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caffinedragon · 1 year ago

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The Son of Mystra Au remastered

This is a revised version of an Au that literally came to me in a dream a while ago. And as it happens with many of my idea's they tend to grow and change over time until they settle into exactly what they need too. So this, is the new version of this post:

Here we go:

TL;DR: Mystra makes a fail safe out of her oldest daughter, effectively making her a ticking magical time bomb that she uses to blast ambitious mages that threaten the weave off the face of Toril.

Only her daughter finds a way around it, The Karsite Orb, and is like "Fuck that shit and also I'm a dude now."

So Mystra assigns her son to bring her boys to become chosen instead.

Only he finds out what she does with them and is like "Fuck That" and trains his last pupil, Elminster, how to survive her and fucks off for a millennia.

However, Mystra's eyes eventually go astray and fall upon the young neighbor boy whom he talks magic with and sees as a little brother.

So he is like "Fuck you. I am not letting you have him!"

In response she rips the Karsite Orb from his chest, causing him to be lost to the Astral plane for about 20 years.

Once he makes his way back Bahamut shows up and is like, "Hi. I'm your dad now. Here is some of my blood to help reduce the severity of your flare ups but only if you keep using your magic. So to help with that, here is how to enchant stuff so you can regularly keep using your magic without it being weird and we can be a Father and Son team of traveling magic merchants. Cool? Cool."

Only then the Nautaloid happens, reuniting him with the boy he tried to save who now has his old orb in his chest and has been cast out for not being an obedient pet.

This is quickly followed by being swept off his feet by the blade of frontiers and figuring out exactly what the Absolute is and realizing the there is only one way it would be able to do what it's doing before they ever hear about Moonrise.

This means he also knew his mother's next move.

So in order to hopefully prevent it, he warns Gale and reveals to him the true nature of the gods. That way so when he is told to blow himself up he is much less inclined to both follow her orders or to become a god himself.

Instead they agree that if they cant find a way to destroy it that it is safest to return the crown to Mystra in order to keep the power out of mortal hands, regardless of Gale becoming Mystra's chosen again.

The rest of the game proceeds as usual after ,through a deal struck between Bahamut and Mystra, the ticking time bomb Mystra gave him is removed and he is turned into a draconic sorcerer with a mortal lifespan. Then after fixing Karlach's engine and helping Astarion walk in the sun again, he allows his gentle Wyll to put a ring on it, and lives out the rest of his life by the man's side, continuing the work of the wizard who had helped him in the first place.

For the Full Lore read under the cut.

After what Karsus pulled, Mystra decided that she was gonna make sure that she had a fail safe in case it happened again.

So, after she gave birth to several daughters, she had them compete with each other to prove who was the stronger magic user.

Andromeda, her oldest but also most "rebellious" daughter, proved to be the strongest despite her refusal to actively compete with her sisters and as a "reward" was gifted with a piece of Mystra that turned her into a weave generator and gave her the ability to see the weave as she did.

The unfortunate consequence for this was to make her a walking magic bomb on a timer, a wild magic sorcerer on steroids, whenever she was on the material plane.

This particular quirk proved useful for her mother, when others tried to repeat what Karsus did.

And since it made sense that she wanted to protect the weave and thus herself she didn't question when she was sent to the lairs and towers of ruthless and ambitions mages who insisted on repeating history.

However, everything changed when she was told about a wizard hiding in the ruins of one of the fallen cities of Karsus, that was currently using the Karsite weave for his own purpose.

Normally she didn't question her orders but there was something about how her mother was acting that gave her pause. But, when she tried to get more out of her, something she never had problems with in the past, her mother acted erratically and either refused to answer or changed the subject.

So, pushing down her suspicions for the moment to play the obedient daughter, she readied herself to be sent down as always.

When her vision cleared after plane shifting, to her utter horror she realized why her mother was being cagey.

This wizard indeed was hiding amongst old ruins of the Karsite empire but he wasn't alone.

An entire vibrant, bustling, and very much thriving town had grown up around the wizards tower. Men, woman and children were happily going about there day, laughing, loving, arguing, fighting and most of all...living.

Knowing she didn't have much time before tragedy would strike she took off towards the wizards tower, hoping to find an evil wizard who had used the karsite weave to put the entire town under a spell, or that maybe the town was just an elaborate illusion and should it ever drop, the villagers would be revealed to be a massive army of monstrocities or undead under the wizards control.

But when she got to the tower, the wizard was waiting to greet her, as if he knew she was coming.

He led her inside and showed her exactly what he was doing.

He told her of his brother who was born a wild mage. He had lost him to a mob after he accidentally turned the mayor's daughter into a sheep when he tried to cast dancing lights to impress her.

He told her of other wild mages who had met similar ends either by the hands of others or their own because of being burdened with magic that they couldn't control.

As he began to explain how he wanted to do something to help them, she searched him eyes for any sign of deception.

There was none.

The truth of why her mother had been so cagey about this place began to make itself known as he described how he had found a way to make the Karsite weave inert and harmless. In doing so he was able to reverse engineer it to make the very thing that was the reason this town built up around him.

It turns out, that the people that lived here were the descendants of all the wild mages he had saved by creating the Karsite Orb, a magical item that when placed inside the body of a wild mage, stabilized the chaotic forces within the sorcerer by feeding on the excess magic they produced that caused the bursts that they were known for.

She realized then why her mother wanted her to destroy this place.

She wasn't like her other sisters who took their mother's word without question. She had seen the writing on the wall. She knew her mother's true nature, as much as she wanted to believe otherwise.

She had hoped that being her child might make things different but it was clear it didn't.

So, as she felt the timer begin to get to it's final minutes, she leaned into her "rebellious" nature and showed the wizard that she too was a wild mage and that her godly mother had sent her to destroy him and his entire town.

But if he helped her break herself of her chain, she would be able to leave this place behind without so much as a scratch on the towers paint.

The man eagerly agreed and pulled out a shelf where several of the dormant orbs sat.

Over the next few moments he took the largest one that was the size of a fortune tellers crystal ball and activated it with a simple cantrip that set the orb to swirl and glow with a bluish purple light.

He beckoned her to open the tunic she wore, exposing her chest a few seconds before, "Brace yourself, this is gonna hurt.", and then slammed it into her chest.

The pain was extraordinary and caused her to pass out but once she re awoke, she cried as she realized that the timer that had plagued her for so long had not only reset but completely stopped.

After taking a few days to recover and to gain the copy of the orbs design for herself, she left the town just as she found it and began traveling the material plane of her own accord.

As she traveled and reveled in having powerful magic she had complete control over, she realized that the ticking time bomb in her chest hadn't been the only thing wrong with her and used her magic to remedy the situation.

By the time she saw her mother again, Andromeda was gone and in her place was Andrew, a man who still carried his long curly red hair and blue eyes but had shed every thing else.

Mystra didn't really care about the change but was mildly annoyed at what he had done to himself in order to obtain this newfound control.

However, once he showed her a copy of the design she begrudgingly agreed to leave the wizard and his town alone.

But now since she could no longer use him as a walking bomb, she reassigned him to the role of finding and training promising boy mages as her chosen, so that they could do the job he no longer could.

He accepted the task with a roll of the eyes and proceeded to head towards the first of what would be her many victims.

It took the disappearance of a few of his disciples after they left his side for him to get suspicious. When he would claim them for his mother he would always inscribe a tracking charm onto them in case they were needed and at least three of his "graduates" had seemed to disappear suddnely off the map. Concerned for these boys he pretty much raised, he tracked the signals to their last known locations.

And for the second time in his long life was struck with the true horror of how little Mystra cared for those that did her bidding.

Every single one had either let themselves die or took their own lives after his mother no longer found them useful and cast them aside like so much trash.

He tried to warn the rest of them but found, when compared to a goddess, the words of an old mentor meant next to nothing.

Eventually all of the ones he had raised met the same end, and by the time young Elminster was taken under his wing, he vowed not to let another suffer under his mother's gaze.

So, while he dutifully raised and trained Elminster to be her next chosen, he taught him how to see his mother as he did. He taught him how to recognize her tactics and not fall for them. He taught him to never try to be her equal for you are nothing more than a tool to her and if you play into it and never question her judegemnt, to her face, she would leave you to your own devices unless she needed something from you.

Thankfully, unlike his charges before, Elminster was a skeptical and rebellious kid like he was and followed his rules to the letter even after she took him as a lover.

This allowed him to eventually become one of the greatest wizards to ever live and gain a heavily extended lifespan that allowed Andrew, from having to send another lamb to slaughter for a good long time.

However, even Eliminster's great achievements weren't enough to keep her attention indefinitely and soon enough her eyes fell upon another young boy.

This time however, the boy was someone he already knew and had been in direct contact for several years. The boys mother lived in a house that was across the street form his magic store that supplied the nearby magic school with books and supplies.

The boy was a regular to the store, and would often talk about magic with him when the days were slow and his mother was busy running the household after his fathers sudden passing. Heart attack if he remembered correctly.

Overtime he had grown incredibly fond of the talkative kid and had come to care for him as an older borther would, helping him learn the magic he loved so much. The tressym that now followed the 8 year old boy around was a direct result of one of his lessons on how to summon a wizard familiar, in fact.

Tara, as she was called, had told him of how he had summoned her because his parents denied him a kitten. A story that had caused him to laugh so hard the tea he had been drinking went up his nose.

The kid was clearly a natural talent on top of being a lover of magic.

Which, as he got closer to the age his mother liked them, made him start to worry.

One of the worst days of his long life came the moment he felt his mother's eyes fall upon the young boy as he read peacefully in his shop.

"Are you okay, Danny? You look like your about to cry. Would you like a hug?"

Mystra wasn't happy when he refused to bring him to her and as retaliation, she used the orb designs he had given her to rip it out of his chest.

The resulting surge plane shifted him into the Astral plane, where he floated for 20 years before a second surge propelled him back to the material plane in the form of a fireball falling form the sky.

When he regained consciousness, he was in the back of a drake drawn merchant wagon with draconian runes carved on the inside and being driven by an older man surrounded by seven birds perched on various sides both inside and outside the wagon.

it took little time to realize who's wagon he was in.

As much as Gale had loved magic he loved dragons. Thier freedom, strenght and absolute confidence in themselves was somehting he envied and admired.

So there was no way he didn't know about the God of Dragon's favorite past time.

Unknown to both Mystra and himself, Bahamut had been keeping an eye on him for a long time, impressed by his sense of justice and strong will despite being the son of a goddess who hated both in her pawns. So when Mystra threw him away for the very thing he would have praised him for, he decided that if she didn't want her son he would claim him for himself.

With his consent of course.

Andrew eagerly accepted his offer, and was infused with Bahamut's blood in order to lessen the effects of his magic surges from city leveling to the occasional annoying or hilarious inconveniences.

The blood has it's limits however and for it to be effective he has to regularly use his magic to keep it from gettign built up to high. Luckily Bahamut had a simple solution, learing how to enchant and craft magical items. Enchanting items woudl allow him to reguarly purge the extra magic in his system and net him some decent coin as well so it was a win/win.

After he was confient in his new skills the two of them took to the road to find a good place to set up shop, the teo of them easily falling into a father and son realtionship as they spent the next 15 years as wandering merchants who set up temproary shops all across Fae-Run.

This life eventually led them to be running a shop in Yartar the day the Nautaloid split open the sky and started abducting people off the streets.

Andrew, who had up to that point had been teaching a young boy the finer points of his new sorcerer powers, saw one of the tendrils whipping down the street, heading straight for the the mother of the kids back.

Without a second's hesitation, he shoved the mother and child out of the way into Bahamut's waiting arms, letting himself get hit with it instead.

After the Nautaloid's crash, he finds himself reunited with the now adult Gale as his Mother's ex Chosen who now carried the orb that once resided in his chest, while at the same time finding himself being swept off his feet by the Blade of Frontiers that has only ever known courtly love before meeting him.

Of course, as they journey on and more information about their situation comes to light, he comes to a startling realization as to how the Absolute is able to do what it did with the tadpoles. Along with knowing that, if he is correct, he knows that it wont be long before his mother shows up to use her new walking bomb to take care of the problem like he used to do so long ago, only Gale wouldn't survive it like he could.

Not wanting him to suffer that fate, he explains what is going on to Gale who at first protests but, after a long discussion of who Andrew is and his history with her begins to believe him.

Then, sure enough, shortly after they start making the trip to Moonrise, Elminster arrives and tells Gale exactly what he expected Mystra to want him to do as well as giving him a message from Bahamut that Mystra struck a deal with him. The deal struck was that in return for letting him claim Andrew fully as a draconian sorcerer and one of his mortal dragons, emphasis on mortal, that she would remove the weave generator from his body, effectively negating any way he could use his power to get back at her for what she just asked Gale to do.

He readily agrees to the deal after he remembered having Gale use the orb in his chest to keep him from a pretty devastating magic burst that could have leveled the entire Risen Road/Emerald Grove Area.

Luckily, due to their previous conversation, Gale is a lot less willing to go through with it and instead begins to jump to ambitions of godhood. This prompts a conversation about the true nature of gods and how all the power they possess is actually in the hands of mortals because, without them, they wouldn't exist. And, as a god, you can't change and become better than you are like mortals can. Your stuck as the representation of whatever domain your given and that is all you will ever be.

This conversation ultimately convinces Gale to abandon his ambition and turns it towards perhaps finding a way to destroy it so another Absolute doesn't happen instead.

However they both agree, that if there isn't a way to destroy it, that it was safest to hand it over to his mother if no other reason than to make sure mortal hands can't get a hold of it again.

After the game, Andrew spends his time helping Karlach fix her engine, and to find a way for Astarion to regain his mortality or at the very least be able to walk in the sunlight again before letting Wyll change his name from Mr. Andrew Weave the Wandering Enchanter to Sir Andrew Ravenguard The Dragon Sorcerer of Baldur's Gate, living out the rest of the mortal life he was given by his side, using the original Karsite Orb design to help Wild Mages like that wizard who helped him so long ago.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #tav #wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll

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tempest-toss · 1 year ago

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The Call - Prep and send off

First thing was first: Thorn needed to be ready for whatever they would come across. They silently opened their trailer and slipped inside. With the lights on, they began to strap themselves up. A few guns, a bulletproof vest for armor, a backpack for storage, a knife for stabbing, and some night vision goggles to assist them.

The hand radio crackled to life, beeping out a message in morse code, ".…. . .- -.. / - --- / .-. ..- .. -. …". A quick translation had confirmed in Thorn's mind where they were going to head next, the ruins. As they pocketed the hand radio, a question about who could have sent the message danced in their mind. After all, the only people who could possibly have access to the radio were other insurgents. This gave Thorn a sliver of hope, perhaps they could be saved?

Upon exiting from their trailer, they made a beeline to the peace duo's trailer and politely knocked on it. After some shuffling the door opened to reveal the friendly stoner Marvin.

"Sup dude? Welcome into the safest place right here for now" Marvin spoke as he helped Thorn in. The "Groove Palace" as Dallas once called it was an average, yet cluttered trailer full of knickknacks and other traditional hippie objects, including peace signs, lava lamps, and fabrics containing rich tie-dye jobs.

"Right now? What do you mean right now?" Thorn asked.

"Well, Dallas got bit and he's starting to transform into a werewolf," Marvin replied nonchalantly.

Thorn turned his head to the other side of trailer as he heard the sound of scraping metal. Dallas had been in a thin tie-dye shirt and shorts, mentioning that he was going to play his hand pan in the river, "for the acoustics". Now Dallas' shirt was clinging for dear life, as his newfound muscularture threatened to rip it off. He gnashed his teeth as the pain was unbearable, his face shifting to a snout which barely supported his red glasses. He grew taller and brawnier as his bones cracked and shifted and grew to support the new muscle being added. His hair shifted to fur as it sprouted all over his body, covering him in a dense, brown coat. His eyes opened to show a primal hunger, a growl rumbling through his throat as his ears perked at Thorn's breathing.

Thorn, slowly reached for his gun before Marvin stopped him and walked in front of him. He took a deep drag on his 420-j blunt and blew the smoke out in Dallas' face, causing the new werewolf to hack and cough.

"Was that necessary, man?"

The werewolf grumbled as he waved the smoke away. He blinked a few times before making an observation.

"Boy, Thorn, you shrunk!"

He laughed a deep laugh, giving a closed-eye smile. His tail wagging happily; His peace sign medallion ended up on his tail, probably when he was flailing around. This led Thorn's eyes to Dallas' leg, noticing that even transformed, a scar remained. Perhaps that might be useful knowledge for the future?

"Figured that'd calm you down. Werewolf biology is quite interesting." Marvin hummed before turning to Thorn. "I've got the big puppy safe. If need be I'll be a friendly cat for you. I'd advise you make your way to the ruins. I spied on your conversation with Sable earlier."

After a few more exchanges of words, the duo sent Thorn off, with the werewolf giving his trademark peace sign with his large claws. As Thorn turned to head to the meadow, a whine prevented them from committing just yet. They turned to see Rockette whining, having been leashed to the outside of the trailer. Thorn jogged to her and began untying her.

"Maybe you can find Gordon, so I can sock him for causing all this shit." Thorn huffed as they undid the leash. Rockette got on her hind legs to lick Thorn in the face before bounding off.

After checking the area again, they began heading their way to the Ruins. Along their way, they entered the Meadows. Thorn grimaced as they saw the ruins of a picnic. They recall how Cindy was hosting one that afternoon for friendship reasons, according to her.

"help... help me..."

A voice heard off the path by Thorn. It could be another camper... or it could be a werewolf faking it to lead Thorn to their death.

#ask to tag #Event: The Call

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cheekygreenty · 4 years ago

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Familiar - The Darkling x Reader

He was living his worst nightmare. You were in danger because of him. He swore to protect you, to get himself caught in the crossfire if it meant saving you but right now he was useless and you were suffering. He didn't know where you were or who took you from the Palace, the place he said was like a fortress, the safest place in Ravka. You were swiped from right under his nose, most likely roughly and mercilessly and it was all because you loved him.

He never wanted anyone to know of your relationship, you were his most protected and valued secret and he would put his life on the line to keep it that way. But now you were gone and he couldn't bare to look at himself. The promise he made to you was broken and he let you down.

For our love is a ghost that the others can't see

You agreed with it too, knowing that you would immediately become a target if Aleksander introduced you as his. But here you were now, sitting in the back of a moving coach, gagged and handcuffed with a blood and tear stained face.

The ride was more bumpy and painful than it was at the start, having now been on it for at least 4 hours, you knew you were far from home and heading to Fjerda.

The realization hit you as soon as you felt a pair of strong hands at your wrists, holding them apart in the safety of your chambers to prevent you from summoning. The festivities were loud and blocked out your shouts of self-defense and cries for help. That's where Aleksander's protection had run out, right there in your shared rooms.

You cursed yourself as more tears slipped out your eyes, you were a fool who didn't listen to their own advice. Ravka didn't know about you, the Darkling seemingly had no weaknesses until your irrationally tipsy behavior. Tonight's stupid actions would cost you your life.

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

'Enjoying the celebrations?' You held your fourth champagne glass of the night tightly in your hand as you walked up to Aleksander and Ivan. They were all business and no party as the Little Palace roared to life following a day of successful business negotiations. Grisha of all orders let loose and had fun, forgetting the troubles of war as foreign delegations joined in, all in unity for a single night of fun.

The Zemeni were dancing with the Kerch, the Shu were peacefully discussing with the Kaelish, it was a utopia. Your own mind was for once calm, be it the champagne or the vibes you didn't know and didn't care.

'You did a very good job Y/N, I'm impressed.' Ivan gestured to the party and pride filled you. It was stressful and nerve-racking to plan a banquet of this magnitude, but seeing it all accomplished and with no fights made you unbelievably happy.

'Thank you Ivan. Go enjoy yourself, I'm sure Fedyor is looking for you.'

He walked away just as you'd hoped, leaving you and Aleksander alone. You moved a step closer, taking his hand in yours.

'It is magnificent darling, you look magnificent too.' His head dipped as it usually did when he was about to kiss you, but he stopped himself and instead looked around the room, inspecting it to make sure no one was watching him.

'Relax, we're in a large crowd, I highly doubt anyone is paying us any mind.' With the foreign ambassadors here, Aleksander's black attire was balanced out with black tuxedos and suits. He wasn't sticking out anymore, he blended in. You wanted to be with him, and perhaps you could be right now.

'If you say so' Although your words did something to reassure him, his sweet lips were brief on yours. It was a short kiss, but he somehow conveyed his love for you in that quick second before he was back to his usual General persona.

'Alright General Kirigan, I'll go annoy Genya.' You joked and in the process knocked the glass over onto your fine silk kefta. 'Shit'

You didn't miss the look of amusement on his face as you tried to dry the stain with your sleeve. 'Or I'll go and change' you laughed, leaning into his laughing body.

You were certain the moment was intimate and private, that nobody was watching, but a pair of eyes closely watched the scene from afar, mouth open ajar as he found the Darkling's only weakness; You.

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

'Moi Soverenyi what is the meaning of all this?' Ivan didn't expect to be dragged out of bed at this hour and see the General's inner circle crowded around his war table in their nightclothes. He thought the banquet went well: nobody fought or got injured or even argued, it was the perfect night so to speak. But the powerful Grisha still dressed in his silk black kefta was restless and panicked.

His hair was disheveled and he looked ready to kill as he stood with his back to everyone, facing the big map of Ravka. The room was silent save for a few yawns and sighs. Nobody knew anything about why they were there but the tension surrounding their commander was hostile and frightening.

'Y/N Y/L/N is missing from Palace grounds. I think she may have been taken.' Ivan stilled, he was the only person in the room who knew of the relationship between his General and you and had grown to like your refreshing presence. He cared for you in a brotherly way and your disappearance ignited a fury in him.

'I need you searching the streets, interrogating the delegates, anything we can to bring her back.' His face was still turned away from them, and Ivan knew he wouldn't turn around.

Aleksander was beside himself with worry and guilt, he was on the verge of tears. You were gone and it was his fault. His mind was swirling with the accusations and the self-hate, but also with memories of you. Your life echoed around the walls of his head, bouncing off of his heart with a shatter.

He wasn't going to wake up tomorrow next to you curled up in his arms. He wasn't going to hear you rant over breakfast. You were gone and it was his fault.

He was trying so hard to devise a plan to find you, to command his Grisha and be a General, but in that moment he was just Aleksander, Y/N's Aleksander. Worry took up his mind and all the commanding bones in his body yearned to have you next to him.

He turned his head briefly to Ivan, who had the same expression on his face that Genya wore when he woke her up searching for Y/N. She was already out in the streets of Os Alta with David, trying their luck with tracking your jewelry.

'We leave in 10 minutes. Every single Grisha in the Second Army will be used if need be.' If you listened closely, you could hear the edge to his voice, a slight pang of heartbreak and anguish. He was trying to hide it, but alas he was only a man.

The Grisha started muttering amongst themselves and Ivan caught a few words of their conversations and couldn't help but let the rage rise in him 'She's not even that good of a soldier.....' 'Who is that?' 'I want to go back to bed....'

'A foreign dignitary had the audacity to kidnap a Grisha after we let them into our home and you speak of going to bed?'

'Ivan.' Fedyor warned him.

'Moi Soverenyi, with all due respect, Y/L/N was simply a teacher to the younger Grisha, not a high-ranking soldier with valuable intel. Should we really assume a kidnapping happened? For all we know it was desertion. Y/N found a good moment to slip out and escaped.'

Every shade of us you fade down to keep

Them in the dark on who we are

The second those words were spoken by Polina, Aleksander's black shadows let loose. They crept up her legs and around her throat, tightening and tightening until air could no longer enter the inferni's lungs. She was petrified, she was simply stating another perspective on the situation but her General's and Ivan's responses told her her opinion was not wanted at all.

Aleksander stopped himself before he killed her. It was his fault, all of it. His Grisha didn't take this seriously because they didn't know who Y/N truly was to him, perhaps a secret ready to be shared, spoke a voice deep in the back of his head, not your voice though. He wouldn't tell anyone anything until he had your approval. If he ever got it.

