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rinbowaman · 1 year

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My Girlfriends Roommate - Chapter 8

Warnings: Harrassment (mainly sexual) against reader, slight use of violence (for good reason).

Lots of fluff in this one, I would say if you had to skip chapters (though I wouldn't recommend it because all of the chapters will have fluff that is juicy) but this chapter is a must as it's leading to a very important event.

Noting that it had been a few weeks at the very least since you last saw him, you were caught off guard by his sudden presence, but figured it was obvious since he’s more than likely here to meet up with Vicky.

Though his attire differed from his usually relaxed style he frequented, the black cap remained, like always. You chuckled to yourself at the prospect that you may never know the true face of Ethan Lee.

It was evident that after the countless times you saw him in the shade, black and dark bold colors were his favorite. He wore black skinny jeans, only this time there were no rips or holes in them, they were neat and looked fresh. He also had on a black v-neck shirt, a casual fitted blazer in the same color, and a pair of expensive looking boots, also in black. He was looking rather suave and refined.

You smiled at the thought of Vicky going through Ethan’s wardrobe and picking out his clothes with her being dressed in the usual preppy manner, no doubt this was an ensemble that she picked out for tonight. There was something else you took note of, although it took you a moment to try and figure out what else was different about his appearance, then you realized it was his hair. From what you could see that wasn’t hidden beneath his cap, his hair looked to be a few inches longer. It was slightly shaggy, some of the elongated pieces grazing over the helix of his ears, which adorned two types of earrings, one stud and one dangling with a small chain and a spear tip trinket hanging off the end.

Towards the back of his neck, though tapered, his hair still held on to some length, just enough where it rested below his collar. The sleeve of his blazer, rising from his reach, when he grabbed a bottle to pour himself a drink. You saw a silver chain bracelet wrapped his wrist and a collection of rings on his fingers.

While he took a sip of his drink, tilting his head back, he peeked down and notices you, giving him a gentle greeting wave and smile as he makes his way to come greet you verbally, re-leveling his head to where the bill of his infamous cap covered his eyes and left only his lips and his nose exposed. He displayed a small smirk on his lips as he spoke;

“Y/n, how have you been?” Hearing his voice for the first time in weeks, you felt relaxed.

A flash of comfort came about now that you were in a shared space with someone other than Gabe, who had subjected you to harassment that, while not physical, was still troubling you as much as you tried not to let it.

Of course, you refrained from doing so, yet you couldn’t lie to yourself when you thought about telling Ethan everything that had transpired since you last saw him. With Vicky being oblivious and Samuel being too busy, you hadn’t been able to vent out your frustrations regarding Gabe, which was something you were starting to believe you needed to do. You were just waiting for the right time to talk with Vicky.

You felt the smile that adorned your pretty lips softened at the thought, it just felt so comforting, and you couldn’t help but let it reflect off your face as you stood there, realizing now that you missed talking with Ethan.

“I’m doing good, how have you been?” You responded softly, just loud enough so you could be heard over the music. Your friendly smile coming back to life as you answered.

He didn’t answer your question, instead, he stood there silently with his eyes still covered. You felt a bit confused as to why he paused and wouldn’t respond, then you realized, he noticed something on your face that garnered his full attention. Unknowingly to you, a piece of your hair was stuck to the corner of your mouth.

The piece delicately reached over your cheek and remained gracefully planted, more than likely getting stuck as it draped over from when you tilted your head back, finishing off your drink just before he approached to greet you. He leaned in slightly, just a tad bit and while he may have not noticed, this was the closest you’ve ever been to Ethan.

For the first time you inhaled the scent of his cologne, it refreshingly cool, brisk, and bold. Not at all subtle but not overpowering either. You tried to narrow down the scent, it was faint, but you felt almost certain you detected a combination of mint and cedar; a very masculine scent that suited him well. It made you weak in the knees; you never met a man who smelled like that, it was powerful and intoxicating.

He gently raised a closed fist and barely rested it on your cheek. Using only the stretch of his thumb, he reaches for it, maintaining very light skin to skin contact. His touch was so gentle, considering he was such a tall and intimidating looking man, yet the smoothness of his swipe along the icy scent overwhelmed you.

Grazing downward, his thumb gently pushes the piece of hair away as he continues to move it off to the side, tucking it behind another piece that framed your face, just so it would stay in place.

“…I’ve been good.” He finally responded as he assessed your face with a content look.

His voice was probably the softest you’ve heard him speak; it was almost airy. Your breathing shortened. It almost felt like you couldn’t get air into your lungs as a slight sense of soreness was pierced our chest, that the blood rushed throughout your body, like Daytona 5. You hoped to God that your face wasn’t losing composure, because internally you were. Not being to withstand looking in his direction, you lowered your head just a tad trying to regain some stability in your breathing.

You shifted your gaze down and looked as you rolled the empty Red Bull can in your hands. Ethan also looked down to your hands, noticing that you were trying to regain steady flow in your breathing as you exhaled. In his usual mute fashion, he reaches over, grabs the can from you as he delicately pulls it out of your grip; the can slips out of your hands as you raised your head slightly, looking off to the side, not yet ready to look at his face.

He turns to face the bar, exposing his profile. His eye barely peeking from below his hat as he looks over to the bartender and places the empty can on the counter.

The bartender looks up at Ethan as he spoke in his usual relaxed tone; “Red Bull.”

The bartender nodded and handed him a freshly cold can to which Ethan received and turned back to face you. His eyes become hidden once more as he faces your direction, handing you the drink. You received it graciously and thanked him. At that moment, someone calls out from behind Ethan, at first you thought they were trying to reach him, but you realized they weren’t calling his name.

A young man is seen approaching closer to Ethan. His face looked friendly and kind, he reminded you of a puppy with his eyes wide as he reached out to pat his shoulder, displaying a big smile.

“Heeseung! Hey man what’s up? Hadn’t seen you since this morning. Where you been?” The young man spoke out as he and Ethan grabbed hands and pulled each other into a familiar hug as they greeted one another.

“Hey Jake.” Ethan replies. Just as Ethan received his friend; a pretty girl walks up from the man who was identified as Jake.

She reached around his arm, hugging it shyly. Jake turned his head to her while grabbing on to her hand in a reassuring manner, his smile grew wider as he looks over to “Heeseung” and introduces the girl.

“Heeseung, this is my girlfriend, Emily.”

Jake guides her to stand in front of him while rubbing her shoulders to ease her nerves as she shakes Ethan’s hand, obviously feeling timid from Ethan’s presence. Understandably relatable as you recall your first meeting him.

Emily was short and cute. She almost looked to be the same height as Vicky, possibly shorter. With a shaky hand, she reaches to meet with Ethan’s, only grabbing on to the tips of his fingers, she trinkled out her greeting.

“Hi….I’m Emily.” Her voice ridden with fear. You felt bad for the poor girl, had you not been a stranger to her, you would have consoled her and shared your experience on meeting Ethan for the first time.

“Nice to meet you.” Ethan simply nods and gently shakes her hand that was barely hanging on as she began to prematurely retract it when she looked up to view Ethan’s face.

You thought to yourself on how Ethan should really work on his countenance, the habitual effect of scaring the wits out of people wasn’t doing him any favors. Jake looks to your direction and his eyes widen as you both made eye contact, becoming grounded, his gaze began to zone out as he studied your face. He catches himself staring and shook back to his senses after Emily shoved and hid her face into his chest, feeling apprehensive of Ethan’s spine-chilling presence.

“I’m sorry, we haven’t met. My name is Jake, are you a friend of Ethan’s?”

You gladly shook his hand and gave a warm smile back. He really was polite and the tone of his voice was bubbly. He matched the criteria of someone who was loved and respected by everyone, never made an enemy in his life. Similar to Vicky.

“Nice to meet you, I’m y/n. I’m Vicky’s roommate, I met Ethan a few months ago.”

Jake looked somewhat perturbed when you mentioned Vicky’s name and glanced over to Ethan, who while remaining unchanged in his posture and expression, simply looked back at Jake and nodded his head from left to right as he briefly closed his eyes. Jake, giving a single nod back, looked as if he solved a riddle that laid beneath Ethan’s expression. At that, Jake turns his face back to you.

“Oh, I see…well, it’s so nice to meet you. This is my girlfriend, Emily.”

You were about to exchange greetings with the girl as she smiled widely and took your hand, which you had intentionally extended for a handshake. Yet instead, she held it with both hands and performed mini jumps as she became overly excited in meeting you.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! I know who you are! I’ve seen you around campus and we have the same anthropology class, you’re the pretty girl everyone talks about!”

You were too stunned to speak, instead you looked at her with your mouth shocked open. Did you hear correctly that you both share the same class? You became even more perplexed of her mentioning this, which made you feel terrible for not recognizing or even knowing that she existed, yet here she was bouncing with joy while holding your hand, making her way closer to you as if she was going to embrace you out of pure joy.

“I’ve always wanted to say hi to you, but I was too shy-oh but!…wow…you’re…really pretty up close.” Her jumps slowed to a stop and her smile was replaced with a deep stare as she trailed off in her sentence.

Stunned with a look of esteem wonderment, she paused all movement and didn’t break eye contact as you watched her catch her breath and her hands slowly released your one. Jake looked at her adorably and laughed. He began teasing her for expressing how shy she had been to approach you, yet suddenly found courage to pour out her heart and feelings after meeting you via a third party introduction.

Ethan leaned back slightly to rest against the counter behind him, crossing his arms and tucking in his chin. Despite how the angle of his hat covered his entire face when he dipped it down, you saw a tiny glimpse in the showing of teeth as he gave out a small chuckle. He nodded his head, looking as if he felt Emily’s reaction was warranted, before bringing his head back upright, licking his lips and peering his gaze off to the side. You hear the girls calling to you, bidding you to come over to them. You excused yourself and gave a friendly so-long gesture to the boys as you walked over to the group.

Ethan and Jake migrated over to the opposing side of the kitchen, pouring their own drinks, engaging in friendly conversation. Emily stayed back and remained by your side and continued in getting to know you. You enjoyed her company and had fun laughing and poking fun at the comical whims of your shared professor. She was funny as she would accurately portray Mr. Lewis, your anthropology professor. You introduced her to the girls and their boyfriends; all of course were receptive of her and complimented on her dress as you all engaged in girl talk away from the boys.

You were having a great time. With the addition of Emily, you and the girls spent majority of the evening talking, laughing, and taking a few shots here and there. Just as you were pondering on her whereabouts, Vicky, on que with your thoughts, walks through the narrow hallway that led to the kitchen.

The entryway she emerged from was parallel to where Jake and Ethan were standing. Expecting for Vicky to migrate over to unite with Ethan, you were deeply shocked that they remained apart, and that only the exchanging of looks was shared between them. Ethan had his back leaned up against the wall, taking the strain out of standing for a long period time as he was talking to Jake. His arms remained crossed, and his face was slightly tilted forward as he shifted his gaze and daggered a very stern glare over to Vicky. A look that he had never issued to her before, not even during their worst arguments.

He didn’t make any movement towards her, not one single budge. His face remained hidden under the casting shadow of his hat as his lips remained shut and stretched into a tight line of aggravation. Vicky on the other hand looked uncomfortable and rather embarrassed.

By now, you already configured that they were either in the middle of an ongoing fight or that they were no longer together. Unsure if she decided to break it off with him much sooner than she had previously stated, you felt a boulder of dreadfulness hit you as you realized that, if they were no longer together, that could only mean…

Before you finished your thought, entering through the corridor and coming in behind Vicky, was Gabe. He was accompanied by another male, one who had a snarky look on his face and just like Gabe, was dressed in expensive attire, judging by the brand logos plastered all over. Speaking of which, it seemed Vicky imparted some fashion sense onto Gabe, seeing as how his outfit was well put together this time. It didn’t look randomly mismatched or screamed for attention.

A sudden shock of realizing something punched your gut from within. You were just now considering that the entire time Gabe was present at the dorm, Ethan, never once appeared or objected to his frequent visits, which was something that that would have happened, had he and Vicky been still dating. You felt like a fool. You stared at the floor speechless; you’re typically more observant than that, yet you had been blindly unaware of the obvious that pertained to this situation.

As they both entered the kitchen and walked over to the girls, you noticed the casual display of Vicky and Gabe’s affection as he wrapped his arms around her waist. You suddenly thought about Ethan and shot a glance over to the area he and Jake were standing. He simply stood there, but not without stabbing a glare towards both, Gabe, and Vicky. They remained ignorant to notice as he would observe their body language, before shifting his gaze over to you.

Making direct eye contact with you as the look on his face softened and he projected a new demeanor, much different than how he looked when he was eyeing the other two. You overheard the girls talking and they remarked on how handsome Gabe looked, the first you ever heard them speak that way towards him. Both, Gabe, and the young man standing next to him were shooting devious looks over to you.

Noting their stance and the sudden shift of eye movement, you realize that you were the topic of their exchanging of whispers. Issuing your own harsh looks towards Gabe and Vicky, Ethan looked your way intently observing you, he noticed your brows slightly furrowing the emotions of discomfort. He waited for you to look back at him, but you never did.

You were distracted by the plotting that was happening afoot, your instinct persuaded you to keep your eye on them. A disapproving look was cemented on your face as you watched Vicky with a discerning look smeared across your face. Gabe greets the girls and of course, initiates physical contact by opening his arms and receiving hugs from the girls and being touchy as ever. They remarked how the color of his attire brought out the blueness in his eyes, Vicky expressing bouts of “I told you so” towards him as he showered his sly smile. You were legitimately beginning to feel sick.

A nauseating feeling was beginning to rise from the base of your throat, and you contemplated in turning away to place your drink on the counter behind you and head back to your dorm room. Before you could set the can down, Gabe’s voice busted through your bubble as it sounded too close for comfort. You snapped your face over and saw him standing in front of you.

Poor Emily had to shift aside as he rudely made his way to get to you, almost stepping on her toes in the process. His eyes moved around as he took in your appearance, first staring at your chest before moving further down to your hips. He displayed the look of lustful perversion as he began reaching for your waist, trying to pull you in so he could receive a “hug”. The man was so shady, always using his requests for embrace to feel up a woman’s body. The nausea was starting to make you feel dizzy as you smelled the disgusting scent of his cologne surrounding you.

You felt violated the moment his greedy hands grazed the sides of your hips, something he normally did whenever he greeted Vicky or the others. You felt ridden with a sense of uneasiness as you clicked a step back, feeling the counter behind make contact with the base of your spine.

Snapping your head away, you stared at the wall, trying to be as calm as possible while your eyes became glossy out of frustration and disgust.

“Okay okay, I get it. You’re not the type to like hugs. But I just wanna say, y/n…” Gabe lets out in between his chuckles.

Of course, you weren’t going to hug him. You never had done so to begin with, yet he was always tenacious in getting one from you. Your head remained kinked, avoiding in facing him directly as you eyed him from the side and watched as he lifted his hand to point at you. Extending his index finger, he moves it up and down, directing the indiscriminate tip of it towards you.

He issued a nod as he followed the direction of movement with his finger, displaying his approval as his eyes shifted in sync. “Very nice. Hmm. Very, very nice.” You lost all composure, and the anger was reflected as you shook your head in absolutely disgust. You badly wanted to tell him off, but you couldn’t manage to find the words to use at expressing your disdain. There were too many that you wanted to throw at him and it was overwhelming when you couldn’t narrow down which ones use.

You thought about side stepping away along the L-shape counter to escape the pressures of the harassment. Yet you hesitated and your mind began to over think your actions and his reactions. Remaining still, you played out the effect of how he and his friend, in response to you trying to escape through the narrow path at your side, could snag you by the arm, taking advantage of slurred movement in your side steps.

Your eyes shifted back to the wall as your head remained facing over your shoulder, slightly leaned back as you felt Gabe’s face leaning in towards yours. You noticed the blank void of the paleness as you noted that Ethan and Jake were no longer present. Your focus on Gabe’s ill manners enabled you to be unaware of their disappearance, unsure of when exactly they departed.

The man hanging with Gabe and Vicky came up and peeked over Gabe’s shoulder, a single “whoa” came out of his lips, followed by him inquiring your identity. Regarding you, they exchanged a conversation as their eyes dripped down your figure.

“Who is this?”

“y/n. Vicky’s roommate.”

“Oh dude! This is y/n?! Damn bro, she is fucking hot! Fucking aye man!” Gabe’s friend coming off just as ill-mannered as himself, you could see why they had a bond.

“I told you. She’s perfect.” Gabe suddenly shifted the talk towards you as he pelted you with his mistreatment.

The sight of the wall was beginning to become blurry from the glossiness that burned your eyes.

“Y/n, do you have any selfies of yourself? You should send me one sometime, you know, just for memories.” Gabe’s audacity in requesting a photo projected the other man to chime his excitement as he requested for one himself.

Just as you were beginning to think that it couldn't get any worse, you once again found yourself drenched with utter shock towards the stupidity of the two as they manufactured their request. Their ignorance astounded you into pondering if they really thought you were going permit them a photo, handing it out like candy.

You rolled your eyes at Gabe’s displayed audacity. You tried yet again in your attempts to keep it together; however, the rolling of your eyes nearly projected the collected moisture in your eyes to stream down your face. As frustrating, uncomfortable, and sickening you felt in the stomach, you didn’t want to give Gabe and his friend the satisfaction of seeing your tears. You just had a feeling in your gut that convinced you to believe they would enjoy seeing that, regardless if it was caused by their tormenting behavior towards you.

The two exchanged laughs and remained planted, showing no signs that they were going to move. Gabe’s friend asked you to dance with him while Gabe looked over and chuckled.

“Just remember, I saw her first.” Gabe veered with a smile that reflected a disrespecting vibe of sportsmanship.

Your resolving will was deteriorating and you wanted to scream. The details of the wall could no longer be made out due to the collected moisture formulating in the ducts of your wide eyes. It was blinding your sight as all you could make out of the kitchen were shadows of blur.

Just as you were beginning to reach the abysmal pits of your despair, something suddenly projects out from the side, a shadow glints passed your face and projected a bolt of impact as it is met with Gabe’s chest.

It was fast, hard, and forceful.

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littlemissnoname13 · 3 years

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Blaise’s Cup of Tea (D.M)

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: some mentions of alcohol, very mild sexual themes, nothing too explicit, Draco being a fûxkboy ,Draco being a huge simp

Summary: where Draco is secretly in love with his best friend’s fiancée

Word count: 2122

A/n: had this idea in the shower and I couldn’t help myself. The blog has been a mess recently and for that I apologise.

For Draco Malfoy, a typical night usually consisted of three things.

First, a glass of his favourite spirit; preferably scotch in his hand.

Second, a cigar tucked in between his fingers

And third, a random girl in his bed chambers. It didn't matter if his company for the night shared the same interests as him, it didn't matter if she liked him for who he was or if she liked him solely for being the heir to the massive Malfoy fortune.

Come morning, he would never have to see her again anyway.

His Father, Lucius always chastised him for bringing a different girl as a plus one to social events. Even Narcissa wasn't all too pleased about her son engaging in all these hedonistic activities and bedding random girls.

The friends he’d grown up with were all well on their way to settling down and having children while he was still not even close to having a serious relationship.

“Why can’t you be more like Zabini?” Lucius would say, everytime the Malfoys sat down for a family dinner. Narcissa would agree to this while expressing her desire for grandchildren and Draco would have to refrain from choking on his dinner.

Blaise Zabini, was happily engaged to longtime girlfriend Daphne Greengrass and they were busy planning their Summer wedding.

Every time Draco would meet Blaise for a drink, all he’d talk about was Daphne, the wedding, floral arrangements, invites and party favours. Just last week, Blaise even confessed to having already thought out names for his future children.

Taking a final sip of his scotch, Draco placed his glass on his desk and returned to his bed, where a random brunette girl was peacefully asleep.

He took a few moments to recall her given name in his mind but this attempt remained futile. He couldn’t even remember how he felt while they were doing the deed a few hours prior.

His father was right, he was slowly turning into, for a lack of a better term, “Pig person.”

As he quietly slipped into his bed next to the brunette, he started to think about all the one night stands he’d had in the last few months.

One night stands are appropriately called one night stands for a reason. He knew that.

But it wasn't his fault he couldn’t get that one particular night from four months ago with that one particular girl out of his system.

It had all started out so innocently.

A chance encounter at a bar, alcohol fueled conversation, his hands on her hips on the dance floor and his lips on her lips by the end of the night.

He’d never before met anybody so charming yet painfully frustrating in his life.

Y/n. Y/l/n.

Distinctive features, expressive eyes and lips that quirked upward with a wicked smile.She had one of those faces that had the capability of engraving itself into one’s subconscious and the way her brows furrowed in annoyance indicated that she might have been aware and unnerved by it.

In the few hours he’d spent with her, she’d stimulated his brain with her wits and intellect. She’d made him care about uninteresting things like the witch burnings in the 14th Century. She’d challenged his predetermined notions and world view.

Everything about her was vivacious.

Her effervescence reminded him of a freshly opened bottle of sparkling Rosé on a hot summers day. Crisp yet sweet if you took in a moment for the flavours to sink in.

And Merlin was this girl could kiss!

The way she gently nipped on his lower lip and teasingly traced her tongue left him with something more to be desired.

Nothing happened with Y/n that night. Nothing except feverish kisses and whispers of “I want you.”

