Look I need everyone who follows me to go play greedfall and at least love one of the characters so I can make fics and we can talk about them because yes I write for me but you have to understand that I thrive on court antics

Still Life To Live

Vasco x De Sardet

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language, Wee-bit of Angst

Author's Note: Legit this is the first female De Sardet I've written besides the one with Kurt -Thorne

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She wakes with a sadness still ever-present in her chest as she stares out the window, at a bird-less, sunless sky. The sheets smell like Constantin’s soap, and she can’t help but feel tears come to her eyes. She hasn’t been able to leave his room since they returned from his burial. She misses her cousin, no, her brother. Constantin was all she had in the world other than her mother. The two young cousins growing up, thick as thieves, only for it to end in such a poetic yet so tragic way. She missed him so. Missed laughing with him. Missed being around him. And she missed the moments where she wasn’t plagued with knowing his blood was on her hands, even if in the end it wasn’t his fault but the madness.

“If you know, why do you continue to blame yourself?”

She blinks a few times, coming to realize that her dear cousin is kneeling beside her; her lips wobble as she reaches out, taking his hand. “I miss you.”

“Oh, I miss you, dear cousin,” he murmurs. “But you cannot spend the rest of your life here.” His smile is so soft. “I may not be here in flesh, but I am always with you in spirit.”

The new instructor that Price has come from the Rangers is a little too close to the members of the 141, she decides, as she watches the blonde giggle at some joke that Soap is greatly exaggerating. It’s only two more weeks until the woman leaves, and she can’t fucking wait to see her off, because it drives her up the wall to see her all cushiony with her boys. It’s not jealously, not really. Not when she knows that her boys would pick her in a heartbeat, but it still fills her with a red-hot rage when she sees the Ranger traces the ink on Simon’s arm, a flirtatious look in her eyes. That’s her fucking ink to trace. No one else’s.

It's only when the blonde gets up to go use the bathroom, that she follows, cornering her in the last stall. And she’s in the woman’s face before she can even say a fucking word. “If you ever so much as smile in their direction again, I’ll put you in a fucking coma.”

The blonde had simply smirked at her. “Someone’s jealous. Don’t tell me you like them?”

Getting nose to nose with her, her eyes were dead, voice a deathly whisper as she warned, “Do I look fucking jealous to you?” Something in her words gave the woman pause and she added, “You’re not here to fuck my soldiers. You’re here to teach them. And so help me God, if I see you anywhere but the training room, I will fucking kill you.” She searched the woman’s face. “Do I make myself perfectly fucking clear to you, or do I need to get a head start on it?”

“…I understand.”

She left the woman in the stall, taking the seat she’d originally been sitting in between Soap and Ghost, only for the two to stare questioningly as the Ranger returned, gathered her things, and got the hell outta Dodge without saying a word.

It was only until they saw her off on the plane two weeks later, that on the jeep ride back, Ghost asks, “Did you threaten her?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she retorted, still staring at her phone, and Ghost put his hand on her thigh, squeezing it tight.

“You know we’ve only got eyes for our girl,” he teases, and she harrumphs. “No lady but you could fill that spot.”

She turns her head, getting nose to nose with his mask and growls, “I better fucking be your only lady, Simon Riley.”

His grin is evident through his mask as he replies, “You’re the only woman allowed.”

“Good.”

“Simon,” she grunted, glaring at him from her cot; he didn’t even so much as twitch. “Simon!” she hissed louder, reaching for her boot below her. “I swear to God, I’m gonna throw my fucking boot at you.”

He shifted, rolling over, and muttered, “You throw that at me? And we’re gonna dance, little girl.”

“Then stop snoring like a goddamn bear in hibernation!” she shot back, dropping her boot. “I can’t fucking sleep when you’re ripping off the goddamn ceiling tiles like it’s your day job.”

“I think you’re exaggerating.”

“You sound like a fucking chainsaw.”

Ghost was too tired to even entertain her. “Then come over and shut me up.”

She glowered at him in the dark. “If I come over there, it’s not because I’m gonna sit on your face. I will smother you with your own fucking pillow.” She picked up her bundle of socks and chucked it at him, hitting him in the shoulder. “Stop fucking snoring or I’m gonna fix it—permanently.”

She flopped over and pulled the covers up to her neck when she felt a disturbance and cracked an eye open, gasping and almost shitting herself when she saw Ghost’s face inches from her.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” she yelped, almost falling off her cot. “Ghost, what the fuck!”

He didn’t say a single word, merely put his hands on either side of the cot and shucked a leg over the side.

“What are you doing?”

He started to put a knee in the cot.

“Don’t you fucking dare. This cot isn’t strong enough to hold us!”

He didn’t listen.

“Simon—!” she sharply inhaled when the cot creaked underneath their weight and she lay completely still, even as Simon shifted, resting his head on her chest, forearms tucked underneath her, legs hanging off the end. “I’m going to fucking murder you.”

“Mhm,” he grumbled, digging his cheek into her skin before he shut his eyes and breathed deeply, settling comfortably. “Murder tomorrow. Sleep now.”

She growled under her breath, but as the moments ticked by and Simon went slack atop her, she felt her anger dissipating, gently tucking her hands inside his hood, secured at the back of his neck, fingers brushing warm hair and skin.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to hear him snore.