'Believe me, Y/N was no deserter.'

'10 minutes!' Barked Ivan at the Grisha when none of them moved from their tired trance.

-----

You didn't know Fjerdan fluently but you knew enough to make out the most important words 'We crossed the border', 'Witch', 'let her burn'. It was enough to drown your hope of escaping and coming home to Aleksander and your Grisha.

You never got involved in any war or fighting, simply choosing to teach the young students the basics of summoning. It made you content and happy, whereas war made you anxious and nervous. Your body had only ever known the luxuries of the Little Palace, the feel of a pen or book in your hands. To add to it, your powers were never used in a defensive way only summoned when you taught, so this was a drastic turn of events to say the least.

Being dragged and beaten by the Fjerdans, insulted in a foreign language, and cuffed so the one comfort you had available to you was useless, brought you to your knees despite the initial training you received when you joined the Second-Army. I am no soldier, I am a teacher.

The border had been crossed and you were officially a Fjerdan captive, ready to sit a trail where you would be found guilty and hanged for your gifts. The chances of Aleksander finding you were slim to none as you tried to remember if any clues were left behind at the scene of your kidnapping. The Fjerdans were quick and concise, neat and skilled, leaving no traces of their presence in your chambers.

The back of the carriage yanked open and let in the evening sun, blinding you in the process. You stopped counting the time after the 8th hour passed and your space was still pitch black. The shadows once were a comfort, now they were simply a tool to frighten you even more.

'Let's go, Witch.' A tall man spoke as he grabbed you by the arm, dragging you as if you didn't weigh anything. You complied, not seeing a reason to tire yourself by fighting back. It was pointless and futile.

You were in the middle of nowhere, a field of open green space with patches of snow. Fjerda. You'd never been anywhere near the border even, but the cold wind was whiplash-inducing just as Aleksander once described it.

'I thought I am to face trial.' You had barely spoken a word in fear in the carriage but the suspicion had rousted you to mutter the words.

'You? I'd rather kill you right here' joked the man and his companions laughed along as if what you said was the beginnings of a hilarious joke. 'You are the Demon's vulnerability, we hurt him for revenge' He pushed you to your knees roughly.

This love is gonna be the death of me

It's a danger

'So I am to die in a field?'

'Not before you tell us everything about the Darkling' then a kick to your stomach shut down your senses.

-------

'We are crossing into Fjerda Moi Soverenyi' Ivan shouted over the galloping horses. Not even 2 minutes after the meeting, Fedyor noticed 3 Fjerdan delegates missing from their rooms in the Little Palace and raced to tell his General who was now fiercely riding his black stallion with a fury no one dared to comment on. He had Squallers feeling the air for you, Durasts tracking your jewelry, and Heartrenderers listening to heartbeats as they all made their way up to Fjerda, the enemy country.

As time passed, the fear rose and turned into a strange combination of denial and grief. Aleksander tried to desperately shoo it away, to rid the thought as it came. You were alive. You had to be.

He felt his crew getting restless and tired but he didn't dare slow his pace. His stallion seemed to understand the urgency of the situation and for lack of a better word, legged it as his master requested.

'General, we think we can feel something.' The Durast and Squaller riding right behind him suddenly burst out. 'About 5 miles northeast, I can direct us from there.' The man in the purple kefta bellowed and Aleksander's heart picked up the pace to a deadly rhythm. He was immortal, but he was sure this was going to be the death of him.

---------

It took every ounce of courage and pride to not give in but you hurt all over. Your ribs were cracked, lungs quickly collapsing, your arms and legs unmoving. The only aspect of you that looked normal was your face

'I'll leave it, let him see you dead in a coffin with only your pretty face as a reminder of how disgusting he is, how disgusting all of you are.'

You had told them nothing, not a word, not even a cry of pain to satisfy them. If these were truly your last moments, you wouldn't go down as a traitor. Your eyes closed on their own accord a while ago, your ears stopped listening when you heard the first bone crack in your leg.

You didn't see Aleksander's shadows flood the field, cutting down everything in his path. You didn’t hear the Fjerdans scream out in pain and fear. There was blood everywhere, not just yours as he ran to you.

'HEALERS NOW' you didn't see him, you didn't hear him, but he saw you beaten and dying right in front of him. His hands traced the side of your face lovingly as a small tear escaped his eye. You felt it, his touch on yours and your lip pulled up in the faintest smile you could manage. He was here.

Ivan was next to you in an instant, attempting to quicken your heartbeat, fill your weak lungs with air and keep you alive but his shaking hands were rigid and stiff with fear at the possibility of losing his friend. The other Grisha watched with perplexed faces as they quickly approached, the Healers running for dear life to get to you in time. You were only a teacher in their eyes, not the General's love or the Heartrenderers comrade.

'Y/N you'll be okay, I promise.' Aleksander left a kiss against your forehead, keeping his lips there for as long as he could before the red keftas swarmed around you and fought to save your dwindling life.

And the dark was opening wide, do or die

You registered his touch, his kiss, before the itching took over and the pain slowly lifted. The darkness was back as a comfort and death seemed far away.

The Darkling only had one weakness, one vulnerability, and only one reoccurring nightmare; the death of Y/N Y/L/N and he made sure to let the world know if you ever came to harm, he would kill anyone and anything in his path.

------

Here’s my masterlist 🥰

Taglist (Tell me if you want to be added!!)

@aleksanderwh0r3 @theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld @0-artemis @exo-1204 @staradorned @bookfrog242 @simp-for-ben-barners @keepdaydreamingbb @acciorudolphx @pansysgirlfriend @pansysgirlfriend @justmesadgirl

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dracowars · 4 years ago

Note

Really love your draco ficsss 🤗🤗🤗 i was wondering if you can make one before the war where draco obliviated reader then looks for her after the war aaaa would love to see your take on ittt tag me

remember me | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x reader

word count: 1,8k

summary: where draco obliviates y/n

a/n: while doing research for this one i didn’t even know that when you use obliviate, you can’t reverse it anymore if you’ve used the wand for another spell :o i guess you always learn something new lmao @belladaises i hope you like it! <3

warnings: angst, mentions of blood

universe: harry potter

Footsteps and screams echo through the dark corridors of Hogwarts as Draco finds himself in one of the hallways after apparating there mere seconds ago. Getting to the right place at the right time, he immediately gets hold of some of the Slytherins, including his friends, whom he pulls with him, informing them about his – or rather Lord Voldemort’s – plan. Draco knows what he has to do, but he also knows the consequences his actions will have.

His hands are shaking, and he is having a difficult time to breathe after they walked from one side of the castle to the other, wands drawn and always at the ready in case there are any emergencies or incidents on their way. What Draco did not expect, however, is that he will find you along his way.

With a pained expression on your face, you lean against one of the cold brick walls, about to lose your footing and to fall to the ground when Draco is already at your side and catches you in his arms before you can hit the hard floor. Previously, he quickly ordered Blaise and Goyle to move on without him and wait for him until he is done here. Carefully, Draco sinks to the ground with you and places you close to him in order to be able to take a closer look at you.

“Y/N! Y/N, what happened?”, he asks you with concern in his voice and already reproaches himself internally for not being here to fight by your side. But he knows that he can’t. After all, you are on the opposite sides in this terrible war.

Slowly, you raise your head and do not seem to recognize him at first, until your vision clears, and you look directly into his worried face. You immediately push yourself closer to him, his closeness bringing you some calmness and making you feel protected and safe, although walls are blown up around you while wizards and witches give their lives in the bitter fight for Hogwarts.

“D-Draco? You are here”, you breath out, your voice rough and strained from your previous screams. You had split up into groups to face the Death Eaters, but you were separated from them when a part of the ceiling fell down, several pieces burying you beneath them. The hope that is now reflected in your eyes upon seeing him, here and with you, breaks Draco’s heart. You really think he is on your side.

It is only when you groan in pain that Draco realizes that you are clutching your leg, which is covered in blood.

“Come on, I will get you out of here”, he whispers to you and helps you straighten up, the guilt plaguing him. You are badly injured, and he was not here to prevent you from getting hurt. Carefully, he puts your arm around his shoulder so you can move faster together than if he would carry you. Since it is not anything than safe here right now, Draco hurries to get you out of there as fast as possible.

“It is not as bad as it looks. I promise”, you try to calm him down, but once your foot touches the ground you twitch in insufferable pain and pull your foot back with a hiss, your hand immediately going to your tigh where it hurts the most.

“What happened?”

“I was careless and then a part of the ceiling buried me beneath it.”

The shock on Draco’s face is enormous when he realizes what could have happened, how it could have ended with you laying under masses of bricks with no one knowing. That he could and still can lose you in this bitter war for life and death. Briefly, he carefully inspects your leg – broken – and without any hesitation, he picks you up in his arms and carries you to a safer place. The safest place would probably be where all students, who do not fight, are hiding, but if Draco asked you about it, he would have to pass this very important piece of information on. And thus, he would also leave you to a terrible fate.

“You are safe here. For the time being”, he finally says as he places you at the end of a staircase that no longer leads to where it originally should, and kneels down in front of you, stroking his hand over your cheek lovingly. Shaking, you place your own on top of his and press his palm to your skin to feel its warmth.

“Draco, if we make it to the seventh floor then-“

“Do not tell me. Please”, he almost begs you. His pleading leaves you puzzled and slowly but surely makes you doubt why he is actually here. Gently, Draco takes your hand in his and places a delicate kiss on your knuckles. You sadly watch him until you bring up the courage to ask this one question that burns on your tongue.

“Why are you here, Draco?”

The realization hits you like a train, much more painful than the pain in your leg, when he just looks at you with glassy eyes and fails to give you an answer. Tears well up in your eyes when you notice that you no longer have your loving boyfriend in front of you, but your enemy.

“Why, Draco?”, you ask him desperately, the first tear already finding its way down your cheek, but Draco does not have the heart to look into your eyes, too scared to see the pain and disappointment in them. Sighing, he shakes his head, letting it sink.

“Everything will be fine, I promise”, he manages to say while his heart contracts in pain. Suddenly, he perceives voices that are still far away, but he hears them coming closer. With trembling hands, he reaches for your wand, which is sticking out of your boot as he has made his final decision. Confused, you look back and forth between him and the wand in his hand.

“What are you going to do? D-Draco? You do not have to do this”, you stutter out as he looks directly at you with his gray eyes which seem much darker now. Gray eyes that once shone with so much affection and now only radiate a tremendous coldness that makes you shudder.

“Now listen carefully to what I say, Y/N. You have to promise me that you will not use your wand anymore”, Draco explains to you, but you can only look at him speechlessly while tears run down your cheeks in waterfalls, not knowing what he will do next.

“I am so sorry”, is the last thing he says to you before casting a spell. “Obliviate.”

With these words, Draco pulls any memories you have of him out of your mind. Every shared laughter, every shared grief, he frees you from all of it. He frees you from the burden of ever knowing him.

With one quick movement he puts your wand back in its original place and quickly stands up, watching how your face loses all emotion as you abruptly stop crying over nothing. Before he can regret his decision, he turns away from you and looks into the corridor from which he previously heard the voices. At the other end of the corridor, he discovers Neville Longbottom, who is running through Hogwarts with some students. Clenching his fists, Draco walks in the middle of the corridor, facing them from afar.

“Neville!”, Draco shouts as loud as he can, immediately gaining Neville’s attention, who now comes running towards him with his wand drawn, ready to attack. Draco swiftly runs back to where you still lean against the wall, but just as Neville turns around the corner, Draco disapparates to another part of Hogwarts.

You are safe at last.

════════════

Surrounded by nothing but rubble and ashes, Draco wanders through the last remains of Hogwarts alone. His clothes are torn apart, and his face is soiled – all signs of the bitter fight that took place here before. But now it is over. They lost.

But Draco does not care who won or lost. He chose to switch sides in the end anyway. All he wants now is one more thing: to find you and to make sure you are okay. Every time he trips over a lifeless body on the ground, he looks away in fear that he may recognize your face in one of the corpses. Pressing his hand against his aching left shoulder, he walks into what is left of the Great Hall and a glimmer of hope builds inside of him as he recognizes Neville standing in the middle of it.

Quickening his pace, Draco walks towards him, his gaze fixed on the people he is currently talking to. When Draco gets to them, however, his heart sinks and panic pervades him as he does not see you. You are not here.

Desperately searching for any signs of you, he looks around, his pulse getting faster by the second, until Neville finally taps on his shoulder and points to somewhere behind him. Draco turns around immediately, only to see you limp into the Great Hall with the help of Ginny Weasley, improvised stabilization around your broken leg.

Tears of joy well up in Draco’s eyes and he cannot help but run up to you and close you in a tight hug that almost knocks the both of you off your feet. Draco exhales in relief, clutching his arms around your fragile body, glad to hold you in his arms again, until he notices that you are trying to push him away.

Realization his Draco and he abruptly moves away from you.

“What was that supposed to mean?”, you ask him reproachfully, irritated as to why Draco Malfoy almost suffocated you in a hug.

“I- Well-“, he stutters, but the fact that you actually do not know him anymore is driving an ache through Draco’s chest again. “Where is your wand?”

“Excuse me?”, you huff out, the confusion evident on your face, but Draco quickly reaches for you wand before you can react, which pokes out of your boot, as always. Internally praying that you listened to him and did not use it when he was not by your side, he reverses the Memory Charm and watches a white streak touch your temple, piercing through your skin before vanishing completely.

You blink once, then a few times rapidly, adjusting your eyes to the light and when your gaze falls on Draco, tears well up in your eyes right away.

“Thank God”, Draco sighs in relief and hugs you tightly, but this time you actually return the hug. Weeping, you claw your hands into his shirt, your tears wetting the fabric, whispering what an idiot he had been and that he should never do this to you again. But at this moment nothing else matters.

You survived and found each other again despite the difficulties and obstacles. And from now on nothing and no one will separate you again. Ever.

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plush-rabbit · 4 years ago

Text

Coping with Homelessness

Request: So I'm homeless now aaaaaand to cope, can I get request Shigaraki, Dabi, and Mr Compress finding out their boyfriend is homeless?

A/N: Please take care of yourself! Im sure there are places you can go and people you can ask for help! Agencies, family, friends, just take care of yourself and one step at a time! (this is written before they met the league (dabi and compress) and shig’s is written after the kamino since thats when they lost their main base/house

Dabi:

A big part of his life was shaped from how he survived for so long. Dabi has faced homelessness and he knows about all the little things that could prove to be helpful. Being homeless isn’t easy- especially in a country where it’s looked down upon and isn’t like in other countries. There is no begging for money, there is no sleeping under a highway or behind a building; it’s sleeping by the river, staying hidden and trying to not inconvenience the working class. He faced homelessness when he had absolutely nothing and no one on his side, and because he cares for you, he’ll help you out.

There’s a big shift that comes from having a home and knowing that you’ll have a roof over your head, to nothing, to the fear of not knowing where you’ll sleep, the shame that fills one in having to know that wealth can be so easily taken away. He understands coming from wealth and having it burn at your fingertips. He understands your first few days of panic and dread and will be by your side a large majority of the time, not wanting you to be alone if this is your first time. He’s done this all before and he’ll help you out. He’ll find places for the both of you to crash where you can sleep without the worry of school children throwing rocks or the elements from the outdoors. Finding a place first, is the most important step in his eyes.

Due to quirks and the arise of people using them for bad, it’s common to find a few places that don’t discriminate based on who you are. Of course, it can only go so far, so when you bring in a man who has a body count, he has to stay behind or hide his appearance the best he can. He knows quite a few places where the food is edible, and the people are nice. You can’t be picky when you don’t have a home and it might take a bit of getting used to, but it’s manageable for the most part.

You’re his partner, he’s going to keep you around and take care of you. It hinders his ideals a bit to make sure that you’re safe, but he doesn’t mind. You both stick together and that’s what matters. Joining the League is a new home and with the promise of knowing that you all protect each other and handle difficulties together, it’s easier to handle the weight and shift of becoming homeless. He doesn’t want you to go through it alone, not like when he had to at such a young age. Plus, you’re young, and you know more than he did when he first left his home, you’ll have an easy time getting back on your feet. He’ll support you from the sidelines and make sure that you have everything that you need- or at least most of it.

It isn’t easy, and it’s all so new to you, but Dabi is there. He can act like he’s indifferent to the entire situation, but he cares. Your needs will always be met before his. He’ll let you sleep for a long time, not wanting for you to wake up and protect your stuff from going missing. He’ll let you take the bigger portion of a meal, and get in line before him when you go to gather supplies from social workers. He can go a day without eating if it means that you get to eat most things. There’s a bright side to a lot of things, and being with him, is a bright side of its own. He’s ruthless and has a flame quirk that will keep you both warm and provide light. There’s hardly any attack from the others that you do run across, but just in case, he’s there.

Sako Atsuhiro:

There’s always a plus side to keeping your identity hidden from the public for so long, and one of those is that you’re harder to find. The world can know his name, but his face remains a mystery and because of that, it’s easy to find places to keep the both of you safe. He’s been homeless before, had his few run-ins where he kept having to move. He knows what to do, and where it's safest to go. Atsuhiro knows that it isn’t easy and that it can be scary, but you aren’t alone in the affair, you have him and he just happens to be a showman whose quirk is helpful in gathering items that you need. There may be a whole security system to prevent people from stealing, but he isn’t like the others. If you ever need something, he’ll go into any store and leave with marbles in his pockets. You won’t go without anything when you’re with him.

He’s been homeless before and certainly knows what it's like, but once more, his quirk proves to be useful. It’s easy for him to blend in and hide you with him. He can sneak somewhere without being caught and will gladly bring you along with him. People don’t know his face, and as far as he’s concerned, you haven’t committed any type of crime, so it’s easy for the both of you to still go out and receive supplies from people who work at shelters or even spend a night there.

It’s no surprise that people can be cruel, and in the community of those that are homeless, there are a few bad seeds, but most people are trying to survive and be kind. It’s the citizens that believe they are better than others that you have to watch for. He’ll do his best to protect you and oftentimes, it means having to marble you away to avoid you getting mugged or at least protecting your things.

When the weather gets colder, he’ll offer to marble you for a bit so you aren’t exposed to the cold. Worry will consume him when you’re tucked away in his pocket, your marble pinched between his index and thumb as he stays up. He’s careful with you, so delicate as to not accidentally break you or release you from your glass entrapment. When you’re in there, it’s harder to protect you, but at least you aren’t in any danger from the outside and he already protects you when you’re so big, so this is nothing. He doesn’t want you to be out here, to worry and panic when you don’t know when your next meal will be, he’s got you right here, in his fingertips.

If you rather not be trapped inside of a marble, he only shrugs. He has a smug grin on his face and he acts hurt, but he understands. However, it’s still cold and you need to be protected before him. He’ll pull you close and wrap his coat around your shoulders and give you his gloves. The cold affects Atsuhiro a bit worse given his injury, but he won’t say anything about it; his main goal is to protect you. He’ll hold your hands in his and breathe war air against your palms as you try to fall asleep. It’s difficult, but you’re with him and he’s going to protect you for as long as he can. He doesn’t want this life for you, and he’ll always encourage you to take any opportunity that falls on your lap. He can be damned, but you deserve to have a home and a life.

Shigaraki Tomura:

Surprisingly, it’s Tomura that knows very little about being homeless. There was a point where as a child he wandered the streets, but that is such a distant memory that he can barely recall it. It’s only after the Kamino Incident, that he experiences being homeless. It’s new to him, and he doesn’t know what to do, but he’s a fighter, and he’s survived it. He had the League with him, and you not only have him, but you also have the League. He’s going to take care of you and try to give you what you need.

It’s a lot more difficult for him to blend into society given his quirk and appearance, but you aren’t like him. In his free time- before any of the League activities happened- he would frequent internet cafés where it was common to find people sleeping on the couches for a low fee. It might be scary, but you just have to hold onto your possessions as tight as you can. It’s warm and safe from the elements, and it’s better than what he can provide. He has run down buildings, but you can at least have air conditioning where you aren’t dying from the heat. If you rather not, then he understands, He won’t push for you to sleep or stay where you don’t want to. He’ll take care of you and will keep you with him at that point.

He tries to not care, to be apathetic to you, but he cares so much. He’ll tell you that being homeless isn’t rare, and that it is a very real possibility that people rather not think about, but he never expected it to happen to you. He understands that it’s difficult to not have the things that you normally had at your touch, after the incident he lost a lot of his belongings, so he gets it. It takes him a bit of getting used to learning how to be nice and empathetic rather than telling you to get over it, but he learns, and he’ll nod and offer some words of encouragement that when everything is done, he’ll get you better versions of what you had before. At the end of he say, he cares, and he'll show his true colors after a sad look.

You will come first for him- always. He’ll give you a share of his rations, will make sure that when you two go and look for food, it’s you who gets the biggest cut. He’ll do his best to put you first for whatever he can get a hold of. Food is difficult to come by after a while and with his notoriety, you can’t really be picky. However, the amount of effort he will put in for you to look for food that he knows that you like or can stomach, is outstanding. He wants what is best for you and will always give you that. Whatever he can get a hold of, will be yours before it can be anyone else’s.

With you being one of the few people that he cares for in the world, he tries to do a lot for you. There is hardly a time where he will not fight with and for you. It’s you that he puts first, even before himself, and he’ll always make that wherever you sleep for the night, you have the soft side of the bed, or the softest couch, or the one with less springs. Tomura isn’t a romantic by any means, but he really does care a lot for you. He won’t show it in the traditional sense with flowers or sweets, but he will show it by giving you what he can. Once he has the Paranormal Liberation Front, he gives you so much. It’s almost as if he’s trying to make up for the time where he couldn’t give you everything.

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infinitewarden · 4 years ago

Text

Osiris isn’t Savathun.

Great! Now that I have your attention:

Man you guys tire me out about Osiris. If you truly believe this is Osiris I don’t mean to sound like That Guy that’s like “you don’t know what you’re talking about” but... You don’t know what you’re talking about.

So.

Let’s talk about how much Osiris cares about the City and humanity and why the Osiris in Epilogue is not actually Osiris.

Alright. Let’s start off with context. I think it’s super important to see what we do know as Osiris’s views. From my heavy analyses of him since 2020 I can confidently say these are what he views as the most important things a person can do:

Keep promises

Speak their truths

Protect the City & Humanity

Know that the Vex are true Evil.

Now, I won’t be doing a breakdown of each one individually but I will be talking a great deal of how important honesty is to Osiris, the City, and his views of the Vex.

Speaking honestly and bluntly.

I don’t know how many of you were into Destiny before Beyond Light, so if you were unaware of this it’s not your fault. However I’ve seen a very strange change in tone when it comes to how people view Osiris. Before Season of Hunt people hated - and I mean hated - Osiris. Why? Because he was blunt. They viewed his bluntness as rudeness.

To see a sudden switch to him being secretive and scheming is... alarming, to say the least. (And to see people think that this is the norm is also alarming but in other ways.)

The Osiris before Hunt was not secretive and scheming. He sought knowledge openly. He sought, specifically, the truth. I must stress just how open he was about his plans. First I’ll give you a few in lore examples:

I admit, I found your questions divisive and disloyal, and I feared you might be capable of breaking our unity when the City's position had grown so tenuous. Why divert attention away from the Traveler, our only hope? And then it got worse, dabbling in thanatonautics, Ahamkara-lore, chasing after Xur and the tricks of the Nine. Launching expeditions into the Reef and beyond at a time when ships were irreplaceable. Your quest split Guardians along ideological lines. This was your greatest crime: Hunters chose to pursue your visions instead of protecting refugees, Titans assembled teams to chase the legendary Vault of Glass instead of striking the Fallen, and Warlocks turned away from the study of the Traveler in favor of your ultimate obsession... learning the exact nature of the Darkness. ... Perhaps what drives a Warlock to madness is truth.

Osiris.

