#river island try on haul

[misslinala]

#fashion #style #look #river island try on haul #river island haul #river island #ri #trying on #trying on clothes #trying on new clothes #new outfits #new clothes #tops #pink #Pinterest outfits #outfit ideas #trends #cute outfits #lookbook #ootd #look of the day #shopping #early Christmas present #presents #gifts #casual look #casual style #colors #black friday shopping #black friday haul

[happilychee]

ultear, meredy, and the sea

inspired by a convo with @thehylianidiot

♡ when lyon melted the iced shell around deliora, ur's body and consciousness flowed into the ocean.

♡ sometimes, when she's feeling lost, ultear goes to the beach and stands on the sand for hours. water laps at her ankles, and she feels an inexplicable draw to the tide. if she listens closely, she can just barely make out a woman's voice humming a long-lost lullaby.

♡ before their attack on tenrou island, ultear takes meredy to the beach. it's a quiet trip, and meredy doesn't understand the significance of this moment yet. it's when they're in the waters around tenrou, ultear's blood staining meredy as she hauls her mother onto the small boat, that she sees the figure: a lean, athletic woman with short, dark hair shimmering in the distance. maybe it's her sensory link magic, maybe it's the heightened emotions of the day, maybe it's a subconscious instinct, but meredy nods to the woman, pressing her hand to her heart. ultear coughs up seawater, and the figure disappears.

♡ ultear casts lost ages. she's alone, surrounded by the rubble of destroyed buildings, and there's no water in sight. but when the spell rushes through her, she swears she's in a river, the current threatening to drown her, and someone is trying to pull her out.

♡ meredy takes ultear to the seaside. crime sorcière is put on hold. ultear survived last ages, but it took her magic, and none of them know how to keep going.

♡ ultear walks along the beach. she walks and walks and walks until the sun starts setting. she turns, facing the horizon and opening her arms. the wind caresses her, soothes her pain, and she can almost feel her mother's touch.

♡ meredy starts talking to the water. ultear is a quiet companion, and jellal comes and goes like the tide. meredy talks about her parents, blurred faces she can't remember. she talks about grimoire heart and meeting ultear. she talks about them now, something fundamentally lost in her mother. she talks about ur, who she knows so little about. "I think she would've loved ultear." meredy whispers, and the water seems to dance.

♡ on a particularly bad night, full of nightmares and delirious cries, meredy runs into the ocean. her hands glow pink as she activates a sensory link. that familiar, unfamiliar figure appears. meredy feels a sense of relief, crashing into the tide. the young woman falls asleep in her grandmother's arms.

♡ it's later, much later, when ultear and meredy find themselves on the beach together. ultear feels better, more grounded. she talks more and laughs more and even teases meredy sometimes. they might move again, perhaps to be closer to gray or lyon. meredy likes the idea, as long as they stay by the sea. ultear doesn't argue, splashing her playfully.

♡ the boxes are packed and gone, carted off by lyon, gray, and the ever lively team natsu to hargeon. the cottage is empty, a layer of sand on the windowsill. jellal is waiting for them at the train station. ultear and meredy stand on the beach, water swirling around them. meredy clutches ultear's hand, activating her magic, and suddenly there's three of them. it's one of the only times she sees her mother cry.

♡ ultear brings a pretty glass bottle of seawater into their new apartment, placing it on a little table. it fits right in with the vase of blooming white flowers and the framed pictures of a younger meredy, gray and lyon arguing, jellal and ultear laughing.

♡ they've settled in well. hargeon is a beautiful port town, and ultear feels color creep back into her life.

♡ in the dead of night, when everyone is sleeping and only the sea marches on, ultear hears a faint voice telling stories to her daughter, and smiles.

#I'm so normal about them you don’t understand #old lady ultear does not exist in my mind. I am looking away. I do not see. #they’re family your honor #lychee writes #and cries a little bit #fairy tail #fairy tail headcanons #ultear milkovich #meredy #jellal fernandes

[dailyadventureprompts]

Deity: Lysthazo, Mistress of the Unforgiving Sea

“Pray to your Gods of Shore and Tide, child of the land. These waters are not for you and they will not hold you when your little boat sinks beneath the waves.“

-Eelgrin the merrowguide

To hear the sailors tell it  Lysthazo, goddess of merfolk and those places of the ocean unsullied by the land, defies what most would come to expect of a deity by scorning those who invoke her in prayer. She is a goddess of take, not give, and the best one can hope for is to offer silent deference and hope that the seas are calm tomorrow. Still, that does not mean Lysthazo does not have a following among whalers and those others who spend too long far from friendly ports,  who settle into a love-hate relationship with the “Bitch of the Brine” as she delivers them luck with one hand and endless tribulation with the other.

Adventure Hooks:

Rumors in the harbor tell of a ship that beached itself some days up the coast, it’s crew so desperate to make land that they didn’t even try to aim for port. While exploring the hulk or questioning one of the crew, the party discovers hints that these sailors went ashore to a jungle island looking for treasure. They instead found the shrine of some terrible sea goddess which they desicrated in their search for plunder, earning the goddess’s wrath in the form of some great leviathan that’s been hunting them ever since. As it turns out, this leviathan is still on its way, and will likely raise the nearby settlement in its search for the cursed crew.

A spree of on-land drownings among the city’s importers and rare animal dealers leads the party to a mermaid cleric. Far from the sea thanks to a cleverly constructed driftwood wheelchair she has come seeking her niece who was abducted from their home and sold up river to decorate some heartless noble’s menagerie. The heroes are faced with a difficult decision: abetting a murderer in her rightious quest or siding with a kidnapper for a bounty.

Sorting through a great treasure haul, the party end up discovering a rune-carved conch shell that echos audibly with crashing waves. In attmepting to tinker with it and discover its purpose the party unleashes an unending tide of briny water that floods them out of wherever they happen to be staying and carries with it a mischievous elemental in the form of an octopus that steals the conch and scuttles off somewhere to hide. Now faced with the prospect of unchecked flooding from a source they can’t plug, the party must search the town for the shell while it’s many armed owner causes problems on purpose.

Those born beneath the waters have a very different relationship with the goddess, calling her the “artist in currents” and conceiving of her as the one who gives order to the oceans many cycles as she seeds life in those sheltered places where it can thrive. Coral shoals are her gardens, schools of fish the dabbings of her paintbrush, echoing whalesong the tune she hums while she works. Even then the merfolk, tritons, and Kou-toa who revere her do not think of her as a strictly benevolent goddess, as Lysthazo’s artistic bent is understood as one that prioritizes new work over old and though she attended to their peoples closely during the dawn age it is known she has set her interest on bigger things at present.

Lysthazo’s most infamous aspect is as the “Mother of Kaiju”, an inapt title as she does not birth the beasts herself, but instead spurs their creation in a series of deepsea trenches scattered throughout the multiverse. In these pressured depths she stokes engines of rapid mutation and accelerated darwanism, wrenching promising examples from their place in the foodchain to hurl out into the ocean at large and observe how they perform. There is vaugery in whether these monsterous emergences are truely the acts of the goddess herself or merely her most sunken and devoted followers spilling out into the wider seas.

Titles: She who is vast and vasterstill, Mother of Kaiju, The devil of the depths, “bitch of the brine” “dancer in currents”

Signs: collected water appearing unaturlaly deep such as in wells, streams, or drinking glasses. The spontaneous growth of coral or tidepool ecologies, aquatic animals developing bioluminescence or other strange

Symbols: A wide vessel overflowing with water, entangled or chimeric sea creatures,

Followers: Those who live far from land, merfolk, trion, kou-toa, and may other creatures of the deep. Biomancers of an aquatic bent, Kaiju groupies.

#we are cancelling the apocalypse #deity #divinity: water #divinity: sea #divinity: monsters #Merfolk #low level #mid level #high level #kaiju #seaside #elemental #elemental: water #mystery #rescue mission #pirates

[mycological-mariner]

I am so curious, what alligator stories?

