he’d done with Jamie on the metro. She pushed his head against her mouth and started talking directly into his ear.
Cassian closed his eyes, gripping the fabric of his jeans, focusing only on Nesta’s voice.
“This is temporary. We’re not stuck in this airport forever. Jamie will soon stop crying and she’ll be asleep by the time the flights will start again.” She was saying.
The hand that wasn’t acting as a shield between him and the loud noises of the building was brushing through his hair in a calming, soothing way. He leaned in that touch, basked in the comfort it was showering him with.
“It’s not your fault she’s crying and it’s normal you’re feeling overwhelmed. That man shouldn’t have said those things to you.”
He tried to inhale, but the pain was almost physical at this point. Nesta pressed her head even harder against his and her lips kissed the shell of his ear.
“I’m so sorry, baby, so sorry he said that. But it’s not true. You’re the best dad one could ever have and Jamie is so, so lucky to have you. I am. You’ve done so much for both me and her on this trip and you’ve tried enough. This is enough.”
It had to be.
Her thumb brushed the underside of his eye, swiping away the tears.
His panic was slowly subsiding and Nesta’s closeness was helping. An anchor to real life.
Cassian leaned into her, and for the first time in forever, he didn’t put up a fight when Nesta reached for Jamie and took her from his arms.
She positioned herself to sit between his legs, her back against his chest. Naturally, Cassian's arms folded around Nesta's hips and his hands found Jamie's back. He started massaging her tiny, tiny legs, hoping to ease some of her discomfort.
It was after hours and hours of torment and restless sleep in which they alternated keeping an eye on Jamie, that the baby finally stopped. She only managed a faint tired smile before passing out in her mom’s arms.
The cheers and screams of joy from all around them were like a featherlike brush at this point.
Nesta seemed on the verge of tears, and Cassian was close behind her.
“Fucking finally,” she said, placing Jamie in the egg sitting next to Cassian’s thigh.
He smirked, his eyes half closed and his mouth hanging in a yawn, “Fudging.”
Nesta elbowed him in the stomach and proceeded to lay down on the cold tiles. She rested her head on his lap and extended an arm to go over Jamie’s body, while Cassian slipped his arm above the egg’s backrest, intertwining his fingers with his wife’s.
“Do you wanna take turns?”
Nesta shook her head, already half asleep.
“I trust you. More than anyone else. Even myself.”
He squinted, holding back another yawn. He could hear the tiniest bit of irony in her voice, “You’re only saying that cause you’re dying to get some sleep, aren’t you?”
Her weary smile made his stomach twist. His hand instinctively reached out to brush her lips.
“Maybe,” she replied.
“You’re a menace.”
Keeping her eyes closed, she hummed, “You love me anyway.”
Cassian felt the moment she fell asleep, her body turning to jelly against his,and he couldn’t stop his words from coming out when, looking at her, he murmured, “That I do.”
acotar teglist (if you wanna be removed or added just send me an ask or dm me)
@letstakethedawn @kris10maas @awesomelena555 @sannelovesreading @queenamydien-of-nargothrond @ireallyshouldsleeprn @wintergilmore3 @ncssian @observationanxioustheorist @my-fan-side @booksstorm @maastrash @sayosdreams @thedarkdemigod @courtofjurdan @thewayshedreamed @gwynethhberdara @nahthanks @sleeping-and-books @bri-loves-sunflowers @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @oop-theregoesgravity @perseusannabeth @fantastypenguins @laylaameer01 @thalia-2-rose @bookstantrash @imagine-me @the-regal-warrior @lordof-bloodshed @swankii-art-teacher @rowaelinismyotp @dealingdifferentdevils @moodymelanist @live-the-fangirl-life @flora-shadowshine @gabtapia @meridainthedisneyland @nessianforlife @superspiritfestival @rhysandswingspan @a-court-of-milkandhoney @mariamuses @sv0430 @duskandstarlight @dread3r
103 notes · View notes
myhusbandsasemni · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
Evan from Potential. Vampires are very social creatures so getting pushed out of your coven really does not feel good. Especially a coven that you and your sire founded.
17 notes · View notes
itshermocrates · 6 months
Text
Of sapphires and pearls
["A Prince's shadow" side story featuring Satosugu in a Medieval-like setting]
You can read this without having read the main story!! And there's absolutely nothing explicit but there will be mentions of: sexual abuse, non-con, underage sex, child (sexual) abuse, prostitution, violence... So please be careful.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Satoru Gojo was born to trade with those who came from the other side of the sea. He was the heir to one of the most powerful families in the entire kingdom, and only the King could compete in wealth with the Gojo clan.
He was taught from a very early age to negotiate, to barge, persuade and outsmart anyone who could offer the family a good deal, or even access to the Far West Seas. He learned to use his words like small pieces of an intricate magic spell, and use them always accompanied by careful movements of his own body.
At times, using his words wasn't enough, and tilting his head with a slight pout on his lips was not as efficient as it should have been. He was still learning and quite young the first time this happened. But he was smart enough to know how things could turn out for him from then on if he repeated the same mistake ever again.