"Do not romanticize this burden. We wield a weapon." The Speaker shakes his head. "The Light wields you, Osiris. You are what you make of it. A glorious extension of its majesty, in many directions." Osiris paces at cadence with his words. "Then it would do well to speak clearly. To better direct me." The Speaker cocks his head. "Without will? Then it would be no better than the Darkness." "I am asking only for guidance; it is a delicate game we are playing." Osiris's voice, distressed. Regal again, the Speaker motions to the stone garden. "Will you sit with me?"

13: Margins Part II.

And, while I don’t particularly like using the Fall of Osiris comic as a source, it does have very important lines on his viewpoints that I find relevant yet.

Fall of Osiris #1.

Hell he was open about his plans to fuck with time itself to bring Saint back.

Sagira narrowed her eye at the rogue Lightbearer and lowered herself to Osiris’s shoulder. “Why’s he here?” she asked quietly. “I asked him to consult on the engineering work,” Osiris replied, crossing his arms. “You sicko,” the other man declared, walking a circle around the Warlock, his eyes darting along every surface of the Sundial around them. ... “Just one more question, then. Why all the fuss?” “I owe him.” “I owe a lotta people, Warlock. You’re opening the gates of hell with a Vex key.” “When the Traveler brought me back, I had no friends. No family—” “No one had anything in the Dark Age.” “But Saint was always there. And I saw him grow from neophyte to demigod.”

The Sundial.

"You haven't left the Forest in years," Ikora said to Osiris, the only one to address him directly. "I need help," Osiris replied. "I know," Ikora responded, hands clasped behind her back. She stared intently at her former mentor. Back in her Crucible days, that uncompromising gaze was often the last thing her opponents saw. Aunor glanced sidelong at her superior. Harper coughed and looked down at his datapad. "Two years ago, Guardians entered the Infinite Forest," Osiris continued. "They aided me in defeating the Axis Mind Panoptes, preventing a Vex apocalypse from befalling this system. "In the process," he looked between each of them in turn, "Some Guardians reported a body they found in the Forest depths." Ikora sighed. "Saint-14 never came back from that last mission to Mercury. We finally knew why. I reacted to it the only way I knew how."

Desperate Times.

“I do not understand all of this code. This is Geppetto’s specialty,” Saint-14 says while standing bent over a wide desk covered in data tablets. Holographic images of the Lighthouse shimmer in the Hangar lights. “We could use the Crucible right now. Your trials. This will be very helpful. You mean to stay, yes?” “I will. Long enough to show you how to implement the simulation; but tonight, I must disembark,” Osiris says. “So soon?” Osiris tenses his jaw in forced silence. He twiddles with code. “I’m worried about what Vance found.” Saint places a heavy hand on Osiris’s chest. “Let go of your obsession. Do not leave chasing phantoms again.” “Phantoms… You think the Darkness is satisfied? This is just the first move. I need to know the next before it’s made.” “If there is something you fear, let me help you. We face this together.” Osiris’s mind drifts to the Dark anomalies. Saint doesn’t need another burden. “The safest place for you is the Tower, Saint. Time... tends to renege on its gifts.” “So, your mission is dangerous?” Osiris considers lying. “Potentially.”

Immolant I.

There are many more sources I could list on his bluntness and honesty but there’s honestly too much. What is important to extrapolate from all of it is this:

OSIRIS SPOKE THE TRUTH NO MATTER IF IT GOT HIM IN TROUBLE. IT IS ONE OF THE MAIN REASONS HE GOT EXILED.

Protecting the City & Humanity

Idk where people get the idea that he’s abandoned the City and humanity. And I don’t understand where people think it’s “typical Osiris behavior” to choose to put the City in danger.

I want to make something very clear here:

Osiris was exiled. He did not abandon the City. And though others view him as abandoning it, that wasn’t his intention. He never intentionally abandoned it. Everything he did was in pursuit of a brighter future for humanity. Let’s look at one of his lines from the Sundial activity during Dawn.

“By the time I left the City, many believed my practices to be sacrilege. But my methods have prevented countless futures not unlike the one you walk now. When it is laid out before you, would you not sacrifice anything to see this future shut?”

The Sundial.

He left because he weighed his options and he saw that humanity would have better use of him if he left. He cares A great deal about the City. He cares almost too much about it. He would never give Lakshmi the technology to cause it harm, especially knowing that she’s unstable. And I’ve seen some people think he’s playing 5D chess? In what world would he ever choose to bring harm upon humanity for some sort of... agenda; which I’ve already cleared up earlier, he’s open about his plans.

Let’s look at more known lore about Osiris’s feelings of the City & humanity.

"You've wrapped your mind around an idea of your own making. I have always tolerated this fawning 'movement' of yours, but this is a step too far." Osiris seethed. Brother Vance was awestruck. He stared blankly at Osiris, unsure of what he could say to quell his anger and dissolve his frustration. "What I have discovered…" "…is dangerous enough to destroy every man, woman, and child in existence. You're meddling with forces outside your grasp," Osiris reprimanded. "I warn you here and now, remove yourself from this Lighthouse. Find a simple life. Start a family. Write music. Leave Mercury and this fool's errand behind."

Chapter 8: Idolatry.

Osiris was furious to find out Vance was experimenting in his name by endangering people for his goals. And he was especially mad that he would dive into such dangerous areas so much so that it had the potential to destroy humanity.

"It's truth." Osiris considers this. "Truth seems subjective these days," Osiris says, finally observing his entourage for the first time. Among them, a small group of men and women, stand two wayward Guardians—Warlocks, it appears—and a child. Their forlorn faces resonate with him. Castaways and believers. The weeks since his departure from the Last City have worn on him. He was used to working alone, knowing he could fall back to the City's resources should he need them. Now, adrift in the expanse of purpose, he finds himself longing for a place he could return to. A sanctuary.

Chapter 2: Postexilic.

Here’s a few lines from Season of Dawn:

“The Traveler, mutilated. Mercury, a desolate warzone. This is the bleak future the Cabal wants for us all. We do not know what has become of humanity here. I hope we will not find out.”

“There are many terrible futures, but I have not grown numb to seeing them. The future the Cabal wish for is a nightmare for humanity.”

“If the Traveler fled the system, there is a chance that the Darkness would ignore our region of the galaxy entirely. It would sacrifice our second awakening, our ability to wield the Light, but potentially continue our Golden Age. There are too many variables at risk, but it's a variant path worth investigating in the Infinite Forest.”

“This battered Mercury is a blueprint for our system. Lightless, bowed, and nothing more than fuel for an endless war. It must never come to pass.”

The Sundial.

There are many. Many. More lines I could put here about how much Osiris doesn’t want to see humanity suffering. And especially how he doesn’t want the City to be at risk. But I think you get the picture.

Know that the Vex are true Evil.

So. We all know Osiris as “the Vex guy.” His whole thing is on fighting the Vex. However it seems people think that he’d be okay with using them for grounds of a higher purpose? Or something? I don’t know, everyone I see rebuffing Osiris’s actions with Lakshmi don’t seem to be interested in explaining this one.

So anyways. Let’s talk about how Osiris views the Vex as true evil compared to other species.

“The Fallen are not so different from us. How hard would you fight if the Light were taken from you?” “Those stories ring false to me,” said Saint. “They are not a noble people. I’ve fought them, and so have you.” “I have not fought them all,” the Warlock replied, pulling his hands apart to create an intricate web of hovering cubes and points of light. “They are nothing, no threat—not like the Vex. Not like the Darkness.”

Vanguard Commander.

[u.2:06] Have you spoken to the House of Light, like I asked? [u.1:07] I would rather not speak with Fallen. [u.2:07] They may need our help. Their cause is just. [u.1:08] What happened to “trust no one?” [u.2:08] What happened to your sense of right and wrong, hero?

Maintenance Operations Log 30037.

The unenlightened wonder at my so-called "fixation" upon the Vex. They believe our gravest existential threat is the Hive, for those beings have made a pact with the Darkness itself via the medium of the Worm Gods (according to Toland, at least, and I see no reason to doubt him in this). But Darkness is not merely absence of Light. Darkness is an entity unto itself. Put simply, Darkness is not Nothing. But the Vex? The Vex seek neither Light nor Darkness. They seek Convergence, the reduction of all life to its simplest, most meaningless form. An entelechy of zeros and ones. "Evil" is a word for sentimentalists and fools. But, in the ontology of the sentimental, the Vex are more deserving of the term than the Hive. Given a choice between Darkness and Convergence, I would choose Darkness. It is a logical choice. Yet for this they banish me.

Kairos Function (Hunter).

This one is important because Osiris doesn’t subscribe to the idea of “good” and “evil”, and that he would go so far to say that the Vex are Evil shows just how much of a threat he views them as.

It’s just. Mind boggling to me that people think that Osiris would be okay with a Vex invasion. That Osiris would encourage Lakshmi to open up a rift to “send the Fallen away” (Despite being one of the earliest sympathizers!) Osiris isn’t ineffable, he’s just a man trying to do his best to help humanity. His actions aren’t difficult to understand, they have been written to be very clear and with understanding his motives.

Saying that it’s natural for him to be secretive and have contradicting opinions and actions is just. Wrong. It’s not him. It’s not how he’s supposed to be understood. Even in Curse of Osiris I don’t think his actions didn’t make any sense.

This is going to sound very mean but I want to be 100% clear: If you think that Osiris would actively choose to put the City in danger of the Vex, if you think that he would actively choose to stand calmly and watch as his lover was about to die to the very things he spent millions of lives to save... You don’t understand Osiris. Go back and reread his lore.

I leave you with this:

The Vanguard is dubious of our intent and ability, fearing corruption and displacement. They do not trust me. You were held in similar contempt for speaking your truth and empowering free thought. You know what it feels like to be chastised and labeled a traitor. We are mere steps away from a disintegration of our institutions, and they cannot see destruction staring them in the face. ... For so long, we have clung to the Light, denying the strength offered by the Dark. By using Stasis, we will end this war. We see this contest for what it truly is: a game, played by our adversaries. And we have been the pawns. We are pawns no more. This is not a battle I want to wage without you, although we may not have a choice in the matter. Wherever you may be, please come back to us.

To Osiris.

#theus.exe #lore.exe #osiris #destiny osiris #osiris destiny #destiny spoilers #long post

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imkylotrash · 4 years ago

Text

The Noble Kind

Pairing: Sir Gwaine x reader

Request: She's the queen, married to uther but is just a year or 2 older than Arthur. She has magic. They had an arranged marriage cause her kingdom which is extremely powerful didn't want to go to war with uther as they were taking in refugees to protect and didn't want to inforce the idea that magic is evil. She has an affair with gawain and they run away when she's pregnant. Anonymous

Tagging: @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @shadowhuntyi

“It’s for the greater good,” you mother tells you right before you marry the King of Camelot in an attempt to prevent a war. Uther is a great king for the most part but he is frightened by what he doesn’t understand. Magic is one of the things he knows nothing of - leaving it up to your kingdom to take in the refugees running for their lives.

“To a strong alliance,” he toasts at the wedding party and you keep a smile plastered on your face through the entire evening even though you hate every second. You’ve always said you’d marry for love but there’s no lost love between you and Uther. He agreed for the alliance and nothing more. You agreed because it was the right thing to do for your people. None of you could afford to go to war with each other.

“A strong alliance,” you echo lifting the glass of wine placed in front of you. In the crowd, you spot Gwaine looking at you with sorrow in his eyes. He didn’t want to believe it until he saw it with his own eyes. But then something changes, you see the flip switch as he raises his glass to you before downing the whole thing. You should’ve known he wouldn’t take this well.

“Have I lost your interest already?” Uther asks with a sparkle in his eyes of something you can’t quite figure out.

“Of course not, dear. I was simply amused by the people dancing.” You’re quick to recover having been taught etiquette and manners your entire life. You know the game well enough and you’ve only gotten better after your mother abdicated and handed the crown over to you. The loss of her king, your father, had been too much. You stepped in knowing you’d had to give up what little life you had acquired. Gwaine was the only thing you refused to let go of.

“You should join them. Show them they can trust their new queen.” You wonder where Arthur but that question doesn’t go unanswered very long. He comes in by a back entrance quietly sitting down next to Uther.

“As you wish, my king.” You join the common people dancing and they’re quick to welcome you and show you the steps. It’s the most fun you’ve had all night. You don’t see Gwaine in the crowd though which worries you. It won’t do anyone any good if he gets drunk enough to make a scene.

“He’s in your chamber,” Merlin whispers using his magic to carry the sound to you and only you. He must’ve figured out who you were looking for.

“Thank you,” you whisper back. Merlin is the only one who knows about you and Gwaine but he’s promised to keep quiet. He doesn’t want to cause problems for neither of you. It’s another hour before you feel it’s appropriate to retreat for the night. Uther doesn’t object when you inform him that you’ll be spending the night in your private chambers and you don’t feel guilty for doing so. The marriage is strategic and you both know it. Besides, there’s something about only being one summer older than Uther’s own son.

You finally reach your chambers having sent your servants to bed with the promise that you’ll be able to take care of yourself. It’s an excuse to keep them from seeing Gwaine. He’s drunk when you enter, he’s very drunk.

“Do you ever stay away from trouble?” you ask noticing the split lip and the bruise on his cheekbone. He’s been fighting again.

“You know, I had the strangest dream,” he starts but you’re too tired to make sense of his metaphors. You want him cleaned up and ready to sleep.

“Let me,” you whisper carefully wetting a cloth and rinsing the worst of the blood from the cut.

“You could always do the witchy woo,” he says wiggling his eyebrows and puckering his lips.

“It’d do you some good to heal naturally. Perhaps you wouldn’t worry me so much,” you reply but the second he mentions the pain you’ve lost all resolve to let him heal on his own. You can’t let him be in pain when you can take it away.

“Fine,” you whisper placing your hand right about the cut and closing your eyes. In mere seconds, the wound has closed as if he’s been waiting for you here the whole time and not been out looking for trouble.

“Thank you,” he says this time a little more serious. You feel as though you can finally exhale as you crawl into bed with him. These are your moments of peace, the moments where you can avoid the pressure of your title and the expectations that come with the crown.

“You know, you did just get married. Normally, there’s something you’d consummate the marriage as well.” He’s drunk and out of his mind, but he’s your crazy drunk and looking into his eyes you feel nothing but love.

“Sober up and I’ll think about it.” You don’t consummate anything that night but you do the following nights. You get careless and before you know it, you’re late. Gaius confirms your suspicions and congratulates you thinking it belongs to Uther. But Merlin knows the truth though which means he’ll be the only person who can help you.

“We must leave tonight,” you confide in him. If Uther finds out that you’ve disrespected him in these manners, he’ll have you hung and declare war on your kingdom. If you flee, you’ll be able to have the baby and come up with some sort of plan for your return. It’s the safest option.

“Meet me down here tonight. I’ll get you out of Camelot but then you’re on your own,” Merlin murmurs already concocting a plan for how to distract Gaius as he helps you escape. There’s no time for excitement when you tell Gwaine what has happened but you can tell he’s over the moon.

“And it’s mine?” he whispers eyes full of affection. He never thought he’d want to become a father but learning the news of your pregnancy has proven him wrong.

“Of course it’s yours,” you say with as much dignity as you can muster. How could he ever think it wasn’t his? You stop dead in your tracks when Arthur appears around the corner.

“Sir Gwaine. My Lady.” He kisses your hand from obligation rather than willingness.

“Could I have a moment with her Highness?” Gwaine knows he can’t say no but the hesitation is enough to raise suspicion. He continues down the hallway as you remain with Arthur.

“He’s good with a sword but that brainless head of his is going to get him killed one day.” You chuckle having said the exact same thing to Gwaine many times.

“Perhaps his sword skills will be the thing to save him from the troubles his brainless head creates?” you suggest hoping the talk of Gwaine will distract you from the real question; why are you down here? But it doesn’t and you mention the only thing that will make him run the other way.

“I have terrible cramps. Gaius promised he had a potion that could help.” The mentions of menstrual cramps is enough to send him running and you hurry on laughing at how easy men can be distracted. Sound travels through these tunnels and you’re close enough to hear both Gwaine and Merlin.

“I used to think you hated nobles,” Merlin laughs enjoying the company of his best friend one last time.

“Yeah, well... maybe that one’s worth dying for, eh?” You don’t mention their conversation as you enter but your heart is beating a little faster after hearing his declaration. That night you and Gwaine escape Camelot with help from Merlin. You seek refuge in your own kingdom using magic to distort your features and remain hidden. By the time, Uther realises what has happened, you’ve taken in too many sorcerers for him to launch an attack that will ultimately lead to a war he will lose. Not too long after the birth of your child, you return to the throne with Gwaine by your side and a little heir running around the throne room.

“Is it wrong for me to miss being on the run?” Gwaine asks you as you walk in the garden surrounding the castle.

“I miss it too sometimes. But I couldn’t abandon my people.”

“You just might be the first noble to care for their people,” he smiles. He takes your hand in his and the topic is never brought up again. Gwaine settles into his role with grace leaving behind the tavern fighting instead focusing on little Merlin and you.

“I’m pretty proud of our little family.”

“Me too.”

#gwaine x reader #gwaine blurb #gwaine imagine #gwaine bbc merlin #bbc merlin blurb #bbc merlin imagine #bbc merlin #sir gwaine x reader #sir gwaine blurb #sir gwaine #king arthur #merlin #uther pendragon

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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

Text

Caffeine Rush: Chapter Seven / Decaf

W/C: 4k

Warnings: language, dirty thoughts, all of the dirty thoughts because Javi is a horndog, male masturbation... general spice. pining that could make a pine cone tremble.

A/N: welcome to pining central, enjoy your stay :) (ps when Steve says “Javier Peña” I need you to read that in the voice of Anthony Mackie going “SEBASTIAN STAN”)

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || Masterlist

ordinary coffee that has had most of its caffeine removed from it before the beans are roasted.

You are a goddamn test on Javier’s self control. He feels like those biblical stories of men fighting back against temptation to prove themselves to God, except the only thing he has to prove is to himself. To you.

He’s always been enraptured by you, captivated by your smile and laugh but since you went ice skating, he hasn’t been able to get your body out of his mind. The way you fell asleep on him last night, nuzzled in like it was the safest place on earth. He could feel your breasts press into his skin, the warmth of your thigh hiked across his abdomen. If the past week has been some caffeine-induced fever dream, it’s becoming real now. You, a figment of his imagination before, maybe, are all flesh and blood and God, is he desperate for it.

Javier hangs around your apartment when you’re gone at work. He doesn’t have much else to do, considering you’re gone and he knows hardly anything about the city. He watches the daytime television on your couch, usually meanders to the coffee shop for a drink, spends some time there, and returns to the apartment.

He feels like he’s couch-surfing, like he did for a summer in his college years. He feels guilty occupying the space in your home, especially without payment. As he walks to the bathroom, he takes a long glance into your bedroom. The queen-sized bed is mussed, unmade before you left for work. The fitted sheet is pooled in the middle beneath where you sleep, the various blankets tossed about. It looks like the coziest damn thing he’s ever seen, especially after a couple of nights on a couch.

Javier almost thinks about giving in, waiting for you to ask him to sleep in your bed tonight then jumping at the chance. Maybe he will, if he’s tired enough. Maybe he won’t, but maybe he will. He can think of nothing better than the endless whir of the radiator as your perpetually-cold body nuzzles against him, brushes your nose against his bare chest.

It’s been a long time since Javi has fucked anyone, and he’s starting to feel it. He’s a little antsy, and the image of your body, your ass as you ice skate past him, haunts him like a bad dream- or rather some illicit fantasy he knows he shouldn’t be having.

Would you want him yet? You’ve told him you love him, but that was an accident. When he kisses you, you kiss back harder. Hell, you initiated the first kiss. You seem like you’ve been all-in on this relationship, taking things at a rushed pace that Javier certainly doesn’t mind. He spends a lot of the day contemplating that, standing on the tiny balcony of your apartment and smoking a couple of cigarettes.

At this point, he needs a distraction or he’s going to have to take matters into his own hands, quite literally. What better to kill the horny buzz making his head spin than to call Murphy?

The phone is in your bedroom, on the nightstand. Javier dares to sit on the edge of your bed, and actually moans aloud at the plush comfort, the way his ass sinks into it. Goddamn, he’ll have to get one of these. He wants nothing more than to lay back and fall into the bed, wait for you to get home and pound you into the comfortable mattress. But he doesn’t. He stays strong and picks up the phone, dialing the new Murphy residence in Miami.

After a couple of rings, a familiar voice answers. “Murphy’s.”

“Hey, bastard,” Javier chuckles, and he can hear the blonde man’s laughter from across the receiver.

“Javier Peña,” Steve drawls, dragging out the name. “Good to hear your voice, man. You finally come out of a ten-day celebratory drunkenness?”

“Don’t talk to me about binges,” Javier teases, but he smiles a little. He’s missed the man. He’s glad neither of them got in any trouble over the entire Los Pepes situation- God, that feels like ages ago now. It’s hard to believe he’s only been in D.C. what, eleven days? If Steve’s math is right, yeah. “No. I’m in D.C. still, if you can believe it. Just… bored.”

“Oh really?” the man scoffs, leaning against his kitchen counter in Miami with Olivia on his hip. “And why’s that? What are you still doin’ up there anyway? Thought you were goin’ to visit the old man.”

Javier shakes his head. “Plans changed. There’s, uh… there’s a girl.”

Steve lets out a wolf whistle, laughing. “And how much does she charge a night?”

“Not one of those. She works at a coffee shop around here,” he informs him. “She’s… she’s really something. Nothing I ever thought I’d be into. She’s gorgeous, man, and so energetic all the damn time. Seems like she has an IV of coffee from her shop,” he chuckles, looking off into space. He takes a pause. Steve doesn’t speak. “I wanna be with her Steve. I don’t… I don’t know if I can go back.”

He’s silent a little longer. “This is some kind of practical joke, right?” Steve says after a beat, barely holding back a laugh. Never has Javier been so sincere, so real and honest and open. And more specifically, he’s never been like this over a girl. Almost… mushy. Soft. “Tell me more,” he says, hoping the joke will give up.

Javier talks about you, describing every little detail with a grin on his face. He tells Steve about Tie Guy and ice skating and your piece of shit car, how you can spin in circles on the ice and how you remind him of a busy little bee, fluttering about the coffee shop.

Steve is genuinely rendered speechless; a hard thing to do. He blinks down at Olivia then straight ahead at the refrigerator, covered in photos and magnets and drawings. He can’t imagine Javier ever wanting something like this, like what he and Connie have, but he sure sounds like it. “That’s… something. Good for you, Javi,” Steve chuckles, resigning to sincerity. “I’m happy for you.”

Javier grumbles back. “Don’t get too happy. I have to go back to Calí in three weeks. She doesn’t want me to leave… I don’t know what to do, Murph. I can’t bring her with, you know that, but I can’t just leave her here. And I sure as hell can’t quit.”

“You could quit.”

“I’m not going to, how’s that?” Javier huffs and crosses his arms, annoyed by Steve and his goddamn wording loopholes. “I just… fuck. I’m gonna go think about it before she gets back.”

“She comin’ to your hotel? You sure you aren’t paying per night?” He smirks.

Javier’s quiet and Steve isn’t sure what it means until he talks. “I’m, uh, staying at her place. She insisted.”

Steve whistles again. “Damn. You’re whipped, Peña. Well, I’ll let you go. Call again soon. I miss ya, bud,” he tells Javier in a moment of earnesty then hangs the phone back on the receiver, bringing Olivia to her nursery to change her diaper.

Javi sighs and falls backwards on the bed, admiring the way the mattress holds his body compared to the couch. Yeah, he’ll definitely need to sleep in here tonight or he’s going to crack his spine.

The issue will be you. He could handle it on the couch; it was like a soft, adolescent form of love, innocent and warm. Of course, it could still be the same in your bed. But would it? Is there not a different set of implications that come with the two of you sharing a bed?

Snuggling with you on the couch was nice. Wonderful, perfect even. Javier loves falling asleep with you in his arms. But in your bed, arms curled around him, maybe even being his little spoon… that perfect body pressed flush to his own, your soft ass against his groin, your breathing pushing back into his chest… that would be an entirely different thing. And he wants it, he really does, but he isn’t sure he’ll be able to control himself.