So, the first one was when I was 8-9. We went and visited the Everglades (for the first and final time…) on one of those fan boats. Now, one thing to note is that I was obsessed with animals and I used to write fan letters to Steve Irwin. So, the pilot stops the boat and says (jokingly, but how was I supposed to know as a Creature Obsessed Child?) that “If anyone wants to swim with the gators, here’s the place.” So I threw myself off the side of the boat. Fully clothed. My grandmother screamed. I was swimming around in the mud wanting to see an alligator. Eventually I was pulled back in and we were actually taken somewhere safe to swim but at that point my gran refused to let me. She didn’t trust me (I tried to convince her my clothes were all covered in mud and I could rinse off. No such luck)

The second alligator story happened when I was 12. I was taking a kayak across to one of the mini-islands in the river where I could just hang out alone. First time I ever got to go out on my own. I’m in the middle of the river and the current is a little strong and I’m trying to go against it when I capsize. It’s not deep enough where I can’t stand so I grab the kayak and I’m looking around for my oar. When I see this log staring at me a ways off. Steve Irwin taught me well and I knew that was no log. But I’m also chest deep in a river out of my boat. In my brain, righting the kayak and climbing back in was gonna take too long and I might get eaten. I had read all about the death roll and seen it in nature documentaries. So I slowly put the oar on the bottom of the kayak. I grab it by the rope and, keeping my eyes on the log, haul ass. I remember the log disappeared and a few seconds later I felt something on my leg but I was so pumped full of adrenaline that I didn’t stop until I reached the shore of the islet, where I climbed up to the tree line, dragging my kayak and grabbing my oar in case the alligator followed me inland (has happened!). The coast is clear and I relax. My leg is stinging though, and I look down and there’s this long slice in my right calf where the thing’s tail whipped me. It’s stretched and begun to fade with time but it’s still there. I have such a poor memory that I forgot to tell my mother about it when I got home (after going for an explore and getting a deer tick in my other leg).

#and yeah those are the alligator stories #ask #the fact I don’t have Lyme’s Disease…

[catalogue-of-lux-feli]

It's not a cave, it turns out, not really.

It does have plenty of stone, though.

The pickaxe turns out to be - well, adequate is the best word you can think of. You're able to chip out some stone with it. It at least does what it was intended for. But the wooden edge does wear out fairly quickly, something you're all too accustomed to by now. You're not gonna be building anything out of what you've gathered. On the other hand, maybe now you can make yourself a pickaxe that will stand up to a bit of wear and tear.

You make your way back to the island, and after setting down all the rocks, you get to work making a new shovel for yourself. You're pleased to find that not only do you have a sturdy material to make your tools out of, but that once you find a rock with a good edge to it, you have a better, if still crude, tool to make the others with. You're even able to scrape down the sticks you're using for their handles and get rid of all the jagged and breaking edges.

Finally. Smoother handles, smoother production, and tools that don't break at the slightest inconvenience to them.

Back home this would have taken months, maybe years to learn how to do in any truly useful capacity. You're glad that doesn't seem to be the case here.

With a new stone shovel in hand, you're about to start up on leveling the island again. Your stomach growls though, stopping you in your tracks. Food. Food is a good idea.

As you look through the chest for something to eat, you start to become worried. You have a few melon slices left, a handful of wild onions, and… that's it. You are running /dangerously/ low on food. And as beautiful as this place is, food is not something it specializes in.

You do have some seeds, you realize. You could do a bit of farming. In fact, you probably should. If you're going to live on this island for any period of time, you're going to need a steady food source, and foraging isn't an option.

You don't know if you like the idea, though. It's a lot of work to keep plants alive, and you've never had a green thumb. Who's to say you won't kill the plants you're trying to get to feed you? Then you'd really be out of luck.

You don't think you have much of a choice, though. Not if you don't want to become a nomad forever, hauling your sorry ass through the rest of this sandscape and then walking around searching for your food forever.

That sounds, somehow, even harder. Plus, you've grown very attached to this particular location, and very quickly. You don't think you want to leave it behind so soon.

You'll need to find a good place to do this, though. You don't think you want to grow your food right on this island, but you don't want to go too far, either. For the most part, you won't be able to plant your seeds in the sand - you know enough about plants to know that much, at least. You'll need dirt. Proper soil. There's a few patches of it along the banks, but you don't think it'll be enough.

Your attention turns to the dirt you collected in your as-of-yet incomplete flattening of the island. You could use that. You could very well build up your farm out of the dirt you've already got. That's probably your best option, actually.

Watering won't be an issue, luckily. The river's right there. Actually….

Maybe you could build into the river? That way you wouldn't even have to remember to water your plants and maybe kill them that way. Would that be too much water, though?

Well, some of the wild onions you found were growing right by the river not half a mile from here. Surely they'd be fine, at least. But what about the rest?

Ugh.

You can't keep thinking about this forever.

You nearly do so anyway.

You decide to just go for it.

When you finish piling up the dirt, you're pretty hungry. You still have some melon, though, and you make your way through another two slices, deciding it best to save the rest for later.

You know you really need to get some seeds planted, get your food growing yesterday. But you can't seem to make yourself do any more.

You sit at the end of one of your dirt piles and spend the afternoon watching the squids who seem to call this part of the river their home, your legs dangling into the running water. You don't like how in your head you've started to get since you decided to stay in this one spot. Not that it's anything new, really.

Your mind quiets, though, as you watch a squid turning loose, almost clumsy figure-8s in the water, and your eyes begin to close of their own accord.

#worlds somnambulance project #broadcast 11 #woah long post hi there

[soda-gremlin]

Lmao the way I cackled on Geronimo’s “Oh shit right” moment during the “All from a cup of coffee” book

Like when the cave was caving in, Benjamin got bonked on the head by a falling rock and fainted then for half an hour (I think) G had a full mental breakdown complete with crying an entire river system inside the cave

Then a rock also bonked him on the head and G went “Oh shit right” then got his shit together and hauled his nephew and his ass outta there

Meanwhile, Thea and Trap slept the entire time when G’s screams alone can be heard by the entire island

Anyways I just find it funny that the universe would stop every time G has a breakdown even during an extreme emergency like this

Like how did the man fit an entire mental breakdown in between trying to save himself from a dire situation like go off king

-Pog

The cave wanted him to have a good cry first before he died /j

#geronimo stilton #soda’s asks

[cleothebeo]

Sequel.

In the land of 𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙤𝙧, there are seven narrow gauge engines who work in the blue Mountain quarry, and The Skarloey Railway, Their names are: Skarloey, Rheneas, Sir Handel, Peter Sam, Rusty, Duncan, and Luke, They had been working in the blue Mountain quarry and Skarloey Railway for a long time.

But these months, 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙙𝙞𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩.

There were a lot of trucks they had to pull, Some had broken down from pulling too much, Some were complaining about the extra work and late work hours they had to do.

They all are exhausted everyday, They loved their jobs, but there were too much! So Mr Percival decided to do something..

𝘽𝘼𝘾𝙆 𝙄𝙉 𝙇𝙔𝙉𝙏𝙊𝙉 𝙍𝘼𝙄𝙇𝙒𝘼𝙔..

"Oh, Shush Merlin!" Merlin's twin, Acorn spoke.

"It's true! If you stay on the turntable when there's a windy storm, then it will spin!" Merlin said.

"I don't think we're even ALOUD to work at windy days.." Said Acorn.

Merlin was about to speak, until Acorn's and Merlin's Driver came

"Hey, Acorn and Merlin!" Dillon, Acorn's driver said.

"Oh, Hey Dill! What's up?" Said Merlin.

"Acorn's gonna work at a island called 'Sodor', and on a railway named 'The Skarloey Railway', and 'The blue Mountain quarry'." Neil, Merlin's driver spoke.

"Skarloey Railway? Is it like Talyllyn Railway? Since Skarloey and Talyllyn are well known twins.." Acorn questioned, raising a brow.

The drivers nodded in sync.

"Wait.. What about me?" Merlin asked.

"Sorry Merlin, Your not coming."

"But.. Acorn's my twin! He's never been out of Lynton before, Where is he supposed to go?!" Said Merlin.

"Don't worry, a standard gauge will pick em' up."

"Oh.. Well.. I guess this is goodbye, Acorn." Said Merlin sadly, as Acorn frowned.