They’d spent the whole night talking. He’d never spent the night with a girl and not done anything before.

And she’d left before he could even manage to open his eyes the next morning.

She’d disappeared without a sign or trace.

Nothing but her fruity fresh scent on his pillows remained to remind him that she was in fact real and not some hallucination.

Draco went the the very same bar again the next day with his hopes held high. He wanted to see her again. He needed to see her again.

But to his utter dismay, y/n never showed up.

Soon, it became a habit of his to go to the bar and wait for her.

He’d gotten so desperate at one point that he even interrogated the bar keep about the girl that had seemingly managed to capture his attention in the span of a night.

But no matter how hard he tried, Draco never got any answers.

She became nothing but a distant ghost of a rather blissfully perfect night.

Just when he was about to toss away the memories of y/n and her pretty lips inside a locked and chained box in his head, he heard his house elf appear with a pop into his bed chambers.

“Master Malfoy, this letter just came for you.” The elf said quietly as he stretched out his arm to hand Draco a sealed envelope.

Draco would have told his elf off for appearing in his chambers in the middle of the night but decided against it when he saw the scrawl of Blaise’s messy handwriting on the envelope.

It was two in the morning and a rather odd time for Blaise to be sending him a letter.

Assuming that it must be something urgent, Draco quickly ripped open the seal and unfolded the letter.

Draco,

I write this with a heavy heart and I write this with nothing for company except a bottle of bourbon.

Daphne left me this morning.

The wedding is off and it is all my fault.

To be honest, It did feel like things were going too fast and we were jumping to life altering decisions without taking the time to think and contemplate.

After thinking all day, I have decided to get married after all.

Your mother has been rather kind and offered to set me up with a girl that is supposedly “perfect for me.” Although I definitely trust her judgement, It would be great if you could “assist” Narcissa in her search. You are my best friend after all.

B.Z.

By the time Draco was done reading Blaise’s letter, the girl sleeping next to him had started to toss and turn in her sleep.

~~~

When his mum flooed into his residence the next morning, Draco’s company for the night, who was named Sylvia by the way, was just on her way out.

Sylvia was rather laid back and was looking for nothing other than a rebound. Draco had offered her tea but she’d politely declined stating that she had brunch planned with her friends anyway.

“And who is this charming young lady, Draco?” Narcissa asked.

“She’s Sylvia and Sylvia was just on her way out.” Draco said in a clipped voice before literally shoving an annoyed looking Sylvia into the fireplace.

“It was nice meeting you Mrs. Malfoy.” Sylvia said in a calm and polite voice, with floo powder in her hands. “See you around Draco.”

“And I thought, you were finally serious for once.” Narcissa sighed before sinking down into one of the many chairs Draco had in his living room.

Draco wanted to say something sarcastic in response but he bit his tongue and held it all back. There were more pressing matters at hand that required his attention. Like helping his mum find an appropriate match for Blaise who has so casually placed such a huge responsibility on his shoulders.

The responsibility required him to go on multiple, rather tiresome “dates” set up by his mother.

The first girl he met mistook him for Blaise.

The second girl he met confessed that she was being coaxed into the meeting by her overbearing parents and had a secret Muggle boyfriend that she loved with her whole heart.

The third girl he met was one of Blaise’s ex girlfriends.

The fourth girl turned out to be one of Draco’s own one night stands that had ended on a sour note.

It was safe to say that Draco returned to his mother that night with his shirt stained burgundy from the wine she’d poured over his head. He deserved it though.

Narcissa even agreed that he’d deserved it because she broke into a chuckle when her son walked into the Malfoy Manor with drops of wine falling from his blond hair.

“Well this is a disaster.” Draco muttered to his mother who gave him an accomplished looking smile in return.

“This was a Disaster.” She quipped, before leaning towards the coffee table to pour herself some more tea. “Luckily, I’ve already found someone I deem to be a suitable partner for Blaise.”

“You have?”

“I have. I too have been pulling some reins and meeting people personally for Blaise. He is like a son to me after all.”

“Looks like I got splashed with a vintage red for no apparent reason then.” Draco muttered before using his wand to summon a clean cotton shirt.

Narcissa simply shook her head at her son and stood up from her chair. “I’ve actually invited her for tea today so that you’d be able to meet her as well. Why don’t you fix your hair and put on a clean shirt before she gets here hm?”

Draco knew there was no point in arguing with his mother.

When Narcissa Malfoy wanted things done, she’d sure as hell go ahead and get them done. A true Slytherin she was.

He quickly unbuttoned his shirt and used a cleaning charm on his hair. He would have preferred to shower but he didn’t really have the time to dilly-dally around.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He heard a voice say, just as he was about to put on his clean shirt.

It was a familiar voice and it raised prickling goosebumps all over his exposed flesh.

The goosebumps were a natural reaction to hearing a voice he’d replayed over and over in his head every single night for the last four months.

In front of him stood Y/n Y/l/n in the flesh. Very much real and not a ghost of his imagination, clad in a blush coloured midi dress with a sweetheart neckline.

He opened his mouth to answer but his mother beat him to it.

“Welcome to our home. Sit down, have some tea with us.” Narcissa said in her best hostess voice and all Draco could do was force his hanging jaw shut.

~~~~~~

The next few hours felt like the longest yet shortest few hours of his life.

He was still processing the fact that he had in fact seen the girl, the ghost, the memory right in front of his eyes, wearing a dress that made her look like a scene in a vintage film.

His palms were sweaty, his head was reeling, his throat was as dry as the Sahara and he could barely pay any attention to a word his mother was saying.

“Draco?” Narcissa cleared her throat when he failed to respond. “Draco dear, are you listening?”

“Yes mother.” He replied curtly before taking a sip of his tea in a desperate attempt to soothe his throat.

After what seemed like another torturous hour of tea and polite conversation, you thanked Narcissa for having you and leaned in to place a chaste kiss on his cheek before taking the floo network.

“The Y/l/n family has been a friend to our family for years.” Narcissa commented. “I think Blaise would be rather fond of y/n. What do you think, Draco?”

He wanted to tell his mother about the time he spent with you four months ago.

He wanted to tell her that he was ready for a serious relationship if it was with you.

He never really cared for the colour pink but it suddenly felt like a rather nice colour.

You were witty, clever, sincere and extremely gorgeous. Of course Blaise would like you. He’d be a fool not to.

After taking a few more seconds to carefully contemplate the situation at hand, Draco finally opened his mouth.

“Yes, I think Blaise would like Y/n.”

Narcissa looked at him with a satisfied smile and the weight of a fully grown giant landed on Draco’s shoulder.

Maybe you weren't Blaise’s cup of tea.

Maybe he’ll get back together with Daphne. Yeah, that would be perfect.

But what if he didn’t?