He slept like shit the last night, to be honest. You on top of him prevented him from moving, and Javier is an active sleeper. His neck was at an odd angle and his back twisted. His body feels like it did after that fight with Tie Guy. He can’t- wouldn’t- invade your privacy of your bed without you home to give him the go ahead, but he’s so damn tired. Not even the coffee helps.

So Javier indulges in one of life’s little pleasures he rarely gets to experience: a nap. Curled up on his side on the couch, blankets pulled snug around his fetal-positioned body, Javier drifts off to the sound of the noon news on the television.

That’s how you find him when you come home. He’s peacefully asleep, his lips parted and mustache moving with his exhales. Well, he’s clearly alive. That’s good.

You’re not sure how long he’s been asleep, so you leave him, making yourself something to eat in the kitchen. You avoid the living room as you get settled in, changing out of your espresso-stained clothing and into something more comfortable.

When you’re all comfy, makeup removed and a warm sweater on, you sit at the other end of the couch. Javier’s curled into a ball, his feet just inches away from your legs. You hope when he moves, he’ll feel you there and wake. If not, oh well. He deserves the rest.

It’s gray and cloudy outside, and you snuggle into the corner of the couch while reading your worn copy of The Great Gatsby. It’s the one you’ve been re-reading recently, what you were reading that first day Javi wandered into your coffee shop and subsequently your life.

Javi wakes not long later, maybe half an hour, to the sound of your book crinkling. The paperback’s spine crunches with wear, and his eyes flutter open to see you tucked against a pillow. God, you look like an angel, the light from the cloudy day filtering in and illuminating you from the back. Your face is calm and peaceful, focused as your eyes trace the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald. “Hi,” Javier mumbles groggily.

Your expression turns to a smile and you set down the book. “Hey.” You take his legs and drape them across your lap, tracing your fingers across them. “How’d you sleep?”

He groans. “Okay. Neck hurts.”

“That wouldn’t be an issue if you’d just sleep with me,” you sing-song to him, stroking his legs through the comfortable pants he wears. “My bed is super cozy.”

God, does Javier know it. It felt like your love itself when he laid down and the warmth of it swallowed him, practically whole. “Maybe I’ll give in,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “How was work? Sorry I didn’t visit.”

“Boring as always,” you chuckle. “What did you do today?”

Javi frowns as he thinks about it, his brain fogged with sleep. “Not much. Called Murphy, talked a while. He’s doing good.”

“Good,” you nod and smile. “When will I get to meet this elusive Steve?” You ask, softly kneading at his legs through the blanket and frowning as you realize he’s wearing… jeans. “Wait, pause. Are you seriously wearing jeans?” you ask him and laugh, lifting the blanket to confirm what you already suspected.

He frowns defensively, crossing his arms. “Maybe.”

“Why the fuck would you take a nap in jeans, Javi?” You laugh.

Javier looks away, frowning. The stubbornness shows. “I don’t own many comfortable clothes besides what I wear to work, if you haven’t noticed,” he retorts, but you can’t help but giggle. “Plus I thought I’d only be here to get fired.”

You smile at him lovingly and cup his face. “You sweet, stupid workaholic. Let’s go shopping later, get you some cozy stuff.”

Javier warms against your touch but maintains a pout. “I like jeans.”

Rolling your eyes, you huff out a laugh. “Would a pair of sweatpants be detrimental to your wardrobe, Javier?”

“Stop using big words,” he groans. “I’m barely awake.”

The large mall is annoying to Javier, full to the brim with last-minute (or maybe prepared, he never holiday-purchases) shoppers. He holds your hand, shooting feisty glares at anyone that dares to bump against his or, god forbid, your side. “Relax,” you tease and squeeze his free hand. The other carries a bag containing two hoodies, three t-shirts, and two pairs of sweatpants. “You’re not on a mission, and you certainly don’t have the knuckles to pitch another fight.”

He looks at his hands and scowls. You’re right. They’re no longer black and blue but faded yellows and greens, a spare bit of purple over the bones. The fight wasn’t that long ago, really, even though it feels like an eternity.

You drag Javier into a favorite shop of yours. He follows you around like a lost puppy while you search through clothes. He even hands you one or two tops he thinks you’d look nice in. You kiss him on the cheek and he dares to smile for a moment before returning to his stone-faced annoyance at such a packed area.

The dressing rooms are nicer, much more spaced out and offering places to rest. Javier sits in a chair across from your little cubby as you try things on. Every time you find something, you come out and model it for him. He comments, always positively, gives a little applause and smiles at the twirl you give in the big trifold mirror.

There’s one pair of leggings that hug your ass tight. Javier nearly salivates at them. “I like those,” he comments. “They look comfortable.” The same follows with a pair of jeans, even more flattering. He crosses his legs and nods, giving you similar comments.

Then come the dresses and tops. They’re all low-cut, not the wintery clothing Javier’s always seen you in. They show off your cleavage, and one scarlet colored blouse with a low neckline and fluffy sleeves makes Javier’s eyes simultaneously light up and darken. “How’s this one?” You ask, tugging at the sleeves.

“How much is it?” He asks, leaning back and looking at you through lidded eyes.

“Uh…” you tell him the cost and look back up at him, expecting a comment. “Why?”

“I’m buying that for you myself,” he smirks up at you, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes your skin feel intensely hot. The sight is stunning to him, and your flustered smile makes the smirk a little more devilish.

Javier does end up buying you the shirt, and you purchase a few other things you liked. But that scarlet shirt is stuck on Javier’s mind in replay: the subtle valley between your tits, how they filled out the shirt just perfectly and tugged at the cloth covering them, the way they look painfully soft to the touch, especially through that soft fabric. He wonders if you were wearing a bra under it. Then he has to stop himself.

You eat dinner late, chatting mindlessly over everything and nothing. Javier has no work to speak of now, so he tells you tall tales of the hunt for Escobar, some exaggerated and some underplayed. He mainly listens to you, asks about your past and your future, your family and your job. He could never tire of your voice, the soothing lull that warms him from the inside out, just like your skin flushed in that goddamn red top.

He drives the both of you home, humming softly to the songs on the radio. He’s beginning to recognize more and more of the top-40 hits on a certain preset station, songs he’d never listen to on his own. He glances over at you, gazing out of the window, and feels his body warm again- not just in his heart, but his stomach and lower too. He dares to steal a glance down, at the soft swell of your tits in that sweater. God, he wants to get you naked.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what you want and he’s too afraid to ask, too afraid to shatter this blissful phase of adoration without the sexual attraction. He wonders if you feel it too, if your clothes suddenly feel too restricting and too warm when you run a hand down his bare back.

The nightly routine ensues: you shower. Javier changes, this time into a new hoodie but leaves his legs bare, wearing only boxers on the bottom. He waits on the couch, and when you exit the bathroom, he takes his turn. He returns and sits next to you on the couch.

Tonight, when you ask him to share your bed with you, he doesn’t say no. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything, just yawns softly and stands, taking your hand.

It’s a sacred space, your bed. Javier knows it. He rarely fucks women in his; whether it’s for his own privacy or fear they’ll fall asleep there, he can’t say. But your bed is such an intimate expression of you, and he can see it. He can see the divot in the mattress where you sleep, the way you arrange the pillows just right for your own head. It is a queen size, but it’s single-occupancy: until now, that is, and Javier feels honored you’re willing to share this holiness with him.

He gets into the bed on the other side of you, the warm blankets enveloping him, and he nearly lets out a moan at the comfort. Compared to the hotel bed and the couch, this is sleeping on a literal cloud from the heavens. He lies still, waiting to see what you do first. Not wanting to overstep anything.

His prayers are answered when you snuggle into his side. You rest your head on his chest, kissing his sternum through the soft material of the hoodie. A hand rests on the other side of your face, and your legs both encircle one of his. Javier smiles, wrapping an arm around you. He presses a kiss into your hair and murmurs a goodnight, letting his head fall back. He has no time to worry about this situation before he falls asleep.

He falls asleep almost immediately, which makes you chuckle through your half-conscious state. He seems to always radiate heat, Javier. Your layers of blankets upon blankets suddenly feel unnecessary when a heat source the strength of the summer sun fills your bed. His chest is strong and firm beneath you. The rise and fall of his chest is like a boat rocking on the ocean, putting you at ease and allowing you to rest.

Fuck. He knew this was a bad idea. Why did he do this?

The clock reads 1:48 and Javier is wide awake, staring at your popcorn-stucco-whatever the fuck it is ceiling. He wasn’t able to process this before sleep overtook him, before his consciousness was wiped and with it, his inhibitions.

Your body is pressed to his so perfectly. You sleep without a bra, and Javier can feel his arm being slightly sandwiched between your breasts, the way they press further into it every time you inhale. Your thighs are warm with sleep, and he can feel your core pressed against his hip, even while you sleep and even through the layers of clothing.

Javier feels like the embodiment of slime. You’re asleep and all he can think about is how fucking hot your body is, how much he wants to press you into this mattress and wake you with an orgasm. He wants to palm your tits and make your nipples harden through that flimsy shirt, to slide his fingers beneath your pajama bottoms and-

He can’t take it. He feels so wrong, the smell of you surrounding him and choking him like a thick perfume, even in its subtlety. He does not deserve to sleep next to you, innocently, like someone you love, when all he can think about is his own carnal desires.

Pushing back the covers, Javier gets out of bed before any more blood can flow to his slowly hardening dick. This is all wrong. He should not be doing this, thinking these things without knowing you feel the same.

But the guilt is as strong as his arousal. He watches you for a moment, torn between his options, before meandering through the darkened bedroom and finding his way into the bathroom. He turns on the bright lights and forces himself to stare at the bulbs, to make his pupils shrink from their blown state of sleep mixed with desperation. He’s fully awake now.

He needs to get the hardened length down. He can’t do this, can’t allow himself this suffering while you sleep in the next room.

The sink. Cold water. He gasps silently at the splash of the ice-cold water against his face, dampening the edges of his hoodie. It doesn’t work enough. Again. Nothing. He feels like a teenager, unable to control himself. The cold water is a good idea, though.

Javier strips down, trying to avoid the urge to take himself in hand and fix this here and now. Turning the water as cold as it can go, Javier turns on the shower and steps in.

Agony is the best term he has. It makes him want to squeal like a fucking pig as he shudders from the cold. It doesn’t work to force his erection down, but what use is it when it’s not something physical but mental stimulating him? The cold shock didn’t do shit. Javier’s still achingly hard. He turns the water warmer and sighs as it gradually turns to a tolerable temperature, one that he can relax under and allow himself to let out a deep sigh.

He has no other options, unless he wants to wait it out. Leaning against the wall, Javier strokes himself, biting his lip and hoping the water pressure will cancel any soft moans he can’t avoid. It doesn’t take long when he’s this aroused, when he knows exactly what the fantasy in his head would feel like.

Javier is panting and sweating, from the effort and the growing heat of the water. He feels disgusting but it feels so good, and he can’t help imagining you doing this to him, you spreading your legs and feeding the fire between his own.

It only takes a few minutes. He gasps as he cums, with a force he’s never brought forth with his own hand. He bites his lip so hard he’s sure he might cut it off, not allowing the desperate sounds to reach a level you could hear. When he’s done, he groans and cracks his neck. “Oh, little bee,” he whispers, agonized as he lets the water wash the evidence of his sins down the drain.

When he’s done, Javier walks into your bedroom, silently, in the dark. His previous boxers were stained with a patch of his precum; he can’t put those back on. He drops the towel and puts on different boxers.

After he’s changed, he looks at your bed longingly for a moment. The soft sheets, soft mattress, the soft body between them. But in Javier’s head, he’s forsaken his right to the warmth, the comfort.

When you wake in the morning, hours after you thought you heard the shower running, you find Javier is not in your bed. There isn’t even a warm spot where he lay, just your body shifted further from your normal sleeping position. When you wander out to make your morning coffee, you find him. He spent the night on the couch again.

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hockeywhy · 4 years ago

Text

caught in the middle (2); m. barzal

PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4 WARNINGS: language; there’s a suggestive scene in one of the flashbacks, but nothing more than that. WORD COUNT: 8.1k A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who read the first part! Your feedback got me so excited to continue working on this, and I hope you’ll enjoy this part also. I’ve been thinking about the story so far and its development, and I don’t see it ending at three parts like originally intended, so let’s see how it goes. Again, sections in italics represent flashbacks.

You swipe a palm across the mirror, brushing some of the condensation away and heave a sigh at your reflection. From beyond the door, you can just barely make out the sound of footsteps across the parquet of the living room accompanied by what was undoubtedly the slide of suitcase wheels. The room is otherwise quiet, no television on or music to provide a distraction or perhaps a little more noise and now more than ever, you know what it means when they say silence can be deafening. It makes you feel more exposed, anxiety heightened as if you should do anything in your power to try and lighten the mood but you’ve had countless of experiences in which trying too hard rarely paid off - if ever, really. Mat hadn’t said much either aside from letting you know you could have the bed as the couch could be converted into one and there were spare pillows and covers stored neatly in one of the cupboards, so you simply thanked him then called dibs on being the first to shower.

It isn’t running away, you remind yourself, head bowed. It’s buying some extra time.

Not only is this the first time in months you are to be in Mat’s presence for longer than a few minutes, but this is also the first time you and Mat would spend the night separated by a wall when previously, you couldn’t seem to be able to get close enough to one another. Before this, enough wasn’t quite enough. Before this, you’d count the minutes to when you could get home and be with Mat. It’s strange to be so close to him, to need to be so close to him, and yet neither of you can find comfort in that any longer.

You squeeze your eyes shut tightly until you see stars behind them, then open them a few seconds later and blink away the brief daze. Like a presenter about to walk on a stage in front of thousands, you take a deep breath and exhale it quickly before proceeding to replace the towel around your body with one of the hotel issued robes.

You crack the door open just a little, briefly taking a peek of Mat right as he begins wrestling with opening the couch. There’s more grunting and turning one way or the other to peek at the inner mechanisms than there is actually succeeding in stretching it out and you can’t help the feelings of guilt that course through you. But it’s not like you can imagine being in the same bed as him again and trying to check for any additional spare rooms with reception is entirely out of question. There’s no way you’d be able to do that without anyone catching on to that and questioning it. This isn’t the weekend for it, after all. The last thing you need is to take or share the limelight.

Mat must’ve felt your presence because he turns to look at you over his shoulder, and he takes that as a cue to give himself a break from wrestling with the couch. He huffs tiredly, standing up and brushing his palms against his jeans.

“All yours,” you say, stepping away from the bathroom door, the clothes you wore on the drive over held closely against your chest. “No luck with that yet?”

“I’ll have a look at it later,” Mat responds, frowning down at the couch.

He stands rooted to the spot looking down at it as if it offended him, hands on hips and all, while you look at him glued to your own space halfway between the bathroom and the door to the bedroom of the suite. In a manner you can’t quite explain, it feels almost as if time stops in place because of course, your luck is that bad apparently: heaven forbid it would’ve done that at a better time in your life. He appears to be lost in thought, so despite yourself, you make the most of this moment.

You look at his profile and recall how many times you cradled his head in your hands, pulling him in to kiss him: his cheeks, his forehead, his mouth, lips trailing along the line of his jaw. You think of the countless times in which his lips pressed against yours and every inch on your body and recall how his voice emanated warmth and love, and during those moments, you thought nothing and no one would be able to tear you apart from each other. You look at his hair and if you truly take the time to focus, you can easily recall the texture of those strands, just the perfect length for your fingers to twirl and play with, and how you would often detect notes of vanilla, coconut and something flowery - you shampoo, because he loved it so much. Your eyes trail down the expanse of his torso and remember the countless times his body was pressed against your own and how each and every time you thought this is where I’m safest. You look at his hands and still feel the softness of them upon your own and even know, you can still picture the way your fingers interlocked with his own and they fit perfectly.

A shortness of breath makes you cough quietly, eyes blinking rapidly at the sudden blurriness and before Mat can look your way, you quickly cover the distance to the room and the door latches closed behind you with a soft click.

Palms pressed against your mouth to muffle any sounds, you squeeze your eyes as tightly as you can and slide down against the wood until you’re down on the floor and pray to whoever or whatever may be listening that Mat can’t hear the sobs you’re trying so hard to hold back despite this battle having been lost before you even had a chance to stand against it.

You know now as well as you knew it back then: you miss Mat and you love him, and you’re terrified that a time when all of these feelings will be nothing but dull memories will never come.

“Holy shit, that was cool.”

Mat shifts his body, turning so that he can prop himself up on his forearms, one on each side of your body. You look down at him, fingers falling out from his hair and he arches an eyebrow.

“I can do that with my eyes closed,” he declares.

You blink, a little confused, and then it dawns on you. “Pff.” A short laugh leaves your mouth and that seems to prompt Mat to narrow his eyes at you. Two can play the game, and you’re a pro at keeping up with him. “I mean, you say you can but you didn’t score a goal like that yet, so what makes you so sure?”

On TV, the commentators pour praise on the unique between-the-legs goal scored and you make an entire show out of admiring the replay, whistling quietly. Mat gently tips your head away from the TV and he continues holding on to your chin to prevent you from looking away a second time.

“Mark my words, baby. I’ll do it at our next game and then you’ll see. It’ll be ten times cooler,” he promises, determination backing his every word and it makes you grin because you know Mat is a man of his word and you can already imagine him trying his damnest to make that happen.

Still, you hum contemplatively, not quite wanting to give in to him so quickly. You know Mat’s playful display of ‘jealousy’ was nothing but a front. It was one of his many ways of saying look at me or give me attention, any variant of an indirect way of asking you to reiterate your love towards him simply because he loved hearing the reassurance. Not that you could imagine feeling any other way towards him; not that you’d want to have it any other way. That, and, well, Mat could be a bit of a baby sometimes.

“Do that,” you begin, and this time, it’s your hand under his chin, encouraging him to come closer, closer, closer until his warm breath collides with your own, “and I’ll make your congratulations, you’re so cool award the most unforgettable one so far.”

You know your words would put a gleam in his eyes, that unmistakable hitch of his breath and the curve of a smirk on his lips. He crawls a bit further up until he’s almost nose to nose with you and instinctively, you raise a leg and wrap it over his waist, squeezing a little. He’s close enough, practically glued to you, but it’s the first evening you get to have him all to yourself after weeks of away games and you want all of him. As does he. Mat leans down to peck your lips once, twice, three times and he whispers an ‘oh yeah?’ that makes goosebumps form across your skin.

“Mhm,” you hum and this time, you crane your neck to kiss him, arms wrapping around his neck, fingers gently grazing along the back of his neck. He trembles ever so lightly in your hold and you know that has nothing to do with the temperature in the apartment because it’s warm, just right. “Do it for me, Mat. Show off.”

He laughs quietly against your lips and he begins trailing kisses from your jaw to the side of your neck and you tip your head back for him, eyes fluttering closed as a content sigh leaves your parted lips. There’s a shift of material and moments later, Mat’s slightly calloused palms crawl underneath the t-shirt that was once him but you claimed as your own months ago. It’s big around you, sleeves coming up to your elbows and you know that his last name is written in big bold white letters on the back although it’s pretty washed out now. His lips are now on your exposed stomach, butterfly kisses peppering your warm skin and you bite your lip while watching him do this. Strands of unstyled jet black hair tickle as he moves and you giggle quietly. It’s the sound of it that makes Mat look up and there’s a wicked smile on his lips. Moving swiftly, he sits back on the couch and pulls you to straddle his lap, body yielding to him before he gives you the control. Do what you want, however you want it.

It’s your turn to slide your hands under his shirt and he doesn’t hesitate to stretch his arms up so that you can remove it for him, discarding it wherever it may fall. You slide your thumb against his lower lip and Mat barely just manages a chaste kiss to it before you lower your head down to kiss him and his lips part, the movement automatic. It’s the sort of kiss that’s sloppy and hot and you know you’ll remember it for days; hell, he’ll remember it for days, asking you to do that thing you did in the early hours of the morning or long after the sun has gone down or bringing it up over the phone when it’s just him and no one else in a hotel room hundreds of miles away from home, missing everything that has to do with you.

“Fuck,” he exhales, breathless and flushed once you both part from the kiss. You can’t help but grin proudly at how his eyes flutter closed and he stills in your arms though you know adrenaline pumps through his body the same way it does through yours. “I don’t think I can make it to the bedroom,” he admits and you burst into laughter.

“Yeah, no shit,” you agree and just to make a point out of it, you relax your body so that you’re sitting back on his lap and there’s no mistaking whatsoever that he’s hard. “Well, there’s no rush anyway. We have all the time in the world, and an entire place to ourselves so…” you trail off, lifting a shoulder in a shrug.

Mat opens his eyes and moves his hands from your hips to cradle your face, holding you in place to peck your lips. “So, I’m gonna love you so hard, it might just give that award of yours a run for its money.”

You arch an eyebrow, pulling back enough so that you can tug the t-shirt over your head, dropping it to join his. “Walk the talk, Barzy,” you say.

He didn’t need any more encouragement than you already gave, but your words kick him into action almost instantly.

A sharp thwack sound catches your attention and you look over in the distance to where Mat looks off in the distance while Tito prepares for his turn. It’s too far for you to see where the ball went but judging by Mat’s reaction, it’s obvious he didn’t quite nail whatever he intended to do. Tito probably chirps him for it because Mat throws a punch at his arm that you know is so light that probably neither of them felt it. Still, they laugh and the sound barely just carries over to where you’re sat.

“He’s like that now, but if you’d seen him before the two of you got here…” Elise trails off and you just about manage to see her shake her head as if words wouldn’t even be sufficient in describing how Tito was. Still, there’s just so much fondness in her expression as she looks towards him out on the golf course that it makes you warmer than the light fleece blanket you wrapped around your shoulders.

“You’d think it’d be the other way around,” you say.

“You’d think!” Elise repeats. “The past two mornings, he got up at who fucking knows when and went for a run. Not even a casual jog or whatever, but you’d think he’s been training for the Olympics.”

You burst into laughter at the image that forms in your head of Tito being so full of nervous energy that he becomes the metaphorical lion in a cage. Still, it doesn’t surprise you as much as you thought it would. While away, you and Tito have been in contact occasionally either through texts or through the phone and often, he’d begin by saying “what do you think she’d say to XYZ”. He never failed to amuse you because many of his concerns were so small, but you could only imagine what it’d be like to be in his shoes: they were about to tie the knot and this isn’t exactly a day to day type of event. Elise was at that point also, back when preparations for it were just kicking off and most of their days consisted of appointment after appointment with wedding planners that occasionally made her feel as if she’d never be able to pick from all the choices laid out to her. With the day just around the corner, she seems more content, more relaxed. Of course, her nerves are still there but Elise has the sort of air around her that puts you under the impression it wouldn’t be impossible for her to conquer the world in the next hour if she suddenly decides to.

You reach for your drink, twirling the straw around the glass before taking a sip from it. The tang of citrus is refreshing but you do need a quick sip of water to mellow the sharpness of alcohol mixed in.

“Want to bet he’ll be the one crying when he sees you walk the aisle?” you ask her, wiggling your eyebrows at her suggestively.

Elise smiles, a small almost shy smile as she diverts her gaze towards her own drink. She takes a sip from it but she still smiles around the straw. “Let’s hope I don’t start first and end up tripping on my way there.” She physically cringes at the thought of it, eyes squeezing shut and shoulders trembling before she quickly waves her hands as if trying to dismiss the idea. “Oh god, no, I can’t think of it otherwise it’ll happen.”

“You’ll be fine,” you assure her, reaching to grasp her hand and Elise welcomes the gesture, squeezing your own in return but still holds on to it as if for dear life. “I promise. It’ll go by so smoothly and everything will be perfect.”

“I’ll take your word for it. You’re usually right.”

“Not always,” you correct her, lightheartedly while trying to prevent your mind from beginning a count of the amount of times you’ve been wrong. You don’t need that spoiling your mood or worse, the evening overall.