"Yeah.. I guess it is.. But, Our drivers can send letters to each other, right? And tapes, We can still keep in contact." Said Acorn, trying to lighten his twins mood.

"Yeah, but don't you 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 forget me!"

"Forget you? I won't forget you, Merlin, We have grown up together, worked with each other, and bond with eachother everyday! There's 𝙣𝙤 way I would forget ya!" Acorn said.

Merlin looked at Acorn, and smiled.

"I won't forget ya too, now come on! Let's get workin' before you go!"

Merlin said, making Acorn smile brightly, and they went along with their day, working and shunting, pulling and hauling.

Until.. The standard gauge loco came.

The standard gauge seemed to be a Little River Railroad 4-6-2 No. 110, painted in a sapphire blue colour.

"Hello, Merlin! Hi Acorn!" Said the engine.

"Hello, Casper..!" Merlin and Acorn said in sync.

"Are ya ready for a new adventure, Acorn?"

"I'm sure am!" Acorn said, before looking at his brother who'd smile sadly.

"Well, This is goodbye, Acorn, I don't think working here will be the same without you.."

"..i'll miss you." Merlin continued sadly.

"I'll miss you too, but things never stay the same, don't they?" Replied Acorn who looked at his brother with sympathy, he felt bad for Merlin.

"..yeah.." Merlin mumbled.

"Don't forget me, okay? And, even if I'm far away, I'll 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 be your twin." Acorn said, before smiling softly at Merlin, who did the same.

Acorn was loaded up into the flatbed, And he whistled his whistle at his brother for the 𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚, as his brother did the same, and they set off into the sunset.. Heading off to a new adventure..

#ttte stories #ttte skarloey #ttte rheneas #ttte sir handel #ttte peter sam #ttte rusty #ttte duncan #ttte luke #interact #interact and repost please #interact and reblog pls #ttte acorn #ttte talyllyn #talyllyn railway #ttte lynton railway #lynton railway

[fishrpg]

2024-05-18: Isle Zone 13 (Tropical, Very Humid)

Snaking across the waves from west to east is a long island wetlands and forest.

Carmine Isle (Inhabited, SET, RES)

The low-lying wetlands to the east are inundated by tidal flooding, and a freshwater spring in the eastern forests provides drinking water for the town of Marrativu before becoming a river that terminates in a fertile estuary that provides most of the food for the island. Far off music is often audible on the coast, coming from the spirited performers in the town. A shipwrecked galleon is currently adrift in the waters offshore.

Shipwreck of the Perennial Endeavor

Nearly everyone knows about the Perennial Endeavor, a famously grand galleon that hauled treasure across the sea. The stern has received quite a bit of damage from an attack, and the rudder has been destroyed. Judging from the rotting stench aboard, the ship was likely looted a few weeks ago and has recently drifted here. Thankfully, there don't appear to be any dead on the ship; the smell is coming from the rotting of the food stores. Several (human) scavengers are already aboard and looking for anything of value.

Town of Marrativu (Jovnori Caretakers and Voluski Control)

With a population of about a thousand people, the town of Marrativu is an ancient settlement notable for being carved into the forested hills above the high-water line. Fabulously vibrant dyes are the primary export of the island, though the dyers are currently in armed conflict with some of the merchant vessels who are trying to take dye by force. There was a bad harvest this year, and the merchants want what is in their contracts, but there isn't enough to go around.

The Voluski and Jovnori Caretakers work together here, and there is an observation tower on the highest point of the island. Most use the tower to watch celestial events and track the weather, but the locked basement of the tower holds a more sinister secret. Only Voluski are allowed down here, and it is home to a grim creation: the Eye of Things Yet To Pass. It is an enchanted eye from a giant squid, that is still alive despite being removed from its body. Those who are brave enough to cut the pupil open and stick their heads inside will receive visions of things yet to come. However, the Eye also tries to drown the recipient of the visions by forcing a foul-smelling liquid into the nose and mouth of the viewer, limiting the visions to only a few seconds at a time. The Caretakers do not know about the Eye, and if they did, they would likely reconsider their efforts in governing the island while such a profane magical object was there.

#hexplore24 #fishdavidson #dungeons and dragons #hexcrawl #5e #forest #settlement #resource #wetland

[mollydsails]

April 2 - Molly D is anchored in Little River, SC. She is anchored just off the ICW channel. Our trip today involved many fixed bridges and two open on demand swing bridges. Molly D traveled the ICW at a lower tide, making the passage under the fixed bridges not a problem. It amazed me that only a couple of the bridges had clearance boards. We NEED to know clearances as Molly D’s mast is at the top of the reported 65’ height. We were fine despite not having clearance boards to check.

Scenic trip today. Molly D transited through woodsy areas as well as built up residential areas.

Day marker at the edge of a wooded area.

We bypassed several marinas, some large and some that were small, private marinas that were associated with housing developments.

Try hailing this marina on the radio! We heard a couple of boats hail the marina. It didn’t go well.

The wildlife we saw today consisted of ducks, turtles and a lone Canada goose.

How many turtles can fit on a log? At least six!

Interesting dock. No boat. No home in sight.

As we travelled north, we discovered where dead buoys are laid to rest.

These “dead” buoys were located behind a restaurant

One of today’s bridges was extremely slow to open. I noted that fact on my ICW bridge log.

The slow opening Barefoot Landing Swing Bridge.

Our choice anchorage area today was behind Bird Island, near the Little River inlet. When we approached the anchorage, the wind was blowing in the mid to high 20s. The water was a bit messed up (inlets always have messy water). The forecasted winds tonight were going to be a bit stronger than what we were experiencing at that moment. Not a choice anchorage. David could not find any nearby anchorage areas (as noted on the chart). What to do?? We anchored in Calabash Creek. Marginal depth and the narrow creek can be busy with shrimp boats heading in or out. Due to the marginal depth, we would have to haul anchor before 6 am to catch the highest water. We nixed that idea. Plan B was to anchor south of Calabash Creek, just outside the ICW channel. Not the best of choices but it was the only option available to us.

Molly D’s anchoring spot in Little River

A waterside golf course is on the opposite side of the ICW from Molly D

Tomorrow the weather is not going to be good. The coastal waters have gale warnings and predicted seas of 5’-6’. Molly D will travel the ICW. We are hoping that the ICW will be a “smoother” ride. Our destination will be Wilmington, NC. We will be crossing the Cape Fear River. That will NOT be fun at all! We will be staying overnight at a marina in Wilmington. Friends of ours (also IP owners) live in Wilmington and keep their boat there as well. We will get together for dinner. We have some catching up to do!

[the-firebird69]

Several things in punta Gorda Port Charlotte happening today and they are big they will make change occur here and all over Florida and the world after it is going to be an eye opener for a lot of these sloths

-there is an effort going on to remove people who are criminals by the max the foreigners and we have to tag along and it's happening all over the world and in Florida and it's been happening here as you said earlier there's going to be a huge evacuation and the numbers are getting smaller right now it's probably around 10% 2% of the world will evacuate to the islands and it's the morlock in a mix.