Could Draco live his whole life knowing that he was absolutely smitten with his Best Friend’s soon to be Fiancée?

~~~

Draco/ General HP Taglist: @maybesandohnos @justfangirlthingies @dlmmdl @desiredmalfoy @trainintersection @wh0re4blaise @marrymetheonott @quacksonsssandtea @letoof @rvaldez7569 @lolooo22 @emma67 @berriemalfoy @thegaudess @itchywitch33 @lunar0se10 @savagelysarcasticslytherin @fleursbabe @teawineaddict @malfoyxxdraco23 @fantasyfairysworld @trashyvicks @h0ggyw0ggyh0gwarts @l0vely-lupin @linasylveon @dracomalfoys-wh0re @dracomalfoyisindahouse @the-bisexual-bitch @sycathorn-slush @lalunemoonstone @supermisunderstoodoceans @belladaises @riddleswh0r3crux @justreadingficsdontmindme @axdxis @97santoki @laceycallisto @haroldpotterson @thetipsysaquatch @darlingmalfoy @letsmariya @malfoysbiitch @turn-to-page-394-please @malfoysgem @m4lf0ym1lk3rs @ameliasbitvh @slythermuf @wolfstar_lb @underappreciated-spoon-321 @yiamalfoy @louweasleymalfoy @fa-me @dracoswhore007 (sorry if I missed anyone. Please look into your privacy settings if I was unable to tag you. Love you all. x )

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Lots of love as always,

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco fanfiction #draco fluff #draco angst #draco x yn #Draco x you #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy one shot #Draco fic

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amistytown · 3 years

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Power Over Me (Leviathan x GN!MC)

Leviathan x GN!MC as Lord of Shadow and Henry; MC is referred to as Henry but remains gender-neutral. I enjoy the TSL lore in Obey Me and wanted to write a bit for it. I initially had an alternate ending in mind, but I decided to save it for another idea I might write at some point. Tried to keep Levi in character while giving him and the story a slightly different feel since it takes place in a fantasy world. Also listened to Power Over Me by Dermot Kennedy on repeat while I wrote this so chose to title it accordingly. Hopefully, it turned out all right. Trigger warning for mentions of blood and self-deprecating thoughts. Mostly some angst with fluff. As always, sorry for the typos that I may have missed, and thank you to everyone who takes the time to read. I appreciate it!

Lightning illuminates the throne room, the Lord of Shadow watching the rain batter the windows, gaze sullen. A storm rages outside, mirroring the flood of emotion bursting forth to drown him in misery. Though he can only hold himself accountable, allowing his envy to fester and take possession of his heart in a moment of weakness. He regrets the letters he frantically wrote in his jealously, the heated words exchanged between you, and your pain forever engrained into the parchment, the ink smudged by your tears, which now lay in pieces at his feet. He considered to make the journey to you, begging for your forgiveness, but he knows he’s undeserving. Instead, he mourns the loss of your friendship, the loneliness left in its wake burning him from the inside out as he cries into his hands, his tortured sobs lost to the thunder roaring above.

The doors swing open, light spilling in from the hall. He recoils at the intrusion, anger welling and threatening to spill over, his patience worn thin. A growl dies in his throat, eyes widening at the vision before him, so beautiful and precious his entire being aches with longing. Slowly, he takes in the sight of you, engraving every detail into his memory. Your windswept hair and the raindrops trickling down your face, clinging to your lashes and following the curve of your lips as you smile sweetly at him, staggering into his arms.

“Henry,” he whispers into the nape of your neck, daring to embrace you and revel in the feel of your body against his; your skin cool and soft, and your scent rich, intoxicating him. He’s certain he’s not worthy of your compassion, yet he can’t bear to turn you away, selfishly clinging to you and delighting in the fact you lean into him, your arms winding around his waist to pull him closer. My Henry, he thinks, tightening his grip, afraid he’ll lose you again if he’s not careful. “I’m sorry. I’m so so—”

You grow limp, legs buckling under your weight.

Fear engulfs him, heart lurching as he supports you, catching your hand in his. “Henry?” he whimpers, noticing how your chest heaves with each breath, and the way your brows knit in discomfort, a low groan slipping past clenched teeth. “Henry! What’s wrong? Tell me, please.”

“I ran into a bit of trouble on the way here,” you manage, laughing pitifully. “I didn’t realize . . .” Your fingers fumble to unclasp your cloak, and he swallows thickly at way lay beneath. Blood soaks your blouse—a sickening shade of red—the fabric sticking to your back.

“You didn’t realize?” he cries, incredulous. “Henry—”

“I just wanted to see you.” Your voice wavers, head lolling to the side. He calls to you, shaking you by the shoulders, desperate to keep you beside him. However, your eyes close, grief overtaking him when they don’t reopen.

“You’ll be okay,” he reassures, robes billowing around his ankles as he rushes down the corridor, gently cradling you to him. Guilt plagues him, reminding him how pathetic he is, especially for hurting you and putting your life at risk; how could he act so recklessly. You’re the light to his darkness, breathing life into his world, and he can’t accept losing you—his happiness—your love dispelling the shadows that once consumed him. He never knew a truer friend, and he’s positive there’s no one else who could play such an important role—you’re irreplaceable. There’s plenty of time to atone for his sins, tonight he needs to make sure you live to see the morning.

“I’ll take care of you, Henry. I promise.”

Time comes to an agonizing standstill.

The Lord of Shadow remains at your side, hoping and praying you don’t succumb to your wounds. He watches you closely, frequently checking your pulse and finding comfort in the steady beat of your heart while you sleep, looking deceivingly peaceful in his bed. His focus is on you, never straying from his true friend’s wellbeing despite his inner turmoil, which threatens to tear him apart at the seams. You keep him together, and again he’s at your mercy, owing you his life for all you’ve given him—his hero—his Henry. He hurt you, but you came to him and offered him forgiveness, willing to sacrifice yourself to save your friendship. How can you care about him with such ferocity, a brooding reclusive lord who’s unworthy of his title? No matter the days spent apart, you return to him, accepting him into your life without hesitance, and he can’t help welcoming you back with open arms.

“I’m so sorry,” he mutters. “I’m terrible. A worthless—”

“You’re not.”

For an excruciating second, he wonders if he imagined the glorious sound of your voice, and an anguished sob escapes him, tears clouding his vision. You stare up at him, eyes heavy with sleep, and a lazy smile on your lips. He’s dreaming, he reasons, shaking his head in disbelief. Then your hand is in his, familiar and warm; he shivers at your touch.

Gasping, he pulls away. “Y-you . . .”

“Forgive me,” you say, so understanding—so sweet—your kindness unfathomable. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“N-no,” he stammers, head spinning. “I’m sorry.” Tentatively, he reaches for your hand, fingers quivering as he entwines them with yours. “I’m sorry.” His tears come faster and harder, shamefully hot on his cheeks. He’s unable to articulate how sorry he is or how his very soul painfully throbs at the thought of hurting you—losing you—wishing he could turn back the clock. “For everything.”

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay,” you soothe. “I’m sorry, too.” Sitting upright, the blanket bunches at your waist, and he can see where the bandages peek out from beneath your shirt, the skin bruised, making him wince. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I’m the reason you’re hurt,” he chokes out, averting his gaze. “It’s the least I can do.”

“It’s not your fault.”

You’re wrong, he wants to say; however, he refrains.

“I don’t blame you,” you continue. “Look at me, please?”

He shouldn’t. Surely, he looks foolish, a mere hostage to his emotions. Nevertheless, he spares you a glance, wondering why you regard him so kindly—lovingly even—causing his heart to flutter.

“It’s not your fault.”

Not his fault? His mind tells him differently; it’s a sea of dread and uncertainty that washes over him in waves, dragging him under. The sincerity of your words is difficult to ignore, and, in that instance, he decides to trust you, finally breaking the surface. “Henry,” he murmurs, hugging you to him, arms wrapping around you protectively as if to shield you from the world. His tears wet your hair, body trembling, and you hold him, letting him come undone in your embrace.

“I wanted to see you,” you say, setting him alight. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering on your own.”

“Henry—”

“I know you’re struggling. It’s okay. I’m here.” You rub his back, resting your head on his chest. “I’ll always come when you call.”

“You’re the truest of friends, Henry. I fear I’m not worthy . . .”

“Of course, you are. I’ve never known a truer friend than you, my lord.”

“I can’t help worrying someone will steal you away. It’s selfish of me, I know. Though I feel so inferior in comparison. Sometimes I think you’re better off without me.” When he learned you met with the Lord of Corruption, his insecurities grew, fanning the flames of his envy. Why choose him over his brother? The Lord of Corruption could provide you with more than he can give. The rest of his brothers, too; they could care for you—protect you—unlike him. You’re here with him though, leaving his brother behind at a moment’s notice, and you did come when he called, eager to please. He wants to return the sentiment. “I can’t articulate how important you are to me. I . . . you’re so special, Henry.”

“No. No one compares to you.” Your praise captivates him. “All I ask is for you to trust me. Talk to me so I can help you. I accept you, all of you, and that’s not going to change. I love you as you are.”

“Love me?” he breathes.

“Yes, I love you.”

A simple but genuine vow of love. He stills, terrified he’ll faint in your arms as he hides his face, heart racing. The cynical part of him says it’s too good to be true, but he knows better—he knows you. He’s envisioned this moment, and it’s far sweeter than his fantasies, your love a beautiful feeling that sweeps him off his feet.

“Have you slept?”

He sighs, mouth unbearably dry. “No.”

“Come to bed. You should rest.”

“Henry! W-with you?”

“You say that as if it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed,” you tease.

“You’ll be the death of me.” Although he complains, the bed dips beneath his weight as he settles beside you, reaching for your hand. “Is this, okay?”

“It is.” Shifting onto your side, your hand tightens around his, a flicker of pain twisting your features.

He tenses, frowning. “Are you okay?”

“I’m all right. Better, thanks to you.”

He can see the exhaustion in your eyes, the dark circles beneath them, and the stiffness of your movements, betraying the smile you wear for him.

“Who hurt you?” he asks.

“No one you need to worry about. Not now.”

Unsurprising. You’re his Henry, besting him and his brothers on multiple occasions; anyone who chose to challenge you is a fool. Yet, your blood flowing freely, covering his hands—the ungodly stench—stayed with him. He clearly recalls your lifeless body, and how the color drained from your face, the heaviness of his heart breaking when he believed he lost you twice in one day. You looked so fragile then and do now, trusting him at your most vulnerable. Hatred for the one who dared to harm you runs deep and for himself for not protecting the one he loves.

“I thought I lost you,” he admits, inhaling sharply. “I-I . . .”

“You didn’t. You won’t.” You catch his tears as they fall. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you, too.” His declaration is quick and clumsy but true; he’s loved you for so long.

Caging you in his arms, he hovers over you, peering down at you shyly. His body shakes with every beat of his heart, ears ringing, but he admires you, gaze affectionate and a light blush dusting your cheeks. He’s scared. He’s scared of losing you most of all, trying to muster half the courage he knows you possess. “I love you, Henry,” he says softly, clutching your hand, his lifeline. Closing the distance between you, he catches your lips in a tender kiss, the magnificence of it sending a rush of blood to his head. He forgets how to breathe, dizzy on the taste of your love, and collapses next to you, questioning if he died and ascended to the heavens. With you by his side the future is much brighter, and, for once, he looks forward to what it brings.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me leviathan #obey me mc #obey me reader #leviathan x mc #leviathan x reader #my writing

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cakesunflower · 3 years

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a court of golden shadows: elain archeron and azriel endgame

so this is like an 11 page paper i wrote on why i think Elain Archeron and Azriel from Sarah J. Maas’s A Court of Thorns and Roses are endgame. i made a joke on twitter that i’d write a proper MLA format styled paper on them because i love them so much and a bunch of my moots convinced me to do it so here i am.

this is for the Elriel lovers like myself. if you read it, which you don’t have to, please refrain from commenting anything negative. everyone is entitled to their own opinions, and this whole essay is just my opinion on it. so if you read, i hope you enjoy!!

keep in mind, it’s LONG.

A Court of Golden Shadows: Elain Archeron and Azriel Endgame

Sarah J. Maas’s fantasy series A Court of Thorns and Roses displays epic, world-shattering love stories among the thrilling action and fantastical elements present throughout the novels, as seen in the romance between Feyre Archeron and Rhysand and, most recently, Nesta Archeron and Cassian. Two sisters have already accepted and embraced the (so-called) rare mating bond with their respective counterparts, yet the question remains on what is to happen with the middle sister, Elain Archeron, who apparently has a mating bond of her own with Lucien Vanserra, but has not, for two books and a novella, made any indication of accepting it. However, Elain, in her quiet, gentle way, has shown to be more attentive towards the Night Court’s resident Shadowsinger and Spymaster, Azriel. Who, in turn, has notably started to move on from a five-century long love harbored for another female and gravitating towards the last remaining Archeron sister.

It can be said that the concept of the three Archeron sisters all ending up with the three Illyrian males is a cliché, but if done right, they can capture the reader in their grasp—one that no one would want to get out of. Taking a look at the novels, particularly starting from the second book, A Court of Mist and Fury, since this is where Azriel’s character is introduced, it is difficult to ignore the fact that Maas has been laying the groundwork for Elain and Azriel—or Elriel, as I will refer to them throughout this paper—to be a couple from the moment they met, whether these hints are subtle or obvious. In chapter 24 of ACOMAF where Feyre, the Illyrian faes, and her sisters have dinner together, we see tentative interactions between Elain and Azriel, despite the two of them having just met and Elain, as a mortal who grew up with stories of the terrors of faeries, seems to look towards the spymaster more. The first glimpse of their interaction, no matter how small, is shown on pages 253-254 when “a faint smile bloomed upon Azriel’s mouth as he noticed Elain’s fingers white-knuckled on that fork”. Though this moment can be overlooked, it is only the first of many oncoming moments of Azriel noticing Elain and her actions, a subtle hint of the spymaster’s attention towards Elain. The focus of attention is returned when Elain then turns to Azriel a few pages later, wanting to know more about their ability to fly, even so far as going to say “That’s very beautiful” when Azriel describes Illyrians as being “born hearing the song of the wind” (256-257). Additionally, there are two moments in this particular chapter where Elain, in some semblance, looks towards Azriel as a way of relaxing herself. The first is noted when Azriel’s attention is said to be on Elain, and he offers her a “polite, bland smile”, and Feyre notices how Elain’s “shoulders loosened a bit” in response to it (256). Rather than looking towards Feyre for indicators during an unexpected dinner with faeries, Elain seems to be more drawn to looking at Azriel, which is shown once again in the following passage: “Rhys chuckled, Cassian’s wrath slipping enough that he grinned, and Elain, noticing Azriel’s ease as proof that things weren’t indeed about to go badly, offered one of her own as well” (258). Elain tends to check everyone’s reactions to the circumstances to determine the levels of tension in the atmosphere, but she truly seems to be put at ease when she notices Azriel’s own relaxed state, once again indicating the attention she pays to him from the moment they met.

The first three books in Maas’s series are told through Feyre’s perspective, so it can be said that our perception of and desire for Elain and Azriel getting together is skewed because of the point of view we are given. I, however, consider this to be a moot point because Feyre’s character is the type to notice everything around her. She comes to grow close to both Azriel and Cassian, and with Elain being her sister, the reader can depend on Feyre as being as much of a reliable narrator to tell us exactly what she sees and how she sees it. With this in mind, some of the examples given will be from Feyre’s own musings, but it is important to note that she, more than once, groups Elain and Azriel together. This is shown when, in chapter 49, Feyre is distracting Rhysand as she tries to take care of his wounds and muses about her sisters visiting Velaris. There, Feyre mentions to Rhysand, “I think Elain—Elain would like it, too. Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet”, before proceeding to think to herself—and the reader, “I smiled at the thought—at how handsome they would be together” (487). Of course, this observation is followed by the acknowledgement of Azriel quietly loving Mor, as he has for centuries, yet what we don’t know, during this, that this wouldn’t remain an issue for long.

Moving on to focus on the third installment of the series, A Court of Wings and Ruin, there is a solemnity surrounding Elain, who, at the end of the second novel, was forcefully turned into fae against her will. After the transformation, Elain has become a shell of who she used to be, trapped in a state of deep mourning of the humanity she lost, of the love of her fiancé she inevitably lost, too. She doesn’t eat nor does she speak to anyone, an empty yet no less beautiful version of herself as her Cauldron given powers, unbeknownst to everyone else, manifest. But even in her state, in her indifference towards her mate Lucien and yearning for her human fiancé Graysen, Elain managed to acknowledge Azriel. He is gentle with her, much like everyone else, as he carries her into the townhouse, smiles, inquires if she’d like for him to show her the garden. And although he stands tall, intimidating in his fighting leathers and large wings, Elain does not recoil from him in fear or shyness. Instead, she takes the arm he offers her and, although it is unsure if she is looking at his Siphon or his scarred hands, she still utters “Beautiful” in response to him (254). Even when life has unexpectedly turned bleak for Elain, even when the world loses its color in the aftermath of the trauma she suffered, in that moment, there was a glimpse of who she used to be as she found beauty in nothing but Azriel.

This same chapter is followed by an insightful conversation between Feyre and Rhysand, triggered by Feyre watching her sister and Azriel. Feyre notes how at odds Azriel looks sitting in the garden next to Elain in his armor, yet she still questions, “Why not make them mates?” (257). This spurs a significant conversation between the High Lord and High Lady, where readers are given some more history on mating bonds and introduced to the prevailing concept of rejected bonds. Rhys provides examples of ill-chosen bonds, such as his parents, who were mates yet their relationship was not ideal in the least. Here, we are told that sometimes fate, the Mother, whatever chooses two mates can be wrong in its pairings, and it is rare for the bond to bring together “true, paired souls” (258) like Feyre and Rhysand. It has been established that the female can reject the bond, and while the male may feel the tug of it, it’s their burden to push through it. Maas spends an entire page or so talking about the concept of ill-chosen or rejected bonds, so it would be naive to look over these details if they weren’t placed in the storyline for a reason. Elain and Lucien may be mates, and Azriel (at least currently within the book) may be in love with Mor, but the idea of free will is not something to be so easily dismissed. Elain already had the choice of her humanity, her mortality, ripped away from her—it’s doubtful she would let this pattern continue.

In chapter 24 of A Court of Wings and Ruin, when Elain is having her first conversation with Lucien, she states, “No one ever looked—not really” (252), and although here she is referencing Graysen, this statement comes around a few chapters later. In chapter 27, Elain walks in on a conversation amongst the Inner Circle, and Azriel was the first to step forward as he noticed something amiss. His observations and questions when he says to her, “[But] you heard something else” and “What did you see” indicate that he, unlike Feyre and Nesta, believes that Elain’s riddled musings have a deeper meaning and need to be heard. The scene ends with Feyre looking to Azriel, noticing that his “hazel eyes churned as he studied my sister, her too-thin body. And without a word, he winnowed away” (287). Azriel didn’t brush off what Elain said, because while her sisters thought Elain had gone mad, Azriel listened to her—he looked. He looked past her “too-thin body” and read between the lines of what she said, and knew there was more than what meets the eye. He looked, which was exactly what Elain had wanted.

This is repeated in chapter 32, when Elain brings up another queen and no one is quite sure what she’s talking about, except for Azriel, who steps forward and gently prods Elain to elaborate. Even Lucien watches Elain warily, questioning if they need to help her, yet Azriel is firm in his assessment that Elain doesn’t need help, that they need to be the ones who need to listen, before ultimately determining that she does, in fact, have powers and is established to be a seer. So while Lucien “stared and stared at [Elain], as if he’d never seen her before”, it was Azriel who actually looked at her and saw what no one else was seeing, whose acknowledgment of her gift and the attention he brought to it from everyone else “freed her from whatever murky realm she’d been in” (336).

The idea of Azriel truly looking at Elain transitions into him looking for her, too. But first, another example of the former is seen in chapter 63, when Feyre, Nesta, and Amren hear the call of the cauldron in the middle of the night. They wonder about it, question why they three heard it because they were Made, not noticing that another who was Made was missing from their group. That is, until, Azriel asks, “What about Elain?” (560), and he is moving alongside the sisters to inspect Elain’s tent, only to find her missing. Azriel notices Elain—whether she is present or not. And so the concept of Azriel looking for Elain is introduced when they are discussing Elain’s rescue from Hybern in the following scene:

“From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.”

Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows.

Nesta said, “Then you will die.”

Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”” (563).

There was no hesitation on Azriel’s part in being the one to get Elain back, but there was obvious rage, as noted, in his gaze at the very idea of Elain having been kidnapped. A silent, lethal aura surrounds the shadowsinger that can be so clearly picked out within that scene, showcasing Azriel’s unwavering determination in returning Elain, even if it meant slipping into the heart of enemy camps—especially if it meant that. And throughout the dangers and urgency of this particular mission, when they do reach Elain, Azriel takes a moment to be tender towards her as he “gently removed the gag from her mouth” (573) and asks if she’s hurt. Elain, in turn, is shown to be “devouring the sight of him, as if not quite believing it” before she says “You came for me” (573). Elain looks at Azriel in wonder and disbelief, and this reaction hints towards how she feels drawn towards him. In their very first meeting during the dinner in the Archeron house, Elain looks to Azriel for reassurance, for judgement of the situation, and in the event of her rescue, she finds that same kind of comfort on a far more intense level. Because here, he truly is her rescuer, appearing in front of her to save her from the dangerous hands of their enemies and bring her to safety. And Azriel, in this sense, is devoted to her, holding up his fierce promising of getting her back. Even when he was injured, Azriel held onto Elain, refusing to let her go even while getting shot at and chased, and when they landed in their own camps, the first thing he claimed was for someone to get the chains off of her, rather than even mentioning his own injuries. This just reminds us of ACOMAF when Elain was being dragged to the cauldron and Azriel wasn’t even conscious to witness it—there is no doubt that if he was awake—and uninjured—he would’ve done all he could to save her. Maas robbed us of that type of scene.

Furthermore, evolving from the concept of Azriel rescuing Elain, we get another significant scene between the two of them that displays the kind of trust these two characters smoothly and effortlessly developed. On top of Elain accepting Azriel’s offers of taking her to the garden, a silent indicator that his company was one she enjoyed, Azriel shows a great act of trust to Elain as well when, in chapter 69, he offered her the use of his beloved knife, Truth-Teller. This blade is Azriel’s most prized possession, and to offer it to Elain to bring her the same kind of comfort and safety that we have seen she finds in Azriel himself portrays the trust he has in her—and his desire to protect her. This is emphasized when Rhys tells Feyre, “Never. . . I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife” (610). Even Cassian was stunned that Azriel would let someone else use Truth-Teller, which is significant to note given that he has not let even Cassian nor Rhys—his brothers he has known for centuries—even touch it. And Elain, who had refused to take the knife Cassian had offered her, ends up accepting Truth-Teller—because it’s Azriel’s, and because through the short time she’s known him, he is someone she has poured her trust into and understands he wouldn’t lead her astray. And he didn’t, for it was Elain who “stepped out of a shadow” (653) and used that very same blade to kill the King of Hybern. A temporary gift, given from Azriel, that she used to put an end to one of the greatest threats to both the human and faerie realms.

In the post-war novella A Court of Frost and Starlight, Maas furthers the Elriel endgame agenda by continuing both subtle and blatant hints in their favor—and not just through actual interactions between the two. The concept of Azriel avoiding Lucien because of his mating bond with Elain is important to remember, for it will come back around later. But in this novella, we see it when Rhysand asks Azriel if he keeps an eye on Lucien, given that he is the spymaster. Azriel, in turn, informs him that he does not track his movements, because “He is Elain’s mate” and “It would be an invasion of her privacy to track him”, which Rhysand, since this is shown from his perspective, notes is because Azriel does not want to be aware of if and when Lucien seeks out Elain, and what they do together—if they do anything at all, given Elain’s tendencies to utterly ignore Lucien (70). Rhysand questions Azriel’s motives on this, but doesn’t get a response, but there is an understanding of Azriel’s intentions behind it. Not only does he want to remain ignorant of the forced bond between Elain and Lucien, but a big motivator for him is also Elain’s privacy, which he doesn’t want to intrude on—ironic, given that he is a spy, and it’s his job to know of others’ movements and thoughts.