Elise ponders on that. “Actually, you’re right. Remember before you left and said Mat would be fine, he’s a big boy, after I said it’ll be hard for him to get used to it?” You swallow uncomfortably. Yes, you remember that. Clear as if it only happened yesterday. “Well, you were wrong about that for sure.”

Your mouth feels dry and it’s as if all energy has been sucked out of you suddenly, and all in one go. You don’t want to have this conversation and you certainly don’t want to look into this much more than you should. After all, you and Mat agreed you’ll put up a front so for all you know, he may just be a better actor than you imagined he’d be. Mat was only putting on an attitude everyone expected him to have and that’s all there is to it. You did it too, after all. When Elise would call or come down to Baltimore and Mat would come up in conversation, you told her how much you missed him; how even if you called and FaceTimed, it wasn’t enough.

“So then come back,” she’d tell you. “It’s not like they wouldn’t want you back in New York, if it’s work related.”

“Mat understands,” you’d push back each time. “Besides, he’s coming over this weekend,” you’d add and make a note to text him so that he doesn’t end up in some New York bar with Tito, Elise and other people when he should be in Baltimore instead.

It was selfish and restricting, and you’d apologise for it but each time, Mat would brush it off without fail.

It’s fine, he’d assure through text. I wanted an excuse to spend the weekend in, anyway.

“I’m sure he was exaggerating most of the time,” you tell Elise dismissively, carefully sliding your hand from hers as you lean back in the plush seat and pull the blanket a little tighter around your shoulders.

You try not to look at Elise because you know the expression she wears: it’s serious; the type of look that she puts on whenever you try to make light of a serious situation, practically reading don’t lie to yourself and mostly importantly, don’t try and bamboozle me. It never works. Not with her.

“Y/N.” Your name falls from her mouth sharply and you can’t help but direct your gaze back to her. “I don’t know Mat like you do, maybe not even as well as Tito does, but you’d think he was going through heartbreak when you left. Moping, I can put up with and distract from so believe me when I say that wasn’t what he was doing. You’ve seen his games, right? You saw how it even affected him on ice.”

You bite on your back teeth, jaw squaring. As much as you wanted to keep yourself away from anything to do with Mat, you couldn’t help but switch back to his games whenever they were on, doing some childish back and forth between channels. Mat did play differently. Still giving it his best, but aggressively; sometimes, he even fell for whatever bait the opposing team would throw at him in the form of chirps and you didn’t need to be a lip-reading expert to know he’d always respond. Once or twice, he landed himself in the penalty box for minor misconducts that seemed so out of character for him.

“It’s fine now,” you say, in hopes of leading out of this subject. “I’m back in New York for a while, so it’s fine now.”

“Is it?” She asks, and you know this isn’t just because of what she saw of Mat without you. She questions it because she’s also seen you without Mat. “Was there… Uh. Was there more to it?” She cringes a little, and quickly tries to dismiss herself with a wave of her hand. “Don’t feel obliged to tell me if you don’t want to. It does seem like you guys are fine, but… You know I’m here for you, right?”

You force a smile and nod quickly.

The first few weeks in Baltimore gave you a good taste of what your own personal little hell was like. You didn’t have Elise, you didn’t have Rachel, you had none of your closest friends and it felt like a lot of the after-work drinks you’d go on with your new colleagues were mostly out of your own desperation to stretch the day longer, essentially avoiding returning to an empty place. Generally, you adapt well to situations and people, but you were effectively trying to build afresh from the ground up and on bad days, the really awful ones when loneliness and heartache reared their ugliest faces towards you, there was no one for you to pour your most honest feelings out to. Several times, you wanted to reach out to Elise and come clean but it wouldn’t be fair. She was in the full swing of preparing for her wedding and the last thing you wanted to do is go crying to her.

Of course, there was no Mat either. There was no Mat because there was no such thing as breaks in a relationship so you gave him the thing you were certain he tried to avoid voicing, but definitely referred to: a break-up.

“No, nothing else to it than that,” you assure her, breaking your own train of thought while simultaneously giving yourself a mental pat on the back for the ease with which you weaved your story. “I mean, it’s been a bit weird to be apart over the period, especially since we didn’t know what’s to come, work-wise, but we’re fine now.”

“You two know best what’s good for the both of you and your relationship,” Elise says, “but take it from me: get away together if you can. It’s not easy, you know. Doing your own thing while he does his, progressing in what you’re both best at but sometimes, it gets to you. The distance, the days gone by with them on the road, the worry that maybe, just maybe, they’ll come back and they won’t be the same. I had that worry also once too, you know.”

The admission takes you by surprise. Elise laughs quietly at the sight of your slightly widened eyes because you haven’t heard this before. Sure, she told you of missing Tito while the Islanders were off to away games but she never truly admitted the thoughts coursing through her mind.

“He never once gave me reasons to doubt him, but at the back of my mind, I’d be so worried. You know how the stereotype surrounding athletes goes.” She rolls her eyes, and you know exactly what she’s referring to. “Tito’s handsome and young and his face is on TV, but the fact that a man is taken hasn’t exactly stopped people before. I can’t tell you how many times I waited—no. Expected him to come back and be different, then tell me it’s over. Seriously, I lost track. One day, he called me out on it though.” She takes a break to sip from her drink and look out towards the golf course and you do too. It’s probably not long now before their game will be over. “He’d just gotten back the night before and to me, he seemed a little weird. Looking back on it, he was just exhausted. They didn’t have their best performance, but I didn’t even think of that. In my head, I already had this entire scenario planned that that was it.

“In the morning, I snapped at him. I wish I could just forget it now because it’s so embarrassing but I did it, and there’s no brushing that under the carpet. I was like, you were different last night and you were different through text. I told him he was acting different and when he asked what I meant, I said, you’re seeing someone else, aren’t you?” She physically cringes at the memory and in your chest, your heart races. It’s almost identical to your own anxieties during those final moments of your relationship with Mat, and it seems as if you’re merely listening to someone recite your story back to you rather than their own. “Didn’t think of the games, didn’t think he might be down and distant because he blamed himself for some of the missed shots. Instead, I let my own insecurities get the best of me. I overlooked all we’ve done together so far, overlooked the simple fact that I had nothing to back up my accusation and instead, I took it out on him.”

“Elise… what the— you never mentioned this. When did all of this happen?”

“Two years ago now, probably. We joke about it every now and then, but I couldn’t imagine telling anyone what happened. I felt so stupid after we dealt with it.” She sighs, shaking her head incredulously at the situation. “What we really needed was some time away. We left as soon as the season ended, renting out a little place outside of Montreal and we talked, Y/N. Not casual, day-to-day things, but he asked me where I see us going. I told him honestly, I don’t know and he said it’s not good enough and not fair for our relationship and us, individually. He’s the one who brought up marrying, after the dust settled.”

The brief silence that falls between the two of you leaves your head buzzing with questions, with possibilities, with recollections of you-and-Mat but also of you and Mat during what would be your last moments together. There is a continuous string of what ifs rolling through your mind at such rapid speed that they blend in together until you can’t tell one statement apart from the next. You free a hand from the confines of the blanket, bringing it up to rub lightly at the side of your head while Elise stares off in the distance, a pensive look on her face. There are things she’ll tell you and others, and then there are things she will keep private for herself and Tito only, and you respect that. Still, you find the need of actually biting down onto your tongue to ask How?

How did you make it work? How did you talk with each other? How did you prevent a train wreck? How did you accept what happened, and got to this point?

You blink and that’s when you realise tears built up in your eyes and when Elise focuses back to the present, you realise she is in a similar position. You both begin laughing, dabbing at your eyes.

“How did you manage to make each other cry?”

The incredulity in Tito’s voice makes you and Elise burst into laughter again, louder and less tearful now.

While Elise assure Tito there’s nothing to worry about and dismisses the tears as being wedding related, Mat takes the seat next to yours on the small two-seater, throwing you a what happened look. You shake your head, rubbing lightly at your cheeks to brush away any remaining stray tears.

“Wedding tears,” you confirm to him also because he doesn’t cease staring at you, and though it’s clear he’s not entirely convinced by that, it’s easy to let it slide. “Did you win?”

Mat shakes his head and reaches for the water glass nearest to him. You don’t bother telling him it’s yours and figure it might come across as weird to the couple across from you anyway. “I let him win to give him a boost of confidence,” Mat tells you and snickers when Tito complains that it isn’t true.

Dismissing Tito’s effort at trying to shut that down, you hum quietly. “That sounds fair to me,” you tell Mat and then, to Tito, “did he let you win properly?”

Tito rolls his eyes while Elise lets out an ‘aww’ in consolation, and leans over to peck his cheek. “He put up a decent fight, I suppose. It’s been a while since he had this much energy, but he’s never been the best at golf.”

“He’s not the worst either,” you defend because you’ve always done that and it comes to you reflexively. You feel Mat’s eyes on you, but you keep yours carefully trained on the couple ahead.

“You say that because you’re supposed to,” Elise argues and she leans comfortably against Tito’s side. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulls her closer to kiss the top of her head and when he looks back towards you, he grins proudly.

You huff, then shift in your seat to look at Mat properly. “If I was bad at something, would you say I didn’t because you’re supposed to?” You ask, in an attempt to prove your point, and pitch your voice just a little to imitate Elise’s.

“Are you bad at something?” He pitches his question like a rhetorical one and across from you, Tito and Elise coo over the response that sends a wave of heat through your body.

You narrow your eyes at him, bumping your knee against his own. “I absolutely cannot stop properly on skates.”

“Oh.” Mat sighs, takes a sip of water and his shoulders slump. “Yeah, I forgot about that. Don’t tell me you still—“ You quickly knock your knee against his again, a silent warning which you doubt is the most subtle of ones, but Mat changes course smoothly. “After all those hours we spent on ice…” He shakes his head slowly in disappointment, but it’s not like you blame him or take it personally.

You lost track of how often Mat would carefully instruct you through making proper stops on ice, only for you to still end up relying on crashing against the barriers. Although you’d laugh at it time and time again, Mat would always freak out over it, flooding you with endless are you okay questions out of sheer fear you’d end up hurt.

“Sorry we can’t all be pros,” you mumble, eyes rolling but there’s no heat behind this: it’s lighthearted bickering, a conversation that flows easily and you let it go by like this, without overthinking it out of sheer fear you’ll end up spoiling it.

You all fall into discussions revolving around the wedding, mostly focusing on the events leading up to it. It takes you back to months ago when evenings like these were almost regular. You, Mat, Elise and Tito would hang out either at each other’s places or somewhere out in town and you’d talk until one of you would realise it was the early hours of the morning.

It’s easy to get swept back into the comforting feeling that brings you. So much so, that you don’t really think much of it when you open up your blanket and hold a half of it out to Mat, who accepts it wordlessly and settles in closer to you. Arm pressed again arm, leg pressed against leg, you can’t find it in you to pour energy into making a conscious effort of shifting in such way that you place some distance between the two of you without it being odd. You’re convinced neither Elise nor Tito are acutely aware of every minor shift in your body language or tone, but a part of you remains worried about it. So, you stay in your place and enjoy the extra bit of warmth Mat’s body next to yours provides and pretend what the two of you are doing is perfectly okay.

“I can’t do it,” you sigh, unable to keep the frustration out of your voice as you glare down at your skates.

“I couldn’t do it in one day either, baby, we just need to keep practicing,” Mat encourages you gently and he takes hold of your hands as he begins skating backwards, dragging you forwards.

You throw your head back in frustration, occasionally giving yourself a bit of a push to keep up with him. “It’s not so bad though, using the barriers to stop.”

Mat fixes you with a pointed stare. “Remember that time when you just zoomed across the entire rink and ended up—“

“No, no—“

“—with the worst bruise—“

“— we don’t talk—“

“— across your ribs—“

“— about it!”

“— because you crashed into the barriers?” Mat continues, letting go of your hands to skate backwards a little further. “Because I do, and I promised myself and you that it won’t happen again. It’s for your safety above anything else.”

You groan quietly, pushing forward to catch up to him. Mat stretches out his arms, letting you bump against his body once you reach him and you bury your head against his chest while you both come to a stop in the middle of the rink. You’re pretty certain that had you been on public ice, you would’ve had plenty of stares and disgruntled skaters passing by but to your luck, the ice at Nassau had an off-day from training so you and Mat were permitted to make the most of it.

You and Mat often took to the ice and of course the level in skill was entirely different between the two of you, but you were grateful you knew enough to get by without making a fool of yourself in public. Then again, it’s not like you really had to worry about it much: Mat was always there by your side, even if you’d sometimes send him off to just enjoy it however he wanted to and you’d catch up to him eventually.

“I’m enjoying it,” he’d assure you without fail. “I’m with you, so I’m not missing out on anything.”

“You can be so unbelievably cheesy sometimes,” you’d tell him without heat because you loved it, and you were pretty sure he was well aware of it and considered it encouragement.

You pull away from him and he lets you go ahead while he trails behind you slowly. The silence between you is filled by the slashing of blades against the ice, the sound occasionally louder and echoing further whenever Mat pushes ahead with more force. You smile to yourself whenever you feel you can afford to draw some of your concentration away from your own skating to catch sight of Mat. Much to your displeasure though, a feeling of tightness forms in your chest and without thinking of it, you press a hand to your chest, rubbing against it lightly as if that might ease it but to no avail.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” Mat asks once he slows down and twirls on his skates so he skates backwards in order to face you.

“What? Oh, nothing. I was only trying to picture how well you’d pull of figure skating.”

Mat scrunches up his face a little. “Mh, not very well, I think, but nice try.” He reaches out for your hand and you let him take it so he leads you around the rink. “What’s on your mind really?” He insists.

Bite the bullet, you think. Try it.

“Couple of work stuff, nothing that important,” you begin carefully and when Mat doesn’t respond, you press on. “Turns out our branch in Baltimore is looking to expand a little more. There’s been a consultation completed there and recommendations all point towards the potential for growth. There’s been a few talks in a few departments, including my own, about the possibility of uh, some people heading out there.”

Mat nods slowly, a contemplative look on his face. “Sounds pretty good for them, then. Do they have any idea who might be involved in that from your office?”

“Not yet, and anyway, they’ll consult first with anyone who might consider relocating,” you inform him lightly, shrugging.

There’s no beating around the bush with Mat though. He reads you like an open book. “There’s no hockey teams there, huh?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Unfortunately, no.”

“And would you want to go there?”

“Temporarily? I wouldn’t say no, honestly. I have a few ideas and I think they’d fit in great with a smaller but growing branch.”

Mat slows down carefully to not trip you or catch you by surprise and once you also come to a halt, he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead. “Give them just a taste of what you can do and they’ll want to keep you there.”

“It’s rich of you to assume they wouldn’t go for someone in a more senior position than my own.”

“It’s rich of you to assume they’d skip out on you,” Mat parrots and you laugh softly. “It wouldn’t be so bad if you say so and it’s a temporary thing.”

You ponder his words for a moment, humming quietly. You didn’t expect anything less from Mat: he’s always been supportive, ready to vouch for you and be the first to jump in your corner, but you can’t help but wonder if he’d stand by his words if you were to tell him there was more to it than that. Because a relocation wouldn’t mean a month or two. Maybe not even a half year. A relocation could very well be anywhere upwards of one year, but you don’t have the heart to tell him that just yet. Not when anything isn’t concrete, not when you’re hardly even sure this is a step you’d even want to consider.

You’ll cross that bridge if you get there. When you get there.

You roll on your back and huff quietly, throwing an arm over your forehead. The room is dark and you can barely just make out the metal shape of the spotlights dotting the ceiling, so you try focusing on one that gleams just a little more in the hopes that your eyes will start to feel heavy and finally, finally you can fall asleep. In your mind, you count to ten and when that doesn’t work, you count to twenty then try to thirty but stop at fourteen and sit up. You want to cry and the feeling of needing to do that overwhelms you, though that’s quickly replaced by frustration when even a single tear won’t blur your vision. It seemed like that came to you so easily throughout the day, but when you need it most in hopes of it exhausting you, it doesn’t happen. Naturally.

Your gaze drifts towards the door which is just ever so slightly parted and in the silence of the night, you can make out the unmistakable creak of mattress springs shifting. It’s not a gentle movement though. It happens again just moments later and it’s as if your body responds to it without your mind consenting. Slowly, you tip-toe your way across the room and towards the door, thankful you don’t need to press down on the handle but rather, pull it ever so slightly so you can just see through the crack.

The living room basks in darkness and the only clear light source comes from a digital clock on a mantle. The blue numbers indicate it’s just a little past one in the morning. The thicker curtains haven’t been pulled over the windows properly, so very low light from outside filters in, but barely just. Again, the mattress creaks and you shuffle sideways behind the door as if you’d be seen. There’s no chance of that happening whatsoever. Again, the creaking. Harsher now, more frustrated and you recognise your own routine over the past hour or so since you climbed in bed and called it a day. You lick your lips, eyes falling shut briefly and you barely just press your forehead to the cold door. Count backwards from five and on one, you pull open the door properly and step into the living room.

“Get in the bed, Mat.”

Silence. You rub at your forehead, a little irritated.

“I know you’re not sleeping, so don’t try to pretend,” you tell him but your voice doesn’t quite pack the punch it should have. “That thing keeps squeaking and it’s keeping me up. Get in the bed, Mat.”

“Just close the door if you can’t sleep,” he says.

Huffing quietly, you step further in the living room and it takes a while for your eyes to get used to the darkness but soon enough, you can just make out Mat’s shape in the pull-out bed. He faces the windows, back towards you and you’ve no doubt the pull-out couch is sturdy and decently comfortable but you hate it. You hate the sight of it, you hate the idea of him in it, you hate everything about this.

“Please, Mat. I…” you trail off, running both hands across your face before they drop to your sides with a noticeable smack sound. “I swear I’d still hearing the creaking through the walls. I can’t fall asleep with it, it’s driving me insane so please,” you plea, exhausted yet weirdly tuned into your emotions - and they’re all overwhelming. If you were wondering why you couldn’t cry just moments ago, it sure feels as if you’re standing right at the very edge of a breakdown right now. The timing couldn’t be worse. “Get in the bed, Mat,” you repeat once again, voice low and tired.

There’s a moment of stillness during which you stand there, feeling defeated and ashamed while Mat lies just ahead of you and you wonder what goes on through his mind. Not for the first time, you wish you had the power to hear it all regardless of how much worse it’d make you feel. And then, he moves. He sits up and there’s some shuffling of bedsheets, and moments later, he’s moving past you into the room with a pillow under his arm even if there’s plenty on the bed already. You allow yourself a brief second to draw in a silent breath of air then release it before following after him. This time, you circle around the bed frame because Mat settled on the right side. He always took the right side because that’s what you agreed on years ago.

You pull the bedsheets up to your nose and open your mouth ready to say something. But what more is there to say?

“Do you ever think where it went wrong?”

Mat’s question takes you by surprise and you swallow the lump in your throat uncomfortably. The it is more of a we, but it makes it feel just a little more impersonal though it doesn’t quite soften the blow it delivers. You wish you could curl into a ball, grasp the covers tightly around your body like a cocoon but you’re rooted to your place and the most you can do is grab at the sheets with your fingers tightly. If it wasn’t for the material, you’re convinced your nails would dig into your palms and leave half moons there that would hurt like a bitch.

“I did,” you tell him, at last.

“I do,” Mat admits without hesitating, without needing you to prompt him and you don’t miss the way he phrases it as if this is a thing he continues to do in the present. But his tone is calculated, detached and you can’t help but wonder whether that’s true or you’re about to let yourself get roped into a blame game you’ve already played before.

You lost it, of course. But you try not to think about how bitter it felt. You think there might be something lodged in your throat, something that resembles an apology you owe him, but every time it feels as if you’ll let it slip past your mouth, invisible walls are built up and nothing gets past those.

“I think I lost you somewhere along the way,” he continues because this is a thing that Mat does: he doesn’t let something slip past him so easily. Not always, anyway. “And I don’t think I did enough to meet you halfway.” A pause and you barely just shift under the blankets. Your arm brushes against soft cotton and belatedly, you realise that’s his spare pillow between the two of you. You really do hate everything about this. “I don’t think you did either,” he admits.

You have to give it to him: he has guts. And you really hate that you can’t bring yourself to let your own show, even in the dark. Especially in the dark, where your faces are hidden and your bodies are separated by a flimsy pillow and there’s a chance that you might both forget this in the morning or pass it off as a lucid dream. It’s a small chance, but existent nevertheless.

“What good will it do us if we keep thinking about it?” You ask, but it’s directed more at yourself than it is to him.

Your mind betrays you by giving you the answer: it won’t change the past, but it may very well change the future. And your heart throbs rapidly at the thought and there’s heat in your belly and adrenaline in your veins, and there’s an explosion of what ifs coursing through your mind even if you know it’s too late. Because it must be, right?

“Let it go, Mat,” you tell him and shift under the covers, turning your back to him and curling up underneath the covers. “Go to sleep.”

He scoffs ever so quietly, but you pick up on the sound because there’s nothing else to distract you from it. “Right, sorry. I forgot you give up just like that now.”

You frown, glaring at the darkness ahead. “It’s not me giving up, Mat. It’s called me being rational about it.” You sigh, eyes closing and you press your fingers against them until you see stars behind them. “What are you hoping to get out of this?”

“Don’t know.” Mat sighs and the bed shifts. His voice sounds quieter and you wonder if he turned his back to you in return. “Maybe some proper closure, I guess. I wouldn’t call what happened then and what’s happening now a… what did you call it? A clean break?”

“And you want it now at like, what, one in the morning? Will that make you go to sleep?”

“Dunno,” Mat murmurs and it’s obvious his voice is heavy with exhaustion. “Maybe.”

You push down the memories threatening to squeeze their way at the forefront of your mind because you’d be at it all night without doubt. The silence lingers between you, undisrupted, and you manage to count to twenty five in your mind slowly before you carefully turn your head to look over your shoulder. Your heart jumps in your throat. Mat is on his side facing you and his eyes are closed. You can’t be certain that he managed to fall asleep but his breathing seems steady enough. Ever so carefully, you turn until you’re on your back again and cast your gaze upwards towards the ceiling.

“I’d sleep, but probably not a great deal.”

Mat’s voice, silent as it is, catches you by surprise and you jolt ever so slightly. The movement doesn’t seem to disturb him though. He remains still as a statue and despite the darkness, you can’t find it in you to look towards him. It doesn’t mean your skin doesn’t tingle in that very odd way it does whenever someone looks at you. You close your eyes and throw an arm over them for extra measure.

“Just go to sleep, Mat,” you whisper.

You blame not finding it in you to give him what he wants on the sudden exhaustion coursing through you, but there’s always tomorrow. If he insists on it, you can assure him there’s always tomorrow.

But Mat doesn’t force the subject and soon enough, you feel your shoulder relaxing, your body settling against the mattress and a familiar lull pulls you away from consciousness.

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl fic #*

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cursed-or-not · 5 years ago

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Merry Christmas @dreamnovak from your Secret Santa!! You’re truly, truly The Best and I’ve had sm fun writing for you <33 happy holidays to everyone!!

It’s a slow day at the Roadhouse, and the cold has crept in through the rickety doors and floorboards. Dean shivers behind the counter.

He thinks one day he’ll have to get around to fixing the insulation.

The air feels like snow.

Across the counter, Cas watches him intently.

“You look cold,” he says finally.

Dean shrugs. “Not too bad. Feels like it’s gonna snow, though.”

Cas’ head tilts in confusion. “How do you predict snow with just a feeling?”

Dean stares back at him, affronted. He couldn’t explain how, but he’s spent enough time driving around the Midwest to recognize the heaviness of the air and smell of an oncoming storm.

“It’s in the air, Cas! Don’t look at me like that. I know what it feels like before a storm.”

Cas seems to decide to back down.

“Well, I hope it’s a good thing,” he mumbles.

This time, it’s Dean’s turn to look puzzled.

“The snow?”

Cas nods.

“Jack decided to keep all four seasons. I believe he said something about maintaining authenticity.”

“It’s a good thing,” Dean assures him simply.