-here in punta Gorda is about 20 projects beginning and it is that group that is coming in because these people are hardly doing anything and they're not really good at it and it is occurring events elsewhere are greatly affecting what's happening here in the upper Midwest and having a huge infight and it translates here and they're not going to crap out of each other and people take advantage of it and knock the crap out of them. They're having a huge fight with clones top side and sent down to Giant number this morning and they should if they get ships and keep them around they be doing better and they like the idea of bombardment because they got bombs recently they lost almost half their people

-there's a huge amount of people getting fired today from their jobs they're going for the rest of them and it is McDonald's doing it and the invite and McDonald's can't seem to get the jobs that they're firing people from and other people are holding them out of them so doesn't seem to be helping but they're pursuing the McDonald's stuff here in overseas and they're forced to do it and in a big scale it's happening today. And the two movies dune begins today the TV series is starting up and the movies will be in about 5 days to a week

-the ship above is still hovering and has not moved and they don't anticipate to move to soon like we said Monday Tuesday might be the launch day for the ships even though they're larger and considerably larger the cycle might be very similar and it has to do with the size my son doesn't really know if it's true or not you have an engine that's bigger now you have to cycle it more so it might be a little longer that's what will and Bill just added of course they might be wrong and things are going that route no usually they're right on and our son is correct and daughter

-there's a couple more things people in the mall are dragging ass last night they had a bunch of fights and they look terrible and think they look good it's horrible and good is just another thing too so we have other things happening and one of them is they're going to renovate the mall the piece by piece in stores are trying to get in because we are renovating and adding things

-along with an evacuation people are going after more lock of any kind just thinking about and they are grabbing them and they are hauling them in. It's wide scale and it's increasing and due to their habits and they're gross and their parasites. There's a few projects that are going on that are making it worse for them hauling out s*** out of the rivers and they're not doing good things with it trying to tamper with food and they're getting kicked out and water and electricity and sewer and they're getting booted out all over the world day by day they have stuff they want and need and they're useless they say so we think of a percentage will drop today and daily because of that alone and forced evacuations they are beginning

-the max delivered their fourth letter last night it is Mac proper and these people are trying to attack them and they keep attacking the McDonald's they say they need their stuff and it's horrible and their losers and they're going to just disappear. And I think they're smart by ignoring the truth and saying things to our son and yeah they're McDonald's. The fifth letter will be delivered tonight as a result of the fourth letter their number of areas that were hit additional to the original 300 and they were about 20 by 30 areas full of people and we're not there and we have to clear and we give the all clear to us and to allow it and we did it for weeks and then immediately before and they wiped them out about 50 of those areas that's a lot and the population of course dropped and it did drop to about 10% it wasn't 20% and the first hit drop them down to 17 from 23 and the second hit drop them down to 10 it was bigger they're delivering that letter tonight it is the fifth letter 5th. There's only two more letters but this letter contains more jargon in it and explains more about why and what they're doing it for and what they expect people to do in order to not get hit even though they're attacking MacDonald's mostly they are still safe that their behavior is provocative and directed against them and they do understand it is both sides do but the max are going to attach we will correspond with the letters when it's issued there's only two more letters but this one has diplomatic information it is explaining to the leaders why the wrong what's wrong with their behavior and why they should be modifying it and it's also saying that their crimes against the realm and against their kind and it is true but they just could not hold their own they needed solutions and they were frustrated and it's both of them but they don't recognize that and take responsibility because they see them as having free will and something they can blame my son for the computer hacking and obviously a lot of people think that stupid and they're saying it right now but yeah this is a diplomatic pouch as well it's really the letter itself but it is speaking to a higher level in other words if you don't back off they said we are bringing it up a notch and we are telling all of your leaders the reasons why and clarifying it and we already know what they're going to write for the most part and we've seen it and the delivery method last time was kind of hairy for them so they are going to deliver it with a difference carrier and it's going to be their own people bringing the letter in and the delivery people are afraid and nervous they don't want to do it and they said they won't be harmed our son and daughter say there's a way to do it is you bring it in a case and the case of scanned and it has the emblem of the macs and it says clearly didn't see a pouch carried my others for them and they do know about it and they've seen it and it helps but really they should know the stuff they hardly know and do anything it is done correctly it's really bizarre. And they didn't have too many skills before it's going on now that they're in trouble and it will be delivered at 9:00 p.m. tonight so far they did not comply with the fourth letter and they're being hit severely it's 10% now it'll probably drop all the another percent from the hits and a percent from international action and possibly a couple percent from action on the phones other than that it's going to be percentage point here and there of a percent they call it a point in trading but that's not what it is it's a percentage of a percent. And it is ongoing we're going to publish now

Thor Freya

There's several things happening here with me I've noticing that they are depleting their forces fast and that's the warlock it means the max are trying to do things before others can mobilize and move and relocate to areas that the max are controlling and I'm writing it up and my husband says that foreigners are aware and they're above the shields and they're confirming they are and they do know what I'm saying is true and we're taking over the areas that they're bombarding lots of them and I know we haven't had but I do see a couple holes in there informing me that's the max and I will send it in and it's going to be helpful

Hera

Good. I have the feeling too but I'm trying to make you feel better because I know that we're doing things but it is best to make sure we have everything covered because it's a finger holder looking for

Zues

Good

Hera

Olympus we are moving on these things and we see her letter we have a lot of it but we are going to put a lot more into it and we do see what she's saying because of the rapid change on this lot of things that they're doing still that need to be picked up and it's so brilliant way of putting it he says and we do too and she thinks this and her husband

[shop-korea]

Watch "Spring RIVER ISLAND Try On Haul 2023! 🌸 Spring Fashion Edit ~ Freddy My Love" on YouTube

#Youtube

[misslinala]

#river island haul #river Island #river island try on haul #haul #try on haul #new clothes #new shoes #look #outfit #casual look #style #fashion #stylevana #stylevana haul #beauty bay #beauty #beauty bay haul #haircare haul #beauty secrets #Youtube

[maliksanford14]

A distinctive Paris Travel Guide

During your Dhanbad tour, it is also worthwhile to go to the Panchet Dam. The dam has been built more than the River Damodar in Panchet region. It was inaugurated in 1959 and has become quite a big hit it with locals and visitors alike. While Dhanbad district is located at the north of the dam, District Purulia sits on the Southern bank. With the Panchet hill in its track record, the place is wonderful for picnics. If you visit, try to body your journey planner in this kind of a way that your journey coincides with the finish of the monsoon time period or the start of winters. We had been always made to create for college and for function; on your holiday, create for enjoyable! Maintain monitor of all the new things you experienced by scribbling and doodling things on your journey journal. The enjoyable part is that nobody gets to quality or give feedback on it! You can start to obtain nearby know-how prior to you start your journey. Do some research. Buy and study a traveling to indonesia. Look at pictures and video clip of the area. Appear up maps and attempt to discover significant landmarks for the area. Speak to people who have been there. Find out every thing you can about the area you are preparing to visit. The special way that my family members celebrates the vacation revolves about our Christmas tree. We drive out of the metropolis about an hour absent to a tree farm exactly where we search for the best tree for this year and cut it down. We haul it back home and decorate it over the subsequent week with tons of lights and hundreds of ornaments we have collected more than the years. My 12 year previous son has for a couple of years now created a Xmas Tree ornament hunt exactly where he makes a list of issues that our vacation guests get to discover certain ornaments that are hidden on the tree: ie. three reindeer, the Eiffel Tower, etc. visit here smokes incescently and I do as nicely though my mother or father don't know. And he provided me a cigarette in entrance of my father and of program I didn't have a pack on me so I kindly acknowledged his offer. My dad then pulled a blunt out of his pocket and stated "will you received a mild". I dealed witht this scenario by taking pleasure in myself and becoming truly puzzled but the issue is resolved in that I adore my dad and grandpa! Use the Kid Swap (a.k.a Rider Switch). Two or much more adult visitors traveling with little kids who don't match the peak requirement of a ride can take advantage of the Kid Swap, sometimes known as the Baby Swap, Rider Switch or Rider Swap. When your celebration enters the queue, tell the Solid Member you'd like to do the Kid Swap. The Cast Member will then inform you as to procedures. I remember my first couple of meals in India. We had been in Chennai (Madras) and obtaining utilized to consuming with our (right!) hand. A waiter took us on as an education venture and confirmed us just how this is to be carried out: remain near to your banana leaf, don't tilt your head back again, transfer the meals into your mouth swiftly. and don't make a mess. It's simpler said than done! Separated from mainland Australia by the 240km stretch of Bass Strait, Tasmania is a land aside. A aircraft of wild and beautiful landscapes, friendly, welcoming people, a nice temperate climate, fantastic wines and food, a wealthy history and a relaxed island lifestyle. The capital metropolis of Tasmania is Hobart, situated in the south-east of the condition. Launceston is the largest city in the north.

#agen bola piala dunia 2022 logo

[mygoldmine]

MASSIVE SALE CLOTHING HAUL!