Another example of Azriel very subtly showing his blossoming feelings towards Elain is when he unforgivingly states that if Lucien were to kill Elain’s ex-fiancé, then “good riddance” (71). He was well aware of how Graysen treated Elain after finding out she was fae, is the one who sits with her in the gardens because he is a comforting presence for her in the face of mourning, so he understands her. This idea is repeated in Azriel’s bonus chapter in A Court of Silver Flames, when Rhysand catches Azriel almost about to kiss Elain—that is definitely to be unpacked later—and warns him that Lucien has the right to invoke a Blood Duel to defend the mating bond, and Azriel does not hesitate, is confident, when he retorts that he would easily defeat Lucien, would have no problem in pulling Elain out of a bond she doesn’t even want.

The novella also includes some more obvious, sweet moments between Elain and Azriel, ones that show Elain’s own growing interest and feelings towards Azriel. Like in chapter 12, when Feyre notes that when Azriel enters the room, she feels Elain freeze at the sight of him, and then Elain proceeds to be almost in a trance when Azriel, after she greets him, moves towards her and takes the heavy dish of potatoes from her hands and says he’ll take care of it for her (105). This scene then continues when Elain hurries off to make herself more presentable, and rather than letting others dive into the food, Azriel stops Cassian from putting food on his plate and all but commands him to “wait until everyone is seated before eating” (106). Rhysand informs Feyre that this sudden reaction from Azriel stemmed from the treatment his mother received as a near servant, but it can also be tied to how Azriel keeps aware of Elain and the recurring theme of looking after her in any way. He notices her, just as she notices him, a subtle way of this being present in Elain’s solstice gift to Azriel. She doesn’t get a gift for Lucien, her mate, but does get one for Azriel, one that makes him laugh in a way that, Feyre notes, she’s never heard before. A genuine sort of joy breaking the cold, indifferent mask of the shadowsinger as he accepts and cherishes the gift Elain gave him—the extent of which we see in his bonus chapter, where it is revealed that he looks at the small vial every night before going to sleep, a not-so-subtle showing that Elain is the last thought on his mind before he descends into slumber.

This notion of the two of them looking after one another in their own ways is again repeated in A Court of Silver Flames in the following passage on page 221:

Azriel smirked. “You and Nesta are wanted down there.”

“Because of the shit with Elain?”

Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?”

Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened.

Throughout the friendship they have formed, Azriel becomes a kind of protector of Elain’s, deriving from her being a part of their Inner Circle as well as the notion of Azriel’s own personal feelings for her. He is so obviously shown as going on the defense at the news of Elain getting into any kind of fight, of Elain potentially being hurt. It’s repeated on page 233 when Elain and Nesta are arguing, and after Nesta utters a nasty comment that lands on Elain like a blow, there is an acknowledgement of the “shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike”. The shadows, of course, are Azriel’s, ready to jump between the sisters and defend Elain from Nesta’s verbal attack, to once again be her protector.

Of course, we can’t forget that Elain has a mate in Lucien, and how it seems to offer the enticing forbidden love trope between her and Azriel. We see a hint of it in A Court of Wings and Ruin, when in chapter 24, Lucien can scent where Elain had gone off to and who she’d gone with, in this case having it be Azriel, and he’d nearly snarled until Rhysand assured him that Azriel wasn’t the “ravishing type” (254)—although I think we can all agree that he most likely is, but wouldn’t even dream of it in terms of the state Elain was in at the time. Maybe it is the mating bond or maybe it’s both Elain and Azriel’s quiet personalities—or perhaps a combination of the two—but the shyness that has them looking at each other and then looking away continues. On page 467 of A Court of Silver Flames, Cassian notes how Elain nods shyly towards Azriel, who in turn offers her a small smile that she quickly looked away from, prompting Cassian to be puzzled as he wondered, “Lucien was certainly not here to snarl at any male who looked at her for too long”. Elain doesn’t look away from Azriel because of the bond, but perhaps because she is well aware of her feelings for him and, for the moment, is too shy for them to be known, especially by Azriel.

The mating bond between Elain and Lucien does serve as a barrier between her and Azriel, though. This is particularly present during the Winter Solstice, when a layer of Azriel’s character specifically has been peeled back to show his feelings for Elain. Like on page 597, when Elain is laughing at Nesta, the older Archeron sister notes that “Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it”. And if that wasn’t enough, Nesta watches as Azriel’s “gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting”. This is perhaps the most prominent moment of both of their feelings being reciprocated by the other, because Nesta notices the way they look at one another, as if they both see past the person they put in front of everyone else and truly see the other. And even Nesta understands that there is something deeper between the two, even if they themselves haven’t figured it out yet, when she approaches Azriel where he stands by the doorway and, when asked why he doesn’t sit, responds with a “pretty lie” of his shadows not liking the fire. But Nesta looks to where Elain is the one sitting by the fire, and why Azriel chooses to stand as far as he can, because it is “his secret to tell. Never hers” (600). Just like that, Nesta is aware of Azriel’s feelings for her sister and, perhaps, her subtle way of comforting him was her showing her approval.

We get a deeper insight of this scene in Azriel’s bonus chapter—an entire chapter that allows readers to see exactly how he feels about Elain, and that she returns those feelings, too. It is confirmed that Azriel stands by the doorway, away from Elain, because Lucien is in the same room, and the sight and scent of their mating bond is one that Azriel cannot stand. Because the female he feels deeply for, according to fate, “belongs” to another male and he needs to put distance between himself and the two of them when they’re in the same room. Yet, the mating bond doesn’t prevent Azriel from thinking of Elain, from fantasizing about her every night. He goes from being shown as relieved when Rhys tells him he doesn’t have to buy the sisters presents for the Winter Solstice in A Court of Frost and Starlight, to actively buying her a beautiful flower necklace that she would no doubt love. Their secret exchanging of gifts leads to an epic, steamy, full-of-yearning almost first kiss that shows so clearly that Azriel’s feelings for Elain aren’t unrequited, that she, just like him, is desperate to give into what’s been brewing between them for so long. Yet it’s all cut short when Rhys interrupts Azriel, reminding him of a mating bond that Azriel’s painfully aware of—and confidently willing to pull Elain away from if Lucien decides to invoke the Blood Duel. Azriel’s questioning of the cauldron, wondering why it picked three sisters and had two of them end up with his brothers while the last remaining one was mated to another, is not him declaring that he has a right to Elain. This is him questioning the powers and forces that no one truly understands, this is him questioning from a place of heartbreak, wondering why, yet again, he was the one left behind. It happened when his father imprisoned him, forcing Azriel to delay in his training as an Illyrian, it happened when the female he spent centuries loving never once returned the same kind of love, and now it’s happening again. Azriel does not believe he deserves Elain—it goes against his character, because he is self-deprecating, does not think he truly deserves anything good and worthy. He is simply questioning why his choice doesn’t ever seem to matter, and why Elain is yet again left having her decisions being taken away from her.

Because the matter of choice is a prevalent, significant theme for the two of them. For Elain, she was never allowed to truly make a choice in her life. Her mother’s death, her family falling into poverty, turning into High Fae, losing Graysen, the mating bond, her father’s death—these were all huge, significant life changing moments that she had no say in and was forced to endure, completely upending who she was and how she lived. But there is one choice Elain can make, and that is to reject the mating bond with Lucien. There are so many examples throughout the books where Elain turns away from Lucien; she doesn’t express any interest in him—it’s like he doesn’t even exist to her. There is utter indifference on her end, despite any effort made by Lucien, and that in itself is Elain choosing to all but formally reject the bond, however that may come about. There is a moment in A Court of Wings and Ruin in chapter 54 when Elain, while pleading with Graysen, claims, “I belong to no one. My heart belongs to you” (498). Of course, Azriel has nothing to do with what Elain was saying at the time, but her declaration of this speaks to her character and how dearly she holds onto the idea of being with someone of her own choosing, with someone she loves. This can further be developed into the idea that although fate, the cauldron, the Mother may have chosen Lucien for Elain—a pairing that can, ultimately, be ill-chosen—Elain would not give it the time of day unless it’s what her heart wants. And from what we have seen so far, her heart wants Azriel. She chooses Azriel over Lucien, and that holds significant weight to her and, I imagine eventually, to Azriel as well.

Azriel, who has not been other people’s choice. Azriel, who was imprisoned by his own father, who was rejected by the Illyrians. Azriel, who has spent five centuries loving Mor, who will never love him the way he did her. And it’s saying something, isn’t it, that he has finally stopped yearning for her, and that it was Elain who he is enraptured by? Even Cassian noted that the way Azriel used to look at Mor have become few and far in between, telling the audience that the spymaster has finally begun to move on, or already has, from Mor. And Elain wanting to kiss Azriel confirms to him, in particular, that he is her choice as well. And she is his, as further confirmed when Azriel tells Rhys he has no problem engaging in the Blood Duel with Lucien if it means freeing Elain from a bond she doesn’t want, and allowing them both to dive into the choices they clearly want to make.

Truthfully, there are many examples throughout the books where I can talk about Elain rejecting Lucien. She cringed away from the very first time he touches her in ACOMAF—though, granted, it happens right after she comes out of the cauldron. She is unsettled when Lucien tugs on their bond, saying that it felt as though he pulled on a thread connecting to a rib, which sounds painful and nothing like the comforting bond readers have seen between Feyre and Rhys. Elain doesn’t buy Lucien any presents for solstice, and the first present he got her, gardening gloves to prevent her hands from tearing, are ones she doesn’t use. Because she would much rather feel her hands get torn up while she’s working in her garden, uncaring if they scar, which in turn is a reminder of Azriel’s scarred hands and how she found them beautiful. And for those who wonder about Azriel giving the necklace he got for Elain to Gwyn, it is important to note that he tells Clotho to give it to any priestess who would want it, and merely mentions Gwyn by name because he trained her, because he was the one who rescued her after an attack, and she is the one he knows most familiarly by name because of it. At the end of it, Azriel only wanted the necklace gone because he didn’t want to see it, didn’t want to remember that the female he wants, wants him back just as much, but he was all but forbidden to pursue her. Once again, a choice that was taken away from him, and giving the necklace away is far easier than keeping it and remembering how he couldn’t be with Elain. At least for now.

Throughout the novels, there are many symbols that hint towards Elain and Azriel being together, but that is a paper for another day. This one’s goal was to simply point out the many physical and emotional indicators of the way the two of them are drawn to one another, despite the obstacles that are thrown their way—the biggest one being the mating bond no one asked for. There is comfort in the relationship they have, an ease you wouldn’t expect someone with Elain’s light to find in Azriel’s darkness. He offers her comfort in shy smiles and soft looks, and Elain does the same for him, which we see in the act of his shadows disappearing around her. These very shadows provided him comfort when he needed them, were his friends in his prison, and them leaving him when Elain is around is a sign of the contentment Azriel feels, because he doesn’t have to protect himself in her presence. Azriel loved Mor, and it has been noted that he lights up when she is around, and Elain is the only other person he reacts similarly to—because Elain is who he wants now that he has moved on from Mor. It’s important, isn’t it, that Elain is who pulls Azriel away from the centuries-long love he’d been lost in? That she is who he looks for, thinks about, wonders after?

Elain has found comfort in Azriel’s darkness, and he has found peace in her light, and so how could they not defy what’s been expected of them and rewrite fate to fit the choices they make themselves?

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Tedious Joys - Chapter 4 -

- Ao3 link -

It had been an inauspicious year to begin with.

A poor harvest led to famine among the common people, which in turn created conditions ripe for evil creatures of all sorts; the night-hunts that were often treated as playful competition by the cultivation world became more like the boring drudgery of everyday work, disciples setting off in packs on a regular basis all over, time and time again. The tension wore on the sects, some more than others, and dozens of small disputes began to rise up, needing to be dealt with. Lan Qiren’s schedule became busy, and then busier, and then became overwhelming; he was forced to discard one pastime after another in his efforts to hold back the rising tide, and in the end sacrificed sleep and sometimes meals to preserve only two: playing for Jiwei and spending time with his nephews.

It meant that he was unprepared, both mentally and physically, for word of the death of Cangse Sanren and her husband, which took over two years to finally come to ears of the Great Sects – such a shocking failure of information that Lan Qiren briefly wondered if it had been concealed intentionally.

The sudden shock of grief hit him hard.

He tried to convince himself that he had expected it, that she had expected it, that at least her son was now safe in the Lotus Pier, and yet all he could think about was that he had one less friend in the world. The sadness interfered with his focus, creeping in at all hours, uncontrollable, until one evening he was playing guqin with his nephews and looked up to find them both weeping uncontrollably from the music he was playing. When he tried to stop mid-song, he abruptly collapsed, and upon waking was informed that he had become feverish at some point in the night.

His sect doctors advised him to go into seclusion until he could control himself.

Lan Qiren refused.

They advised him again, this time with greater insistence, and with the support of his sect elders.

“Tell them to fuck off,” Lao Nie suggested, pouring a calming tea that he’d brought from Qinghe.

He’d come to visit with his sons, Nie Mingjue disappearing with Lan Xichen as always and Nie Huaisang engaged in the newest stage in his eternal battle of wills with Lan Wangji over a game of weiqi that they were both taking far, far too seriously.

(Despite knowing Lan Wangji and indeed Nie Huaisang better than most people alive, Lan Qiren honestly could not determine whether the two of them despised each other or were close friends. Lao Nie claimed the answer was both, simultaneously, but Lan Qiren didn’t understand that at all.)

“That is not how we do things here,” Lan Qiren said, accepting a cup. It was rude for him to allow a fellow sect leader who was his guest to serve him, rather than the other way around, but he had a headache from the persistent fever and exhaustion that was even more persistent, the boundless river of grief in his heart translating into physical agony, and anyway Lao Nie hadn’t exactly asked permission before proceeding. “It would be more appropriate for me to present a well-reasoned case for it not being necessary, based on rules, authority, and precedent.”

“Except you can’t put one together because you’re upset and tired,” Lao Nie said with a snort. “That’s stupid. You’re overworked, stretched too thin, you just found out that your friend is dead – you need sleep, not seclusion. Anyway, what happens if you do go into seclusion? Aren’t they always saying they need you to stick around to be Sect Leader so desperately?”

Lan Qiren rubbed his eyes. “It would not be true seclusion. I would be expected to continue certain parts of the work.”

“You’re joking.”

“It would be primarily administrative correspondence –”

“By that token, your brother ought to do it!”

Lan Qiren glared. “It’s not the same and you know it. And they are not wrong that I need rest.”

“From what I recall of what you’ve told me about your sect’s practice of seclusion, that’s not rest,” Lao Nie said acidly. “Surely there’s something I can do to help. I could send over some of my disciples…”

“Excellent idea,” Lan Qiren said, rolling his eyes. “We can replace all those rumors that I’ve been secretly pining for years over my best female friend with ones regarding my best male friend.”

“It is a little ‘hero rushes to save the lady’, isn’t it?” Lao Nie said thoughtfully, shaking his head in amusement. “But seriously, I came here for a reason, and it’s not Jiwei or A-Jue or anything like that. You’re always trying to help me, Qiren. For once, let me help you.”

Lan Qiren would normally protest this – because Lao Nie had so done many things for him over the years that it was an incorrect statement, because he hated the helpless feeling of letting someone do things for him, because that wasn’t something sect leaders did for each other – but he was tired and he feared seclusion and sometimes he thought it might be nice to do one thing that could be considered a little reckless before he died.

“Very well,” he said, closing his eyes and drinking the tea. “Do as you like.”

That was a dangerous thing to say to someone like Lao Nie, who promptly pulled three dozen Nie sect disciples from out of nowhere and sent them scurrying around hunting down evil with the energetic enthusiasm of youth entrusted with gigantic sabers and the freedom to use them as they would, while he himself settled in very happily in Lan Qiren’s home, sleeping on a guest bed, keeping away unwanted visitors and helping with any paperwork that didn’t explicitly require a Lan. He also recruited Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen to assist, despite Lan Qiren’s protests that bureaucratic busywork was not an appropriate way for boys of approximately fifteen and definitely twelve, respectively, to spend their time; both of them very solemnly assured Lan Qiren that they were more than happy to do whatever they could.

Even little Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang bullied their way into being involved, insisting that they wanted to do it more than they wanted to train or play, although at their ages there really wasn’t much they could do besides grind ink and run messages to the relevant recipients.

As Lan Qiren might have expected, rumors immediately started about some sort of torrid affair – life would be so much easier if everyone obeyed the rules against gossiping purposelessly – and they even got to the point that several of the sect elders cautiously hinted to him that although cutsleeve relationships were far from being in vogue, they had at no point been explicitly forbidden by the rules, and cited several provisions which seemed to favor such things.

Lan Qiren had thanked them for the reminder and caustically commented that he would be sure to incorporate that into his next set of lectures as he could see no other reason for them to mention it, and soon enough they backed off, shaking their heads. Still, those busybodies that had his best interests in mind were still preferable to the ones that started once more raising the idea of finding him a nice bride of suitable age – by suitable age, they meant too old for children, lest he get any idea of challenging his brother’s line of descent – before he did anything foolish like fall in love, or, worse, to act on it.

Obviously he had no intentions of permitting that.

Still, after a month of enforced rest, Lan Qiren was feeling a bit more himself. He took on more and more of the work, albeit supervised by five sets of judging eyes, and even began to play once more, this time without bringing anyone to tears. Jiwei and Xinfei rested together by the door in comfortable equilibrium, hot and cold, weak and powerful, and the jade pendant that Lan Qiren carried with him remained cool to the touch, not hot at all.

“You will need to go soon,” he told Lao Nie, who shrugged, not denying it – a month was a long time for a sect leader to be away from home absent some valid excuse like a war, not quite too long but starting to push it. No matter how effective one’s deputies were nor how much work one did from a distance, a sect leader was still necessary, in the end, or else Lan Qiren’s life would have been very different.

“Next week,” he said. “That’ll give me just enough time to take the boys home before heading back out again for the conference in Qishan.”

“There’s a conference? I wasn’t informed.”

“No, you weren’t, because I didn’t inform you,” Lao Nie said, utterly shameless. “You’re going to stay here and rest. It’s just a stupid party.”

“That doesn’t matter if it is also a stupid party which everyone else is attending,” Lan Qiren said sternly.

“Jiang Fengmian isn’t going, either,” Lao Nie said. “Doesn’t want to leave his new ward alone just yet…newest rumor has it that Wei Wuxian’s his bastard with Cangse Sanren.”

Lan Qiren shut his eyes. “Of course. Wasn’t I the one having the affair with her last week?”

“Perhaps it was a love triangle?”

“A square, at minimum. Don’t forget she had a husband.”

“A pyramid!”

“Lao Nie…”

Lao Nie laughed. “Jin Guangshan isn’t making it, either. His wife’s giving birth – predictions say to a daughter, I think, assuming this one survives the birth – and all accounts say that she’s threatened to cut his balls off if he even thinks of leaving Lanling City. So, you see, it really is just a stupid party, and by missing it you’ll be doing just the same thing as all the other Great Sects.”

Lan Qiren felt a sudden stab of misgiving. “Except you.”

“Except me,” Lao Nie said cheerfully. “Me and Hanhan.”

Lan Qiren truly did not want to know what went on in Lao Nie’s mind sometimes.

“Why don’t you refrain from going as well?” he asked, aware he sounded tetchy and irritable like some jealous wife in an opera. “If no one else is going.”

“Oh, I have to go. A-Han asked for me specifically,” Lao Nie said, and Lan Qiren thought to himself oh I’m certain he did, then promptly felt bad about doing so. Sneering for no reason was prohibited. “Someone’s gifted him with some magnificent saber for his collection, apparently, and he was boasting that it was the best there was right up until someone stuck their nose in it and said that it was all well and good but no comparison to my Jiwei.”

Lan Qiren could imagine exactly how well a statement like that had gone over with Wen Ruohan.

“And now he’s demanding you show up and produce evidence?” he asked, unimpressed.

Lao Nie grinned. “Ah, Qiren, it’s almost like you’ve met the man before.”

“You shouldn’t encourage him,” Lan Qiren said. “Why should you go just because he asked? He’s your equal, not your master.”

“There’s no harm in giving him some face.”

Lan Qiren could think of several ways that it could lead to harm, the inflation of Wen Ruohan’s already bloated ego being not the least of them, but Lao Nie was his equal as well, his equal and his elder. If the man had made up his mind, as it clearly appeared that he had, there was nothing Lan Qiren could say that would change it.

“Good luck, then,” he said, shaking his head, and called the boys to come in for dinner. As usual, the Lan half of the table remained mute while the Nie half did nothing but chatter, each according to their own family custom. It was a test of wills and endurance – Lan Wangji’s eye kept twitching every time Nie Huaisang filled in words for him, possibly due to the extremely high pitch Nie Huaisang chose to represent him – but it was a joy to share the time with them nonetheless.

Before Lao Nie left, Lan Qiren tried, not for the first time, to press the jade pendant that resonated with Jiwei into his hand. “You should take it with you,” he insisted. “Especially if you’re going to the Nightless City to exhibit your saber – there’s a great deal of resentful energy there, and you know that always gets Jiwei’s bloodlust up.”

“Which in turn will sharpen my reflexes, just when I need them most,” Lao Nie said, pressing the jade pendant right back into Lan Qiren’s hand. “Better you have it.”

“Lao Nie…”

“Jiwei likes you now,” Lao Nie said, as if that mattered. “She’s been just as avid to protect you as I’ve been, this past month – if I didn’t need her by my side, I’d almost be tempted to leave her here with you.”

Lan Qiren arched his eyebrows. “Are you suggesting that I can’t protect myself? Here? In the Cloud Recesses?”

“Saber spirits are not smart, Qiren. But even she can tell that you’re not well yet.”

Lan Qiren waved a hand dismissively. “Well enough,” he said, and it was even true – the grief was still there, of course, and likely would be every time he thought of Cangse Sanren in the near future, excluding maybe the few times when it was one of his students that resembled her only in terms of how much mischief she would get up to, but it was no longer drowning him. He had hope that, in time, this wound would also scab over and the hurt fade, and that at that time he could once again think of her with nothing but joy.

Lao Nie huffed. “Well enough isn’t well,” he grumbled, but that didn’t stop him from gathering his children and his disciples and heading out back towards Qinghe. “Take care of yourself, Qiren! Be well!”

“And you,” Lan Qiren said. “Keep out of trouble, my friend.”

From what he later heard, the party at the Nightless City went about as anyone with half a brain might have expected: Wen Ruohan swanned around until Lao Nie showed up, there were tense words exchanged, and then Lao Nie produced Jiwei, allowing Wen Ruohan to examine her and even pat her a few times before the Wen sect leader was forced, with great reluctance and through gritted teeth, to admit her superiority to the saber he had received.

The stories ended there, but Lan Qiren had enough imagination to fill in how the rest of the night might have gone, especially with the only sect leaders there being Lao Nie and Wen Ruohan. He sincerely hoped that Lao Nie had remembered all those lectures he’d given him about the foolishness of lying in the same bed as poisonous snakes, no matter how beautiful they might be on the surface.

Perhaps he had, perhaps he hadn’t.

Either way, Lan Qiren heard nothing else until the day he interrupted his own afternoon lecture with a sudden cry of intense pain – the jade pendant had abruptly gone so hot that it had burned, and although his clothing, protected by stitched-in incantations, was unharmed, the heat was so severe that it had nevertheless left a mark on his thigh through all those layers.

Clutching at his leg, Lan Qiren ordered his students to run to fetch him cold water and a doctor, and wondered what in the world had happened.

A letter, he decided. He would write Lao Nie a letter to ask.

#mdzs #lan qiren #sect leader nie #my fic #my fics #tedious joys

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gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

Text

Distractions

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: A rainy Sunday evening is spent with Draco.

Warnings: minor injury, brief mentions of blood, mentions of the dark mark, fluff

(not my gif)

It was a rather dreary Sunday evening, rain pelting fast to the ground as it had done all day. Although it wasn’t the kind of weather you’d want to be caught outside in, it was perfectly ideal for the place you were headed. The greenhouse.

You followed a pace or two behind Draco, his hand enveloping yours and a book held in your other as you walked in comfortable silence. The trip there could be done blindfolded at this point, the same path down the near unfrequented halls every Saturday and Sunday at five o’clock in the evening. It was a routine that first started halfway through fifth year, though his fondness for it dates back farther than that.