Cas barely nods in acknowledgement, eyes scanning the empty tables. Dean picks up on his gaze.

“If you really wanna fix something, it wouldn’t hurt for Jack to give me a few more customers,” Dean quips, knocking his knuckles on the counter where Cas sits alone.

“We can’t force people to support your business,” Cas grumbles. “I thought you believe in free will.”

“Woah, I was just saying it’d be nice,” Dean defends. He wonders if Cas can tell from his face that the comment elicited the exact response he’d been looking for. Dean has found over the last few months that there’s no one he’d rather banter with than Cas.

“Well, you might do better to attempt to attract customers on your own.” Cas says it so sincerely that Dean knows he’s just doing it to tease him.

“Hey!” Dean responds, making his voice as wounded as he can manage.

When Cas just smiles, Dean leans towards him, resting his elbows on the counter, and continues.

“I mean, at least I know there’s one customer I can always count on to show up,” Dean says with a smile.

“If you’re referring to me, I don’t come because of your incredible business practices,” Cas responds, and Dean can’t tell if it’s an insult to his work ethic or a compliment to his personality.

Dean decides to take whatever it means and push his luck.

“Yeah? What keeps bringing you back then?”

At that, Cas looks up, and any teasing is gone from his expression.

“You know the answer to that,” he says simply, and Dean can feel his face burning.

He’s been dancing around this every possible chance.

“Cas…” Dean says softly, eyes fixed firmly on the counter.

“Dean,” Cas echoes, and Dean can practically hear the sad smile behind that tone.

Dean risks a glance up, and Cas’ eyes are searching his face. Dean looks back down.

“It’s okay, you know” Cas says simply. Sincerely.

Dean lets out a breath.

Cas continues, “I know you need more time. I think it’s a testament to how much you’ve grown that you were even willing to tell me that much, and I appreciate your honesty.”

Dean shakes his head barely perceptibly.

“Hey,” Cas says gently, and his hand moves like he might reach out before it falls back. “It’s okay,” he repeats.

God. Sometimes Dean wishes Cas wouldn’t make everything seem so easy and so difficult at the same time. He wishes it didn’t always have to be so complicated with them.

He wishes Cas wouldn’t tell him that it’s okay when Dean is still struggling to work up the courage to be happy.

Dean looks up.

“It’s not,” Dean says, and Cas looks ready to object, so Dean just pushes forward.

“I mean, some of it is. I’m not saying I’m not worthy or I did something wrong, but I’m saying I didn’t do it like I should’ve and I--” Dean pauses, searching for whatever it is he wants to say. “I’m not sure it was fair to you,” he says carefully.

Cas’ expression softens.

“Dean,” he says, and he always manages to say Dean’s name like it’s more than it is. He always manages to put so much meaning into it. “I’ve waited my entire life-- a millenia-- for you. A few weeks is nothing.”

Dean feels like he’s had all the air knocked out of him. Before, he couldn’t look Cas in the eye, but now he can’t stop searching his face.

Dean takes a breath to steal himself, and he feels his resolve crumble. He reaches across the counter to catch Cas’ hand in both of his.

“I’m never gonna deserve you,” Dean tells him, and his throat feels almost too tight to get the words out.

“No,” Cas objects. “No. Dean, I meant every word I told you that night. Not just the ‘I love you,’” Cas says, and his voice is so fierce that Dean can’t help but look away. Cas’ other hand comes up to rest on Dean’s, too.

“You’re a hero, Dean,” Cas says simply. “And the best brother, father, and friend in this universe or any other. And,” Cas adds with a smile, “you’re an above-average bartender.”

“Above average, huh?” Dean asks, eyes still prickling with tears but chest less tight than before.

“The best of the mediocre,” Cas confirms, and Dean lets out a snort at the deadpan humor.

He lets the moment hang in the air for a moment before speaking up.

“Maybe I just need a good business partner,” Dean says slowly, watching Cas’ face carefully.

Cas waits for Dean to say more, and Dean supposes that’s fair; it’s his turn.

“I don’t… I don’t want to do this alone anymore,” Dean says, forcing his voice to sound more matter-of-fact than he feels. “None of it.”

Cas’ face softens again, looking impossibly fond.

“You always have me,” he says with such conviction that Dean chokes out what could pass as a laugh.

“Thanks, man.” He clears his throat. “Thank you. But, uh, I was thinking maybe we try to do things differently. Only if you want,” Dean says, heart pounding. He hopes Cas doesn’t feel his hands shaking.

“Differently?”

Dean shrugs, doing his best to look indifferent.

“As I said, I’m with you no matter what, but if you wanted to specify…” Cas trails off expectantly.

Dean clears his throat again, looking down to where his hands previously held Cas’.

“Differently, like, maybe we see each other more. Not just here, but-- dinner and stuff,” Dean finishes lamely.

Cas narrows his eyes.

“We already do eat dinner together sometimes.”

“You’re killing me, man,” Dean huffs a laugh before taking a deep breath and trying again. “Okay, so, maybe we also… live together?” Dean says nervously, risking only a quick glance to see Cas’ face.

“I’ve already lived with you, in the bun--”

“Cas, I’m trying to tell you I’m in love with you,” Dean snaps.

Cas’ eyes don’t leave Dean’s face as he responds with a simple, “Oh.”

“‘Oh?’ What the hell does ‘oh’ mean?!”

Cas almost looks amused.

“You already know I love you, too,” he points out, and Dean hates how rational a thing to say it is.

“Things could’ve changed,” Dean points out in a half-hearted attempt to defend himself.

‘They haven’t,” Cas says, and Dean can’t help but stare at him in wonder. “They won’t.”

“Yeah. Okay,” Dean says hoarsely. He wishes he could only blame the cold for the goosebumps on his arms.

“Thank you for talking to me,” Cas murmurs, and Dean feels himself melt at the softness of it.

Dean thinks he couldn’t have put this off any longer if he tried.

“Thank you for being… you,” Dean responds, and something in his chest aches at the fondness in the look Cas responds with.

Dean’s hand finds its way back to Cas’.

“You were right, you know,” Cas says suddenly, and Dean waits for him to specify. “It started snowing a couple minutes ago,” he mutters, and Dean laughs at the reluctant confession.

He looks out throught the fogged-up window, and the snowflakes swirl lazily downward. Circling and then falling.

“Guess that means you’re stuck with me for a little while,” Dean says with a smile.

Neither of them point out the fact that Cas has his wings back, nor does Dean acknowledge that the few flakes outside aren’t nearly enough to prevent anyone from driving.

“I guess I am,” Cas responds. He glances outside. “Through tomorrow too, I expect. Just in case the storm continues.”

Dean nods in mock solemnity. “Probably safest for you to stick with me for a month or so, actually. Maybe the next year or two. You never know with storms like this.”

They watch the snow keep coming. Cas squeezes Dean’s hand.

“Thank you, Dean,” he says, and Dean’s not quite sure what the gratitude is for, but he accepts it. He leans farther across the counter, squeezing Cas’ hand.

“You, too-- for everything. Thanks, Cas.”

“You still look cold,” Cas says suddenly, and Dean huffs a laugh.

“Well, guess you’ll have to keep me warm,” he responds smoothly.

“Until the storm’s over,” Cas agrees.

“Oh,” Dean says, pretending to check his watch as he leans in closer, “I think longer than that.”

Cas breathes into the small space between them, and then Dean bridges it.

Around them, the snow keeps falling.

Settling.

#I wanted to do smth w claire for you but i Could Not make it work so I'm really hoping this is okay!! and I'm sorry it's not much!!#but you're truly one of my favorite writers and ppl on here mae just so you know #I was both elated and terrified to find out I was your secret santa lol #spnfamsecretsanta #destiel #spn fanfic #supernatural #mine

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free-pancakes · 4 years ago

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here's part 2 to the levihan marvel au drabble! im HOOKED help it's not even funny the brainrot hello

part 1 here

“This feels wrong.”

Hange’s hands reached for another arrow.

“Do I... know these people?”

Voices yelled her name, but she didn’t recognize them. Her own ears couldn’t tell if they were familiar or not.

Hange watched her own arrows pierce the hearts of the people in her path, destruction—her mind told her she was winning, but her heart didn’t agree.

She walked away from the scene, a bad feeling lingering in her hand as she gripped her bow close. Unsure of where she was heading, her mind told her to continue, until she reached an unfamiliar location under the cover of night.

A van drove up, and a man with blonde hair and glasses emerged from it—she felt herself salute immediately.

“Agent Zoe, your next task—eliminate Agent Ackerman,” Zeke announced coldly.

Hange paused. It felt as though her soul was split in two—her mind ordered her to go, hopping into the van. But once again, at the same time, something didn’t feel right.

“Ackerman?”

——

Levi revved his motorcycle as he sped through the streets. He stared up, dusk’s blend of purple and orange reminding him of Hange, happy and bright—he choked back tears.

As he gripped the handlebars tighter, an aching pain tugged at the skin of his knuckles, reminding him of the mess he left Erwin and Moblit in. He had been so kind to gift them both a black eye before Petra and Oluo successfully managed to hold him back. And though he felt bad… he didn’t regret it—it has been 5 days since Hange has been gone. 5 whole days. And he knew it wouldn’t have happened if they were together. They had always been safer together.

But the lingering thought set up shop in his mind—Zeke had a powerful grip on her mind and he had her well-being riding on his shoulders.

News searches, and finding that fellow agents have fallen by Hange’s own arrows had been his only clues to her whereabouts. He wasn’t sure how he was going to find her, but he wouldn’t stop until he did. She saved him, and he’d only do the same for her.

——

Under the cover of night, Levi continued to ride his motorcycle throughout the city around locations Hange was recently seen in, when suddenly a loud backfire sounded from behind him.

“Hange??” He yelled in surprise as she sped in on a motorcycle right on his tail.

He didn’t expect Hange to be the one finding him.

An explosion blasted from his side.

And of course, she was heavily armed.

Levi ripped through the streets as Hange remained close behind him, the smell of burnt rubber lingering through the air every sharp turn he made. Another arrow flew by his head, blasting the road in front of him—luckily he was able to drive away just in time before concrete and asphalt could pummel him. It gave her time to catch up to him, and for a moment, he caught a glimpse of her face.

In her eyes was a dark abyss, blank, unrecognizable. Devoid of all the light he ever knew her to be, no smile, no nothing.

It shook Levi to his core.

Distracted, he missed another arrow of hers shooting right at him, and had to jump off the motorcycle to dodge it safely. Levi fell and skidded onto the concrete, yelling out as his skin slid on the rocks.

He was thrown for a loop seeing Hange—relieved to see her again, but simultaneously pained. But, he shook himself out of it. Luckily it was late and no citizens were out and about, but he didn’t want to risk it. So, he made desperate moves to lead himself and Hange at least a little outside the city limits, and he knew just where to go. He ran swiftly back to his motorcycle, and sped down the road towards the docks. A few tears streamed down his face as he rode—whether it was from the road burn or seeing Hange, he wasn’t sure.

——

He led Hange to an abandoned facility just outside the city limits, hopping out to run inside—it’d prevent her from using the explosive arrows in the tight space.

Levi crept through the metal stairs, memories of one of their previous missions ending here on his mind. He hoped the location would stir some memories for her as well. As he searched for higher ground to gain vision for himself, he should have expected Hange to be this fast. There she was, standing on the other side of the metal grate walkway, hanging several floors above ground.

The silence was deafening—he stared at her dark, blank eyes again as they made eye contact—stirring something desperate in Levi.

“Hange, it’s me,” he stuttered, unsure of how to snap her out of it. She ignored his words and pointed her bow at him. Levi dodged as it flew towards him, sliding to swipe her off her feet with a kick.

But the mind-wiping didn’t erase her muscle memory dodging Levi’s go-to move.

She stepped down on his ankle with perfect timing, but he propelled his torso upwards to grab at her bow. He yanked down to bring her to the floor, the metal walkway they were on beginning to swing wildly. The two of them slid and rocked back and forth, tumbling over each other as each tried to gain the upper hand.

“Hange, it’s me, Levi!” He yelled as they struggled. Hange once again ignored his plea, and finally freed herself. To Levi’s surprise, she did the unexpected. He recognize her pulling an explosive arrow, and she aimed it right past him to blow the end of the walkway’s attachment to the ceiling. At this point Levi knew, Zeke had ordered her to kill him—she was not exactly being careful.

The two fell through the air, but Levi was able to ground himself on a platform, luckily catching Hange by the hand before she could fall and severely injure herself, her bow and bag of arrows falling a few stories below, landing with a crash. He took another hand and lifted her up onto the platform, and they began to fight once again. As always, their hand-to-hand combat was evenly matched, each blow matched with a block, every move countered. And like the first time they had ever fought, Levi found himself smiling, and he swore, he saw her smiling too.

It hit Levi like a ton of bricks—the mind-wiping didn’t erase her muscle memory earlier. The mind-wiping didn’t erase what lay in her heart.

And as though Hange was speaking to him, two words weirdly came to mind: “Cognitive recalibration—“

Levi almost laughed out loud as the phrase came to mind.

“Stupid four-eyes,” Levi let out as he remembered her bright voice telling him what that meant years and years ago:

“It means hitting someone really hard in the head, Levi!”

He blocked another punch from Hange, and swung towards her head, but she dodged too quickly. So Levi did the unexpected, tackling her, and her head hit the railing.

Hange yelled out, her hands reaching up to stabilize her head.

“L-Levi?” She said, making Levi’s gut wrench hearing her say his name once again.

Her eyes were still in a daze, not fully there. So Levi decided the safest move…

“Sorry, Hange,” he whispered as he elbowed her in the head, knocking her out cold.

Levi paused, breathing heavily, exhausted. With his sleeve, he wiped the blood dripping from his nose as he stood. He looked down at Hange, and tears of relief fell down his face. He pushed the hair from her face, and kissed her softly on the forehead. Safe.

Levi picked her up, balancing her on his back, letting her head rest on his shoulder. He let himself smile, and climbed down to collect her bow and arrows. He just hoped that it worked, and that her beautiful mind would return shortly.

——

Hange woke, her mind spinning, like she had been riding a crazy roller coaster for days. Her thoughts were cloudy, and she couldn’t hold her head up properly. She groaned, a prickly headache coming on. When she tried moving, she gradually realized her arms were bound to whatever she was sitting on—the word infirmary lit up at the door nearby her, and she tried to ground herself. But, screams of comrades sounded in her brain, broken images of destruction flashed before her eyes before she could focus.

“Are these memories or dreams?” She thought, but it’s like she knew deep down, she wouldn’t be waking up from a nightmare anytime soon. Tears streamed down her cheeks as memories from the past few days became clearer and clearer in her mind.

“Hange…”

Hange looked up, her eyes still dazed.

“You’re gonna be alright.”

Levi stood up, crouching down to look at into her eyes at her level. He almost smiled—she was coming back.

“How do you know I’ll be okay??” She yelled. “I’m still trying to get Zeke out,” she whispered, sweat hugging both sides of her face. Then, Hange continued to cry: “Levi, how… how many agents did I… did I—” “Hange, don’t.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Don’t do that to yourself, Hange. It was Zeke’s doing, not yours.”

She breathed heavily.

“It’ll take some time to level out, Hange. Rest.”

Still trying to find her mind again, she barked back—“Do you know how it feels to be separated from yourself, have your brain played with, unmade??”

Levi paused—she didn’t even know how strong her heart was, that it almost overcame Zeke’s mind wiping even without his help. She didn’t know how powerful she really was.

“…You know I do.”

Hange muttered regretfully, “Sorry.”

Levi shrugged it off, eliciting an understanding smile from Hange.

“You know where Zeke is now?”

“No. But we’ll find him again, won’t we?” A devious grin appeared on Hange’s face. “I’d love to put an arrow through his stupid looking glasses.”

Levi sat down on the bed next to Hange, hands folded neatly in his lap.

“Now you’re sounding more like you.”

Hange smiled and laid her head on his shoulder.

“We’ll get him, Hange. Don’t worry.”

She turned upwards to face him from where her head lay—“What did Zeke do to you, Levi? I know you’re here for me, Erwin, Moblit… the rest of our close comrades. I have not doubt about that. But I never thought you’d ever really care to fight our war.”

Levi looked at his hands, bandages over the road burn from their fight, reminding him of the look of Hange’s eyes completely blank and unrecognizable in front of him. He couldn’t let Zeke walk around earth thinking he could get away with that.

Levi looked down at Hange, seeing only light and warmth dancing around her big brown eyes, a shy smile on her face making his heart happy.

“I guess… I’ve been compromised.”

#levihan #levihan fanfic #marvel au #mcu au #levihan fanfiction #omgomgomgogm im screaming #oh gosh #ok #im so hooked this isnt even ok #i am not ok no no no #levihan as hawkeye and black widow is just a;sldkfasdlkfj #help

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padfoot-and-prongsie · 4 years ago

Text

Secret’s Out || Oliver Wood

Character: Oliver Wood

Word Count: 3.2k

Requested: Yes @jensenslight

Summary: After a few drinks too many at a party, you end up drunkenly confessing your feelings to Oliver Wood.

Warnings: Underage drinking, mentions of sex, swearing

Disclaimer: I did not make this gif, credit to the creative person who did

A/N: Holy crap, 9 freakin pages. I never expected it to get that long but it was honestly so much to fun write. Let me know what you think, your comments always make my day and keep me encouraged to continue writing <3

Please do not copy or steal my work. Reblogs are just fine :)

You laughed loudly with your friends, pushing through the crowd of students after the quidditch match. Thousands of footsteps thundered down the stairs of the stadium, the air filled with shouts of excitement and frustrated groans at the results of the game.

Gryfindor had won 230-110, crushing Slytherin and deflating their heads after the way they had pummeled the red and gold the year before. You stepped out of the stadium and almost instantly deviated away from where the rest of the mob was moving towards Hogwarts. Instead, you made your way towards the locker rooms, waiting for your friends Alicia and Angelina to come out.

The locker room opened with a bang and you instantly stepped forward, ready to congratulate the girls, but instead found yourself face to face with Oliver Wood.

He took a step back in surprise. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, sending you a small smile. “Waiting for Spinnet and Johnson?”

Involuntarily your heart raced and your cheeks burned red. “Uh hi,” you replied back awkwardly, “and uh yes, y-yes I am.”

You wanted to slap yourself. Why did you always have to clam up around him? Why couldn’t you just speak like a normal person?

Oliver shot you an odd look, his brows furrowing in concern.

“Game good- I-I mean good game,” you quickly stuttered, your cheeks only darkening more. “You played well.”

His mouth quirked up in a smile. “Thanks,” he said, a slight spark of amusement in his eyes. “You going to the party later?”

You nodded, deciding that it would be safest if you didn’t speak around him.

Whenever Gryfindor won there was almost always a wild party in the common room to follow. But the ones after Slytherin were always the biggest, loudest, and had the most alcohol. With your best friends being on the team, you never missed out on the after parties.

“Well I’m going to head up and shower,” Oliver said, running a hand through his hair.

You tried to keep yourself composed but couldn’t help but stare gawkingly at the way his muscles tightened against his shirt, which was slightly damp and see through with sweat. Oh how you wished you could be the one running your fingers through his air, kissing the lips that were turned up in a slight smile. You wanted him so bad, yet he could never know. You could never tell him the secret that you had been in love with him for the past three years. Only Alicia and Angelina could ever know that.

“I’ll see you later then Y/N,” Oliver said with a slight wave, before turning and heading up towards the castle, leaving you flustered, red faced, and heart racing, leaning beside the locker room door.

You watched him go, so drawn up in your fantasies and daydreams that you didn’t notice the locker room door open once more with Alicia and Angelina loudly stepping out. They on the other hand noticed you instantly, shooting each other a knowing look when they saw the direction in which you were staring.

“Did you two have a nice chat?” Angelina asked, causing you to jump violently.

“Merlin Ang, you scared me,” you said, placing a hand over your racing heart. “I didn’t even notice you two come out.”

Alicia threw a look in the direction Oliver had gone. “I wonder why,” she teased.

“Oh him?” you asked, a bad attempt to feign disinterest.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N,” Angelina said, rolling her eyes. “Your face looks like a tomato and when we came out you were all but drooling over him.”

“I was not!” You defended.

Alicia raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine, maybe just a little,” you conceded.

“Or a lot,” Alicia muttered, laughing loudly as she dodged your shove.

“Shut up Spinnet,” you grumbled, knowing she never would.

“If you would just get the guts to talk to him…” Angelina tried.

“You know I can’t do that, Ang,” you said, the three of you beginning to walk back towards the castle. “I clam up and can barely form words when I’m around him.”

“We know,” they both said, having had to jump in for you and talk their way out of many awkward conversations with Oliver.

“Then you know why I can’t talk to him,” you said in exasperation.

“But what if he likes you back?” Alicia asked, “you’ll never know if you don’t woman up and speak with him.”

“Alicia,” you said pointedly, “he only ever sees me when I’m stuttering, red faced, and can barely form a sentence.”

She shrugged. “True, but stranger things have happened.”

Oliver stepped into the common room a half hour later to loud cheers and music. It seemed the entire school was there, somehow managing to fit into the small space.

Lights were flashing, music was pounding, and Oliver really hoped the quieting charms they had but on the walls of the room were working or they were sure to be busted.

Someone ran by him and he stretched out his arm to block them. He looked down at the third year, her hand clenching a red solo cup filled with whatever crazy alcohol concoction Fred and George had whipped up.

“I think you're a bit under aged,” Oliver said, plucking the drink from her hand.

Her eyes narrowed. “So are you,” she snapped back.

Oliver gave a slight nod of agreement. “Excellent point, but that sign over there says fifth years and above, and last I checked you don’t seem to reach those requirements.”

“Well I don’t give a fuck,” she spat, stamping her foot.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he sighed. “Head on up stairs before a prefect finds you. In a couple of years you can make your own rules.”

She sent him a rather rude gesture, before storming up the stairs. Oliver didn’t doubt she would try to sneak back down in a few minutes.

Angelina raised her eyebrows as a girl angrily shoved past her on the stairs. She looked out, noting Oliver standing there, rubbing his forehead with a sigh.

“Ruining the fun for someone already, Wood?” Angelina asked, plucking the drink from his hand and taking a sip.

Oliver turned, noting you and Alicia were a few steps behind her.

“It was a third year,” he said in exasperation.

Angelina raised an eyebrow. “You let us in back then.”

“Because you were on the team,” Oliver argued, “and like the deal we made with Potter, you weren’t supposed to drink.”

“As if we ever listened to that,” Angelina scoffed.

She took another sip from the drink. “Damn, the Weasley’s really out did themselves this time.”

“Y/N, Alicia, wanna go get a drink?” Angelina asked.

“Sure, why not,” you said, as Alicia nodded beside you.

The three girls stepped past Oliver, with you shooting him a small smile. He smiled back, causing your cheeks to flush red. Oliver noted that with a slight grin. He always found it cute when you blushed.

You reached the makeshift bar with Alicia and Angelina. Alicia, never one for drinking, grabbed a butterbear whilst you Angelina went straight for Fred and George’s jungle juice.

“You’re right Ang, it’s not bad,” you said, taking a sip. “Definitely better than that one they made after the Hufflepuff match.”

Angelina laughed. “That one was horrible! I swear I vomited all night.”

“All night?” you snorted. “You kept at it in McGonagall’s class the next day. I’ve never seen her so mad.”

You finished the rest of your drink and refilled. “Let’s dance Ang.”

Alicia sighed, she was always the one that had to chase after you two all night. Just a couple weeks ago she had to prevent Angelina from stripping, much to Fred’s dismay, when she got particularly drunk one night. She watched as the two of you ran out onto the small makeshift dance floor, swinging your hips and laughing loudly.

Almost an hour later Alicia began to notice the alcohol set in. She grabbed Angelina’s arm, preventing her from falling into the bar as she came over to refill her solo cup.

“I think that’s plenty, Ang,” she chidded, steadying her friend on her feat.

Angelina stuck out her lower lip. “Just one more?”