#MY HAUL #London fashion blogger #topshop #new look #miss selfridge #river island #style #fashion #clothes #accessories #try on haul #shopping haul #clothing haul #pink #girly #fashion haul #black girl #fashion bloggers #vogue #videos

[viking-raider]

Hoist the Colours - Part I

Summary: Your father is given a governorship of a Caribbean island and you accompany him on the voyage, a new start, for the both of you. But, it doesn’t go as either of you planned, or well.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 8,841

Warning: Pirate!Henry, Fluff, Angst, Mention of death, Violence, Language, Kidnapping, Ransom

Inspiration: It’s Henry and Pirates! I got the idea after watching Pirates of the Caribbean one day!

Author’s Note: I wanted to post something new to treat the fandom. As always, thank you to the lovely @wondersofdreaming​ for helping me along with my stories.

The room creaked and groaned, swaying back and forth at a quick and nauseating pace, the booms and cracks coming from outside the door were muffled by the thick wood. He pushed you into the corner, panting, sweating and bleeding heavily.

“Henry.” You whimpered, trembling with fright and adrenaline.

“Sshh, it's all right.” He wheezed, breathing labored and sat down on the bed that was in the corner. “Here, look at me, my love.” He said, forcing a smile as he cupped your cheek in his shaking hand, leaving a bloody print with it. “We'll be all right, my sweet. The men are strong and capable, they'll rid the ship of these mongrels.”

“It doesn't seem like it.” You fretted, biting your lip and glancing at the barred door as something very heavy struck it.

Henry chuckled and kissed the corner of your mouth, you could taste the blood from the split on his bottom lip. “We've encountered worse on these seas, I assure you.” He groaned softly. “But, I must tell you, of all the treasures and gold I have plundered in my lifetime as a Pirate, you are the greatest of them all.”

3rd August 1686

It was a sunny morning in London, the sea air sweeping over the city, keeping it cool as Londoners and it's other residents went about their daily business. You stood on the balcony of your parents' home, taking deep breaths of the sea air and could hear your maid bustling about your room, packing your things for the voyage you and your father would be taking the next day. Your father, Thomas, had been appointed Governor of the newly colonized Lockemirth Island in the Caribbean, and you were to accompany him, with no other prospects for staying in London, and after the death of your mother the year before, he felt the both of you needed a fresh start in the world, and the governorship was that opportunity.

“Miss?” Your maid called, appearing in the balcony doorway.

You turned towards her, lifting a brow. “Yes, Jane?”

“Everything you've asked me to pack has been so.” She informed you, bundling the sides of her skirts and bowing softly to you.

“Thank you, Jane.” You smiled softly at her, saddened that you would be leaving the place that had been home all your life, away from your friends and all the seasonal events that kept London busy.

You doubted there would be such high society events like London's, on a teeny island in the Caribbean, expecting and loathing the boredom and loneliness that would no doubt fill your days there. Sighing and softly closing your eyes for a moment, you stepped back into the house as sweaty movers appeared in your room to collect the crates of the things you would be taking with you on the voyage, and taking them downstairs to the foyer, to later be moved to the storage haul of the HMS Kilmartin.

“Ma'am.” One of the movers tipped the brim of his sweat stained and worn flat hat, as he and the other mover muscled the heavy wooden crate out the double doors of your room.

“Sir.” You nodded your head politely to him, then they were gone, grunting and groaning down the spiral staircase. “I shall miss this place, Jane.” You sighed, sitting down on the edge of your bed and stared out the window. “I heard the island region is prone to hurricanes, that kick up tremendous winds and rain, capable of flattening everything in its wake.”

“Gracious.” Jane gasped, sweeping the dry packing straw that had fallen to the floor, while things were being packed into the crates. “Sounds frightening.”

“It does.” You agreed with her, a knot of fear in your stomach at the thought of being caught in such a storm.

What would you and your father do, if such a storm hit the island whilst you were there? Even worse, what if one happened, while you were still sailing to the island? It would undoubtedly cause the ship to sink, taking you, your father and everyone aboard down with it!

“And the pirates, Miss.” Jane added, after a moment of silence.

“No pirate is stupid enough to attack a ship of His Royal Highness, King James II.” You huffed, rolling your eyes at her. “It would be a grave mistake on their part, the King doesn't suffer pirates, nor does my father for that matter. It's part of the reason he was appointed Governor of the island, to prevent pirates from getting their greedy and filthy hands on it.”

“Like they did with Nassau.”

“Of course.” Jane nodded, shyly.

You sighed again, but deep down you were concerned about the pirates, your father had mentioned only the night before that one of the royal ships had been attacked and boarded by pirates on their way to Port Royal. They had taken most of the cargo and killed several of the crew members, before finally returning to their own ship and vanishing on the horizon. You tried to soothe your own fears by repeating the same you told Jane inside your mind, that no pirate would attack a royal ship. But, it barely eased that fear and anxiety.

If anything, it made it worse.

The next day, Jane woke you earlier than usual and helped you dress, before you went downstairs for one more breakfast in the house. Your father was already sitting at the table, a steaming cup in front of him and the daily newspaper in his hand. He set it down as you entered the room, standing to greet you with a smile and gently kiss your cheek, before you took your seat at the table and Jane laid out your breakfast before you.

“Thank you.” You smiled at her, picking up a fork.

“Are you ready for our voyage, my dear?” Your father asked, sipping his tea and regarding you over its rim.

“As I can be, father.” You replied, picking up your own cup of tea. “How long will it take?”

“With good weather and wind, hopefully no longer than seven weeks.” He informed you, setting his cup down on its little saucer. “With terrible weather, it could be as long as three months.”

“Let's hope it is the former, instead of the latter, then, shall we?” You smiled over at him, nervously.

“Don't worry about the journey, my sweet petal.” He said, smiling at you in a way parents did, when they were trying to be reassuring, while also hiding their own fears and worry.

“All will be well.”

You didn't argue with him.

Besides, your father had far more sailing experience than you did. He had once been a member of His Royal Majesty's, King Charles I's Royal Navy, reaching the rank of Captain, before meeting your mother, retiring and trying his hand in politics, quite successfully, at that. You on the other hand, had never been on a boat, unless you counted the little rowboat James Turner took you in to cross a small river to a picnic spot he had set up for you, during last year's social season, with Jane as chaperon. You had wondered then, as he half struggled to row the vessel, why you were doing so, when there was a small, and perfectly useful, foot bridge not ten meters away from the small dock he had pushed off from.

But, just like now, you didn't argue or question it, he wanted to be romantic, and your father was trying to be protective and reassuring.

Your father took his pocket watch out, the highly polished gold cover popping open, its soft ticks reached you as he frowned down at it, then snapped it shut again and tucked it back into his pocket. Heaving a sigh, he downed the rest of his cooled tea, neatly folded his half read newspaper and rested back against his chair, quietly regarding you across the table, while you finished your breakfast.

“Edward, have the carriage readied, we must leave in no more than twenty minutes.” He called out to his servant, before rising to his feet.

He bowed politely to you and left the room, you knew where he was going, to your mother's rooms. Your father had shut up her rooms the day of her funeral, not wanting a single item inside to be disturbed out of the places she had put them in. She had been sick for some time, but in the last month of her life, she had gotten far worse. Your father employed every respectable doctor London had, even the physician the King himself used. But, all of them had a different diagnosis and treatment for what supposedly ailed her, and none of them worked, most of them only made her worse. So, she wasted away until there was nothing left of her, but skin and bones, and she passed away. Your father was understandably distraught and brokenhearted by her death, only mechanically doing his obligations, always standing, motionless, in her dark and tomb-like rooms, as if he stood there long enough, time would rewind and bring her back to him.

There was no doubt in your mind, that's where he was going, to say one last good-bye to her, before you both set sail for Lockemirth, for what would likely be several years, if not forever. You had already sneaked into her room, during the night, taking a ruby necklace that she loved to wear, as a token to remember her by and to feel as if, in a way, she was accompanying you both on the journey.

“Are you ready, my dear?” His voice asked as he descended the staircase to join you in the foyer, lifting a graying brow at you.

“As I can be, Father.” You replied, stomach clenching inside your corset.

He smiled at you, fingertips gently brushing your cheek, while Edward opened the front doors. “Into a brave new world, my loving daughter.” He said, looping his arm with yours and escorted you out into the rising morning sun, the family carriage already waiting for you both, door open and horses patiently standing at attention.