Every weekend Draco can be found tending to every plant that resided in the large glass structure, a responsibility Professor Sprout bestowed upon him without reluctance. Granted, he wasn’t very gentle or mindful of the delicate greenery and herbs in his early years, which is something he regrets looking back at it. But when he showed up unannounced outside her classroom door after hours a few years later, she had a sneaking suspicion the Slytherin wasn’t quite as insufferable as he lets on.

Despite his fondness and growing interest in the vast varieties of magical plants and the potions they can be crafted into, it’s a piece of himself he wants to be kept secret. Not that he’s embarrassed of such things, but as time goes on he finds it better to leave things of sentimental value out of the public eye. That being said, should anyone cast a lingering glance his way on his route, he’s quick to shoot them a defensive glare to stave off prying eyes.

Now, in just under a year and a half, he’s become one of the finest caretakers of her beloved plants she’s ever seen.

The moment you stepped into the greenhouse the downpour became more apparent than before, creating a steady tapping against the old glass. Condensation beaded on every windowpane it could access, and the puffy gray clouds were visible at every angle, creating the perfect ambience to read your book.

Draco set off to work almost immediately, shrugging off his robe and handing it to you with a kiss on the cheek before reading over the checklist Professor Sprout had made for him.

He started off with watering the herbs she’d listed, spraying their leaves first before watering at the base. He quickly found that to be a more effective way of doing things, giving the remaining water to the select few that could use more hydration.

It was a trick he’d seen quite a few gardeners use on his mother’s garden at the Manor, and the meticulously placed flowers and shrubbery seemed to respond well to the technique. That amongst many other things were something he observed in his days spent at home on the summer break. The acres of well manicured landscaping providing ample opportunities to escape and spend his time around something other than the four walls of his bedroom.

Once finished, he moved to clean up around the place, giving you a sweet smile any time he passed by you even if you hadn’t seen it. But the times you did catch his eye, the tips of his ears would burn a pale pink.

He picked up a couple pairs of gardening shears left out and a few brooms that lay knocked over from messy second year students, putting miscellaneous dragon-skin gloves back in their rightful cabinet with the others. Some might consider this to be rather boring, especially on a weekend where there were better things to be spent doing on the short break from schoolwork. But the distraction was something Draco needed and it was one he enjoyed, something he found he could use a bit more of lately.

Repotting mandrakes was last on the very brief list. They weren’t used very often anymore, not like they had been in second year. But if the need arised should anyone be petrified, it was good to have a few on hand for potions.

He undid the buttons on the cuffs of his white dress shirt before shoving the slightly wrinkled sleeves up to rest at his elbows. However, he seemed to have briefly forgotten the mark swirling across the pale skin on his forearm, promptly yanking that sleeve back down before grabbing the ceramic pots and a new bag of soil with a frown. He tried not to let it cloud up his train of thought and sour his mood.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to his inner turmoil you had long since made yourself comfortable perched on a vacant spot on one of the old wooden tables, book cracked open in your hands. It hadn’t taken you very long to become immersed in it, as books usually do to its readers. And you could’ve sworn you might’ve heard Draco’s voice, whether or not it was directed at you, you were unsure.

A minute or two later he finished his preparations and glanced over his shoulder at you, sighing at the sight. The earmuffs he’d asked you to put on just moments ago still sat where he’d set them down on your lap, your eyes fixed on your book as his robe sat wrapped around your shoulders to combat the chilly evening weather. He walked the few feet over to you, picking them up.

“Sometimes I think you choose to tune me out, love,” Draco says, placing your earmuffs on your head gently, smiling when you lifted your head from your book. You offer a smile as your cheeks flush a soft pink.

“Sometimes,” you remark with a soft laugh, gaze returning to find the line you left off at. Truthfully you were beginning to lose focus anyway.

He set off to the task at hand with a smile, making short work of it though there’s only so much those earmuffs can do to filter out the shrill cries of these plants. It was a dreaded detail he hadn’t forgotten in his second year, always wondering how such a small creature could produce such a deafeningly fatal sound.

You decided any quality reading wouldn’t be achievable beyond that point, especially not with the humidity curling and warping the pages you tried to read from. It definitely was not because of the blonde who stood paces away from you, the very same humidity turning his once formally styled hair to mussed waves of platinum. Regardless of the reasons or their importance, you closed your book and made your way over to him.

“Do you need a hand with anything?” You ask, looking over the vast array of greenery before looking up at him. He pondered for a moment as he set the scrap piece of parchment down and rubbed his hands together to rid them of dirt.

“Could you take those extra pots to the storage cupboard?” He asks kindly, pointing to the two spares that sat untouched. You nod, grabbing the set from the table. “Thank you, darling.”

The frequently used name had still managed to make your heart flutter, your flustered distraction having you trip on the leg of the table. The pots in your hand were sent flying unceremoniously to the ground with a clatter, cheeks reddening from your blunder as you instinctively grabbed for them. As your finger ran along a sharp edge you quickly recoil with a surprised gasp, Draco tugging you to your feet in concern of the situation before you could fully hit the ground.

“Careful, Love!” He scolds softly, pulling your arm from your chest gently to see just what kind of accident he was dealing with.

Draco was quick to rush off to a cabinet on the far end of the greenhouse, freshly stocked with medicinal potions, some of which he’d gotten to make himself. He returned shortly with a small glass bottle, and he gently blotted at the fairly superficial cut running along the length of your pointer finger.

“What is that?” You ask softly as he gingerly holds your shaky hand, depositing a few drops over it. It stung a bit unexpectedly and your eyes widen a fraction as you watch it quickly heal as if nothing was ever there, curious gaze bouncing up to Draco. You tried not to pay any mind to the blonde strand that stuck adorablely to his forehead and focus on his words.

“It’s Essence of Dittany. I’ve just made this batch last week and it seems to be quite satisfactory,” he says, a small yet proud smile on his lips as he inspects your newly healed finger.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” you say with a soft laugh.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he quips, earning himself a pointed stare as you raised a questioning brow at him. He laughs as he puts the tiny bottle back where he got it, the shards of terra-cotta easily piecing themselves back together with a simple motion of his hand. “I’m only kidding, my love.”

You settle as he pulls you close by a gentle grip on your hands, releasing one to tuck your newly frizzy hair behind your ear. It was true, you were the only person to know most everything about him. Not one person in his social circle, not even his mother, knew his ins and outs like you and the thought both terrified him and comforted him all the same. But he knew you’d never cast an ounce of judgement his way. Not even for the mark ghosting over his arm that haunted his very thoughts the moment it was formed.

His calloused hand came to rest on your cheek, thumb brushing over flushed skin as his gray eyes took in every feature. The freckles that could only been seen in a close proximity, the curve of your lashes, the natural shade of pink coloring your bare lips. Soon he dipped down and kissed you, unable to refrain from doing so a moment longer. He always finds himself unable to resist it. You seem to enchant him, stronger than any love potion or magical spell could ever manage to evoke. And while true love is a scary thought, he doesn’t have it in him fight the very grip it has on his racing heart.

He parted from you reluctantly upon the sound of unfamiliar footfalls approaching, grabbing your hand with a laugh as the two of you run off towards the other exit hand in hand. The forgotten rain came as an icy shock once you ran out into it, but such inconveniences weren’t important when he pulls you in for another rain soaked kiss.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fic #harry potter fic

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leahseclipse · 3 years

Text

It’s always colder on your own

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Angst/ comfort

Warnings: SPOILERS OF S2 EP15-18, mentions of addiction, murder, kidnapping, rape (just in a sentence), drugs, traumatic experience, usual cm stuff

Summary: Old memories haunt the BAU's genius when a case involving addiction is handled by the team.

Requested by @imagining-in-the-margins ; based on this request:

Hurt/Comfort where there is a case involving addiction and the following happens:

Reader: Are you alright?

Spencer: Hm? Oh. Yeah, I-I'm fine.

Reader: Okay.

Reader: You know it's okay if you're not, right?

Spencer: What?

Reader: It's okay if you're not okay.

A/N: Its aaaaaaa I'm writing another request for imagining-in-the-margins— that's wowie-

Oh and btw, for the mentions of the verse of the bible; I did some research about it based on the ones that Spencer recited, so I'm sorry if I accidentally made some mistakes, I unfortunately don't know much about it ^^

A/N (2); At some point of the story, when you’ll see text then [...] and text again, the “[...]” is the parts Spencer haven’t been listening to, he was distracted.

I hope you will like it, i tried lmaoo

Word count: 4.8k

__________________

It's just a little bit lonely in this home, it's always colder on your own, my darling I, I let the seasons change my mind. — Ricky Montgomery, This December

__________________

Spencer hasn’t felt that way for a long time, for way too long.

That feeling seemed weird, but strangely familiar.

Although it had been a while since it had happened, he never really forgot about it; it stayed; buried deep inside his thoughts.

He didn’t think that he’d have to deal with it again; well, he’s only dealing with his own problems, because it wasn’t about him this time; it was about the case, specifically, about the unsub.

Spencer had never thought the case would have turned out to be that way; it didn’t seem like it at all at first, he would have qualified it as normal- as the cases they had worked on before this one didn’t affect him personally in general- ,but none of the case the bureau works on are normal, you truly have to be mentally prepared for it because it never is normal, there always is a deeper meaning, and when the reason is discovered, it isn’t really pleasant most of the time, to the point everyone in the room had wished not to see it, but it isn’t very surprising anymore when you’ve been working there for more than ten years, you get used to it, eventually.

He wished that he could have said that he had moved on, but it never was the case, he didn’t forget these days, when he had thought that he wouldn’t make it out alive; and he almost didn’t. He had died there, probably for less than ten minutes as he didn’t suffer permanent brain damage from the lack of oxygen; but what had probably caused it was the dilaudid.

It had been injected into his veins, multiple times without his consent, for the only reason that it would make him feel better- which did not, considering what he had to go through after it happened.

He still regrets what he did after the incident; he snapped at Emily; thought of using dilaudid again: he clearly wasn’t himself, he didn’t even recognize himself whenever he was in front of a mirror.

Addiction stuff never goes away, and even though he didn’t forget, he didn’t think much about it daily, just when the subject would come up, or if he’d see or hear something that would remind him of it, but never the thought of the matter had been that important until now. It never triggered him a lot when he thought of it, not until a case bringing it up was taken in by the team.

It had been exactly five days, four hours, and nine minutes since they had begun working on it, but if he’d be counting the time he had been working on it, it’d be less than that. He hasn’t been focusing well since the discovery of the addiction concerning the unsub had been brought up.

Why is it impacting me like that? It had never been that way before, so why did it stay since? I never brought much attention to it to the point of thinking of it non-stop. I always managed to distract myself, try to control my emotions, so why didn’t it work today?

The only person who could- almost - make it go somehow go away was y/n. He’d look at her, and he’d be able to escape these thoughts for a moment as the only thing he thought about was her.

Spencer could describe her as his guardian angel, he can't lie about it, she saved him.

He doesn't know what he'd be doing if she wasn't here; and now that he thinks about what happened with Hankel, he can't imagine that if he hadn't made it out alive, he wouldn't have met her, she wouldn't have met him; and the only way she could have known him was through memories, and pictures.

Spencer would have been nothing but a frozen memory.

It sends chills to his spine whenever he thinks about it, the fact that he would have died at 25.

He can’t keep thinking about it, as it isn’t good to remain in the past; but now he’s just stuck in them, he can’t really describe what he’s feeling, but he can definitely say that it's clearly not doing any good to his mental health; it’s ruining him.

But clearly he doesn't want to tell the others and add more problems on top of the ones they already have with the case, and eventually in their lives.

Spencer doesn’t want to feel like a burden to the others, it’s been more than 10 years since it happened and to him, he’s supposed to have left some of the tension that was crushing him, it had been supposed to at least go away, a bit, to the point it didn’t ruin his health; he doesn’t know if he should talk about it, or if he even wants to.

He knows that they’ll understand, he knows that they never judged him, and will never do it; but what if they don’t understand? He doesn’t even know why it appeared now, he doesn’t know what triggered him that much to the point of being in this state of mind. He always figures out everything, and now he can’t even solve his own problems.

Everyone says that no one knows you better than you do, but I guess that this time the ‘theory’ hasn’t proven itself to be true apparently.

Something refrains him from talking; but he doesn’t know why.

If he talks about it with y/n, it may or may not solve it, but it could release some pressure, perhaps. It’s not confirmed, but it could.

Now that he thought about it, were the thoughts that distractive to the point that he may have forgotten why he felt like that in the first place?

He remembers that stress can affect how memories are formed. When stressed, people have a more difficult time creating short-term memories and turning those short-term memories into long-term memories, meaning that it is more difficult to learn when stressed.

It could have been that, but how? He doesn’t forget stuff.

He never does.

But, now that he thinks about it, is he looking at a reason when it is only right in front of his eyes? When it could only be his brain that reacted when the subject came up?

Spencer always figures out stuff, even what’s going on in his own mind;

So why does he feel like he can’t do anything?

Anything but watch himself sink down.

Is he trying to avoid it, doesn’t he want to solve it, or is he too afraid to face the truth?

Well, a part of him doesn't want to admit it, he could say that.

He doesn't want to face it, he doesn’t want to plunge the knife deeper than it already is. He doesn’t know, or can’t talk about it because he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to explain , make the person he’s talking to understand his feelings, or even manage to get the courage to talk about it, to not get stuck in a middle of sentence because he suddenly freaks out, or doesn’t know what to tell anymore.

He hoped that it’ll get better.

It could;

Or it couldn’t.

He’ll try to think about it later. It already was late enough, he wouldn’t get much sleep, so he’d better go now.

Spencer made his way to the entrance of the hotel room he shared with y/n, wondering if she still was awake; as she liked to go over the cases sometimes before going to sleep; but she wasn’t this time, she was laying on her side, the white blanket on top of her legs.

He made his way in the room, carefully closing the door not to wake her up; as she must have been drained of all the energy after the long day they’ve had;

He understands her, it really is exhausting, especially when the case goes nowhere. They didn’t manage to get much today, except...the addiction stuff.

Spencer would have normally felt relieved to have found a lead, even the smallest, but that lead wasn’t the one he would have wanted to find. He did want to find something else, but they weren’t appropriate thoughts, you can’t wish to find out he was a rapist or a murderer either.

Either it’s addiction, murder, kidnapping or rape stuff, neither is acceptable to wish for it to happen instead of what happened.

Neither.

He wishes he could erase it from his mind, at least, not remember it fully; but with that eidetic memory of his, that isn’t possible.

His eidetic memory is a blessing and a curse at the same time.

The curse part of it isn’t the best, it even describes itself by the definition of curse.

It always makes you remember the memories you certainly don't want to think about; and for Spencer, it’s literally his whole life, so he does want to not have it anymore most of the time because of that.

Unfortunately, that isn’t possible either.

If only it could, that’d allow him to rest better, especially now.

He made his way to the bed to the side next to the window; y/n had remembered that Spencer preferred to be on the side of the window.

Gosh, he loves her for that.

It’s a small detail, but still, he appreciated it that she thought of it.

Thinking about her, he wonders if she did notice or not; because even though they don’t profile each other, y/n always tries to make sure he’s okay without pressuring him.

So, if she did notice that time, she may not be talking about it because she possibly wasn’t sure whether he would react well or not; she knows that it’s a sensitive subject, and she didn’t want to trigger him or be in bad terms, but only if she knew that he wouldn’t ever do that.

He couldn’t yell at her, she’s the reason he’s here, the reason he stayed for. If he knew that five years after his arrival she’d enter the bureau, he would have fought every single day to survive and meet her, especially when he was with Hankel. He wouldn’t have given it up if it was for her.

He appreciated the team too, they were a second family to him; but he also would have liked to have the love of his life to fight for that day.

Spencer was relieved that she had arrived a year after it happened, he wouldn’t have wanted her to see him like that, he knew that she couldn’t have managed to think about anything, her mind would be fuzzy, she wouldn’t have managed to separate the right thoughts from the bad ones. He would have been relieved that it didn’t happen in front of her eyes, not the actual thing.

He wouldn’t have preferred that to happen at all, considering the problems that it caused after it, and still from that day. He still thinks that it was his fault, even if the team made him know it wasn’t at all; but he shouldn’t have split up.

Both JJ and him could have died; JJ could have been badly hurt because of the dogs, if they attacked her, and spencer could have died there if Tobias or whatever it was, didn’t chose to try to resuscitate him; if he would have made him go in his own grave he had dig, or if he has shot before he managed to get his gun to shoot him in the chest.

He still remembers the look on his face.

Even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory, he probably wouldn’t have forgotten it. It terrified him.

He had shot him before hankel managed to, and he fell to the floor, as Spencer kneeled beside him, looking at his terrified and disturbed eyes.

“You killed him."

“Tobias?” He asked, as he noticed the brightness of the flashlights from his peripheral view; and heard the distant voices, probably calling his name. He didn’t pay much attention, from the state and mindset, and his mind being...well, trying to focus on the man in front of him.

“Do you think I’ll get to see my mom again?” he slightly raised his voice, looking at Spencer.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer had admitted.

And that was the last words he had probably heard, before his eyes froze as life left his body; his chest rising a final time, as his last breath dissolved itself in the cold air.

It wasn’t until several people had gathered around the area, Hotch lowering himself to Reid’s level in order to pick him up.

A feeling of relief had washed itself over him, he hadn’t realised that his living nightmare had- now that he thought about it- somehow came to an end.

He didn’t think he’d do it once, but he had hugged hotch; as Hotch gave him a pat after he had wrapped his arms around his upper back.

He had understood what he had said when Hankel had asked him who he’d chose to kill, after he had chose Hotch,

"He’s a classic narcissist; he thinks he’s better than everyone else on the team.

Genesis 23:4; let him not deceive himself and trust in vanity, emptiness, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense.

When he had said this; he had messed up on purpose; his memory didn't fail him; he had recited the verse 'job 15:31', not genesis 23:4. He had hoped for them to understand the "mistake" he had done, hoping that one of them would know the real verse.

I am a stranger and a sojourner with you. Give me property, forbear a place among you that I may bury my dead out of my sight “

Something had probably clicked in their minds, allowing them to discover the location Reid was at, or close to.

After that, he had gone to hug JJ, who had begun stepping towards him; before breaking the embrace as he reassured her that it wasn’t her fault after she had apologized.

That’s when he thinks that he messed up, what caused him to struggle even more.

He had asked for a moment, to be alone; and shortly stepped towards Tobias’s cold, lifeless body, reaching out for his pocket to take the two dilaudid vials; shoving them in his pocket in a single move- possibly to not draw attention by taking his time if they were watching him-, before standing up, crossing his arms, each in the crook of the other.

He won’t lie to himself, the next days weren’t the best he had; the wound was fresh, so obviously he wasn’t in his right mind; he kept-

Spencer.

Stop.

You’ve done enough damage to yourself.

He had put his hand on his forehead, before crashing on the bed, close to y/n to feel her warmth; hoping it could allow him to put his mind to rest.

Don’t think about it.

Just stop. It’ll be by constantly thinking about it that it’ll keep ruining you.

Spencer thought that it could- in a way- stop it, he didn’t really know what to do and think about at his point.

He closed his eyes, in an attempt to finish the rest of the night calmly.

-------

Spencer had woken up surprisingly early, way before the usual hour they'd go to work.

The night wasn't awesome, but okay...ish.

He had taken a lot of time trying to get his thoughts away from his head, but when you're alone, the task isn't easy.

It's you, and your thoughts.

Nothing else.

There wasn't anything to distract him as y/n was asleep; he wasn't going to wake her at 4am because he couldn't sleep, you certainly don't wake up someone for that.

He had woken up by exactly 5:45, not bothering to look at the window as he knew daylight wouldn't come at this time of the day, more around 7.

Obviously, he hadn't forgotten last night's subject, as much as he wished he could have.

But you know...eidetic memory stuff again.

As he looked as y/n lying next to him; Spencer had noticed that she hadn't apparently woken up yet; she was on her side, her face facing his.

He had wondered if she managed to get a good night of sleep; she'd often get stressed because of the case, and as the case had contained something she knew concerned Spencer -in a way-, she must have been stressing about it.

She always put others before herself, if one of her friends wasn't feeling well, she'd abandon the activity she was up to, and focus on the person; no matter what, even if it meant staying for two hours to listen and help the one she was talking to.

She was amazingly caring.

Too caring to the point that Spencer would ask himself if he ever deserved her: he wouldn’t have thought that he’ll ever meet a person like that, acting so nicely with him, plus interested in a relationship, that is now going on for two years; that was...unimaginable.

He liked being with her, a lot. She was a bit shorter than him, so he’d find it cute whenever she’d struggle reaching the top shelf; he didn’t know why he’d find it so cute: but it was like that. He’d go to help her, even if she wouldn’t ask, he’d do everything to make her happy, he’d never been in a relationship before her, so he didn’t really quite know what to do not to make her uncomfortable, not loved; he was so awkward and wouldn’t stop rambling or stuttering whenever he’d see y/n.

But she never saw him this way. She saw him as a normal person, talked to him as she would to the rest of the team; and would often come to talk, even if she didn’t have a reason to. She apparently wanted to hear Spencer rambling about facts, or answer some of the questions she had; and it never bothered him, she could have come for anything, even if it was just to say hello or ask him to take a paper she had faxed.

As long as he could see her, hear her voice, as long as she would be near him, it would be okay.

He had hoped for a while to be more than just friends, but the introverted side he had made him keep his feelings stuck inside, with no possibility to let them go out as he didn’t even have the courage to. That decision would have been something he would have regretted for a while if Ihedidn’t choose to say it that day at the bureau.

Well, It all was in the moment, it wasn’t intentional, not at all, it slipped out, and he regretted it at first, as his first thought was her rejection due to her non-shared feelings towards him.

“Hey Reid, you ready today? We don’t have any case for now, but we still have the paperwork from last day.”

“Oh- you’re talking to me? Sorry I- I thought of something. Could you repeat?”

“You? Distracted ? That isn’t surprising.”

“It’s rare, i’m paying attention most of the time.”

“Well you didn’t this time genius. Do you have a reason to defend yourself?” She said, in a playful tone.

“You.”

“...what?”

“I- I just, uh...it’s been a while since I wanted to tell uh…”

“...wanted to tell what?”

“That I- appreciate you; but not only in a…friendly way, it’s more than that. If you...get it. I...god, I’m probably making you feel uncomfortable right now.”

“Wait, you’re serious about this?”

“I’ve never been more serious than now.” Spencer said, not even stuttering, proving how serious he was in this moment.

“Then I feel the same, if that can answer your questions,.”

And that is how they began dating; with only eleven words; she had relieved him. He had been washed of all of his fears, now replaced with comforting thoughts.

He had never forgotten this sentence. If he didn't have an eidetic memory, he would have immediately grabbed a post-it not to forget it.

The tiniest things that had set their relationship had been the biggest ones that he cherishes the most.

Spencer likes her so much that he's always afraid to lose her whenever they're on a case; he always has to go with her.. Although she always was with the others, he couldn't let anything happen to her without being able to be here to protect her.

She doesn't want her to see him getting hurt either; even though she insists to be with him; it's funny; the fact that they want to protect each other all the time.

But now, he did want to protect her, he didn't want her to worry about problems she has yet to worry about.

We have enough problems.

I don't need to add more.

It won't do any good.

I'll solve it on my own.

Spencer crossed the door; as a group of officers and the team standing in the middle were. Hotch was walking through the room enunciating the profile of the unsub they were looking for, after managing to have enough information to form one.