His skin still felt itchy when Satoru met the boy, a merchant's son with big dreams and a soft voice. He could soothe the black and blue still marking his body with no more than a few words.
He was not afraid of the power he held in between his fingers, and he did not stare at him in disgust when Satoru showed him his eyes for the first time.
That had been the most common reaction, an unsettling peek of what had to be a curse. Even if it was considered a gift by most elders in the Gojo family. He had been honored with the eyes of those who had brought greatness to their family after all.
The boy had been curious, mesmerized, even, but his mind quickly wandered to other questions, much more mundane and unexpected.
"They are beautiful… But, Satoru…" They never used titles, and the sweet little lord was very grateful for that. "Isn't the light too strong? Are you not hurt?"
Satoru freezed. He was hurt, but no one ever stopped to think about that. Not even his own family. His eyes had been described as divine, heavenly, even, they consumed every thought of those who had been privileged enough to see them.
The blue flooded their senses, and Satoru stopped being Satoru, stopped being a boy, and turned into something else. A strange creature everyone wanted to observe with overeager eyes. He was often treated as no more than an exotic beast, and yet, this sweet boy, son of a mediocre merchant, seemed to be genuinely worried about him.
How could Satoru prevent his heart from falling in love with him?
As the young Lord grew up, he learned all the ways a man could be convinced, turning his body into a vessel for any possible fantasy. In return, he only asked his family for one thing, to be able to share his knowledge with the boy of soft voice and big dreams.
Of course, Satoru did everything in his power to hide the most shameful aspects of his duties, the things he had to do to achieve some of his most ambitious goals. He didn’t know if he could stand the disappointment in the other boy’s eyes, and he feared that perhaps he could no longer look at him the way he did if he knew how he surrendered his body to all types of greedy men.
He was his friend, after all, his only friend. The only one he had ever been allowed to keep. He would rather die than lose him.
He was his only joy, and with him, he could simply forget about everything and imagine themselves crossing the sea insearch of new treasures to discover, new foods and even new colors!
“Satoruu…” His laugh twisted the sounds that formed his name in the most beautiful way. He could hear them all day without ever growing bored of them. “How could you find new colors? There can’t be new colors!”
“Why?! I’m telling you, we will never know! Not until we travel there.”
“Then we should go, Satoru.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, sure. There’s no need for us to stay here to negotiate with the people from the Far West, we could visit them ourselves.”
“Are you serious?” He didn’t believe his words.
“Of course I am, don’t you want to go? Don’t tell me you are scared now, Satoru…”
Even if the other boy wanted to tease him, the young Lord was too excited, too happy, to feel even the slightest annoyance. And in his caramel eyes there was nothing but love to offer him.
Satoru crawled over the sand and threw himself over the boy, hugging him as if only that could stop him from disappearing.
“Satoru, you are covered in sand! Get off!”
“I don’t want to!”
It wasn’t uncommon for them to spend hours on the beach, swimming or simply exploring the coast and the little caves carved by the sea. It was not rare either to be touchy, especially for Satoru, who could only find comfort in him. It could seem ridiculous, but the Lord only knew what it felt to be happy, to be at ease, when he was by this low merchant’s side.
The other boy chuckled, embracing the body above his own for a few seconds. Satoru melted against his touch, feeling his heart beating slower and steadier as his senses were filled with him. Then the young merchant rolled over the sand, flipping them over with a quick movement to mercilessly tickle the Lord.
“You should stop complaining about sand making your skin feel itchy if you keep acting this careless, Satoru.”
The Lord wailed, unable to contain a laugh that resonated within his ribcage as he struggled to escape from beneath the other boy.
“No! Wait! S-stop! No, no, no, no…”
It was useless. He was sitting over Satoru’s thighs, and while one hand resumed the torture, the other had captured his wrist in a strong hold, nailing it to the ground right next to his head.
“Stop, please! I s-surrender! I surrendeeer…”
The merchant wore a big smile on his face when he leaned forward, placing his now free hand on the other side of the Lord’s head. They stared at each other for what it seemed to be ages, lost in the other’s features. Eyes, smile, nose, lips, heavy breaths…
“I would go all over the world with you, Suguru.”
He hadn’t recovered from their little fight yet, and his voice had sounded much softer than expected. But not less true.
Without even thinking about what he was doing, Satoru raised his hand to cup Suguru’s cheek, caressing his skin with slow motions as he allowed himself to be consumed by a gaze filled with warmth, and love.
The kisses that came afterwards, the touches and praises, the promises, it all came naturally for them. And as years passed by, their bond only seemed to grow stronger and deeper. They were happy, things were going great for them in every way, and they had started to discreetly build their own ship.
They wanted to explore the seas, know the cities they oftenly traded with, learn about their cultures and see for themselves what the world had to offer. They had so many plans, so many dreams, and soon they could finally sail together, heading to those lands they had only ever dared to fantasize about. 