Your father helped you inside the carriage, then followed after you, rapping his knuckles on the door to signal the driver to move forward. Both of you watched as the beloved house slowly disappeared from view, soon falling away to the wharves of London harbor. The sea air was even stronger on the wharves, mixed with the strong scents of seaweed, fish, the unwashed bodies of sailors long at sea and hot tar. The HMS Kilmartin was easy enough to spot on the wharves, its masts standing tall amongst the others, rocking in the gentle swell of the waves coming off the ocean, it glittered in the rays of the new day, showing off its blue, white and gold paint job, it was immaculate. It gave you a great measure of relief to see it, it seemed infinitely more steady and reliable than the other ships in the harbor.

“Shall we find out if you have sea legs like your dear father?” He teased you, as you approached the gangplank leading up onto the deck.

You tried to give him an amused smile, before following him up the swaying plank, but you weren't truly amused at the prospect of finding out if you were prone to seasickness or not. You dearly hoped you wouldn't be though, all you needed was this voyage to be even longer and more miserable then it already would be without you losing your stomach with every movement of the ship.

Stepping onto the deck, you clutched your father's arm tighter and planted your feet against the unaccustomed sway. Your father chuckled and helped you steady yourself, standing there for several long minutes to allow you to acclimate, then started forward again, slowly, baby step by baby step. A pair of doors swung open and a man appeared out of them, dressed completely in Royal Navy attire, giving away his station as the Captain of the ship.

“Sir Thomas.” The Captain smiled at your father, striding over to you both with the confidence of a man walking on land, instead of on the swaying deck of a ship. “This must be your lovely daughter.” He smiled at you next, sweeping off his hat and bowing to you.

“Indeed, sir.” Your father smiled, looking at you with all and more pride. “My dear, this is Captain Davis.”

“My lady.” Captain Davis greeted you, taking your offered hand and kissing it. “It is a pleasure to have you aboard my ship.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Captain Davis.” You replied, feeling a warmth creep into your cheeks.

Captain Davis's smile broadened at your words, before letting your hand go and looking back to your father. “We have your cabins ready for you, sir. The things you've asked to be taken into them are already there, awaiting you both.” He explained to your father.

“So, shall I show you to your cabins?”

“Please, lead the way, Captain.” Your father nodded and gripped your hand tighter, following Davis into a dim passageway and down a small set of stairs, to the second level of the ship.

“Sir Thomas, your cabin is here.” Captain Davis said, leading the way down a narrow hallway and motioned to a door on the left. “My lady, your cabin is just through there.” He pointed to a door across from your father's. “I do hope the both of you find comfort in them. If you are in need of anything, please inform myself or my Chief Mate, Mr. Gray.” He instructed the both of you.

You and your father thanked him and entered your respective cabins. Your cabin was narrow in length and just wide enough that your fingertips, with your arms stretched out from your sides, barely touched the walls, it reminded you of your closet at home. Sighing, you approached the bed to one side, it was built into the side of the ship, for obvious reasons, with a feather mattress laid into that, and a lip, to keep the bed's occupant from being either rolled out or tossed out with the ship's movement, no matter its speed and the type of waves it was sailing through. There was a porthole across from the bed, where you could only see the side of a ship that was docked beside the Kilmartin.

At the other side of your room was a heavy and deep chest, a chest full of your things, clothing to change into, toiletries and some other home comforts to keep you company, like a book or two. Sighing, you sat down on the bed and stared out the porthole, to what teeny strip of blue and cloudy sky you could see at the top of it.

“I already miss home.” You frowned, chewing on your lip.

It was three weeks into the voyage to Lockemirth Island from London, and you had, more or less, gotten your sea legs; as your father put it. You had only spent the first day and a half hanging over the railing of the main deck, spilling any substance you put in your body, that wasn't already there to start with. All things considered though, you found yourself rather enjoying the life on board the ship, watching the crew go about their duties, pulling and tying ropes as thick as your arms, climbing the rigging like monkeys in trees; you marveled at their ease of doing it without falling or getting tangled up. You would join your father every evening or morning for a row around the main deck, keeping each other company and sane on the long journey.

But, on the second day of the fourth week, as you woke and dressed that morning, something felt different, off to the normal air and movement of the ship. Frowning, you made your way to the top side and heard all the noise and ruckus that was going on. You had grown used to all the noise that came with the ship, but there was more of it, frantically yelled orders and every crew member was in a manic rush to and fro, carrying this and dragging that, not even looking or uttering their usual greetings to you.

It frightened the wits out of you.

You quickly found your father in Captain Davis's quarters, both frantic as the crew, but also angry. Angry at each other, something else or both, you couldn't tell, but you knew the look of fear on your father's face, you had seen it only in times of great peril and strife.

“Papa, what's the matter?” You asked, moving forward to rest your hand on his arm, trying to give him some type of reassurance.

He started, feeling your warm touch on his arm, his billowing sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “My petal.” He gasped, blinking as if it was the first time he had ever set eyes on you. “You should go back down to your cabin, Petal. It's not quite safe for you, just now.”

You frowned at him, increasingly concerned. “Why?” You asked, blinking at him and glancing down at the map on the Captain's vast desk.

“My--” He paused and let out a harsh breath through his nose, a clear sign he's annoyed and at a stalemate for what to do and say. “It's nothing to be concerned with, my Petal. The dear Captain believes he saw an...unfriendly...ship on the horizon this morning.”

“Is it a pirate ship?” You let out in a rush, eyes wide with alarm.

“Of course not, Petal.” Your father chuckled, shaking his head at you. “It was flying the colors of a French flag.”

“It's easy enough for a pirate to fly a false flag in place of their own, until they get close enough to fly it, and at that point, it would be too late for us to escape their guns or their attempt to board us.” A man standing on the other side of the desk said, pessimistically.

“Mr. Gray!” Your father roared, slamming his fist down on the desk and causing several small, lead figurines to jump and fall over. “I would request you holding your tongue with such talk in front of my daughter.” He growled, dangerously.

“Bad luck to have a woman aboard, as is.” Mr. Gray continued, ignoring your father and glaring at you with unmasked distaste.

“It seems the only bad luck on this ship, Mr. Gray,” You hissed back, jaw stiff. “is your attitude.”

Your father repressed a snort of proud laughter into his fist, covering it up with a clearing of his throat. “Be it as it may, Mr. Gray. My daughter is on this ship, and if there were anything of luck to be had, it would be with her.” He told the First Mate, but smiled adoringly at you. “You have nothing to fret over, my Petal. All will be well. That French ship was most likely just sailing back to her home port with merchant goods.”

He took your hand from his forearm and escorted you to the open door of the Captain's quarters. “Didn't you start that lovely needle point work, just yesterday?” He inquired, stepping out of the quarters with you and closing the door behind him. “I simply can not wait for you to finish and show it to me, my dearest.” He told you, sounding most interested and desperate to see the finished product.

“I did.” You nodded, still uneasy about the information you received.

“Then, go back down to your cabin and work on finishing it.” He brought you to the doorway of the passage that led down to your cabins. “I'll be down shortly and we'll take our customary round about the deck. How does that sound?” He asked, grinning at you sweetly, too sweetly.

“Of course, Father.” You acquiesced with a soft sigh, you could tell he was overwhelmed with worry and frustration and didn't wish to add to it, so you conceded, bowing your head obediently to him.

“That's a dear girl.” He smiled at you, kissing your forehead, then returned to the Captain's quarters. “So, who do we think it was?” He asked, leaning against the desk and surveying the map, the knocked over figurines having been put back in their places.

“This time of the year?” Mr. Gray replied, stroking his smooth chin. “It could be anybody. Actual French, the Spanish, but more than likely, pirates.”

“Oh, come off it, Richard.” Captain Davis huffed, mopping his sweaty face with his handkerchief.

“I'm serious, Godfrey.” Gray huffed back at him, angered that his word wasn't being trusted. “It's hurricane season in the Caribbean, the Spanish and French, unless on official business wouldn't be sailing out here. We only are because we must get the new Governor and his daughter, to Lockemirth, or we too would be anchored in London Harbor. The only people crazy enough to sail in these waters are those and pirates, that know other ships will be anchored in harbors, or trying to reach harbor before a storm brews in, so they could take advantage of their desperation.”