Each word, each characteristic, would, or not, lead to the matter that had filled him for a week; he had tried for multiple times not to let the case reach him, it rarely did, and in that case, as it was mentioning a sensible matter, it wasn’t the most pleasant week at work, not really the kind of week he had imagine he’d had; especially not a one including a heavy mention of addiction with drugs that the victims had, and possibly the unsub as he knew specific types, and how to dose them enough to give a fatal dose. He either used them personally, or simply had knowledge of them: this fact couldn’t be confirmed yet.

“The unsub we’re looking for is most possibly a white male in his 30-40s, he [...] a stable situation, based on the frequency of the attacks, most of them being within working hours, and for a [...], killing people that don’t correspond to the type of victims he does his usual m.o; he’s perturbed, he knows people [...] ease in public, and probably may feel easily threatened and perturbed if someone [...], subjects that may trigger traumatism, causing him to become dangerous, and harm fatally other people if not controlled-”

Spencer hadn’t even listened to half of what he had just said, what he had been thinking about was taking more place in his mind than any other case would whenever he’d work to analyze it.

He had let himself get distracted, not daring to pay attention to his surroundings, to the point he hadn’t even seen y/n standing next to him, a worried expression plastered on her face.

Is it that obvious?

Is it obvious to the point she could notice it without profiling me? Or has she…?

“Spence, I think that we should head out for a moment.” She quietly said, grabbing the sleeve of his cardigan. “You don’t look okay. Are you alright?”

Am I?

“Uh...yeah, I-I’m doing fine, just a bit tired.”

“Everyone is, but I can clearly see it isn’t the same type.” She tightened her grip on his sleeve, pulling him out of the room.

After she had managed to find an empty room, y/n had opened it, pulling Spencer inside as she closed the door, before closing the blinds that could allow someone from the exterior to see the room. She had noticed the lock on the door, not hesitating to pull it towards the right to lock the room.

She looked at him, eyes tearing up. She placed a word before he had even gotten to.

“Spence, you know that...it’s okay if you’re...not okay, right?” She asked, hesitant.

“What...what do you mean?”

“You can tell me, it’s okay if you’re not okay. There is, no shame, to not be.” She said, as she sat on the seat next to her, Spencer following her action a second later. “..since when is it bothering you?” She placed a hand on his, rubbing circles with her thumb.

“When we...found out about the addiction matter, not long after we began working on the case. I don’t know why I stayed stuck on this.”

“Why didn’t you talk about it? If you had preferred to talk to someone else, I wouldn’t have been mad if you had gone to JJ, I know you guys have always been close.”

“I just thought that...I would bother everyone by adding my problems on top of the ones we already have. And I...didn’t know how to explain it.”

“And you didn’t want me to worry, right?” She asked, as he nodded. “I know that I worry about anything, but if it was about that, you know that I would have listened, and did my best to help, even though I wasn’t here when it had occurred. But I want you to know that I’m not mad about the fact you didn’t talk about it; I understand you.”

“I know you do. But, I was afraid you wouldn’t get it, or overstress because of it, because god knows that you stress about the tiniest thing,” He joked, earning a small chuckle from y/n. “But I just...kept thinking about it. The more I’d tell myself to stop thinking about it, the more it’d stay. I didn’t tell you everything about it, you just know about the livestream, and what the team had seen; and I...you know the next part, I had a problem with dilaudid; I had attempted to drug myself again, in the bathroom of an office, not long after. If Hotch hadn’t called me, I think that I would have done it.”

“But you didn’t, you managed to get the strength to stop. And you still have it now. We’re also here to give you the strength you need, support, whatever includes helping you. We’ve always been here, it won’t ever change. And even if we have a case, we’ll find a minute to talk with you. You never, but never, bothered us.”

“You sure…?”

“Absolutely. So here’s what we’re gonna do, we’re going to go back to the room; and go through the case. I would have wished that I could tell you to completely stop working, but we have to catch him before he does more damage. But after it’s done, we’ll get back home; talk about it, stay together, whatever could make you feel better. Because it’s okay to ask for help when you really think you need it, there’s no shame. I know that it’s complicated for you to talk about your problems in general, but if you feel like you need to talk to someone, we’ll be there, all of us.”

“Yeah, I know. But, I feel like how I felt a few days after it happened, when I was in the room with him, every single word, what he did to me, and...when I shot him. I still can’t erase the look he had on his face; I just…” He inhaled, wiping a stray tear from his eye. He wasn’t the type to get emotional in front of other people, but when he was with y/n, it didn’t matter. “I...still think that I shouldn’t have split up with JJ, she could have gotten killed by these dogs if she didn’t have ammo. I still think that it’s all my fault.”

“It’s not Spencer. I know you still feel guilty, she felt guilty as well too when you got abducted; and even though I know you can’t erase what happened, everything is over, both of you are safe. I’m not a good talker, I know, but, to resume, I’m gonna help you with what you’re going through, you’re not alone. You’ll even take a week off if you need one, your health comes first; okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Do you think you can go back, or do you need to go outside for a bit?”

“No, It’s ok, I can go back.”

“Okay, let’s go then.” She said, as she took his hand, their fingers interlocking: as Spencer felt the warmth of her hand against his skin.

He liked feeling her warmth, it really was comforting, and would- somehow - chase the nightmares away, for a bit.

He doesn’t believe that the pain will go away, his addiction problem never went away, even though he didn’t use any drugs anymore.

It won’t ever go fully, it’ll always stay, deep inside.

But hopefully, her presence can possibly make it go away, make him forget, at least for while,

So it won’t always be colder on his own.

__________________

Tags: @writing-in-april ;

#criminal minds s2 ep15 #criminal minds #criminal minds cbs #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencersblog

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sourbat · 3 years

Text

Here’s a quick little ficlet where Skwisgaar and Toki discuss the proper treatment and training of yard wolves, and Skwisgaar learning that he isn’t the most reliable pack member of the group.

Rating: General

Warnings: references to “Bookklok” and implied trauma

Read it on Ao3

or just “read more” below :D

A yard wolf mother died at the hands of a stray bullet, leaving behind five young pups. Though Offdensen was a staunch believer of the old saying “survival of the fittest,” Skwisgaar took it upon himself to help raise and socialize the orphans until they were old enough for proper training. There were no complaints amongst the band, and the first few weeks of mostly nursing and playing went by smoothly. Then, during one afternoon, Skwisgaar got wise to a wily pup who was busy attacking and biting his sister’s ear into a bloody pulp.

Skwisgaar silently observed the scene, the larger male nipping and taking advantage of his submissive companion. While some might regard the aggressive behavior as a positive trait, Skwisgaar focused entirely on the female’s obvious signs of displeasure, and the male ignoring her pleas in favor of a quick power high. Carefully and swiftly, Skwisgaar swooped in and grabbed the pup by the snout. With his thumb and forefinger, he closed the tiny jaw shut, then rolled the upset thing onto his back where it tried to wriggle free. Aware of the continued defiance, Skwisgaar applied some weight and forced the pup into place.

As it whimpered and fought to be free of its new submissive position, Toki took interest and broke from the gang’s activities to check on Skwisgaar.

“You ams hurtings him,” he quietly suggested, as if ashamed for even bringing up the issue, or out of fear that the other members of Dethklok might notice their lead guitarist’s less than acceptable behavior.

“Just stoppins him from biting withouts permissions,” Skwisgaar replied while keeping his hold. “Ams more humiliatinks than anytinks else.”

“Nots very nice,” Toki remarked, sounding more offended than the pup.

Skwisgaar rolled his eyes. “Sometimes ams not abouts be-inks nice.”

Below, the young wolf’s tail began to vigorously sway, as though it were nervously considering this act by his foster a game. Perhaps he saw Toki and figured he might be saved from the awkward predicament.

Skwisgaar refused to budge. He stared the dog down, eyes chasing and locking with the pups’ whenever it so much as tried to whimper and cry in Toki’s direction. Eventually, after Toki joined the sounds of complaints, the puppy emitted another soft plea, and then went limp.

Toki’s shadow fretted above, finger pulling at the other as Skwisgaar counted down before finally breaking from his fierce glower and hold.

“He doesn’t likes it,” he heard Toki comment.

“He needs to learn to controls himself, Tokis,” Skwisgaar calmly insisted.

He watched the small wolf turn limp and submissive, and finally released his grip. As he had hoped, the pup remained fixed in place, wild amber eyes locked onto Skwisgaar and awaiting permission to crawl back and join his pack mates. Satisfied, he smiled, and backed from the puppy, letting Toki observe the small beast quickly recover and scamper off, tucked tail already lifting the moment he was out of grabbing range.

When Skwisgaar turned, he saw Toki retracting awkwardly before providing an overenthusiastic nod. His eyes, however, were very much on litter, and when Skwisgaar tried to invite Toki close with a smile, earned a slightly dismayed pout instead. He brought a hand to his dusty elbow, rubbing it consciously as Skwisgaar made yet another glance at the pups.

He couldn’t guess what irked Toki so much, so he asked, “Thinks I hurts his snouts?”

Toki’s face hardened. “Thinks you hurts his feelinks when you humiliatics him.”

Skwisgaar found the suggestion amusing, but refrained from being nasty. It would be easy to poke fun at how his rhythm guitarist applied human thoughts and feelings to that of a beast. And was Toki so hurt because he felt sorry for the pup? Did he not witness the damage the young wolf caused?

“It ams better to have his feelinks hurt now,” Skwisgaar stated firmly, “otherwise, he will gets reckless and gets his pack hurts.” He stared at Toki, then turned to watch the pup return to his sister to lick the wounds he had caused. “Sometimes we needs to be hard on the ones we cares about, Tokis. We needs them to be betters, understands?”

Toki’s head sank. He looked doubtful. Skwisgaar didn’t hold it against him. It was so easy to focus on the present, on immediate pleasures and momentary, fanciful whims. That was all Toki knew. He lived in a world of luxury. It seemed cruel to forcibly keep a pup’s mouth shut, glare at it while teaching it to submit. But it was for a greater cause. The pup attacked a member of his pack. Maybe to Toki, it was nothing more than an accident, but in the grander scheme of things, such rebellious acts would get in the way of the pack’s wellbeing.

A light clicked. It occurred to Skwisgaar why Toki would feel bad for a disobedient pack member. Toki likely saw himself in the animal: reckless, thoughtless and desperate for control. Skwisgaar couldn’t count the times he had to put Toki in his place, remind him who was the lead guitarist, or pull him out of some ridiculous situation that he’d gotten himself into. The rhythm guitarist who wanted more creative control, but couldn’t be bothered to practice more or offer any input during recording. Toki saw himself in that male wolf and empathized with his terrible blunder, reliving those embarrassing times Skwisgaar caught him woefully unprepared.

“Don’ts worry,” Skwisgaar said. He stood up and continued to watch the small litter return to their play. “He wills be okays. He wills…gets over it.”

It sounded far crueler than intended, but there was no going back from it. Skwisgaar didn’t see any reason to, and began readjusting his guitar strap.

“Did you “gets over it” when I humiliatics you?”

The question struck like a hard blow to the gut, mentally upper-cutting an unsuspecting Skwisgaar and leaving him hopelessly at a loss for words.

“No,” Skwisgaar finally managed once most of the memories of the event had subsided. “But dat ams–”

His first inclination was to point out the difference between the two; however, after reliving those traumatic few weeks once more, Skwisgaar withheld from concluding his thoughts.

Though a memory now, the reminder proved its weight and pushed all the air out of him in the form of a heavy, uneven sigh. His composure teetered, and although they were out in the private haven that was Mordhaus’ fields, Skwisgaar avoided Toki and the band in the far distance to hide his immediate reaction. Shaken and misty-eyed, Skwisgaar faced the small collection of wolf pups and homed in on the young male he had disciplined in front of Toki.

Skwisgaar didn’t think he resembled the older male. True, he’d been hard on Toki in the past, and made their shared rehearsals difficult, but that was only because he had high standards.

The pervasive thought lingered, festering the longer Skwisgaar had his sights on the animal. Standards or not, Skwisgaar knew there was more to him berating Toki than he let on. It was years of mediocrity, of performing well below his skill in bands that didn’t go anywhere, of going from band to band, from teacher to teacher, of being told by his last lead guitarist that his creative input wasn’t wanted, and–

And following that, years of his insecurities and obsessive compulsive desire to stay on top quashing any hope for Toki to step outside his shadow, lest Skwisgaar repeat the cycle again. And where did that get him? A spot in the New York’s Times best sellers, and for all the wrong reasons. Things between the two had gotten better since the books were pulled, but Skwisgaar couldn’t deny that it still haunted him.

All because he couldn’t bear the thought of supporting Toki and letting him play a solo in front of an adoring crowd.

Skwisgaar faced Toki. Nervous, and still recovering from the memories, he grappled the neck of his guitar, letting the strings underneath his grip scrape into him.

“Skwisgaars?” Toki neared, taking him by the arm. “Ams sorry. Didn’t’s means to brings–”

“I learneds my lesson. And…” Skwisgaar stared hard at the ground. It didn’t stop the heat from rising out his face, the pain from constricting his throat. Toki tugged his arm. Slowly, Skwisgaar lifted his head, the hurt in his eyes uninhibited and blaring. “Tokis…I dids not like it whens you humiliatics me.”

Toki shriveled before him. “Skwisgaar, I ams so sorries.”

“Ams ok. I shoulds hab knowns better,” he said, tearing his hands from his guitar to stop Toki from shrinking any further. He fought past the stings of his wounded pride and misguided anger, and faced the bitter truth as best he could. Again, staring at the earth did little to help stave away the pain, but this time Skwisgaar had Toki by his side. Toki was still shaken, but it seemed he knew they both needed some help keeping things together.

With the other’s help, they walked to a nearby and empty table, the litter of pups and a few klokateers trailing not too far behind.

“I should habs been a better members of the packs and lets you plays a solo.” Skwisgaar sighed, eyes rifting from the wolves to his guitar. He had half the mind to play. Something to distract from the pain. With Toki waiting and calming down in front of him, he broke habit and clasped his hands together.

“I will also tries to finds a different ways to train the yard wolves,” he added, feeling the pangs of guilt and tarnished ego subside once Toki’s expression eased into acceptance.

“Okays.”

They made a glance at the pups in the distance. Skwisgaar watched the male he had punished stop and stare at him, then returned to his chase. Amongst the yips and barks, he spotted the quiet female at the edge of the pack, her bloodied ear now drying. Skwisgaar knew he’d have to make it right on her behalf, fix her ear and teach her to defend herself if she was to survive training.

Consequently, he owed Toki the same opportunity for success.

Skwisgaar drew a finger, and let it glide along one of his strings. As it vibrated a silent note, he willed the courage to face Toki and add, “And…if you gets over freezinks ups, I will gives you solos the next time we plays.”

Toki’s eyes practically glowed. “You means it?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

“Ja. What ams teams-mates for?” Skwisgaar said. He wanted to tack on more, go as far to suggest that he’d try to help Toki face a demanding crowd, but refrained. A history of bad music lessons and bullying, not to mention the remaining members of the band picking up on the fact they’d been away for so long, kept Skwisgaar going too far from his comfort zone. But that didnt mean the idea was off the table. Once he picked up a new method of training, and Toki had proof he wasn’t going to go back on his word, he’d mention the idea.

If he was worthy enough, Toki would accept him as an instructor.

“Thanks you, Skwisgaars!” The embrace arrived quicker than Skwisgaar could defend himself from. Still sitting, his guitar pressed into his chest, and Skwisgaar wheezed a slight gasp while Toki gratefully squeezed the life from him. “I promise Toki will do betters.”

“Ams fine. Just promise not to tells the others I gots… emoskinals.”

Toki broke into a little chuckle, then let go of Skwisgaar. Murderface called for Toki to return to the table and roll the die, and finish his turn. He raced ahead of Skwisgaar, leaving him to the purple glades and perpetual mist that accompanied the fields, but not before sending a final, optimistic glance at his lead. Skwisgaar watched it come and go, like so many others, but couldn’t shake the feeling that this time Toki was going to uphold this promise.

A sharp cry pulled Skwisgaar away from the table, and to two of the young yard wolves fighting and causing quite the stir amongst the litter.

Only times will tells, Skwisgaar thought, then set out into the fog to return to the wolves.

#skwisgaar skwigelf #toki wartooth #metalocalypse #fanfic #betaing this was a mess #exploring skwis is hard #let me knowwhat yall think #i wanna include him more

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nebraska-is-a-myth · 3 years

Text

c!Eret season 2 recap

I wanted to make an official recap of everything that c!Erret has done this season (post-november 16th) so here it is! Some of this is taken from the official wiki, but most of it is just from memory because the Eret dream smp fan wiki is lacking. Feel free to send any asks or questions if you have them.

These Events are in chronological order

Given back the throne

Exactly 21 days after being dethroned by dream, in a surprise turn of events Dream re-crowns Eret as the king of the dream smp after realising that george was put in too much danger being a figurehead, especially after being killed by technoblade on his first day as king. However after this embarrassment on George's behalf, this creates newly formed enemies of Eret and the monarchy. To better defend themselves, Eret gathers their close allies HBomb (Who had taken residence in Erets castle) and CaptainPuffy and officially knights them. She gives them both blocks of Diamond named ‘onwards’ which is Erets name in latain.

Adoption of fundy

After the death of Wilbur, Eret realised that there was no one there to take care of Fundy anmore, and wanted to step up and provide a good support system for Fundy. Eret proposed to Fundy that she officially adopt him and even created a document of adoption for Fundy and Eret to sign. However, because Ph1lza was now technically Fundys legal guardian, the document also needed Phils signature for the adoption to go through. Phil was skeptical having never met eret before, but eventually gave the okay for the adoption to happen. Because of miscommunication, the adoption is still in process after a conflict arose between fundy and phil, so they have been unable to unanimously leaglise the adoption. Eret did make a joke that this would benefit him at getting back at dream after the dethroning because of the wedding between fundy and dream that was still to happen, however because the wedding technically isn't cannon (according to dream, although someone has yet to inform fundy lol) this was still just a joke.

The Mexical l’manburg/El Rapids conflict

In an attempt to put Mexican l’manburg on the map and have people recognize it as an independent state, quackity led a movement in retaliation to regain the crown and restore George as the king. With this plan a small section of the path to Erets castle was blown up and Karl lost one of his cannon lives in the explosion in an attempt to frame Eret. Quackity tried to bring this information to Dream to have Eret dethroned again, but after seeing how George was treated under the monarchy, and accounts from both Eret and Puffy that these allegations were false, he refused and blew up Mexican L’manburg.

Stood against ranboo in his decision to choose his own side

When Ranboo became visibly upset after the explosion of the community house, Eret was one of the main opposers of Ranboo’s idea to not choose sides and just let whatever happens on doomsday, happen. In an effort to be redeemed, Eret pushed hard to help build the resistance and planned to fight to save l’manburg from being destroyed. They even offered up one of their fortresses as a headquarters for the group.

Position on Doomsday

Was asked to join niki and fundy on their revenge story against l’manburg, and even though he agreed to this, he was undecided if the people on the revenge list needed to be taught any lesson.

However, on the morning of doomsday, fundy and niki came to Eret with an invitation to join them in sabotaging the resistance and letting l’manburg burn to the ground because of the safety it failed to give them. Even though Eret accepted this invitation, she disagreed heavily with the list of ‘people that needed to be taught a lesson’ that fundy and niki had created.

First signs of redemption

Tommy's relationship grew with eret in the doomsday war, trusting Eret to help them

Before doomsday had officially commenced, it was just Eret and Tommy talking war prep before the others arrived. This was a major turning point for Eret as this is the first sign of trust Tommy had officially shown to Eret since the betrayal all those months ago. When Tommy died he even entrusted Eret to pick up his stuff and return it to him during the battle against the withers.

Relationship with technoblade

A good note to make is that Technoblade and Eret are actually on quite good terms, and Techno even refrained from killing him in the doomsday battle. Which was quite a surprising thing to see since Technoblade knew of Erets status as king. ( This isn't that important to the plot, I just find it interesting to note)

Ghostburs resurrection

In the aftermath of doomsday, Ghostbur revealed to eret and quackity that he wanted to be brought back to life. Eret then revealed he had been reading ancient texts similar to what philza was reading and promised to help ghostbur be revived as wilbur. And in return Wilbur would change the L’manbur anthem to ‘also Eret’ instead of ‘fuck eret’. Eret then constructed a shrine full of things attributing to aliveburs life as well as things he thought would help make ghostbur feel safe. Unfortunately this did not go as planned and were confronted by shlatt instead of alivebur. After learning that the resurrection may need a totem of undying, Philza, ranboo and Eret traveled to technos cabin to retrieve a map that would lead them to a woodland mansion. However, its only after they travel all the way to technic cabin that philza brings up the fact that eret is king and refuses to let her on the property. Thinking that this would be the end of their journey and philza would resurrect Wilbur without them, in a desperate attempt to gain their trust, Eret removes his glasses and crown in front of both Eret and ranboo. This is only the second time Eret has ever willingly revealed their eyes to another member of the server (the other being tommy, who did not react well). Philza and ranboo remain calm while in front of Eret but when Eret turns to leave after philza continues to deny their help, the two make fun of Erets Eyes, proceeding to call him a freak. Ranboo also makes a comment on how it is now easy to maintain eye contact with Eret without their sunglasses, although the reasons for this have not been confirmed.

Eret, feeling insulted, went back to Dream SMP to find a totem on his own and reflected on his own views on government. He deeply regretted betraying his friends in the original war, and felt bad that he earned his crown through this betrayal. At the same time, his position as king let him do things to make things better, and he tried very hard not to order people around. Wilbur inspired Eret's own reign through his strong leadership, and Eret always felt as though Wilbur could spark hope in a way he never could. That was why he worked so hard to bring him back, and built a historical museum and helped his people. Eventually Ranboo and Phil called back, and they went off to find a totem together.

The finale

In the finale of the second season, Eret waves Tubbo and Tommy off from at the end of the path. Eret voices his support for Tommy and Tommy responds by saying that Eret “will always be the true king.” Officially redeeming Eret for his action of the first l’manburg war. When the group goes to help the clingy duo, Eret is the first one to run to protect them and stays in the back of the group to make sure they are safe. Later on in a moment of self reflection, they realise that their relationship with dream was purely manipulation and reiterates the regret they feel for betraying their friends. Eret also states how much she misses Wilbur and wants to go ahead with the revival, despite knowing that Wilbur does not want to be brought back to life. In a moment of vulnerability they state that “I need him.” and reiterates how important Wilbur was to Eret, even after all the hatred and sadness they bestowed onto each other.

In the future Eret hopes to create a safe place for everyone in the smp, free from Dreams rule.

#nebraska speaks #the eret #eret #man this was fun #gunna make sure this dosent get lost to the void somehow #dream smp #mcyt #if ive made any mistakes please feel free to correct me

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saint-14s-gay-pigeon · 3 years

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Post-Hunt Nap

Atlas lets his hair down after a long day.

"Nice work, Guardian." Crow's voice crackled to life through the comms, serving as Atlas’s signal that the hunt was finally over. It had become routine by this point to check in after every successful Wrathborn elimination, and the calm cadence of Crow’s words was a welcome relief after the incessant shrieking, wailing, and roaring that the creatures were prone to.

Atlas merely basked in it a moment while leaning against a rock to catch his breath. This particular hunt had ended up being a much more demanding ordeal than originally anticipated, and his eventual response was weighed down by fatigue despite his best efforts. "Thanks. You, too."

"How are you doing?" He hadn't managed to hide his condition very well, judging by the concern in Crow’s voice.

If Crow already knew, there was no point in lying. "Well, I'm exhausted and covered in Wrathborn gunk," Atlas admitted with a short laugh, trying to keep his complaining lighthearted. He scrunched his nose in distaste. "What is this stuff, anyway?"

There was a pause. "If you're covered in it, you probably don't want me to answer that."

"I second that," Glint chimed in.

Atlas sighed. "Lovely. Can I borrow your shower before I head out again?"

Crow wasn't entirely sure the Titan would fit inside what passed for a shower in his quarters considering even he found it cramped, but he wasn't about to say no. "Sure. Drop by the workshop when you can."

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

The water was cold and probably not much cleaner than the gunk it was washing away, and it was indeed cramped, but to Atlas it was the most refreshing shower he’d had in ages. He emerged a short time later in his civilian clothes to find Crow absentmindedly munching on a Bittersweet Biscotti while looking over the Cryptolith Lure.

"I'll admit," Atlas chuckled as he toweled at his hair with an old rag, "I thought you were lying when you said you liked them."