Everything was possible for the young Lord and his dearest merchant, or, at least, it seemed to be until that fatal day. When Suguru discovered what Satoru had to do behind the scenes sometimes to get the deals his family pushed him to secure, something inside of him changed. He loved Satoru, he still did, but he couldn’t believe the joy in his eyes to be real when he looked at Suguru, now knowing the price he had to pay for it.
Knowing the prison Satoru had been forced to grow up in, and all the things he had to sacrifice to keep him by his side.
Suguru didn’t have the heart to tell him that he knew, to make him aware of how his mind would drift to the most horrible places, disgusting scenarios where Satoru always ended up humiliated and in pain. He couldn’t see the world in the same way anymore, and specially, he couldn’t see nobility in the same way.
He didn’t blame Satoru, but now there was a certain sadness in his eyes when he looked at him. And the rest of them, all the other noble men and women, they all were scum. They were the reason Satoru had to go through a living hell in the first place.
All of them, with their pompous clothes and expensive jewels, with their stupid protocols, designed only to boost their gluttonous egos. They were all fucking rotten inside, and didn’t deserve the privileges they had been granted.
Now he knew that, and he despised the fact that he had ever wanted to be like them, to be part of that insidious group. It made him feel sick, and he couldn’t stand to see Satoru walking side by side with those greedy bastards. Because of this, he started to miss meetings, important evenings filled with negotiations and business proposals. He couldn’t do it.
Satoru worried, of course, but he trusted him so much he never even questioned his excuses. He was also pretty easy to distract, his mere presence seemed enough to make him lose his focus and devote himself only to him.
Suguru didn’t know if he could be there for much longer, and as doubts started to consume every waking thought, his dreams turned into nightmares and he found himself on the verge of collapse. Then, a very unfortunate conversation reached his ears, and he simply stopped caring about holding back.
“You must try it, my Lord. He wailed like one of those cheap whore fishermen pay for near the harbor.”
“Really?”
“Yes, he’s a nasty one.”
“Those eyes of his made him appear all pure and flawless, when he’s just as depraved as they can be, is he not?”
“Oh, yes, indeed. And his hole? He’s such a tight fit, you must try it, my Lord. It’s almost as if you were fucking a virgin!”
Their laughs echoed in his mind like notes of an old instrument no longer of use to any musician. It was noise, discordant sounds trapped inside his skull until those filthy words were the only thing he could hear or think about.
He killed them. He killed them all right where they had disrespected Satoru Gojo, an error they wouldn’t commit ever again. And once the blood was spilled for the first time, it only felt easier to make it pour out of new bodies when Suguru found other noblemen that had boldly stated their interest in the young Lord.
Crimson stained his hands and clothes again, and again, and again. He didn’t count the corpses he left behind, but he was sure all of those men had forced themselves upon Satoru, or, at least, were waiting for their chance to.
The trail of blood he was leaving behind was growing out of hand, and while he didn’t have any reason to stop, he didn’t want Satoru to witness his execution. He didn’t want Satoru to sacrifice himself even more to save him. He knew very well it would have been impossible, too many important families had lost their firstborn sons because of him, and those twisted creatures would turn the world upside down before letting him go.
He had to run away, and what could possibly be better than the very ship they had been building together to do so?
It was a beautiful cog they had commissioned to the best shipyard on their side of the sea, a gift for themselves with splendid sails and a name yet to be decided. Suguru took a few things to carry with him, hired the first few men he found in the harbor and prepared himself for departure.
All those years living in the fortress with Satoru didn’t feel real when he stared at the castle from the ship deck. They were more like a dream he had refused to wake up from, stretching the fantasy way too much in hopes of turning it into something more than the delusions of a low merchant’s son. It was not his place, and he felt sorry for Satoru, for leaving him behind, but it was the best. For both of them.
He didn’t want a life of fear for Satoru. He didn’t want to turn the young Lord into a runaway, an exotic bandit with a colossal bounty on his head and a very known name. They would never let him go. Satoru Gojo was one of their own, and they would never allow him to be something else.
He didn’t want him to give up on all the things he enjoyed as a nobleman either. All the privileges, luxuries and most importantly, the peace of knowing he would always have a roof above his head and a good meal waiting for at the table. Despite everything, Satoru liked his life as a nobleman, the comforts, the events, the tournaments, the arts… He loved to be surrounded by people who wanted to be just like him, to be him, and he loved to outsmart people twice his age and equally rich.
Even if he sometimes lost catastrophically, Satoru loved to play their game. He could see it in his eyes. And if there was someone truly worthy of a title, that would be him. Suguru wished everyone was a bit more like him, and a bit less like beasts blinded by their own urges and twisted desires.
He turned his back on the fortress, ready to leave it all behind, despite the heaviness in his heart.
“SUGURU!”
The young Lord called his name in a desperate cry, running across the harbor to get as close to the ship as he could. When the merchant turned again, it was to see Satoru’s expression, heartbroken and breathless, visibly shaking even from that distance.
He tried his best to keep his emotions at bay, but he had never seen Satoru like that.
“Is it true?! Did you kill those men?”