“It was sailing clear in the other direction, Richard.” Davis answered, shaking his head at his First Mate's paranoia. “That was at first light this morning. If it was a pirate seeking advantage, we would have seen the change of course and reappear in our wake.”

“That was four hours ago.” Thomas replied, pressing his lips together. “They wouldn't have been able to stay in our wake and out of our sight for that long, in fear of losing us.” He explained, trying to be rational with the two of them.

“Sir Thomas is correct, Richard.” Davis agreed, dropping into the chair behind his desk. “They would have been re-spotted in some capacity. They have not been, so it can only be a French ship returning to her port, most likely a head of any storms that might form.” He said, pressing his fingertips to his thumping and sweaty temples. “I have Mr. Michaels on watch duty, he'll tell us if another, or the same ship, is spotted in our wake. So, until then, gentlemen, I recommend not wasting your energy and strength of fretting about it.”

Looking at each other, Sir Thomas and Mr. Gray nodded their heads at the Captain and excused themselves from his quarters, returning to their usual morning places. Your father came down to your cabin and after answering several of your worried questions, the pair of you went up onto the deck and started doing your rounds about it, the crew was in less of rush and panic, now that Mr. Gray had given them orders to ease their distress, greeting you and your father as you passed by them.

The two of you were having lunch together with Captain Davis, when Mr. Gray came barreling into the room, out of breath and only making the smallest apologies for barging in without knocking or ceremony. Captain Davis wiped his mouth and dropped his silk napkin beside his plate with a deep air of irritation, then pushed his chair back and stood.

“What is this about, Mr. Gray?” He demanded, rounding the table to stand face to face with him.

“The ship, sir.” Mr. Gray wheezed, gulping thickly and trying to regain himself. “The French ship has been spotted again, six leagues behind us, Sir.” He informed his Captain, taking a deep gulp of air into his burning lungs.

Captain Davis's head snapped over his shoulder to your father, who was instantly to his feet and going out the door with Davis and Gray. You looked out the large bay window behind the Captain's chair to the endless and sparkling track of ocean and sky, but saw nothing in it, but choppy waves. Jumping to your feet, you rushed out of the room, catching your father's coat tails as he ran up the staircase leading to the upper deck, where the helm was stationed. Captain Davis snatched a folded spy glass from the helmsman, extending it to full length and spied out over the ocean, where Gray was pointing his finger, supposedly where he had seen the ship in question, not moments before.

You watched Davis's stiff shoulders slowly melt, making your anxiety spike, knowing if there was nothing of alarm to be seen, his shoulders would have stayed stiff, but they relaxed, like he was in agreement that there was something trailing behind the ship, and it was nothing good. You looked up as your father looked back at you and saw the same language of Davis's body, in his face.

“There's still no evidence the ship is sailed by pirates.” Davis said, handing his spy glass to your father. “There could be any number of reasons for her to turn back.”

“Why are you acting as if nothing is possibly afoul?” Gray asked, his teeth gritted as he tried to hold his temper with his commanding officer.

Captain Davis did not reply, his unfocused eyes stared off in the direction of the quickly growing black spot, you could now see, on the bright horizon, chewing on his lip as he tried to come up with something to do, some action to take against not only the possibility of the ship being indeed French and either in need of their help or sought to harm them, or if it was a pirate ship sailing under a fake French flag for evil pretenses, such as boarding, plundering and scuttling them.

“Captain!” Gray roared in his face, patience lost. “Orders!”

Davis snapped out of it and his face turned into an expression of hardened steel. “Let out the sails, catch as much of the wind as we can, try to get ahead of them as much as possible, but run out the guns in case we can not!” He snapped, then pushed aside the helmsman manning the ship's wheel.

Gray rushed to the railing overlooking the main deck and shouted the orders down to the crew, who paused for a moment, looking at each other as alarm and the urgency of it set in, then started running around to fulfill the orders. You stood frozen in place, you weren't part of the crew, those orders meant nothing to you in the slightest. So, you knew not what to do with yourself, other than stand there and watch that black spot steadily take the shape of a ship, and a mighty looking ship it was, even at such a distance, you shuddered to think what it would look like even closer still.

Your father clapped shut the spyglass and turned towards you, he looked ashen as your eyes met, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped down his own anxiety and fears, getting a handle on his resolve like a hand snapping closed around something valuable. He blindly held the closed spyglass out to the helmsman, who took it, and strode over to you with deep purpose, catching your elbow in his hand and turning you down the stairs.

“Sir Thomas!” Captain Davis yelled out, catching your father's attention. “Take her into my quarters, she should be safe there!” He said and the two men nodded heads at each other and your father helped you down the stairs and into the Captain's quarters.

“Papa?” You huffed as he escorted you inside, then turned on his boot heels and started out again, without a word to you. “Father!” You snapped, annoyed with him, and truly frightened.

“My Petal, fret not! All will settle down.” He told you, stopping in the doorway. “Once we out run that ship.”

“And if we do not?” You asked, brows lifting at him.

“We will.” He replied, sounding as if he was trying to convince both of you of that fact, before going out, closing and locking the quarters behind him.

Huffing and shaking your head at the door, you paced the room, trying to calm your nerves. Your father never lied to you, so if he said the Kilmartin would outrun the ship, then that's what it would do, and when it did that, it would no longer matter if the ship had good or ill deeds as its intentions against your ship, they would be lost behind and likely give up the chase. Sighing, you sat down on a padded bench under the long window at the back of the ship, staring at the ship that grew closer still.

Within the hour, the ship was considerably closer to the Kilmartin, so close, you could see the little dots of crewmen scurrying about the rigging. It did nothing to ease your anxiety and fear, if anything it made it worse, and knew your father had to be feeling the same way. With another hour or two, the ship would no doubt be alongside yours, then the real trouble and anxiety would set in.

What would they do?

What did they want?

All questions that kept circling your mind as you watched the gap between the two ships narrow more and more as time passed.

You hadn't realized you had dozed off, lulled by the rock of the ship, until you heard a loud boom and a splash of water, making you jerk and gasp. Your eyes snapped out the window and a strong dizzy spell made the room spin a full three hundred and sixty degrees, before steadying on the sight of the ship that had been chasing the HMS Kilmartin for the last several hours, you could see the bow of the ship now, clear as day, as well as the ship's figurehead, a lion's head with a rose in its mouth.

The noise that you had heard was the ship firing one of its cannons as a warning shot, an aggressive suggestion to stop trying to run and yield to them. But, you could tell by the pull of the ship, it hadn't let up an ounce of its speed, still trying to outrun them. You watched two more sails drop into place on their masts and knew, in that instant, that the pursers hadn't been using their ship's full strength to overtake the Kilmartin, they had been toying with them, the whole time.

The ship gained considerable speed in only a few minutes, leaning slightly to the starboard as it was maneuvered to pull alongside the Kilmartin. You jumped up onto your feet and looked out the windows to the side of the ship, watching as the ship slid into place beside yours, you could see the open cannon ports and the guns in place, ready and waiting for the ship's captain to give the order to open fire.

The doors to the quarters burst open and you yelped, startled, but sighed, seeing it was just your father. He gave you a half sympathetic smile, but his expression was agitated and frantic, sweat pouring from his brow and his usually immaculate clothing disheveled. He strode over to you, pulling you bodily away from the windows, eyes darting between you and the ship outside them.

“Get away from there.” He snapped, hastily. “It isn't safe.”

“I thought we were to out run them.” You said, gripping his hands in yours.

“So, we thought we would, but it seems these people are not to be underestimated.” He replied, squeezing your trembling hands. “Stay away from the windows, and no matter what you hear and what happens, do not come out of this room, until I come for you. Do you understand me?”

“If you--”

“Do you understand!” He barked, hotly.

You drew away from him, surprised at his temper towards you. “I do.” You replied softly, brows creasing.

“Good.” He nodded, letting go of your hands and left you locked in the Captain's quarters, yet again.