"They're not that bad," objected Crow, joining in the laughter as he finished his examination of the Lure. When he finally looked up at Atlas, however, he stopped short.

"Something wrong?" Atlas asked, setting the rag to the side.

Crow shook his head and swallowed, quickly coming back to himself. "I've just... never seen you with your hair down. Didn't realise how long it was." Did that sound weird? That sounded weird.

"And what do you think?" Atlas asked with a teasing grin.

"Ah… You look good. It suits you." Crow was thankful the dim light of the workshop would likely obscure the faint purple blush dusting his cheeks. He considered it a personal favour that Glint had refrained from commenting, although he could practically feel the little Ghost’s eye on him. It was probably better to change the subject before he had the chance to change his mind.

“So… that was a hell of a hunt, huh?”

To Crow’s relief, Atlas readily nodded, letting the prior conversation go without a fuss. “That’s putting it mildly. Didn’t expect two of them to show up at once,” he agreed. “At least the lure’s definitely working.”

“You did well,” Crow said, and Atlas fought through the fatigue to offer a grin in return, preening slightly at the praise. Crow couldn’t help but chuckle at the display; he hadn’t expected his words to carry that much weight.

With a tired but content sigh, Atlas slowly lowered himself to the floor of the workshop, leaning carefully against the most solid-looking of the walls. The shower was refreshing, but after so many hours of hunting, he was still thoroughly spent. He gestured to his side with a pat of the floor, beckoning Crow to join him. “Don’t sell yourself short, either,” he told Crow, smiling up at him. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Now it was Crow’s turn to be proud of himself. A grin bloomed across his face as he accepted the invitation, taking a seat next to the Titan and enjoying the grounding sense of calm that the subtle contact between their knees imparted. The workshop, for all its faults, was always better with company.

“Always happy to help,” Crow replied, casually resting his elbows on his legs. And it was true; even on days when securing the perimeter ended up being uneventful, he still enjoyed getting to see the Guardian in action. “Although you caught me by surprise today,” he admitted, thinking back on Atlas’s earlier performance. “I don’t often see you use void Light.”

“It doesn’t come naturally to me like arc does,” Atlas agreed, picking up on the unspoken question. Even now, he could feel the current of energy buzzing just beneath his skin. “I needed something more defensive, though, and Saint’s been teaching me some things. Figured it was worth a shot.”

“Saint?” Crow asked, tilting his head.

“Saint-14, Osiris’s partner,” Atlas explained. “They call him the greatest Titan who ever lived.”

“Atlas is gunning for his title,” Achilles half-joked, chiming in with an excited twirl. He never missed a chance to hype up his Guardian.

Crow laughed softly at the Ghost’s interjection, then nodded thoughtfully. “I didn’t know Osiris was in a relationship; he’s never mentioned him.”

Compared to Crow’s laugh, Atlas’s was a bright, rich sound. “That’s not surprising. Getting Osiris to share personal details is like asking Spider to donate Glimmer to charity. Hell, it took me ages to figure out he and Saint were together and I’d met both of them.” The Titan’s mouth skewed into a silly, lopsided grin of self-deprecation. “Although truth be told, I probably should’ve picked up on it sooner.”

The room fell silent after that save for the rhythmic rattling of the pipes, the conversation hanging in the air until Glint eventually spoke up.

“What about you?” he asked, dipping his shell toward Atlas. He knew what Crow was thinking, and he had no problem taking matters into his own metaphorical hands if Crow wasn’t going to say it himself. “Are you seeing anyone?”

Crow’s eyes immediately widened. “Glint!” he hissed, his gaze snapping to the Ghost.

Glint responded by shifting the sides of his shell as though shrugging. “No harm in being curious.”

Atlas merely laughed again, seemingly oblivious to the exchange. “Not these days, no. I’d like to be, but…” He tilted his head to the side as he considered how to elaborate. “This lifestyle,” he eventually settled, “is demanding, of both your time and attention. It can be hard to find someone who’s willing to live with that.”

Not that he could blame anyone for feeling that way. He thought back to his last relationship: a Hunter and fellow Awoken with pink hair and boundless optimism. The two of them were still good friends, but had mutually agreed that trying to forge a romance on top of saving a broken world had been too great an ask, even for them. He hoped she was doing well.

Crow nodded slowly, his brows knitting together in an expression of sympathy. Glint had refused to give him the full rundown of Atlas’s accomplishments, but it was his understanding that there were many, and Atlas specifically was a big deal even among other Guardians. It wasn’t surprising to hear he’d given himself entirely to the cause and left little room for his own personal happiness.

Unsure of how else to respond, Crow eventually spoke in a soft voice while staring at his hands. “I... hope you find them soon.”

Atlas replied with a small smile of gratitude. It wasn’t a subject he’d given much thought recently, nor was he in any particular rush to find a partner of his own, but he appreciated the sentiment regardless. When he opened his mouth to say as much however, he was instead interrupted by a powerful yawn.

The distant melancholy of Crow’s expression quickly gave way to a concerned frown as he noticed how the Titan was now struggling to keep his eyes open. “You shouldn’t fly like this,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. The calm of the conversation had finally provided a chance for the adrenaline to wear off, it seemed.

Atlas nodded and yawned again. As rich as it was to be receiving flying advice from Crow of all people, he was right, of course, and not even Atlas was stubborn enough to try to argue it. “I’ll get some rest before I head out,” he promised.

“Good. You can stay here, if you’d like. I don’t have much in the way of bedding but I can…” Crow’s voice slowly trailed off as he registered a gentle weight on his shoulder. Atlas’s head had fallen to the side and was now resting against him, navy blue hair cascading down his arm.

One look at Atlas’s face confirmed he was already dozing off.

“Should I wake him up?” Achilles asked, hovering at a short distance. He made to approach Atlas, but Crow reached out his free hand to stop him.

Maybe he was getting used to supporting Atlas in his work, and this was somehow an extension of that. Or maybe he just enjoyed the physical contact with another Lightbearer. Whatever the reason, he found he wasn’t in any rush to chase Atlas off.

Crow chuckled quietly as he shifted on the spot, careful not to disturb the Titan as he adjusted his position to be comfortable enough to remain seated for a while. “It’s okay,” he assured the Ghost. “I’m happy to help.”

#destiny #destiny 2 #destiny the game #destiny fanfiction #the Crow #season of the hunt #my writing #my guardians #Atlas #just felt like having them hang out and be friends y'know?

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okayeojin · 4 years

Text

loona reaction to their s/o pulling them in for a slow dance in the living room

➢ 💌; fluff

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。• ..・。.・゜✭・. ° • .

heejin

you were watching some music channel on tv together when a song you particularly liked was being played, and you stood up dragging heejin with you. she was very confused at first, but she didn't try to pull away from you, simply settling for giving you a weird look, waiting for an explanation. even if you didn't answer her as to why you were doing that, she let herself go and let you take the lead, spinning her around and all. she was having a lot of fun after just a little bit and she was smiling and giggling the whole time. she was feeling very mushy and romantic after, giving you a kiss after the other.

hyunjin

you were home alone, taking care of some stuff that needed to be done and, as every romantic film suggested, you were playing music in the background, dancing and singing out loud, grabbing whatever object you had around you to use as a "microphone". when hyunjin entered, most likely she wasn't expecting you to have a whole ass concert in the kitchen, and she decided to stand at the door way, looking at you with a smirk. as soon as you spotted her, you didn't even feel embarassed or startled, you dragged her by the arm to join you, since the next song playing happened to be a slow one, leading her the whole time and having fun. she was laughing so much it was literally heaven for you, and after the song was over she was hugging you from behind, giving your neck some kisses and reminding you how much she loved you.

haseul

oh she would love it! she thought it was so so romantic! like, being pulled by you in the middle of the living room while you were both cleaning around, and your cute squeak after hearing her favorite song on the radio before exclaiming "it's your favorite song, let's dance!". it wasn't necessairly a song that you could easily dance to, but you made it work somehow, mainly focusing on having fun and enjoying being with each other. also, neither of you were experts in slow dancing, ending up with your feet being stepped on pretty frequently, but you had so much fun nonetheless. being with you was everything haseul could ever wish for.

yeojin

[s so small]

she deadass would judge you very hard and question your song choice. she wouldn't be suspicious when you suggested to simply listening to songs and have a little dancing match, as she was positive she would beat you and make you cry. when she heard you had picked a slow song, she would start to complain, but stopping her mid sentence as you grabbed her waist and started gently moving side to side, resting you head on her shoulder. she would- remain speechless, to say the least. you weren't usually the couple to do such things, you promised each other to never be cringe like others. however, in that moment, being so close to you, made her feel so warm, and she decided to surrender and being led by you, dancing to the song you picked out.

vivi

she is so happy! it felt like such a bonding and romantic moment to her, she never wanted to let you go. it was pretty rare that you got to spend time alone without the rest of the girls, and although both of you were thankful to have such amazing friends by your side, you cherished moments like that, when you could be in each other's company and no one else's. when you started leading her, she would let herself go and melt in your arms, letting you spin her around. i could not stress this enough, but she would feel so safe embraced by you, your warm hands on her waist, you pretty eyes looking at her as if she was the only one you cared about (true), and she felt so so loved.

kim lip

she would suggest you did some couple stuff every once in a while, but for most times, i feel like if you wanted something specific with her, you had to get it yourself. and hearing you guys' favorite song, would give you the perfect opportunity. she was already starting to hum the melody of the song, until you literally pulled her off the couch, making her phone that she had in her hands fly away, and causing her to look at you surprised. you didn't say a thing, bringing her closer to your body and smiling at her, leaving a kiss on her soft lips and beginning to move around the living room, leading her, still lowkey confused but enjoying every second of it

jinsoul

you definitely caught jinsoul off guard! she was usually the one to do "cringey" couple stuff, embarassing you in front of the members and overall showing her love for you so openly. but this time, you literally left her speechless- which was unusual of her- , watching you from behind as you dragged her by the arm, from the couch where you were cuddling to the centre of the living room, in front of the tv where the music was coming from. "slow dancing in the living room? which movie did you get this idea from?" she would tease you, since it was a once in a lifetime type of thing that you did things like this. jinsoul was the most cheesy and romantic of the couple, to be honest. you told her to shut up, refraining yourself from laughing, and both of you focused on dancing, looking at each other in the eyes, both so full of love for the person they had before them.

choerry

i feel like you would have the same idea at the exact same time! the song playing on the radio happened to be one that you two listened to a lot, because you felt like the lyrics talked about you, and so you could relate to them and feel like your bodies were moving without thinking whenever you listened to it. you stood up from the couch at the exact same time, giggling when you realised, and you would bow down, offering her a hand and asking her "may i have this dance, milady?" making her chuckle behind her hands, and accepting, playing along by also bowing in front of you. you would place your hands on her and she would already feel lost, melting in your arms and letting you take the lead, closing her eyes and enjoying this romantic moment in your company

yves

you were so bored. yes, you usually had dates where you simply lay on the couch, maybe cuddling or watching tv, but this time you felt like your legs would fall off if you didn't get up and used them. you turned off the tv, making yves look up at you at the loss of sound that was coming from the device, and as she was about to ask if you wanted to go home, you had finished googling the song you wanted on your phone, standing up and offering her a hand. she slowly accepted it and stood up, still questioning your actions but not saying anything. when she song started you began to lead your girlfriend, spinning her around. i think she would start taking the lead after a while, smiling at how flustered you got and kissing you tenderly.

chuu

i think you guys would usually goof around and randomly turn on a song and dancing to it, yelling the lyrics out loud and laughing your lungs out whenever one of you fell because of how hard you were dancing. however, you didn't play a slow song often- or let's say never. this time you felt like it, reason why you decided to put said song on your phone and put the volume all the way up. you looked for chuu, who was in the kitchen getting herself a glass of water, and you took her all the way to the living room, and started to lead her and make her spin and swaying side to side without saying a word. she would happily ask you the reason behind all that, but you didn't answer, wanting to enjoy the moment and she got the hint, hugging you tighter and resting her head against your shoulder, and whispering "i love you" in your ear.

gowon

she's such a fan of stuff like this! you would literally make her heart melt by doing these things, maybe commonly considered cringey or cheesy or unnecessary, but she didn't care! she felt so loved and appreciated if you did stuff like that for her! she felt like a princess the moment you took her small hand in yours and started leading her, spinning her around the living room, mesmerized by you and how good you looked in that moment (and always). you were so amazing in her eyes and she couldn't help but fall for you harder and harder each time you spent time together. she would probably suggested you romantically danced like that more often.

olivia hye

it was one of those lazy days where you guys simply cuddled on the couch, using your phones, showing memes to each other every once in a while. you peeked over at your girlfriend's phone when you heard her scoff under her breath, just to see one of those embarassing couples on tik*ok. "why am i on straight tik*ok?" she complained, making you chuckle, but at the same time giving you an idea. you stood up, making her follow you with her eyes, wondering what had gotten into you, and you turned on the music on your phone, choosing a painfully slow song, pulling her in the centre of the living room with you to slow dance together. she only briefly attempted to pull away, before giving up and resting her chin on you shoulder, letting you take lead. she was cute and would never admit she liked it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。• ..・。.・゜✭・. ° • .

masterlist:°•☆

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chayacat · 3 years

Text

Devil’s Sweet Star (33)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut

***

Aaaah...(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N). What mess are you in? You don't realize how much your life is going to change. Certainly, your career, your business, flourishes day by day, to the point that you are solicited for great events. Well, I recognize that for the moment, you have just been asked for cakes for the local festival. But imagine the success you could have! the whole area could hear from you. But... It may not be for that reason.

Your life could change... because of this "deal" that you have made with Ghostface. I have to admit that, if I had been given the same proposal, I would have finally accepted it. But not as quickly as you did. The curiosity and eagerness you felt to know the true identity of the Roseville Assassin... could destroy you forever. How... it’s still a mystery. But back to our business, will you?

The whole city was aware of your participation in the festival. The information spread very quickly, and in a city like Roseville, it's not very surprising. Everyone is wondering about, this famous cake that you are going to prepare for this special occasion. And it's a good opportunity to get ideas. Even if you already know what you are going to do, having or rather hearing people come up with ideas, can give you new inspirations. Amy and Corey also stay on the lookout for any ideas that might be interesting to explore. As you were preparing the next batches of cakes, the phone rang. Amy being too busy taking the orders, it’s you who take the call.

“Welcome to the Nebula, where our pastries came from Outerspace! How can I help you?”

“(Y/N) sweety!!! How good it feels to hear you after all this time!” said a woman cheerfully.

“Aunt Marnie! How did you get the number of... Oh that's right. Mr Parkson had to tell you about my business and had to give you the number. it's so nice to hear you after... You know what. How is Uncle Joey? And Daisy and Tobias?” you respond with a smile.

“Daisy has managed to get a scholarship for her studies in geology, she will be able to start this year. Tobias still plays on Gary's American football team. The city has not changed. some people come to settle there while others go elsewhere. As for Joey... Let's say he hangs on as he can. You know how much he cared about your mother; She was his little sister... he feels guilty for not being there to protect her.”

“Me too you know. I'm sorry if I left the area but... I needed to change the landscape. To start from scratch.”

“Oh, don't worry you Butterfly, we all understand that you needed to do that. You are much stronger than us, never forget that. So, tell me! How does it go in Roseville? is your business going well?” She replied.

“Everything is fine! I was offered to make cakes for the local festival and Jed and I will move in together!” you answer.

“Jed? Who’s Jed?”

You suddenly realize that you have made a slight blunder. When you separate with Alex, your aunt Marnie protects you like a mother hen. And this is even more the case since the death of your parents. No boys could approach you without her being around to watch for any suspicious movement on their part.

“Jed is...is my boyfriend. He works for the Roseville’s Gazette. It's recent, but don't worry about it, aunt Marnie, he's very nice! this boy is... he’s an angel. He’s the complete opposite of Alex.” you explain, worrying about her reaction.

“... Well, if you're sure what you're doing... And from what you say, I want to believe you. A journalist you say? Well, he had to live things from it! You will have to present him to us one day. And if possible before you are married.”

“Don't worry about it, we're not there yet. As I told you, it's recent but... he’s someone of trust. Believe me. Listen aunt Marnie, I have to go back to work, I'm going to give you my number like that if you want to call, you can call me directly on my phone! you always have the same, don't you?”

“Yes of course! I'm not going to bother you for very long either, I have a few groceries to do on my side. I hope we can see each other soon, and with your boyfriend! I love you very much (Y/N). See you later.”

“See you later Auntie. I love you too.”

You hang up before you get back to work. It felt good to have talked to your family again since the death of your parents. Poor Uncle Joey. He is your mother's closest brother. They both adored themselves. And yet, they couldn't help but argue about something. by force you were used to it and you wondered each time how long they would resist before arguing. And especially on what. And every time it ended in the same way: in the water of the pool, laughing like two idiots. They couldn't even remember why they were arguing.

When your parents died, Joey didn't say a word. For several weeks, he had locked himself in the guest room, without eating or even talking. It was you who managed to get him out of his silence. You sigh as you think back to all this. From the whole family... he’s the one who has suffered the most. And he still suffers today. Luckily, he has a wife and two children who love him and help him. Otherwise, who knows how he would have turned out. Bad, very bad if you want my opinion.

You return to work when Melina enters the café with Mattew and Jed. The three greeted you from afar and went to sit down at a table that Corey had just cleaned. The latter took their order, which did not change the habit. You won't even need to ask them what they want by force. But Jed looked... annoy. You were wondering why.

“This guy is really twisted anyway. Hiring a guy to kill his own partner, it really goes too far. McKellan was an asshole, but Hoggins is twice as much.” said Melina, crossing her arm on her chest.

“What amazes me is that the guy Wilhelm interrogated is not responsible for this murder. Are you sure that he didn't lie?” asks Mattew.

“Wilhelm passed him twice to the lie detector, left him alone for several minutes to see if he was going to say something and the results showed it well: he did not lie and he said nothing. Wilhelm said he knew Devon well, we can ask him anything and everything, but killing someone is not in his ropes and in his principles. At least he doesn't kill when the person has done nothing to him.” said Jed.

“What do you think in this case?” you ask suddenly, making all three of them react.

“... Either Hoggins hired someone else... or he was the one who killed. But in this case, you have to prove that he went at McKellan’s home. But Wilhelm has interrogated the guards. They did not see, neither Hoggins, nor his car in the vicinity. So there remains only the first option, remains to know who he hired.” responds Jed.

“It doesn't seem to be going. Do you have a problem?”

“Let's say in short, that if I had this asshole in front of me, I would beat him to death.”

“Hoggins said things about you two that... didn't really please Jed.” explain Mattew.

“I think I know what he said. But you don't have to care, I won't leave you for anything in the world.” you said, kissing Jed on the cheek which made him smile.

You suddenly remember the conversation with your aunt and take the opportunity to tell Jed about it. If at first, he was a little reluctant, worried and uncomfortable about the situation, he was rather reassured to know that your aunt was delighted to know that you are in a relationship with someone. Luckily for you, she doesn't know anything else... and so is Jed. Better to avoid talking about Ghostface.

*You have all the cards in hand, and two lives. Let's see if you get to the end of the game. *

Two lives...No, more. It’s not your life and Jed's that is in your hands, but also that of all the people who are close to you, Melina, Mattew, Corey, Amy... and even your family. So many lives in your hands, which may or may not be a victim of your choices. It's way too much for your shoulders, but you have no choice, you can't go back now. All you can do is say nothing to Jed. Even if it bites your lips, that your heart tightens at the thought of having to lie to him, you must hold. For the good of all of them.

The day went smoothly, although for once, a few annoying customers gave you a hard time. It takes everything in this low world, otherwise everything would be wonderful. Corey and Amy helped you clean everything up before returning home completely exhausted. Jed was waiting for you outside leaning against his van. You close the café after checking that everything was locked and then join him.

“Still worried about my aunt? I told you, you don't have to worry, they will adore you, I'm sure.” you said when you see his face.

“No, it's not related to that... It's... it’s in relation to Hoggins. How can such a guy appropriate someone like common merchandise? When I heard him say that you were a bird of paradise and that it was a shame that you were with a guy like me... I refrained from sticking my fist in his face. It's easy for him to have a woman by his side, he has the money and the luxury.” He responds, clenching his fist.

“Hey! Don't say that. I could have hanged out with him, not worrying about finances and having everything I want. And I chose you. So, he can do whatever he wants, offer me all his fortune if he likes it, I would say no. He is repugnant, narcissistic, old, a real head to slap. It’s out of the question for me to go out with such a moron.”

“Hahaha that’s why I love you honey. Ready to go?” Jed replied, holding you close.

As you were about to leave, a group of men surrounded Jed's van. And obviously they weren't there to talk. Jed gently pushed you behind him, blocking you between him and the van.

“Get in the car. Right now. And lock yourself in.” He said seriously.

“But Jed...” You start.

“I said RIGHT NOW.”

You get into the vehicle and lock it as Jed asked you. The men came a little closer, revealing iron bars. Some of them made them spin while sneering, others hit the ground with them. Jed didn't seem panicked, he didn't tremble. He gently removed his glasses, tapped against the glass so that you would take the glasses with you and then turned to the group of individuals.

“I suppose... that you were hired, were you not? It's Hoggins I bet.” He said calmly.

“We have nothing against you, man, but the boss... he can no longer stand you. On the other hand, he paid us to bring the girl back to him too.” said one of the men.

“Just try to see.”

It was then that the fight began. Despite the fact that there were several of them, Jed managed with disconcerting agility to dodge punches and iron bar blows. He even managed to put some men on the ground, before unfortunately being blocked and punched before being thrown to the ground. You knock against the window of the truck screaming his name, actually starting to worry when you see him spitting out a light trickle of blood. Suddenly, as if caught in a sudden rage, you see Jed throwing himself at the man in front of him, hammering him with fists.

He took the iron rod to knock one of the men who was trying to attack him and then returned to the one on the ground. Despite the windows you could hear the man on the ground begging Jed to stop. But he kept on. As if he was taken with an uncontrollable rage. A monster. Jed again took the iron rod and raised it to hit the man on the ground, when suddenly he stopped and turned his head towards you, realizing that you were still there. Then police sirens were heard.

“Hands up! not a gesture you are surrounded!” shout an officer.

“Olsen! put this iron bar down! Right now!” said inspector Wilhelm.

Jed dropped the iron rod before collapsing next to the man he had just beaten. You unlock the vehicle and get off it to go see Jed shouting his name. The officers handcuffed the men one by one, while another called doctors to take care of Jed. It took them only a few minutes to arrive and take care of Jed. This one grimaced when the doctor applied the disinfectant.

“Are you okay, Olsen? nothing serious?” asks Wilhelm.

“I'm fine, nothing too serious except spitting a trickle of blood. These guys told me that Hoggins had hired them. They did not say it directly, but they made it clear to me.” responds Jed.

“We're going to take them to the station for that. Both of you go home. Miss, I count on you to take care of him.”

“You can count on that Inspector. Thank you.” You said, turning to Jed. “Does it hurt?”

“A little, but don't worry, I've experienced worse. And then you're fine that's the main thing. I guess I will have to give a deposition tomorrow at the first hour?” He responds.

“Yes, unfortunately for me, it’s I who will have to take your deposition. It looks like the roles have been reversed between you this time. See you tomorrow Olsen. Miss.” said Wilhelm before leaving.