It was just a matter of seconds before the ship left the realm for good.
“I killed no man, Satoru. Those were no better than any wild animal royals like to hunt for fun.”
“Then it is true? Why?! Why did you do it, Suguru?! What did they even…”
The answer presented itself before his very eyes. He knew Satoru would be smart enough to figure it out, but he was not prepared to see the utter shame in his eyes as he watched Suguru sail away from him.
He opened his mouth, but not a single sound came out of it, and before it was too late to say goodbye, Suguru gathered the strength he needed to speak to him one last time.
“I wish things were different, Satoru, but my place is not by your side, and we shouldn’t have pretended otherwise.”
The Lord fell to his knees with tears running down his cheeks. That would be the last thing Suguru would ever see of him. 
Some time after that, reports of a ship ruled by a ruthless pirate would arrive at Satoru's desk. A crew with a notorious preference for luxurious cargo meant to please noblemen of all over the kingdom. There was little information about their captain or where they could be selling the stolen goods, however, multiple witnesses had been able to see the cog’s name.
He could feel his heart on his throat, choking him as if it wanted to kill its host, when written in messy handwriting, Satoru read  The Honored One.
If you want to read more of this Au, I highly encourage you to check the main story in here. Chapter 2 is still in the making but I can tell you that Satoru will make a special appereance in there too~ I hope you liked it!
10 notes · View notes
venting-art · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
so I have this outward appearance that is maintained to conceal a less pleasant or creditable reality
83 notes · View notes
asterdisaster06 · 7 months
Text
i love you ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?
ghost x reader [exes], slight soap x reader [mostly platonic], platonic 141 x reader
Pt 1. Pt 2. 3.
summary > Soap interactions with you, bringing you food after you skip dinner in favor of taking a nap, Price wants to see you - see pt 1 for overall fic summary
word count > 1.6k
warnings > should be none
a/n > future chapters should be longer, this just felt like a nice cutoff and I'm just starting to get the hang of fanfic writing. gotta love our boy Soap though. it might be a while for the next chapter though since i'm working on other works too
ao3
“Goddamn, who let a little birdie in here?” He laughs. 
Soap. You had heard quite a bit about this particular Scotsman from your ex lover. You had an inkling that you two would’ve gotten along, even bringing it up to Simon once or twice about meeting him. He denied your request, sighing goodnaturedly about how you two apart are already the death of him - let alone together. You claimed that this was all the more reason to meet him, or at the very least, let him know of your existence. Simon had always paused around this point and you had never pushed it, and now you’re kind of glad. The last thing you needed was another person that was no longer a stranger around this base. You were supposed to be having a new start, and that would be very difficult if MacTavish knew of your existence beforehand.
However, you hadn’t expected to run into one of Simon’s teammates so soon into your arrival on base. The world seemed to have different plans though. 
“You wouldn’t happen to know how to get to my room?” You ask politely, pulling out your information to show him.
“Aye, I do happen to know the way, follow me, Lass.”
You were honestly counting on him not knowing, but you’re realizing now that he’s the kind of person that would figure it out whether he knew initially or not. It seems like you’re stuck in the company of this man and his mohawk for a little while longer. It’s not like you particularly disliked him, in fact it was quite the opposite. It’s just the memories of your past are being dredged up by him, and his association with Simon wasn’t helping.
“So, what’s up with the mask,” He asks, drawing out the ‘a’ in the last word, coming off as teasing you. 
You were attempting to come up with a half truth, because you truly hadn’t worn this mask minus on missions at your old base. It was simply this place that brought out that side of you. Or maybe it was a person rather than a place.
“I just find it comforting, y’know?” You decide on, finally. It wasn’t a lie, the mask truly did offer you comfort around here. It just probably isn’t for a reason that Soap would detect. 
“I think you’d get along well with one of my masked comrades, maybe bond about hiding identities or somethin’” Soap chuckles.
You offer a slight smile in return, the anxiety that had recently left coming back in full force. You knew exactly who he was talking about, and you vehemently disagreed with what Soap had to say. 
“You should join us for dinner after you get settled in, I could be your little tour guide,” Soap says, winking at you. 
“I’ll have to think about it, stranger,” You offer back, smiling.
“Oh yeah! The name’s Soap. Soap MacTavish,” He laughs. 
“You can call me Angel,” You say, blushing as you realize the implications.
He sends you a curious look with an eyebrow raise. “Oh? Let me at least take you out to dinner first, Bonnie.”
“Very funny, it’s my callsign. Like I assume yours is, unless your parents really hated you,” You joke, almost enjoying this banter with Soap. 
“Oi, we don’t judge around here,” He laughs, referring to your silly callsigns. 
“I suppose I’ll see you around, Soap?” You ask, ready to settle down in your own space. With your own silence to accompany you.
“Is that a yes to dinner?” He jokes, aware of the double meaning of his sentence.
“Oh knock it off, I’ll have to think about it,” You smile, wondering if this is how it could’ve been in another life. A life where you had actually gotten to meet Soap under different circumstances. You unlock your door, entering and turning back to see Soap still there. 