Alicia gave her a pointed look. “You’re drunk.”

“I know but I really really really really want to make out with Fred but I need another drink to do that.” She argued drunkenly, before bursting out in spontaneous giggles.

“Angelina…” Alicia tried halfheartedly.

“One more mom-” she let out another string of giggles- “just on more.”

Angelina reached an arm over Alicia’s shoulder, her now terrible balance almost sending them both tumbling into the bar, and grabbed a bottle of Firewhiskey.

“Alica, make sure-” Angelina paused, gripping her friend's shoulders as she swayed from side to side. “-that if we end up have sex it’s not in front of too many people, okay?” She broke into another round of giggles, before hobbling back towards the dance floor.

Oliver watched from a few yards away, silently shaking his head at how bad his players looked right now. Both the twins were beyond wasted, and Katie Bell had passed out a few minutes ago. Even Harry, who Oliver had thought would be somewhat smart, had been convinced by the twins to take shots, and after a few cringes, had eventually gotten himself just as drunk as everyone else. Oliver almost had sympathy for him, as he wouldn’t want to be in his shoes when Hermione discovered him hung over the next day.

Oliver sighed, taking a sip from his butterbeer. Like Alicia, he didn’t drink.

Oliver heard a loud catcall from the other side of the room and turned back towards the dance floor where Angelina and Fred were kissing aggressively, seeming to almost be sucking each other’s faces off. He heard Alicia let out a groan.

Upon realizing he hadn’t seen the third musketeer in a while, he scanned the room, silently hoping you hadn’t taken after Angelina and were swapping spit with another guy.

Fortunately that wasn’t the case, and he instead found you stumbling back towards the bar, clearly struggling to stay up right.

You turned, feeling eyes on you. Your heart began to race upon noticing that Oliver was staringing at you. Changing course, you instead stumbled towards him, your brain not entirely aware what you were doing.

“Hi Oliver,” you slurred, “I haven't seen you since I got here.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow. “Were you looking?”

You giggled loudly. “Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t,” you said coyly, poking his cheek.

Oliver’s eyebrow shot up in surprise by how forward you were.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” he asked, eyeing you in concern.

“More than okay!” you exclaimed drunkenly. “I’m talking like a normal person. Did you notice?”

You are beyond drunk, Oliver thought, but if he was honest with himself he did think your overly bubbly personality was rather cute. He did miss the constant blush you usually had though.

“I did notice,” he said, trying to bite back a smile.

“Good, because I’m not usually like that, it's just when you-” You swayed violently, causing Oliver to reach out and steady you. “It’s just when you’re around.” You finished, taking another sip from your drink.

Now this had caught Oliver’s attention and, as bad as he felt about taking advantage of your drunken state, he asked, “Is that so?”

You nodded vigorously. “Believe it or not I’ve been in love with you since Angelina and Alicia joined the quidditch team, I just never had the guts to tell you.” You laughed loudly as if the action of spilling your deepest darkest secret was actually humorous.

That was a lot more than Oliver had expected. “In love with me?” He managed to gulp out.

“Yeah,” you said, resting a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. “Angelina said today that I should talk to you, guess she was right.”

Oliver's eyebrows shot up. “Clearly you have had way too much to drink,” he said.

“Don’t worry about me, I have a high alcohol tolerance,” you slurred proudly.

You swayed on your feet, stumbling to catch your balance. Oliver quickly reached out to stable you, holding tightly to your hips.

“High tolerance my ass,” he muttered, deciding that he better get you sat down before you actually fell over.

You let him guide you to a chair, enjoying the feeling of his hand on the small of your back and the tingling sensation that came with it.

“See, I’m fine,” you stated, sitting up right in the chair. You took a long sip from your drink and toppled sideways, giggling madly.

Oliver lunged over to catch you. Propping you upright, he took the cup from your hand. “You are definitely done here,” he said, a light smile playing on his lips.

You stuck out your bottom lip. “Party pooper,” you pouted, “why did I have to fall in love with someone who ruins all the fun?”

He stared at you, the girl who had just confessed twice, without really knowing it, that she was in love with him. You were always the cute girl, the friend of Angelina and Alicia, the one who always seemed to be red faced and unable to speak without a stutter. How had he never seen it before? How had he been so oblivious? The way you looked at him now, lips pouted, eyes feigning sadness, he wanted to kiss you so badly.

“Are you okay Oli?” you ask, reaching out to touch his cheek.

Your words brought him back. “Oli?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow. “That’s new.”

“It’s cute,” you said, grinning proudly, “cute like you.” You poked his nose, but in the action of moving forward fell straight into his chest.

Oliver let out a chuckle, pushing you back into the chair. You gripped his arms for support.

“Damn,” you whispered, feeling his tightened biceps under your hands.

Oliver looked down at where you were staring and couldn’t help but smile. He looked back up at your face. “You good?” he asked, once he made sure you wouldn’t fall over again.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “but…”

“But..?” Oliver prompted.

“But I really want to kiss you.”

Oliver took a small step back. If he had had any alcohol in his system that would have definitely sobered him up.

He looked at you, the way your eyes were so hopeful. But he also knew you were drunk, and as much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn’t do anything with you. At least not until you were sober.

“Let’s rain check that, Y/N, okay?” he finally said. “Wait until you’ll at least remember it happened.”

You woke up the following morning to a pounding headache and sudden need to vomit. After you came out of the bathroom you finally noticed Alicia, who was fixing her hair in the mirror.

“Where’s Ang?” you yawned flopping back onto your bed and trying to shield your eyes from the light. Everything was so bright.

“With Fred,” she replied simply.

“You didn’t stop her?” You asked, surprised. Alicia was usually the one to keep you two from doing anything stupid.

Alicia shook her head. “She told me not to, plus I was too busy watching you.”

You groaned. “Please don’t tell me I tried to give Jordan a lap dance again.

“Fortunately not,” Alicia giggled, before simply saying, “You were talking to Oliver.”

You shot up right then grabbed your head. Your pounding headache did not like the quick movement. “I did what?!” you exclaimed.

Alicia smiled. “It wasn’t that terrible. He even carried you up here afterwards for me.”

You looked down at your pajamas. You had not been wearing those last night.

Alicia knew what you were thinking. “Don’t worry, I put you in those after he left. I think the shirt you were wearing though is ruined, it had the jungle juice of Fred and George’s spilled all over it.”

“Damn it, damn it, damn it,” you cursed, though you weren’t upset over the shirt. “Please don’t tell me I said anything bad to him.”

Alicia sighed. “Promise me you won’t freak out?”

“Oh Merlin,” you groaned, “don’t tell me I did it.”

“Yeah,” she confirmed, “you kinda spilled the beans.”

“I could barely even talk to him before, now I can’t even be in the same room as him,” you moaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Why didn’t you stop me Alicia?”

“I was going to Y/N, believe me I was, but the way he was looking at you, caring for you, I knew he had to know, and there was no way you would have told him in any other way,” she sadly.

You turned to Alicia, wanting to be angry with her, but her sincere expression, the hope in her eyes, you couldn’t be mad at her for that.

“Cross your fingers your right,” you said quietly.

You stepped into the common room shortly after, a pair of sunglasses perched on your nose.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You jumped violently before turning with a feeling of dread to face Oliver.

“Hi Oliver,” you said quietly, falling into step beside him as he walked towards the portrait hole.

“No Oli?” he joked, letting you step through first before following you out into the corridor.

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked.

Oliver shook his head with a smile. “Nevermind.”

You sighed. “I called you that last night, right?”

His face lit up in hope. “You remember?”

You shook your head. “Alicia filled me in this morning,” you said, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

It occurred to you then that that was the first time your face had turned red since being in close contact with Oliver. You hadn’t even stuttered once. Why that was the case, you didn’t know.

“About that…” he said, trailing off, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“You don’t feel that way? I know, it’s okay,” you said, shaking your head at the sheer awkwardness of the conversation. “I’ll get over it. Like Alicia said, at least you know.”

“Well, that’s the thing, I- I do.”

That last part came out real quiet and you turned to him, eyebrows shot up in surprise, heart suddenly racing. “You do what?” you whispered in disbelief.

Oliver looked down at his shoes. “I do like you, Y/N,” he said quietly, “and have for some time.”

“Even when I can’t talk straight around you and was a drunk babbling idiot last night?”

His lips quirked up in a smile. “The babbling idiot part was actually rather entertaining for that matter.”

You stared at him, hope swelling in your chest as you looked at the boy you were madly in love with.

“You told me last night you wanted to kiss me,” he started, and your face turned red as the memory came back to you. “And I said-”

“Raincheck,” you finished, your heart rate quickening. “Such a gentleman to do that.”

Oliver took a step closer. “I’d like to cash that in now,” he whispered softly.

“Please do,” you breathed, looking up at him as he moved closer.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he gently pressed his lips against yours, his hands resting on your waist whilst yours looped around his neck.

This kiss was a thousand times better than you had ever imagined. You barely even heard George’s wolf whistle when he walked by, or when Angelina turned to Fred with a grin, saying, “That’s five Galleons, Weasley.” It was just you two, in the middle of the hall, and Oliver’s mouth moving against yours was all that mattered.

#oliver wood #oliver wood x you #oliver wood x reader #oliver x y/n #oliver x you #requests #harry potter requests #golden trio era #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter oneshot #oliver wood one shot #hp fanfic #hp #fanfic #reader insert fanfiction

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x0401x · 4 years ago

Text

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #25

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Sri Lanka Nakata Diary

Title: I got to make some time all of a sudden.

Hello, this is Iggy.

Just as the title says, I suddenly managed to make some time for myself here in Sri Lanka. The guest who was supposed to come over had to go on a last-minute trip, so I wound up with almost an entire day off.

My boss told me that I should take it easy while I was at it and that studying was forbidden, so if you’d like, please give me suggestions. I think there aren’t many people living in Sri Lanka among the ones who are seeing this, so anything goes. Like your favorite ways to spend your leisure time, for example.

By the way, I like cooking when a senior acquaintance of mine comes over, but I noticed lately that I don’t cook much when I’m alone. Eating out is best when it’s Sri Lankan curry.

Ely_03

Hi, Iggy. I always have fun reading your blog. I live in Greece. I have interest in Japanese people because my daughter is studying abroad in Japan, so I’m happy to have found this blog.

1975Halleluja

Do they not have night clubs there? How about you try going to one? I’m reading you all the way from Egypt.

BB_Typhoon

How about trying to clean up your room? It might be surprisingly messy.

Archangel

Hello, nice to meet you, Iggy-san. If you are in Sri Lanka, apparently, there is a Sri Lankan massage called Ayurveda. You are finally having a day off, so isn’t it a good idea to relax in a way you have never experienced before? Take care of your body. I found the spa below. Not so bad, is it?

(This URL is only visible to the administrator.)

Title: I went to do Ayurveda!

Hello, Iggy here. Thank you for your previous comments to my blog.

I went to the spa that Archangel-san introduced to me, and it was a series of first experiences, so I was very excited. Back in my country, I kind of imagined that women were the ones who get this kind of massage, but if my tired body would get better, I could keep getting it in the future too.

The owner of the spa was a Tamil speaker. It would have been great if I were more able to talk to them. Thanks to them, I experienced enrichment in many aspects.

Iggy out.

Archangel

Iggy-san, it seems you had a fulfilling day and nothing makes me happier. I think that the most efficient way to study about languages and gemstones is to proceed with the two paralleling each other like wheels. I hope your training will be fun.

Punk_Of_England

When I read a blog from someone who’s having fun, I have fun too! If there were a ‘like’ button, I might have pressed it nonstop. Take care of your health. Man, anonymous sections sure are convenient.

Title: Three-Wheeler

Hello, Iggy here. I had a question in one of my updates.

Do you remember that, last time, I wrote an article about purchasing a three-wheel bike called Three-Wheeler? I’ve been addicted to riding it around lately.

I did have a driver’s license in my motherland, but I was the kind who didn’t have a car or bicycle, so maybe my eyes opened up to the fun of driving a car when I came here.

This thing is like a bike with a hood, so it feels good when the wind hits my face. Finding waterfowl when I’m running around the man-made areas in the evening makes me feel satisfied.

I’m going to study now. After I’m done, I’ll go ride on the Three-Wheeler again. Looking forward to it.

Archangel

Iggy-san, hello. It seems that you are enjoying your new vehicle. Although this is excessive concern, but if I may share my worries about the Three-Wheeler, while it does have a casual ride quality to it, is not appropriate for crime prevention. For example, there is no wall to protect your body if a thug happens to attack from the side of the vehicle while it is temporarily stopped. Your senior and boss have probably already told you not to carry valuables with you when you are riding. Please be careful.

Iggy

>Archangel-san, thank you for always leaving comments. Indeed, I do recall my boss telling me that. I never take valuables with me when I use the Three-Wheeler, but I’ll make sure to take it to heart once again. Thank you very much.

ilovestones

I went back to read the article about the Three-Wheeler. So cute! I don’t see bikes like that in my country at all. Must be fun to drive around one of those. I think this would come in very handy if you ever feel like renewing all the strata within a 20km radius of your house. I’m jealous.

Punk_Of_England

This might be the anonymous section and all, but I think people’s quirks show in their text, so it’s hard to tell if they haven’t yet been discovered or if they’re just being let through...

Title: Men in Skirts

Iggy here. Just as the title says, I’ve passed by several men who were wearing skirts. I wonder if it was traditional wear. But it also had a colorful and casual feel to it, so I’m slightly confused about what it was. I’m not very confident as to whether or not I was making a rude face when I looked at them. My apologies to them.

Archangel

>Iggy-sama.

That is called sarong, which is a traditional wear in Sri Lanka. Please refer to the URL below.

(This URL is only visible to the administrator.)

I believe you understood that it is used as formal wear. Perhaps the fact that there were so many men wearing colorful sarongs means it was a wedding ceremony? Do not be so discouraged.

Title: I was given a sarong!

Iggy here. For now, please take a look at this photo.

(The image is displayed only to accounts authorized by the administrator.)

I got a red and blue gingham check sarong! It’s comfy! Since it’s the locals who wear it, as expected, there’s lots of pros to it – it’s breathable, doesn’t bleach in the sunlight, and it’s easier to walk in than I had imagined.

As you can see in the picture, the length is down to the ankles. It’s longer than a Scottish skirt and that helps. It seems people put this on to go to wedding ceremonies. So cool. Above all, it suits the climate of Sri Lanka, so I think that’s better to wear than Bermuda shorts if you want to spend time here.

I received this from my neighbor, but it’s extremely comfortable, so I’m planning to buy one or two more for myself. I wonder if this can’t be worn every day.

Shinghalion

I am a local. It makes me happy that you like my homeland’s clothes. This sort of garment also seems to be trending amongst Sri Lanka’s elite college students in the recent years, so if there are any places near you where college students hang out, then the boutiques next to them are where you should aim to go. Please have a pleasant life. By the way, it seems to me that someone is leaving several comments. Are you okay? If they are being a nuisance, it seems that there is also a block function here. Just my excessive concerns.

Archangel

>Shinghalion

Pleased to meet you (just for the sake of it). Please do not say such outrageous things to someone you have never even met.

Title: I ended up accumulating sweets.

(The image is displayed only to accounts authorized by the administrator.)

I made too many...

The picture is of coconut rolls, pudding and caramelized date. As one would expect, I can’t eat them all on my own, but when I tried to share with my neighbors, they told me that it’s bad for children’s teeth and got a bit angry, so things are awkward. What should I do?

Title: My boss came over!

The sweets that I made in big quantity didn’t go to waste. Lucky me.

Weird coincidences do happen. I’m truly glad for that.

I wonder what I should make next time he comes. Please leave a comment if you have any suggestions. As for Sri Lankan sweets, I still only know about things like watalappan, and also the rolls, cream buns, and coconut dumplings sold at the station’s kiosk. But all of them are delicious, aren’t they? If you have any recommendations, please tell me.

Archangel

>Iggy-sama, I saw your post with great interest. However, I do not think you should forget about the true feelings of the person in question. Please use every day to improve your own skills and promote your physical and mental health. In that respect, as expected, I think that the sweets you are supposed to make should have focus on your current specialties, but do you agree?

Shinghalion

>Archangel, overprotection can be a bad habit if it goes too far. How about you realize that already?

Archangel

>Shinghalion, Neither I nor you know each other at all. Please refrain from speculating and saying such things on your own accord.

Punk_Of_England

Phew~! This is getting kinda interesting. I’ll be watching over the course of events.

ilovestones

Hum, please leave it as that. This is Iggy-san’s blog. Aren’t you being a bother to him?

Archangel

I resent my actions.

Shinghalion

I apologize.

Punk_Of_England

I’m sorry.

Mura_Shimo

Heya, Iggy-san! It’s your well-acquainted H.S. I came to see your blog! It’s a fun one with lots of comments. Considering that you said you didn’t advertise it to anyone, that’s amazing! Natural virtues maybe?

I wanna see you again and talk! Do lots of updates~! I’ll do my best at guitar practice too~!

Punk_Of_England

The possibility of toleration has disappeared, huh. A-san, you okay? Are you going to be silent for the rest of your life?

Archangel

I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, but I am hesitating as well. Remaining silent might be the safest.

Archangel_Of_Archangel

Hello, nice to meet you, Iggy-san.

I read your entire blog. You seem to be having lots of fun. That is a relief. I have experience with working in a country a bit farther to the southeast than Sri Lanka, so seeing you live a fun daily life reminds me of my youth, which makes me both cry and laugh. This is a very good blog where your daily life comes to mind in vivid colors.

Also, the way that so many people are looking after Iggy-san in the comment section made the corners of my eyes feel hot. Speaking of which, do the people who leave comments on this blog really have no relation to Iggy-san and just watch over him through this blog?

>Archangel-san, can we talk again?

Mail account

Sender: [email protected]

Destination: [email protected]

Message: I shall contact you through the usual phone number.

Sender: [email protected]

Destination: [email protected]

Message: I will be waiting for it. Thank you for always taking care of my son.

Title: The comments decreased?

Hello, Iggy here. Ever since the last update, I feel that the people who always send comments to the blog have gone quiet somehow. Have I written anything weird? It is weird for me to make such a request, but if there is no problem in particular, please be as dynamic as always. I mostly spend my time by myself, so I get encouragement when I read from you.

The city has become lively with the preparations for Perahera. It seems there will be many plans for the summer again, but will I be able to see it live? Iggy out!

Archangel

>Iggy-sama, hello. I shall write a long comment in due time.

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #housekishou richard #jeweler richard #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #richard ranashinha de vulpian #jr short story collection #tanimoto shouko #jeffrey claremont #shimomura haruyoshi #saul ranashinghe ali #nakata yasuhiro #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #my translation #richard

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mintvender · 4 years ago

Text

UTOPIA [ 4 ]

Pairing: BTS x Y/N

Synopsis: Y/N L/N, the name of the current monarch of Corea. They became the ruler after successfully ending the previous king along with the dynasty as well. In their harem, countless men are present to help balance the court’s power. However, is this truly their intentions? The palace was always a place that needs to be proceeded with caution but as time goes by, recklessness would most likely outweigh it. You found yourself unable to prosper the kingdom without being too connected to it.

HaremAu!

Warning: Killings, slight gore

Word Count: 6.2k

A/n: Whew, finally finished with this chapter. Apologies for being late but at least it’s out now. Feedback or word of encouragement is always welcome. Enjoy 🌿

Masterlist

Soundlessly dodging the dozens of spikes obtruding from the hefty branches above, you continued your trek down the valley. Careful to not alert any unwanted guests, you tucked your sword under your left arm while gently swatting the branches that were hindering your view with the other.

Like losing your vision, everything surrounding you was pitch black. Even if anyone were to stand right in front of you, chances are that you wouldn’t even be able to see the lightest speck of color. Fortunately, with your oil lamp, you have prevented another candidate of wanting your life.

To be honest, you must admit that having to travel through this particular part at night was not the wisest decision. However, with precious time gnawing at your throat, travelling through the night would have to do.

Knowing how much time has been wasted, you couldn’t let the slight burning sensation resulting from your cuts hinder your way, especially with how dangerous it currently is...

… and that you’ve lost your entire group.

In a moment of chaos, you and the rest of the group got separated. With adrenaline wracking your body, you remembered looking into Taehyung’s terrified eyes before he was dragged by Panther in the opposite direction.

A pack of wolves had invaded your group from above, dividing you guys into two fractions. Knowing that you had a better chance of dealing with it, you prompted to lure it towards your direction.

Just by glancing your way, Panther knew what you were hinting. Quickly grabbing Taehyung and Namjoon, he swiftly pulled them towards him and into the trees, safely shielding them from the ongoing attack and began to go the opposite way.

Meanwhile, you were fully engaged in the battle. With your sword unsheathe, you charged forward, taking the offense role.

Dodging at the canines that were aiming at your neck, you took the opportunity to swing your sword, successfully getting rid of one.

A dozen more to go.

Backing away from the pack, you quickly took off your cloak, throwing it aimlessly at the floor. Tightening your grip on the sword, you let out a frightening grin underneath your mask.

It’s been a while since I’ve spilt this much blood.

Standing still, you made no move to attack, taking the defensive role, and patiently waited.

Looking into the largest wolf’s eyes, you proudly showed off your arrogance, challenging its dominance and control.

As if provoked by your provocation, it began to run towards you, aiming at your neck. As soon as the wolf made their move, you thrust your sword towards it, blood quickly coating your sword. Letting out a pained howl, it retreated, falling back behind the walls of its pack.

However, amidst your victorious moment, a wolf managed to sneak behind you, leaping onto you and aggressively tore down your flesh.

Jolting at the sudden sensation, you let out a hissed, your stance faltering with its weight. Trying your best to maintain your ground, you stuck your sword into the wolf, ripping it away from your bloodied arm. Kicking the wolf that had approached you, you continue your massacre.

After getting rid of a few more, your wrecked body was greeted with a wave of exhaustion. Wavering at the abuse your body has gone through, you dismissed the desperate signs that your body was producing to remove yourself from the situation. Instead, you were quite proud of your accomplishments, glad that you have shown multiple examples to the remaining wolves.

After you had injured the largest wolf, their Alpha, you noticed how each wolf became much more hesitant than the last when attacking you.

Looking at your bloodied sword, you ripped a part of your tattered shirt and wiped off the blood from your face as well as your sword, before carefully sheathing it.

Looking back to the wolves that were surrounding their Alpha, you began to make your way towards them. As you approached, you noticed their slightly cowered positioned along with the pained whimpers coming from the Alpha. Next to it, there lies another wolf, who you presumed was the Luna, was licking the Alpha’s eyes.

Grimacing at its wounded eye that was caused by you, you ripped off another piece of fabric.

Closing the space between you and the pack, the wolves continue to shake under your watchful eyes. However, you ignored that and brought your hands around the half-blinded wolf’s head.

Failing to scare you off with its growls, it could only helplessly lie there while you tie the cloth around its head, applying pressure to prevent it from losing any more blood.

You were pleasantly surprised by how compliant all the wolves were. None of them, even the younger ones, have attacked you when you were taking care of their Alpha.

They must have understood my intentions.

Rising up from your knees, you painfully headed back to grab your cloak. Putting it back on, you pulled the hood up to fully cover your hair. Picking up the lamp you previously set down, you were about to leave and search for your group, you felt something limply gnawing on your pants.

Turning around, you saw the giant wolf chewing on your pants. Not knowing what to say, you made some attempts to yank your pants away but to simply no avail.

He still has strength… What does he want?

Thankfully, when the wolf receives your attention, it detaches itself from you. However, it continues to surprise you when it settled itself in front of you, sitting on its bottom. Soon after, the others began to approach you both and follow in suit.

They only do that when they…

Grinning widely at their actions, you patted the Alpha’s head to show your approval. Kneeling down to its ear, you silently whispered to the wolf before standing up. Glancing over to the rest of the wolves, you ended up meeting Luna's eyes. Boring their eyes into yours, you couldn’t help but shuddered at how intense it is. However, you understood what she had put out and will definitely respect that.