You and Jed go back to the apartment. There is no question of leaving him alone tonight. He will sleep at home. You both go to bed, Jed hugging you. He wished you good night, told you that He loves you and that he will not let anyone harm you. And you take his word for it. The Jed you saw tonight, scared you. He has protected you and protected himself in a sense. But from there to almost kill a man...

Now you understand better why you should never piss him off. And it scares you.

***

(I’ve to finish RE8 Village but I don’t want to kill Heisenberg! He’s my favorite Lord! I must admit I’m a little disappointed about the fact that we can’t choose to help Heisenberg or not. While we could choose between saving Mia or Zoe in RE7. Even if in the end both survive (Thanks the DLC: the End of Zoe). This could have led to an alternative path! But I'm quite curious to see the DLC that CAPCOM is developing for RE8! I hope you’ll like this chapter like the others ones! Well, it's time for my brain to rest! Have a great weekend to you all! See ya!)

#dbd fanfic #dbd #dead by daylight #ghostface #danny johnson #jed olsen

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lifeofresulullah · 3 years

Text

The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): The Assignment of the Duty of the Prophethood and First Muslims

Declaration of the Prophethood and the First Phase of the Call

A religion that would address all of humanity and embrace the entire world was not going to remain a secret for too long. Since this religion was being sent as the means through which humanity could attain both worldly and spiritual peace, it was necessary to openly convey this message to the people.

Allah has attributed everything in the universe to the law of gradualness. Those who do not submit to and abide by this law will undoubtedly become unsuccessful in due time.

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) complied with this law upon receiving a mandate from Allah. He did not openly inform the people of his prophethood and Islam for a period of three years. He was incredibly cautious and prudent in delivering his message and explained the situation only to those he fully trusted.

We see that his decision was the cause for Islam’s success. Within the three-year period of the Era of Secret Conversions, many people took their place within Islam and strengthened his cause.

After the three-year period ended, there was no further reason for this invitation to remain a secret. The polytheists of the Quraysh had more or less heard everything and the Islamic cause had garnered much strength through many people. By virtue of this, the time had come for the call to Islam and the realities of Tawhid (the doctrine in the belief of Allah’s oneness) to be openly announced to the entire world.

The Invitation to his Close Relatives

Allah informed our Holy Prophet (PBUH) through revelation on where he should begin to openly deliver the invitation:

“And admonish thy nearest kinsmen”

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) knew that this undertaking would not be easy. For this reason, he did not leave his house for some period of time. During this period, he called Hazrat Ali and said to him: “Oh Ali, Allah orders me to warn my closest relatives of the punishment in the hereafter and this is very difficult for me. I know very well that I am going to see them attempt to make accusations against me in regards to something that I do not like once I mention this matter to them.”

We see that our Holy Prophet (PBUH) was worried that he would be subjected to accusations made by his relatives once he began to openly explain his cause to them. For that reason, he deemed it appropriate to stay in his home for some time and think everything through. When Hazrat Safiyya saw that he had been absent and had not left his home for a long period of time, she went to go visit him along with his other aunts to learn about his condition. Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) said to them, “I have no complaints about anything and I am not ill. However, Allah has commanded me to warn my closest relatives of the punishment in the hereafter. I want to gather the Sons of Abdulmuttalib and invite them to testify to Allah.”

His aunts answered, “Invite them, but never dare try to invite Abu Lahab because he will never accept.” Following this, they said, “After all, we are women” and left.

Organizing a Feast!

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) then said to Hazrat Ali, “Prepare a meat dish that is enough for only one person and fill a cup with milk. Then gather the Sons of Abdulmuttalib, I want to talk with them. I am going to notify them with what I have been commanded to say.”

Hazrat Ali immediately fulfilled his order.

When morning came, all of our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) uncles, including Abu Lahab, who had not been invited, and two women amounting to a total of 45 individuals, convened in Abu Talib’s home.

A Miracle

The meat in the pot was only enough to fill one person, and so was the cup filled with milk.

The Master of the Universe (PBUH) broke the meat into pieces and said to those who were attending the feast, “Bismillah (In the name of Allah, the Most Merciful, the Most Compassionate), help yourselves!

Everyone at the feast ate from those pieces of meat until they were full. Lo and behold! What did they see? The meat remained in its place with very little missing from it.

They were amazed and began to drink from the cup filled with milk. They drank till they were satiated and they saw that the milk had not decreased. They were astonished!

After the meal was completed and just as our Holy Prophet (PBUH) was about to speak, Abu Lahab intervened and addressed the crowd: We have not seen such an instance of black magic until now. Your friend has cast a great spell upon you all.”

Afterwards, he went as far as to affront the Master of the Universe (PBUH) and bellowed loudly so as to disrupt the crowd.

The crowd dispersed before our Holy Prophet (PBUH) had the chance to speak.

The Second Visit and Allah’s Messenger’s Address to his Relatives

After that inconclusive feast, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) arranged another event and gathered his relatives through the means of Hazrat Ali.

He rose to his feet after the meal finished and said: “Praise should only be given to Allah and I praise Him. I only seek help from Him. I believe and trust on Him. Just as I am undoubtedly aware of this fact, I also make known to you that there is no god other than Allah. He is One and there is no being similar to Him.” Afterwards, he disclosed his purpose:

“Surely a person who is sent to go look for pasture would not lie to his family. By God, even if I were to have lied to the rest of humanity, I still would not have lied to you. Even if I were to have deceived everyone else, I still would not have deceived you. I invite you to testify to Allah who is the Only True God. I am His Messenger, who has been specifically sent to you, the community, and all humanity.”

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) continued to speak:

“By God, just as you fall asleep, you will also die, and just as you wake up from your sleep, you will also rise and be accounted for all of your actions. You will be rewarded for your good deeds and punished for your bad deeds. As a result, you will stay forever either in Paradise or Hell. You are the first from among the people that I have frightened with the fear of punishment in the hereafter.”

When our Holy Prophet (PBUH) finished speaking, Abu Talib rose to his feet and said, “We will help you lovingly and sincerely. We have embraced and accepted your advice and have affirmed your words. Those who have gathered here are the sons of your grandfather. Consequently, I am one of them. I swear that the person to run the quickest among all those who run to fulfill your goals will be no other than me. Continue doing what you have been commanded to do. By God, I will not refrain from surrounding and protecting you for the slightest moment. However, my soul does not obey me to abandon the religion of Abdulmuttalib. I will die as a follower of his religion.”

His other uncles also affirmed his words and did not say anything to displease our Holy Prophet (PBUH). There was only one exception, and that was Abu Lahab, who had opposed to the Islamic cause from the very beginning. He leaped forward and said, “Oh Sons of Abdumuttalib, by God this is a misfortune. Dissuade him from this before others hinder him. If you are to obey him being, you will be subjected to mortification and defamation; if you try to defend him, you will be killed.”

The brave answer to the most savage enemy of Islam came from Hazrat Safiyya: “O, brother! Does it suit you to leave your brother’s son and his religion helpless? By God, the living scholars say that a prophet is to emerge from Abdulmuttalib’s progeny. He is that Prophet!”

Abu Lahab arrogantly replied to his sister’s noble words: I swear that this hope is in vain. Besides, a woman’s words are at the level of an obstacle and a chain that is attached to a man’s foot. When the families of Quraysh and the entire Arabs riot together, what power will we have to resist them? By God, we are like a morsel that can be easily swallowed for them.”

Abu Talib was immensely annoyed by Abu Lahab’s words. “O coward” he said, “By God we are going to help and protect him as long as we live.” Afterwards, he turned to our Holy Prophet (PBUH) and said, “Oh my brother’s son, let us know when you want to deliver the invitation so we can be armed and emerge together with you!”

“Who will Help me?”

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH), who had only listened to all that was being said up until that point, rose to his feet and said: Oh Sons of Abdulmuttalib! By God, I do not know anyone else from among the Arabs who has brought something that is more auspicious and superior than that what is most beneficial for both your life here and in the hereafter, which I have brought to you. I invite you to testify to two words that are easy on the tongue and that weigh heavily on a scale: Ashhadu anlaa ilaaha illallaahu wa ashhadu anna muhammadar-rasulallah (There is no god but Allah, and Muhammad is his messenger.) Then, he asked, “In that case, which one of you accepts to become my helper and vizier by following me on this path?”

Nobody uttered a sound. All heads were bowed towards him. They were unable to find the strength to look at Allah’s Apostle (PBUH). However, there was only one person who looked very carefully into our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) eyes. And that person was Hazrat Ali, who was only 12-13 years old at the time. He rose. However, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) told him to “sit down.”

The Master of the Universe (PBUH) asked his question thrice. And only Hazrat Ali replied each time: “O Allah’s Apostle, I will help you although I am much younger than them all.”

Some pursed their lips upon hearing these words, some were amazed, and some jeeringly smiled. Afterwards, they left the meeting without taking the meeting seriously.

Hazrat Ali’s heroism and bravery at a young age made our Holy Prophet (PBUH) immensely happy. He was not sad or in despair since he could not get the result he had wished from the meeting. Only Allah could give guidance.

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gradepasta6 · 3 years

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What Is A Gold Individual retirement account.

Purchasing gold for IRA accounts will certainly protect your retirement from rising cost of living. It is fairly all-natural for someone to be cautious regarding any type of possible financial investments. Samantha Collander is an economic writer concentrated on customer financial investments at sites like United States Gold Bureau and others. Vbpf intro to investing lesson digital organization sim picking as well as balancing a checking account a walkthrough the simulation in the individual money version of online service for the. If you currently have a specific firm in mind that you want to invest in, you'll require a brokerage firm account that will certainly allow you trade private stocks. I located giant opals weighing greater than 70,000 carats & mapped what might be the largest opal down payment in The United States and Canada because of a lead from a Riverton rock hound that covers parts of > 14 areas of land. Financial preparation can be defined as a proceeding procedure that will 'lower your stress and anxiety about cash, support your current requirements as well as assist you with your long-lasting goals like retirement Economic preparation is essential given that it permits you to make the most of your possessions and also aids you in meeting your future objectives. The stocks that are costing prices that give them a reward yield above the historical high return can be good supplies to get. You need to strongly take into consideration speaking with a financial coordinator prior to making any type of financial investments. It is readily available in different shade options- Classic gold (grey green) lenses, Dynamic pop color mirrored lenses (polarized frameworks). Assess your building investment method. I actually think that this has the prospective to be one more leg to retired life to accompany the other even more traditional income sources such as social protection, pension, 401K, etc Wyoming ought to have a lot of gold yet it historically produced 50 to 200 times much less gold than all of its surrounding next-door neighbors (except Nebraska), yet it has extra favorable geology for gold. Rock is disposed right into a water-tight fish pond, splashed as well as flattened with a cyanide solution that dissolves trace of quantities of gold. You also desire a firm that has the market experience and willingness to proactively grow your investment. Another piece of general guidance is to place all of those funds right into your 401k up till your company's matching payment quantity. Gold is likewise really heavy, as well as is 15 to 19 times much heavier than water. The Weaver district at the southwestern margin of the Weaver Mountains, is 10 to 12 miles north of Wickenburg and also 6 miles east of Congress. Buying reduced PE or reduced PBV supplies would certainly not be taken into consideration true worth investing, by the majority of its adherents. There is concern that dry washing machines are a kind of gold prospecting equipment that you simply have to have if you're operating in the desert, however the prices are actually high. Trading in rare-earth element like gold as well as silver does not include physical belongings of safeties. The financiers want to get routine income too on their investment so that they could obtain economic security. Gold financial investment There are presently a range of important steels that satisfy the minimal purity demands that serve for enhancement into a gold IRA account. Self Directed IRA Precious Metals operated by the Penn Mining Business, the King mine, ran almost parallel to the Deserted Prize, yet more northeasterly and southwesterly. You may get to determine whether you desire low-risk or risky financial investments, but that's about it. If you don't want the responsibility of picking your very own investments, you might choose a 401k strategy over an IRA. However disciplined you are, and whichever policies you pursue, spending consists of threat, as well as you may, in any case, come back less than what you place in. Studies have shown that hefty metals from the mine have leaked out, in a place where many people already don't have accessibility to tidy water. In order to secure your retired life savings and also its resources there are a few things you should keep an eye out for worrying your gold Individual Retirement Account investment. This is THE BIG QUESTION that any type of financier considering purchasing gold ought to ask. If there is an investing lesson embedded below, it is the unsurprising one that capitalists who hope to gain from ESG can refrain from doing so by spending mechanically in business that currently identified as good (or negative), however need to take on a more vibrant strategy constructed around either elements of business social duty that are not quickly determined and also captured in scores, or from prospering of the market in acknowledging elements of business habits that will certainly injure the company in the long term. This kind of gold typical offers gold bullion through fixed costs based upon need. Record gold sales incorporated with the look of a lot extra business to manage and also improve the purchases have in fact made acquiring a gold Person Retired life Account a one-stop shop. 3 Review the gold IRA service providers to identify the yearly custodial costs connected with typically are determined by strategy administrators instead of the account beneficiary. Obtain Creative: To come to be a large brand in the field of residential or commercial property investment, then it is significant for the novices to obtain creative. An investment rep will certainly inquire their resistance for threat as well as take their money and also invest it for them. Certainly you need to trust it blindly and also obtain you own evaluation, but you won't be required to do all the work by yourself as well as it will certainly safe a great deal of time, which can be invested for the search of brand-new financial investments. If these 4 factors aren't sufficient to make you interested concerning the 20822EC, consider this: this maker is readily available for much less than $3,500.00. Based upon the cost as well as all of its functions, it is clear that the Dahle 20822EC is a device worth purchasing. With covered contact dividend-paying stocks, investors can benefit from the phone call option premium along with funding gratitude and also dividend income, Itkin claims. As you are investing in physical gold, the gold must be kept in a safe center and therefore, you will be anticipated to pay storage fees. Individual retirement accounts have their own system of earnings taxes, so a rare-earth elements IRA (or similar retirement account) is controlled by regulation in a number of nations. Initially, because the possessions have already been tired, Roth IRAs pass to a financier's recipients tax-free. A 401k plan appears simple sufficient, but putting together the basis for your retirement plan when you remain in your very early 20s is a whole lot a lot more complicated than it seems. Some very early hydraulic mining on Mill Hill along the south edge of Atlantic City (southern bank of Rock Creek) was reported to have actually produced 10,500 ounces of gold. There's never ever been a far better time to purchase gold, silver and a few other rare-earth element as well as establishing a gold Individual Retirement Account expenditure is a terrific means to get it done. Prior to going for Belongings steel IRA financial investment choice, one must explore about the long-lasting advantages of such a financial financial investment technique and see if it fits the needs of the people or otherwise. Some managers who want value funds search for the firms whose stock costs have dropped however they can still carry out well as well as grow again. There are a number of various other legitimate reasons for taking into consideration gold IRAs as secure investments. The EV market has actually rapidly expanded in a short amount of time, developing a bullish market mindset; although, investors might intend to stabilize this excitement given the EV investment risks. While trading, a risk of shedding cash and also capital is constantly entailed, which can not be disregarded.

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ltwilliammowett · 4 years

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Cannibalism at Sea

Introduction

Before you wonder what this is all about, please read this introduction carefully. The topic is a very special and not everyone's business and who knows me and reads my stuff regularly knows that I also work a lot with pictures,although I have largely refrained from doing so here. Well for protection reasons the whole article can be found under the read more line. It should be said that this article is about cannibalism at sea and the question whether it is allowed or not. In addition there are some case examples. Whereby I tried to write this as nice and factual as possible.

When you start looking at cannibalism at sea, you get the feeling that it's all just a horror story and that it simply can't be true. Because on a well-equipped boat on a sea full of fish it seems unimaginable that you could eat your friends and colleagues. But when things go wrong in a bad way, precedents show that the vast ocean can conjure up the spectre of "survival cannibalism" surprisingly quickly. In the 18th century, this practice was so widespread that it was known as the "custom of the sea", with some unwritten rules that seafarers in hopeless situations should follow.

The rules of the game

Drifting along the open ocean in a small open boat and facing imminent death by starvation, the moral, ethical and legal implications seem rather trivial, as confirmed by various court cases. Prior to the 19th century, cannibalism was thought to be inherent in man as a kind of instinct and was therefore excusable in extreme circumstances. However, this argument is only valid if those who consume their fellow sailors have already exhausted all other organic food sources. This includes everything from candles to shoes, other leather goods and even blankets.

But the rules of the game go much further. For example, everyone on board must agree to the act of cannibalism before the first incident occurs. And then the dead must be consumed first. Once all the dead are eaten up, they have to stick in some form, or whatever was available has to be pulled to draw lots. The unhappiest one is killed and consumed first, but the next unhappiest one is appointed as his executioner. This process must be repeated until salvation comes or death overtakes all and releases them from suffering.

Examples

The Méduse, or Medusa, was a French warship captained by Hugues Duroy de Chaumareys, an aristocrat with limited naval experience. In 1816, the warship ran aground on the Arguin Bank off of the African shore. Of the 400 people on the ship, some elected to stay aboard, while the rest escaped onto lifeboats and a large makeshift raft. The lifeboats had promised to pull the raft, but after only a few minutes at sea, they cut the rope and left the raft stranded.

During the second night at sea, all hell broke loose on the raft. Some passengers got drunk on wine (the raft's only provision, in addition to some "soggy biscuits") and 60 people were either killed or committed suicide. Over 13 days of depravity, passengers of the raft drank their own urine, ate human flesh, starved, became ill, and threw weak survivors overboard. Finally, the French ship Argus spotted the raft and saved the remaining 15 survivors, though five of these died shortly after rescue.

Raft of the Méduse

During a winter storm in December 1710, the Nottingham Galley crashed into Boon Island, located near the coast of York, Maine. The 14 surviving crew members took refuge on the desolate island, eating a seagull raw. When the ship's cook died, they pushed his body into the sea. By Christmas, two weeks had passed, and the 13 survivors sheltered from the cold under a piece of canvas sail, subsisting on bits of cheese that had floated ashore from the shipwreck and some fresh water. However, without winter clothing and the means to make fire, the men were near dying from exposure to the frigid conditions.

In the days before their rescue, the desperate men resorted to eating the corpse of the ship’s carpenter in order to survive. The captain, who had trained as a butcher, beheaded and disemboweled him then cut his flesh into strips before giving it to the crew. After 24 days on the island, help finally arrived to rescue the remaining men.

The Francis Mary was on passage from Canada to Liverpool. On February 1, 1826, the ship encountered strong winds that dislodged the two of its masts. Strong waves washed away the ship’s galley and the vessel was rendered immobile. The crew survived on cheese and bread while waiting for help to arrive. American ships got close to the Francis Mary, but could not offer assistance due to the harsh weather. The food did not last long and people started to die from starvation and lack of fresh water.

On February 22, a man by the name of James Wilson perished and was cannibalized by the crew. They cut his body into fourths and hung the flesh on pins to dry it out before eating. Before their rescue by the HMS Blonde in March, eight more men would die and have parts of their bodies eaten - including their hearts.

The Francis Mary, 1826

The Peggy was an american schooner that sailed from New York to Faial Island in the Azores in 1765. After doing some trading, the crew, including one enslaved African, started their return voyage. They didn’t get far into their journey before encountering trouble when the ship was disabled by a severe thunderstorm. The storm outlasted their rations and the men began to subsist on wine and brandy and eat a pigeon, a cat, tobacco, leather, and candles.

After exhausting all of these options, the men were forced to draw lots to decide who to kill and consume. The enslaved man supposedly drew the shortest lot, but it is speculated that the men predetermined his fate. One sailor ate his liver raw and died three days later, in a fit of madness. The others pickled and cooked the rest of his body. When no meat remained, lots were drawn again, but the crew was rescued by the Susanna just before the next sailor was due to be killed.

The Franklin Expedition, who does not know the tragic Arctic expedition of Sir John Franklin who set out in 1845 with HMS's Terror and Erebus to find the Northwest Passage. They left, and then no one heard of the ship - or the 128 men on board.

Over the years, experts have been able to piece together a story of what might have happened, but it is still not possible to do so in its entirety, as parts of the puzzle are still missing. The ships got stuck in the ice and although the crew had supplies on board, they set out to search the frozen land of King William Island for a trading post. Some men died of hypothermia, scurvy, but probably starved to death. The Inuit claimed to have seen signs of cannibalism, such as heaps of broken human bones. Anthropologists who studied the bones found on the island supported these stories. The men's bones were broken and covered with knife marks and also showed signs of being heated, probably to extract bone marrow. One should emphasize that, in both the case of Franklin's men, we have no indication that anyone actively sought to kill anyone else for the purpose of eating them.

A 1945 photo of skulls of some men of the Franklin Expedition, bleached white by the sun, discovered around King William Island in what is now Nunavut

The Mignonette was an English yacht purchased by lawyer Jack Want in 1884, to be sailed from Essex to Sydney. A four-man crew was assembled, consisting of Captain Tom Dudley, Edwin Stephens, Ned Brooks, and 17-year-old Richard Parker. Just weeks after the crew set sail, a wave struck the Mignonette, washing away the windward fortification, causing the ship to rapidly sink and forcing the crew to escape onto a 13-foot dinghy. They were unable to bring any fresh water or food with them, beyond two tins of turnips.

The crew survived for days on turnips, urine, and an unlucky turtle, but they were becoming desperate. Tom Dudley introduced the idea of killing and eating Parker, who had become ill and unconscious from drinking seawater. The perpetrators assumed that Parker's blood would be more edible if he did not die a natural death but was killed. Stephens and Brooks agreed to it, though Brooks refused later to participate. The three men devoured Parker’s body; it kept them alive for weeks until the German barque, Montezuma, found the men after 24 days at sea.

The end of Richard Parker

Change in legislation

With the case of the Mignonette everything changed, whether it was because one did not see here the correct following of the rules as assumed or simply the feeling of such an act as a custom to watch simply no longer there. The Vicorian Era had a very different view of morality and considered many things to be outdated and babaric, so it is quite possible that this new moral perception played a big role.

The three survivors were brought to justice and although the whole population stood behind them and their actions, the three survivors were not allowed to go to court. The three were convicted of murder and should be punished by hanging. However, due to the resistance of the population, the punishment was changed to six months in prison. The three survivors never accepted this punishment. But from then on the custom of the sea was no longer exempt from punishment, instead it is now mostly punished by imprisonment.

#naval history #cannibalism at sea #cw: violence #cw: death #cw: cannibalism #cw:skull #age of sail #age of steam

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