“Don’t think too hard! I wouldn’t want you to worry that pretty little head of yours too much, Bonnie,” He teases, already deciding on a nickname for you it seems.
“We hardly know each other, and you have no clue what I look like,” You laugh, pushing him out of your doorframe, amused at his antics nonetheless.
“Oh, I’m sure you look slightly better than a troll under the bridge at least,” He says with a toothy grin. “You’re not ugly, are you?” He asks ironically.
“Quite the opposite,” You offer up with a crooked smile. 
“That’s what I thought,” He says with a smile that rivals the Cheshire cat. “Now, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner?”
“You’re a big boy, I’m sure you’ll be fine alone,” You say, tiredly. It’s not like you wanted to cut your friendly banter with Soap short. On the other hand, you didn’t exactly feel like socializing. Not after your tiring day already. 
“Alright, alright rookie. But I am bringing something around later to make sure you eat. If it wasn’t me it would be Price, so don’t think it’s any trouble,” He says, predicting your words before you could even voice them.
“Who are you calling a rookie, Sergeant?” You chirp out. 
“Are you not one? Price just mentioned that we would be getting someone new, or maybe I was zoning out when he mentioned your details. Actually no, I definitely was. I think I was throwing crumpled up paper at Gaz - you’ll meet him later,” Soap explains, smiling at the end.
Gaz. Kyle “Gaz” Garrick. Simon had spoken less of him specifically but whatever he did have to say, it was only full of praise. That or another story of his unfortunate luck lending him time hanging from a rope out of a helicopter. That story had always made you laugh. 
“I’m technically a Lieutenant,” You manage to say between laughter. 
“Jesus Christ, another one? I wouldn’t have coined you for one,” Soap exclaimed.
“And why’s that?” You ask, curious but already knowing the answer. People have always underestimated you based on looks and size. Starting from your first days at the academy to when you first got your callsign to even after you were nicknamed the ‘Angel of Death.’ Other soldiers had only reinforced Simon’s words that you weren’t worthy of your position, let alone the opportunity to even try. 
“Just the way our Lieutenant, or I guess I should start referring to him as ‘First Lieutenant’ now, responded to the details that I didn’t hear. He almost seemed to be. . . worried about having someone else to worry about. Looking at you now though, I can tell we’re going to have nothing to worry about,” He ends with a smile.
Huh, that was new. You didn’t expect that from Soap, but you suppose he’s just full of surprises. Fitting for the demolitionist that has a knack for gunpowder filled surprises. Nonetheless, you had luggage to unpack and sleep to catch up on. You eventually get Soap to leave you alone to your devices, putting on your playlist and unpacking about half of your shit before getting too tired to continue. Laying back on your freshly made bed, your eyes flutter closed and you fall into unconsciousness. 
A knock at your door wakes you and you shake off your sleepiness - rubbing your eyes and stretching as you do. The blurriness of both your vision and mind makes you almost forget where you are. Only for a second though. 
“Open up, Angel!” Soap yells through the door.
He really had no capabilities of being subtle, did he. You stumble a bit getting out of bed but find your footing and make your way to the wooden door, turning the knob and opening it. The brightness of the hallway makes you flinch slightly before your eyes adjust to the lighting. 
“What do you want?” You ask the man who’s simply standing and staring at you.
“You- you don’t have your mask on-” He stammers, seemingly caught between staring and shielding his face out of politeness. 
“I mean, I don’t sleep with it on, and you did kind of wake me up, MacTavish,” You sigh, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. 
“Oh right! Here’s your food,” Soap smiles sheepishly, taking the tupperware out from behind his back. It has a silly little doodle of himself in cartoon form saying “Food for Angel, No touchy” which you found amusing enough to smile at. 
“Thank you Soap, genuinely,” You offer up, taking his gift of food from his hands. 
He smiles back at you, sending you a mock salute before heading off to presumably his room. Before he gets to the end of the hallway he suddenly stops and turns, yelling back at you that Price wants to see you in his office after you finish eating. He really waited until the last minute for that one, didn’t he? Despite the slight annoyance you held, it was overshadowed by the simple amusement you had watching the man. He might not have known you knew of his famous shenanigans before you even set eyes on him, but you would get there. You take a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of what the mess hall had to offer for today. It exceeded your expectations, but that could just be the fact that your old base had shit food. 
You truly wondered what Price had to say to you, deciding that he was calling you down to fire you for the disrespect you had shown him and your apparent partner by leaving so suddenly. Obviously, it was not going to be that dramatic, but you still worried a tad bit. You were aware that you would likely be working alongside Simon, and some small masochistic part of you accepted this job despite it. Maybe in spite of it. You wanted to prove yourself to him, though you’re now realizing that he’ll eventually need to know your identity. Something you aren’t keen on sharing. 
That part of you had been shed long ago, and now your new feathers have grown in.