Looking into the Alpha’s eyes on last time, you silently bided them before turning around and headed to your next destination.

I have a feeling that we will meet again.

After trudging out of their sight, your body faltered against the tree nearby. Releasing a heavy breath, you looked around, finding nothing but trees and darkness. As expected, this particular part looked almost identical to any other part, making you unable to decipher your exact location under the haze of exhaustion.

However, what you were thankful for was how the forest is set up.

From an outsider’s view, it might just be like any other group of trees. However, to you and many others, the Midnight Forest is your home, deeply rooted into your blood and flesh, passing from one generation to another. Even before the initial fame, your clan has already been living and protecting this precious land, knowing its true value better than anyone else.

As a result, you knew the principles of the layout. As long as you reach the Crescent Pond, you would be able to live another day, and hopefully the others will as well.

With that in mind, you shakily lift your lantern up and head to where you hoped they were.

Unlike your previous state, your muscles ached with the slightest movement. Gritting your teeth to stay conscious, you still continued despite the obvious signs of a major blood loss.

Careful to not produce any unneeded sounds, you find yourself breathing heavier as you continues on, getting harder to cover them up. However, just the thought of attracting another batch of carnivores because of you accidentally tripping over a rock, and falling down has made your mouth dried up incredibly.

You definitely would be the prey this time around.

With another motivation, you quicken your steps, awkwardly jogging forward, but nevertheless continuing to enter the depth of the Midnight Forest.

Crescent Pond… you guys have to be there.

As you continue to walk further to what you assume was the center, you had a feeling that the moon is currently at its highest peak, meaning that you only have a few hours left until you were in a bigger mess.

Flinching at the single stray of light that entered your vision, you unconsciously stammered back, not used to the light. However, you were vibrating from the joyous feeling boiling from your core.

Finally, you’ve arrived at the Crescent Pond.

Because of its crescent shape, and the only place where moonlight can shine through, it was one of the easiest and safest places beside the center.

There was even an insider proclamation that as long as you reach the pond and know the principle, it is guaranteed that you will arrive at the center alive. You normally wouldn’t succumb to those ignorant claims, but right now, it seems to be the option. Hopefully, your desires were strong enough to manifest it.

Taking a few moments to get used to the illuminated scene, you noticed how nothing had seemed to change. The pond itself was as mesmerizing as you have remembered, glistening with the moonlight.

Relocating yourself against a nearby rock, you drowsily slumped to the ground, too tired to bother how dirty you will be. With that particular jolt, your knees immediately unbuckle and down you went.

Groaning at your unpleasant descent, adrenaline began to leave your body, knowing that you’re safe for now. Animals, especially nocturnals won’t attack you as long as you’re here, afraid of the light that would hinder their vision.

Setting your attention on your wound, the bandage that you have wrapped was soaking wet. Grimacing at the sight, you were reminded of the pain that knocked your breath out.

It seemed as though you made it worse from the constant use of it during your way here. Letting out a small smile, you rest to the best of your ability and waited for the arrival of your companion.

“ You better get here fast, Panther. I’m dying from the pain here just waiting for you guys.”

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

“ Let me go!” Taehyung yelled out, struggling to escape Panther’s hold, “ I have to go back and help them!”

Pulling the grown man towards him, Panther steadily lead the way with Namjoon following behind, seemingly in a daze.

“ Queen, you know that you will only hinder Phoenix's way by being there.”

Flinching at the harsh statement that pulled him back to reality, Taehyung stopped his scuffling yet still remained in Panther’s hold. Contorting his face in discontent at the helpless feeling, tears started to accumulate in his eyes. Trying to contain the waterfall, Taehyung quietly got out of Panther’s hold, avoiding eye contact with any of them.

Despite wearing a mask, Panther could tell how frustrated Taehyung was but ultimately ignored it, deciding it would be best for him to be alone.

Walking in absolute silence, the pair continued to follow Panther, not knowing where they headed to.

Namjoon, who had finally snapped out of his haze, looked towards Taehyung, before giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder as comfort.

Securing his grip on his lamp, he was reminded of your comment to not let go no matter what happened. And right now, that was what he is clinging to, a tiny thread of hope.

Blinking slowly, Namjoon let out a shaking breath, still not over what had just happened. However, he does have an idea where Panther is headed to.

“ We’re going to the Crescent Pond, aren’t we?”

Not glancing back, Panther replied, “ We are. It’s the only area in the forest that has light.”

Namjoon nodded, agreeing with Panther, “ Y/N would also be there I’m assuming.”

At the mention of Y/n, Taehyung perked up and slowly tuned into the conversation, hopeful of getting to see you again.

“ If the plan goes as expected, they should be there after dealing with the wolves.”

Scowling at Panther’s comment, Taehyung hisses out, “ Planned out? If this was planned out then why did those wolves attack us? Why are we even here in the middle of the night?”

“ Careful, Queen,” Panther warned, “ You should know that we couldn’t prevent this from happening. For the latter question, go ask the Master yourself.”

Recoiling at his tone, Taehyung immediately shut his mouth, knowing that it was true. Even if he wanted to complain, he would not dare to speak so rashly in front of the Master, himself.

Hopelessly sighing at Taehyung’s impulsiveness, Namjoon redirected the conversation to the current situation.

“ How far until we reach the pond?”

“ We should reach the pond in half an hour if everything goes smoothly,” Panther said.

Nodding at his words, Taehyung and Namjoon fastened their pace, wanting to close the gap between them and you.

Seeing their urgency, Panther quietly whispered, “ Phoenix will be fine. They’ve been doing this for years. Besides, they’re the child of the Crimson branch’s head. They’ve been trained for this.”

Agreeing with Panther’s comment, Taehyung relaxed at the thought of Y/n being alive.

Content for different reasons, the trio hurriedly scurried towards their destination.

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

Leaning your head against the rock, you pondered, “ When will they come?”

For what you have presumed was half an hour of tormenting your tattered body, your eyes began to feel heavy, lazily drooping to follow the call of dreamland.

However, you knew that chances of you not waking up would probably outweigh the other if you ever give into the temptation. As a result, you had to humour yourself with the eerie surrounding.

Taking into the dead silent trees, one would have assumed that the forest held no life if it wasn’t for the starved creatures waiting for their prey.

You, of course wasn’t fooled, especially after just dealing with those rogue wolves.

Though, if one were to observe a little more, the slight swish of the leaves as it dances along with the wind held a tempting invitation to enter the forestry maze, and never leave it. You must admit that the forest, itself, behaves more like animals than its own inhabitants.

However, after that interaction, it made you curious how different these creatures were from the outside. As unpleasant as that encounter was, the wolves were much wiser and sharper than the ones you have ever encountered outside. Maybe someone has trained them but that was unlikely since you would have known them as long as they’re within the clan.

Getting confused at the possibility, you didn’t notice the slight noises behind the bushes. You were also too numb to feel the light footsteps that were headed towards you at a swift pace.

Unfortunately, you only became aware of their movements the moment they’re standing behind you, pointing their sword towards you.

You didn’t dare turn around and instead asked with a calm demeanour, “ What have you come here for?”

However, your questions were not answered. Instead, all you got were footsteps coming towards you until they were pressing you against the rock, now painted with your blood.

Wincing at the added pressure against your wound, you laughed at the mere thought of ending your life here.

“ Who sent you?” You amusingly asked, “ What’re you achieving in coming after me?”

Noticing that the person had yet to confiscate your sword, your suspicion slowly took a turn to something else.

“ Did the Master send you here?” Turning around to stare into the piercing hazel eyes, you couldn’t contain yourself and burst out, laughing. You didn’t care how many creatures would be attracted by your voice, all you cared about was how entertaining this was,” What are you doing here, Viper?”

Stumbling back at getting caught, Viper could only stare at you, wide eyed.

Bringing your right leg against your thigh, you propped your head on top of it, “ Did you really think that this was enough to trick me? Is this really your way of welcoming your sunbae?”

Regaining his composure, Viper couldn’t help but let out a scoff, shocked at your comment. Gently stroking his caramel hair, he said, “ My sunbae? You jest. You don’t have what it takes to be my superior.”

Chuckling at his answer, you slowly dragged your right hand across the grass, enjoying the calming sensation that came with it, “ You might not like it, but as long as you are alive, I will always be your sunbae.”

Reacting to your words, the brunette stomped towards you and harshly reached over the rock and grabbed your left shoulder, “ You dare!... What is this? Why are you bleeding so much?”

Wincing at the unexpected damage, you clenched your teeth to prevent a groan and muttered, “ Let go of my arm.”

With little to no delay, Viper swiftly removed his grip from your arm. You could tell how much your wound had disturbed him but decided to ignore it, knowing this was not the time.

Walking around the boulder, Viper winced at how bloody your wound was. Ripping a piece of his hanbok, he skillfully replaced your soaked ones with his.

Silently thanking him, you both remained silent, not knowing what to say.

“ … It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”

“ Of course, after you took in that little brat, you barely had any time to interact with others outside of your branch.”

Smiling fondly of his little sulking episode, you teased him, “ I thought that you didn’t care whether I have the time or not? You were alw—“

Shutting your comment with a glare, Viper retorted, “ Continue that and I’ll make sure to make you enter the core in pieces!”

Knowing that you couldn’t handle his torment, you eagerly nodded to move on.

“ What are you doing here?”

Rolling his eyes at your question, he sarcastically answered, “ I’m here to pick flowers and go for a walk.”

Looking unamused at his reply, you decided to copy him, “ Really? I was also out for a walk but unfortunately tripped on a branch and have a gash on my arm that is killing me.”

By just looking into his eyes, you can tell how much disdain he currently has towards you, “ But seriously, what are you doing here? I don’t think the Viridian branch is in charge of guarding the territory.”

“ Of course we don’t. Our clan isn’t part of the physical sector like yours. Besides, it’s much better to stay in one spot and do all the tasks there. After all, the best place for us are the forest themselves.”

“ That still doesn’t answer why you wanted to kill me.”

Groaning at your stupidness, he said, “ Are you in a haze from all the pain? I’m obviously joking with you!”

Of course, you knew that he didn’t have any negative intentions other than wanting to tease you, but you couldn’t help yourself to let go of what he just did.

“ You do know that you basically broke the oath of not harming the clan members, right?” You taunted, “ Besides, I’m on my way to report back to the Master. What would you do if I blame my wound on you?”

Proudly straightening his back, he puffed up his chest and stated, “ As long as you don’t tell the Master that you encountered me on your way here, then I’ll be fine. Besides I’m your hoobae, why would you want to bully me?”

Blinking continuously at his unshameful response, you weren’t able to form any coherent responses.

“ Forget it, if you are reporting back to the Master then I’ll accompany you.”

Shaking your head at his offer, “ There’s no need for you to do that. Even though I’m wounded, I’ll still be able to reach the center properly. Besides, I’m waiting for my group.”

Perking up at the mention of your group, Viper distastingly asked, “ Group? You mean the little kids that were running around you?”

“ Kids? Hydrangin is only a few months younger than you while Queen is your hoobae of a few years,” you said, “ We got separated by an invasion so I’m waiting for them here.”

“ And you handled all of them on your own? How utterly reckless.”

You shrugged, not displeased with your decision but slightly winced at the little pricks from your arm, “ It was indeed reckless but I had a better chance of defeating them. Hydrangin and Queen aren't proficient in martial arts, and Panther is skilled in another area. It was either me or we died as a group.”

“ Hydrangin is part of my branch, he should have the resources to help you deal with the creatures here.”

“ He normally would have but we were in a hurry and didn’t want to be slowed down by them.”

“ You utterly useless group! How did you even become one of the best?”

At his words, you didn’t know how to reply and instead chose to awkwardly laugh it out of the problem. Thankfully, Viper was humane enough to let you escape his sharp fangs.

Feeling something hit your chest, you looked down to find a block of something. Glancing up at Viper, you waited for his explanation.

“ Anyways, I’ll be going now,” heading back to where he previously came out from, Viper greeted you, “ We’ll talk at another time. Make sure to enter in one piece, Phoenix.”

“ We will.”

And with that he disappeared into the depths of the forest.

Grabbing the chunk of medicine, you brought it to your mouth and began to chew on it. Despite not knowing what exactly it is, you continued to chew until you had absorbed all the nutrients and spitted out.

Sighing at the loneliness that once again enveloped you, you unconsciously mopped around, waiting for them.

To what had been many minutes later, you finally felt your heart lightening up at the sight in front of you.

Contrary to you, however, the people standing opposite of you were petrified by your condition.

“ Phoenix… you are in one piece?”

“ Of course I’m in one piece,” you answered, “ Just a little gr—“

Before you can finish your sentence, you felt a powerful force being pushed against your right side, whipping you against the boulder.

Tightening his grip around you, you felt tiny droplets begin to soak your sleeve.

“ Queen, why are you crying?”

Feeling him shaked his head, digging deeper into your neck, you brought your uninjure hand up and patted his head.

“ I’m alive so don’t worry,” you reassured, “ Now help me stand up if you will.”

Taehyung nodded, quickly wiping his tears before helping you up. Namjoon who was nearby, rushes to help you, taking your right arm over his shoulder to support your weight.

“ How did it become this bad?”

“ I was just a little careless, one of the rogue wolves got me when I was busy dealing with another. Nothing severe.”

“ Nothing severe?—,” Namjoon exclaimed.

“ Yes, nothing severe. Now if you would let this go, we’ve spent enough time here. We need to report back to the master.”

Namjoon, who was about to protest shut his mouth when he met your eyes, silently telling him that this was not the time.

And with that, you all started your way into the center, despite many disagreed eyes.

Least to be said, the center was not one would expect. Instead of being like the rest of the forest, the center was like a community, overfilling with life.

Legend has it that within the core of the forest, the center used to be the nest of the phoenixes. Or as you like to say, this was the home to the very first phoenixes. However, no one can really confirm the theory as that was even before humanity even obtained intelligence.

However, the myth still remains known as the creation of the clan itself.

The Scarlet Phoenix Clan, was an organization of occupations. Some may say that they are merchants, while some blatantly state that they are a web of the black market. Either way, the organization is known for its outstanding talents, who will accomplish any given task if deemed worthy.

The clan consisted of five branches, each named after one of the elements — metal, wood, water, fire, and earth.

The Titanium branch was your clan’s pride in craftsmanship, ranging from weapons to silverware, it was guaranteed that any product from them would be no better than the best.

Viper is part of the Veridian branch, who are masters in medicinal properties as well as poison. Namjoon is also part of the branch despite being registered under your branch.

To you the most cool-headed branch would be the Azures. In many ways, you were thankful for their patience, especially when they are the ones dealing with the paperwork. While some mainly work through the clusters of paperwork, many, like Taehyung, spend their entire lives on strategic and logical planning.

Next up is your branch, the Crimson branch specializes in physical combat. Ranging from direct to hidden attacks, your branch has it all. Known for your fiery yet strong moves, you guys wholeheartedly represent the fire element.

The final and last branch, the Golden branch was also a physical branch like yours. Specializing in long distance attack, they’re a great essential to more secretive missions. As a result, in their free time, members take shifts to help guard the territory.

With how diverse each branch is, you all get along quite well, having taught at a young age that each branch won’t survive without one another. So even if you are on bad terms with another branch, you would have to solve it one way or another for a higher chance of survival.

Members of the clan must be born or adopted into a branch and swore absolute loyalty to the clan. Of course, with this type of situation, the members could not reveal themselves to the general public and have to take an alias.

In some ways or another, it could be quite burdensome but it has to be done to have a form of assurance to the clan.

Built to showcase the five branches, the core was divided into five sections, with each area meeting at the center.

In the absolute center, there was the mansion of the Master, the one who overlooks the clan. Unlike other houses, the Master’s was the most extravagant and the one with the largest premises, simply because it is the place where most people work at — and where most documents are kept.

Countless people from different branches get employed to work at the Master’s mansion, helping the clan survive. After all, without everyone’s help, the clan would have disappeared generations ago, losing all the ancient value of it.

Following the servant that had greeted you at the entrance, you assumed that was where you are headed to now.

Walking up the stairs that leads to the Master’s study. Each step began to weigh heavier than the last as the distance between you and the Master decreased.

You have always dislike the Master’s mansion after the last Master ascended the position. The place was always filled with too much tension and mischief to your liking.

Though, you wouldn’t say anything as he does his duties properly and take care of the clan.

Once you all arrived in front of the door thanks to one of the servants, you waited for permission to enter.

After a few moments, he finally called you in.

“ Come in.”

Entering the room, the scent of medicine attacked your nostrils almost immediately. Crinkling your nose at the smell, you looked at the person sitting at the best in the middle, quietly enjoying his tea.

“ Greetings to the Master.”

As on cue, the four of you bowed down to properly greet the Master.

“ Mhmm,” looking up from his cup, he gazed over your guys’ bowed form, “ You lot are late.”

“ We apologize for the long wait, Master. There… were some issues that interrupted us from our journey.”

Raising his eyebrows at what you said, he stared at the bloodied mess of your arm, “ Issue? An issue that even injured the child of the head of the Crimson Branch?”

Hearing his slight sarcastic tone, you bit your lower lip to prevent any foolish words from coming out.

Seeing how you have taken the blow, Namjoon quickly came up with a reply to help you.

“ I apologize, Master. We were in such a hurry that the thought of an invasion hadn't once crossed our minds,” Namjoon reasoned.

“ I didn’t ask you, outsider! I was asking the child of Crimson’s branch Head.”

Flinching at his harsh words, you felt your blood boil at the audacity.

“ Master, please calm yourself,” you gritted out, obviously stating how inpatient you were, “ Hydragin was right, we were in too much of a hurry to have time consider these things. However, I assure you that it is all fine.”

Glancing at you in disdain, the Master obviously was not pleased about your actions to save Namjoon from him.

“ Whatever. Report to me about the current situation. What happened after the rebellion.”

Straightening up, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh, glad that he had moved on from the previous problem.

“ Reporting to the Master, before the initial rebellion, Corea was not doing that well. Famine has been spreading in the rural areas because of the major droughts that happen during the middle of the year.”

Continuing on about the various situations that have been happening, you put your focus on the information that you’ve memorized and not on the Master. As a result, you were made to face the scream of the Master.

“ I didn’t ask you to tell me the past! I told you to report your current plans!”

The irk that you have been desperately withholding seemed to be increasing in difficulty as the person in front of you continued to rant about your guys’ flaws.

“ … I apologize, Master,” you quietly said after his rant, “ Taehyung, would you do the favour and report our current plans?”

Flinching at the sudden call for him, Taehyung looked over at you, eyes telling you how betrayed he felt. However, you felt more than anything to get him to explain the plan, getting to take the credits.

Stepping up from his position from behind you, Taehyung respectedly looked at the Master and began to explain the plans.

Patiently waiting for Taehyung to finish, you mindfully directed the attention to Namjoon, who was the next to talk. Thankfully, this time, the Master didn’t say anything and everything went smoothly.

Almost smoothly.

Having been a few hours, your wounds have started to itch and are distracting you quite a bit. However, you had to keep things professional and tried to not show your discomfort.

Clenching your right hand to the fabric of your pants, you tried to forget the itching sensation that was gently nibbling your flesh. However, to your displeasure, your discomfort managed to escape your grasp and shone through.

Glancing over at your form, Namjoon continued to speak about the situation of the palace, “ In order to help balance and control the court, a harem has been created.”

Suddenly interested at the new information, the Master glanced over to see what your expression was.

“ A harem? This was not written in the letter. What is this all about, Phoenix?”

“ I apologize for not telling this to you sooner, there were much more important things that I had to fit into the letter and did not have the space to report such miscellaneous things.”

Despite how unbothered you sound, Taehyung felt an uncomfortable poke at his chest. Despite knowing that this was done to cover the harem situation, Taehyung still did not like how you had phrased it.

“ Originally it was decided that only the Queen would be at the position but the plan changed when the rebels started to group together to form their own fraction. There are still no leads to what they will do.”

“ So you created a harem to keep a leash around the leader?”

Balling your fist, and tensely nodded at the comment, “ Yes, Master. In order to control the fraction, I have made the leader’s oldest son and the previous dynasty’s heir join my harem.”

Lighting up at the sudden news, the Master happily nodded, “ Good, you did very well.”

Giving a slight bow, you thanked him for his praise.

“ I am expecting great results from you, Phoenix,” he stated, “ Now, you three leave the room. I have some things that I need to discuss with Phoenix. Alone.”

Swiftly bowing at the Master, the three quickly headed out.

After they left, an awkward silence was bestowed upon you. Not knowing what to say, you waited for him to begin the conversation.

“ Have you told them yet?”

“ No, I haven’t told them yet, Master.”

Leaning back against the chair, the master glanced at you, “ Then will you tell them?”

Shaking your head, you objected to the idea, “ I’m afraid that I will not have the chance to do so.”

Raising his eyebrows in confusion, “ You won’t have the chance? Hmmm… Interesting. Forget what I ask, you may go now.”

Offering him your final bow, you rushed out of the room, not wanting to be in his presence any longer.

Walking through the hallways, you noticed how bright it had become. Glancing over at the horizon, the bright light had begun to rise, signifying that dawn is coming.

Increasing your pace, you left the Master’s mansion to go to the clan’s entrance.

Looks like I won’t be able to greet him today. It’s fine, I’ll save it for some other occasion.

As expected, Taehyung and Namjoon were waiting for you there.

Nodding towards them, you attempted to step past them, leading the way. However, Namjoon was quick to block you.

Scrunching your forehead in confusion, you looked at Namjoon. Instead of looking into your eyes, Namjoon’s attention was drawn toward your left arm.

After looking down at the wound, you looked back at Namjoon, and smiled sheepishly.

Knowing what you meant, he rolls his eyes, “ I’ll deal with that when we’re on the carriage.”

Happy that he won’t treat it immediately and waste time, you ushered both of them to the exit before leaving.

Looking back to the ancestral landmark, you silently bid it goodbye.

Now, back to the palace we go.

Unlike previously, passing through the forest seemed more like a walk now. Since the sun have rise up now, the predators won’t be stupid enough to attack.

On the entire way, Taehyung, who has been oddly quiet, stuck to your side. Understanding what he meant, you only pulled him closer and entangled your hand with his, content with how comfortable it currently feels like.

Granted, you would have also ushered Namjoon to the hug but with your injured arm, doing it is much harder than saying it. As a result, you both had to accept him walking behind the two of you. Though, he did seem fine with the situation being like so.

After exiting the forest, you guys went to the nearest town and rented a carriage for the rest of your journey to the main city, and eventually to the palace.

Despite getting injured, you wanted to prolong the freedom you currently have. Having experienced firsthand how restrictive the palace is, you couldn’t help but cherish the few moments of freedom you have in the past few months.

Leaning your head against the wooden wall, you look over to the countless life that you passed by as your mind begins to drift to wherever. Going through different thoughts at such a slow yet peaceful pace that you could deceive yourself of dreaming.

When the carriage finally came to a halt, you all descended down, paid the servant a hefty pay, and thanked him.

As you left the palace in secret, it would make sense to also enter the palace in secret.

After dropping Namjoon off, you and Taehyung sneakily entered your courtyard. Taking turns to change into your sleeping attires, you both got ready for bed without a word. Practically melting against your soft sheets the moment you set your eyes on them, you snuggled further into the mattress. Letting the warm sun rays lure you to sleep, you continually wrapped your arms around Taehyung and began to relax. After getting some sleep, you would deal with your workload and the duties of a monarch.

However, as much as you want to ignore the servants call, it was practically impossible with their volume.

Flinching at the knock on your door, you grumpily sat up, careful to not bother Taehyung.

Speedily entering your chamber, the servant bowed at your form and said, “ Your majesty, a messenger from the Kim Tradings just informed that the Merchant of the South is arriving in three days.”

Blinking your eyes in confusion, still not entirely sober, you stared blankly at the servant.

“ Repeat what you just said.”

“ The Merchant of the South is arriving in Cheohae in three days.”

After confirming what you just heard is true, you slumped against the bed. Bringing your right hand to massage your temples, you definitely can’t wait until that day.

The palace will be in for a ride.

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