145 notes · View notes
thaliaisalesbian · 6 months
Text
i get myself twisted in threads
Chapter 16: back in love with you
Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 17
“What aren’t you telling me?” Nancy can’t say any of them really paid that much attention to the movie. She knows enough so that if her mom asks, she can tell her the basic plot, but a dark drive-in where she could sneak kisses from both of her boyfriends? That’s too good to pass up.
So is Steve’s head in her lap as they drive home, but she likes to think she knows when Steve and Jonathan are hiding something from her.
“Hagan thought it was a good idea to talk to Steve.” Jonathan says, and okay, she hadn’t realized Jonathan had that much disdain for Tommy Hagan. “Steve shut him down, but he felt bad about it.”
“You said he’s been asking about me.”
“Yeah, but not very often. Is this the first time he’s tried to talk to you again?”
“Yeah.” Steve turns and buries his face in her stomach. “Carol’s tried a little harder, but that might be because her older sister would kill her if she found out.”
“I didn’t realize Carol had an older sister.”
“She graduated high school when we were kids, but until she left for college, she basically raised Carol and I. Taught us to sew and climb trees, and how to sneak into my bedroom window without getting caught.”
“That’s an interesting skill set.”
“It’s helped me out more than once.”
“Why do you suck at sneaking into my bedroom, then?”
“Listen, I never said it helped with any rooms other than mine, okay?”
“Her bedroom isn’t that hard to sneak into, Steve.”
“I know! Mike caught me once, but that’s just because he was coming home. If he hadn’t been outside already, it would have been fine.”
“Wait, I didn’t know that. He actually caught you?”
“Nance, are you spending the night?” Jonathan asks, pausing at the turn onto her street.
“No. I’d like to, but my mom would kill me.”
“Oh, that’s right, I don’t think we messed you up enough, Nancy Wheeler.” Steve sits up a little, kissing all over her face.
“Don’t you dare, Steve! She will ground me.”
“And when’s the last time that worked for her? You’ve become quite the rebel child, Miss Wheeler. Think of the example you’re setting for Mike and little Holly.”
“Maybe you should worry about that last one, Steve. You babysat her, what, three times? And now you’re the only babysitter she likes. She used to semi-behave for me, at least.”
“Really? I didn’t know that.”
“Nance, you could bring her along next time we go to the park.” Jonathan suggests, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror.
“And use me as free babysitting?”
“We’d all be there, Steve.” Nancy rolls her eyes at him, but she still pulls him closer so she can kiss him again. “And Jon’s right, it’s not a bad cover. Holly’s active, but not so much so that we’d have to be chasing after her all the time.”
“Fine. I concede. Maybe Jonathan has good ideas sometimes.”
“Maybe and sometimes? Someone doesn’t want to make out in my bed tonight.”
“No, Jonathan, I’m sorry, please don’t kick me out.”
The drive ends far too soon.
“He’s okay, right? Even after seeing Tommy?”
“He will be. I think there’s still a lot we need to talk about.” Jonathan murmurs, kissing her before her mom can open the door. “Hi, Mrs. Wheeler.”
“Hello, Jonathan. Did you drop Steve off already?”
“He’s in the car, he’s still on crutches, Mom.”
“Well, I hope you were at least considerate of him while you were at the drive-in. I’ll be seeing you soon, Jonathan.” Nancy waves goodbye before she goes to serve her self-sentencing to her room for the rest of the night.
Unfortunately, her mom follows her up.
“People were asking what you were doing with both of them the other weekend, Nancy.”
“And I told you. Steve’s recovering, and he needs friends. Jonathan and I are helping him. What else did you think was going on?”
“Well, this drive-in business was a little odd, if you ask me.”
“Steve can’t drive right now, Mom. So Jonathan offered to take him, and I wanted to see the movie, too. There’s no crime in that.”
“I don’t know, is there?” The tone stops her cold.
“What are you implying, Mom?”
“Well, I know you dated Steve for a while. I like him, he’s a good, sturdy kind of boy. But now you’re dating Jonathan Byers, and you two keep being seen around town with Steve. It’s kicking up some rumors.”
“What, I can’t have friends now? Don’t be ridiculous, Mom.”
“If you want your reputation to be that of a whore’s, I won’t stop you. Just thought I should tell you what people are saying.”
Nancy’s really wishing she’d taken Jonathan up on his offer, now. Damn the rumors, damn the town, damn her mother.
“If people have nothing better to do than talk about us, then they really should get their own lives. Besides, we know the truth. Steve and I weren’t a good fit, Mom, but he’s still a friend of mine. He went to see Barb’s parents with me, remember? He’s just been having such a hard time lately,” She lets herself tear up a little, “And I just want him to feel like things are back to normal again.”
She’s not sure it convinces her mom, but it works enough that she’s left alone. At least for tonight.
Thankfully, her mom doesn’t bring it up again, and she makes it through to Monday morning without any problems.
“How was the rest of your weekend?” Jonathan waits until they’re dropped Will and Mike off to ask.
“My mom was upset when I got home, but she didn’t bring it up after that night. It was tense, though.” Since they’re still in the car, she can ask. “How was Steve? Is he still worried about Tommy?”
“He was more than okay.”
“You didn’t.” She’s not mad, not really, but she can’t say wouldn’t be a little jealous if they had.
“No, we didn’t. He wanted to wait until you could be there. And I don’t have to tell you that he’s a good kisser.”
“No, you don’t.” Nancy agrees.
“He’s more worried about moving back to his house, I think.” 
“What? Why?”
“According to him, he’d be fine to move now. But Hopper and El don’t agree with him.”
“I don’t agree with him! He’s still on crutches, he still has days where he can’t get out of bed on his own.” And it’s probably better for him to be around people just in general, rather than on his own all the time.
“He’s arguing with Hopper about sleeping on the couch, Nance, too much longer and they’re both going to get fed up with it.”
“Think we could say anything to change his mind?”
“Probably not.” Jonathan kisses her before he opens his door. “Let’s just hope Hagan doesn’t have any questions for us.”
“What, you don’t want to be mean to him?”
“It was more fun watching Steve be mean to him, but he felt so bad about it afterwards that it took the glee out of it.”
“Oh, glee, Jon, really?”
“Yes, glee.” He keeps such a straight face while he says it that she can’t help laughing. “Now, Nancy, come on. It’s not that funny.”
“Yes, it is!”
There are people watching them as they walk in, but there are always people watching them, these days. 
It’s just getting easier and easier to ignore.
finish on ao3 or continue reading
“Hey, kid, we need to talk.” El’s out of the house—she’s with the other kids at the Byers’—so Steve thinks he knows where this is going.
“Hop, seriously, I’m okay to move back home. I promise.”
“Not just that, Steve. We need to talk about when you’re going back to school, or if you’re going back at all this year. I’ve been talking to some of your teachers, and Jonathan and Nancy have picked up some work for you already.”
“What do you mean?” He’s supposed to graduate this year, he can’t just… walk away from school, can he? “I’m graduating this year.”
“That was before you ended up in the Upside Down and then in recovery for months. According to the rest of the town, you went missing in late November, and it’s the beginning of April now.”
Steve… hadn’t realized, concretely, how much time has passed. Sure, it’s not November anymore, he knows that, but it can’t be April, right? Hop’s got to be joking.
“It’s April 5th, Steve. Classes end for seniors in a month. Of course, under the circumstances, they’re more than willing to give you more time to take your exams. Until everyone else gets out. So, two months.”
“I can try and get caught up in two months.” He can’t, really. Not even with Nancy’s help. He was scraping by in most of his classes as it was. “I want to go back, Hop.”
He wants something to go back to normal. He wants his house back, his room back, and he wants to go to school like none of this ever happened.
He probably won't change in the locker rooms, though. Or play any sports, no matter how much he wants to. Irene and Owens will probably have some words for him if he tries. It’ll invite too many questions about what happened to him.
“You know, I would have taken the opportunity to be school-free for a while longer. You can just repeat the year, go back in September. Give yourself a chance to heal up some more.”
He’s going to be in so much trouble.
“I want to try, at least.” He’s fudged his way through exams before. “What about going back to my house?”
“Once you’re off crutches, you can go back. But, you’re having dinner once a week with me and El. No exceptions. And Joyce will want to talk to you about that, too.”
“You’re not pulling my leg here?”
“No.” Hopper sits next to him, instead of standing over him.
They’ve been fighting over it for… at least a month, probably. 
“Why?”
“Joyce and I had a talk. We spoke with Owens and Irene, too. You’re doing much better, kid, you’ve got a lot more use back in your ankles way earlier than they thought you would. Irene’s not going to be coming by every day anymore, it’ll be once a week. And Owens is leaving a list of doctors and nurses to contact if something comes up.”
“And you’re not gonna stop me?”
“Steve, if you want to go back to your house, it’s not really my place to stop you, is it?”
He does, he thinks. But he also thinks he’s going to miss it here. He’s going to miss El, and Hopper.
But it’s probably not feasible—living here while going to school. He’d have to get up even earlier than he does for his swim practices.
“Has Owens said anything to you about playing sports?” He won’t miss basketball that much, not anymore—Hargrove’s kind of ruined it for him. But he will miss swimming and track, not that they have a real team.
They’re not too bad at baseball, though. He’s balanced baseball and track before, he can do it again.
“Not right now, is what I’ve been told. Wait until you’re off of crutches for that one. You are supposed to avoid any contact sports, though. Something to do with that brain damage of yours.”
“It’s not that bad, Hop.” He’d been having fewer headaches before he got stuck, and now they’re down to almost nothing. He’s fine. “That takes baseball out, then.”
“What else were you thinking about? Basketball, baseball, do you just do everything?”
“No, we don’t have a football team.”
“We can have a basketball team and a baseball team but not a football team? I played on the football team in high school. Only for a year, but I did it. What happened to that?”
“Hey, I don’t make the rules, Hop. Swimming and track I’m still good for, though?”
“Not right this minute, no. Don’t get your hopes up too much.”
“But next year?”
“Maybe, kid, I don’t know. I’m not a doctor.” Hopper pauses for a minute. “You’re not going back to school for at least another week, alright, just make sure things don’t get weird again. So you’ve got time to decide if you want to finish out the year or not.”
“Yeah, okay.” He wants to try. He wants to have something normal, and then even if it doesn’t work out he kind of has the best excuse in the book on why he failed this year.
“Maybe take a look at those assignments Nancy and Jonathan picked up for you before making your decision.”
“I’m sure Nance will bring it up eventually.” He wonders how long she’s had them, or if they’ve been getting his assignments for him the whole time. They’re not even in any of the same classes.
“Pasta sound good for dinner? El’s sleeping over with Will, so it’s just us.”
“Yeah, that’s okay.” Hopper leaves him to think about this—it’s not really a big decision, he knows how the year is going to end for him either way, but it feels like one.
<;- 15 17 ->
6 notes · View notes
whumpookies · 2 months
Text
Whumingo: It only hurts when I cry.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Tek yukarı and Kan çiçekleri
Tumblr media
Last one here
5 notes · View notes
bionicle-ramblings · 3 months
Text
Spoilers below the cut for Land of the Lustrous for this one, and tw for emotional angst/whump and desiring self destruction, to put it lightly
Could you guys imagine if Takua had a "Phosphophyllite"-esque character arc?
Like the stronger he gets, the worse his life becomes until he's begging to just not exist anymore?
Like how in Land of the Lustrous, Phos finds Adamant and tries forcing him to pray and they even go as far as to say, "If only you weren't here"
Idk, I have the image of an exhausted, absolutely torn Takanuva/Takua being weakened and missing bits of armor and just asking to no longer exist, and then demanding to be taken out
And, for extra angst, he demands VAKAMA to use the Vahki to make it so that both Takanuva and Takua never existed, even lashing out and, in his pain, blaming the now Turaga for what his existence has become
Idk, it's one of those thoughts that just haunts me and I had to get it out
4 notes · View notes
unknownmusing · 1 month
Text
Baldur's Gate - Halsin x Astarion Fanfic: 'Always there to Travel the Same Path which One Walks' - Part 2 - 'Beginning of the First Path' (Act 1) (Ascended Astarion Route)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
-----------------------------------------
2 DAYS LATER
Location – Shattered Sanctum, Ruined Temple – Western Heartlands – Early Afternoon
Asdalen’s P.O.V:
“Place him with the bear. Maybe he will make a good meal for it.”
“You heard Lady Minthara…Take him to the cage..”
Harsh, grating multitude of voices reach through unconscious haze, forcing me into a sharp awareness I’ve been captured and brought to somewhere with a screeching noise of cell door being opened indicating I’m about to be imprisoned.
Fluttering my eyes open, blurry vision of something brown, large and furry in the far corner of the cell comes into my line of sight with suddenly the large goblin who been dragging me flings me in with one single throw not even caring when I land on the harsh, uneven surface of the stone floor with a sickening thud – the injuries I had ascertained from somewhere soon making themselves known.
A clattering of my mask landing beside makes me scramble to grab hold of it, praying that Lesia is around somewhere and she is safe from harm – she would start to become extremely agitated if separated from me and could easily harm people around her – quickly slipping it back on.
“Oh, so you’re a Drow with a bit of history are we….” The Hobgoblin sneers out, forcing my eyes to widen heavily lifting my head straight up to see in cracked ornate mirror at the back of the cell my face is being shown in various angles – but enough to make out the details on it. “…Asdalen Wryric, the Snake of Faerun.”
 -----------------
Location – Shattered Sanctum, Ruined Temple – Western Heartlands – Early Afternoon
Astarion’s P.O.V:
“Out the way.”
“But….Lady Minthara, we’s were only playing with him…”
“Enough….Out of my sight and go find Ragzlin, you brats.”
A voice, female speaks pushing the goblin brats who’ve surrounded me out the way, a ashen-grey hand reaching to haul me up by hair off up from the hard, stone cold floor of the ruined Temple  – my mind trying not think of memories of being trapped in the ‘kennel’ where Godey, would watch and wait for ample time to strike –  that try not show a wince on my features.
Vision clearing, it reveals the person holding my head by my hair is a female drow with braided white hair, distinct ashen-grey mixed with gold highlights and a harsh, cold face with her other hand grabbing hold of my chin tightly.
She turns it to side to side to analyse the details of it, until forcing it back to look at her.
“Hmm….How did you get here, elf?” She asks me, making me go to give back a sarcastic retort to her question when a sharp, blinding pain shoots through my head and memories not my own filter through my mind – I realise, suddenly, they are her memories.
She releases my hair, wrenching away like I’ve burned her – maybe in a way I have with whatever that telepathic connection wave had been made. She glares down at me, while another figure appears, a large red Hobgoblin, to stand beside her.
“You called for me, Minthara. What bothers you?” the Hobgoblin states, large red arms crossing over their large, muscular chest – a beady eye flicking over my rugged appearance - with me, wondering if should try to create a diversion to escape.
--------------------------------------------
6 notes · View notes