It wasn't twenty minutes later another shot rang out, this time from a musket, instead of a cannon. You weren't sure what ship it had been issued from and weren't sure it even mattered, it wasn't a good sign by and by. Your heart was hammering against your corset strings, there was a battle coming, even you knew that much. You dared to peek out the window again and regretted it, as the guns from both ships opened fire. Yelping, you dropped to the floor and scurried over to the Captain's desk, taking cover underneath it.

There were reports from cannons, muskets and pistols, mixed in with shouts of orders and insults, the screams of the injured and dying, the shattering and splintering groans of wood as cannonballs ripped through both ships. It felt like forever since the battle started, soon joined with the resounding clang of metal as the men from the other ship managed to board the Kilmartin and a battle of swords broke out. This was all the worst case scenarios that your father and the Captain had been trying to avoid since first spotting of the ship that morning and all you could think of was the image of your father laying on the deck bleeding to death or already being dead.

You peeked at the door from over top the desk, not willing to come out of your hiding place, once you heard the sudden and unsettling silence that fell between the ships. Had the crew of the Kilmartin won at defending their ship, or had the other ship won? Maybe, neither ship won and they had all killed each other! What would that mean for you, being the only one still alive? You couldn't sail a ship on your own, even if you knew how to. Did that mean you would be left here to starve or feel the mercy of whatever the sea and weather threw at you. Maybe you would get lucky and another ship would pass by, investigate why two ships were motionless in the middle of the ocean and would save you. Or the ship would be pushed in the direction of some spot of civilization, saving you that way.

But, the more your mind came up with these possible scenarios and questions, the more and more outlandish and infinitely impossible they became.

Sir Thomas, your father, and Captain Davis watched as the ship not only dropped two more sails, but also lowered the French flag it had been flying since it had been spotted that morning.

“Please, not a red one.” Thomas muttered under his breath. “Please, not the red.”

“What's the matter with a red flag?” A deckhand, who had been standing behind him asked.

Thomas half turned to him, lifting a brow at him. “New to a ship, I'm supposing.”

“Aye, sir.” He nodded, looking even more nervous.

“Pirates flags are signals to those the pirates are pursuing.” Thomas replied, pushing his jaw forward. “A black pirate flag means that anyone who surrenders will be allowed to live. But, a red pirate flag means, 'no quarter given'.” He explained, but saw the naive look in the green deckhand's eyes.

“In layman's terms, no matter what, everyone on board will die, despite them surrendering peacefully or not.”

The deckhand's face drained of all color, as the true gravity of the situation struck him, before he bolted for the railing and vomited over the side. Thomas shook his head at the boy, turning back towards the gaining ship, just in time to see the pitch black flag unfurl at the top of the main mast, baring a white skull with a red rose in its mouth, letting out the teeniest amount of tension from Thomas's body. He and Davis exchanged looks with each other, the same thought going through their minds at seeing the black flag, instead of the red one.

A moment later, as the ship pulled alongside the Kilmartin, a musket shot went off, whizzing past Thomas and Davis, and struck the green deckhand between the shoulder blades, knocking him over the railing and into the ocean with a splash. Thomas looked across the small gap between the ships, his eye meeting the eye of the man standing beside its wheel, as he lowered the smoking musket from his shoulder, a smug and unapologetic expression on his face as the crew of the ship lined the railing closet to the Kilmartin, their own weapons loaded and ready for whatever was to come next.

“Surrender now!” the musket wielding man shouted across. “No harm will come to you or your crew!”

Captain Davis took a step forward, resting his hand on one of the handles of the ship's wheel, grasping it so tightly his knuckles turned bone white. “I haven't surrendered to a pirate's demand in the twenty years I've been a Captain.” He hissed, under his breath and between clenched teeth.

“I don't bloody intend to now.”

“Captain, we can not afford to fight these men.” Gray hissed back at him.

“This is His Majesty's Ship and it shall stay that way.” Davis snapped, turning his head to glare at his First Mate. “Pirates be damned!” He roared out loud, turning his venom back to the other ship.

“Fire!” He ordered aloud.

There was a momentary lull, before the firing started, blast after blast of cannon fire from blew the ships' decks and the firing of muskets on deck. Men taking cover between shots to reload their guns, then popping back up again to return fire. The splashes of missed shot and dead bodies falling into the raging sea between the ships, splinters of wood rained down on top of them as balls smashed through railings, masts and hauls. A scurry of men on the pirate ship climbed the rigging with ease, grabbing onto loose lines to swing across the no man's land between the ships and boarded the Kilmartin, pulling their swords and cutlasses, cutting down any poor fellow in their way, before they themselves could pull their metal, and swept through the deck.

The Kilmartin was soon overwhelmed after that, forcing Captain Davis to wave a white flag and surrender to the organized and clever pirates. A gangplank was laid between the bobbing ships, but no one crossed it, instead, a tall and bearded man stepped forward, his hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, he wore a dark brown jerkin over a billowing white shirt and tight leather pant; lifting a brow and tilting his head at the assembly of the remaining Kilmartin crew, before settling his piercing blue gaze on Davis.

“You are the Captain of this ship, I presume?” He asked in a deep voice.

“I am.” Davis replied, not hiding his disgust with the man, whose clothing was stained and spotted with the blood of his men. “Who might you be, then?”

“I'm the Captain of the Crimson Jersey.” He replied, jerking his head towards the other ship.

A low murmur went through the Kilmartin men, their fright became even more profound hearing the name of the ship that had attacked them, side eyeing each other and their captures. The Crimson Jersey was one of the most feared Pirate Ships on the high seas, there was only one other ship feared more than the Crimson Jersey and that was Black Beard's Queen Anne's Revenge, and even Black Beard had a measure of respect for the Captain of the Crimson Jersey. While the Captain of the Crimson Jersey, Henry the Red, rarely left people alive from his attacks on their ships, he was well known for attacking well off ships and taking either people or materials as captives, until a set ransom was met, if the ransom wasn't met, then he would kill the captive or keep the materials to sell to the highest bidder at one of the Pirate Ports.

“We have nothing of value on the ship.” Captain Davis said, narrowing his eyes at the other Captain.

“Then, what is the HMS Kilmartin doing out so far from her beloved port?” Henry the Red asked, lifting a suspicious brow at Davis.

“His Majesty the King has ordered us to sail to Port Royal to retrieve the Governor there and bring him back to London, for personal commendation.” Davis told him, lying easily to the Pirate Captain's face.

“It must be some commendation for him to order it this late in the year, the threat of hurricanes are quite common about this time.” Henry replied, sensing Davis's lie, but his eyes moved to Thomas, noticing his shifty behavior and the way he kept trying to subtly look towards the doors of the Captain's quarters.

“Is there something bothering you?” He asked, stepping closer to Thomas. “Like a secret you know.”

“I know nothing of what you speak.” Thomas replied, glaring back at the man.

“Is that so?” He replied, a knowing smirk on his lips. “Then, you'll have no quarrel with me going to have a look.” He said, striding over to the locked doors of the quarters.

“Don't!” Thomas suddenly shouted, his resolve breaking away to his fear of the pirate finding you inside.

Henry turned back to Thomas and laughed at him, more than sure now there was something of great value inside. Taking a step back, he kicked the doors open with a crash of his big boot and entered. At first, he didn't see anything of value inside the room, but he didn't get deterred easily, especially when there was the prospect of treasure involved. He searched the room and as he neared the desk, saw the hem of a dress underneath it and grinned, knowing now what that treasure really was.

“Well, well.” He cooed, stepping around the back of the desk. “Who do we have here?” He laughed, watching you draw yourself further underneath the desk.

Bending down, he reached underneath the desk and grabbed a hold of your arm, yanking you halfway out before you sank your teeth into his meaty forearm. He hissed as you broke his skin and the copper-y taste of his blood touched your tongue, but his vise-like grip didn't relent, he only gripped you tighter and finished dragging you out of your hiding place.

“Oh, feisty and pretty.” He chuckled, surveying you with an unguarded eye. “I like that.” He smiled, then grunted as you stomped on his foot. “Watch yourself, wench.” He hissed, knotting his hand in the back of your hair and painfully jerking your head back, making your vision swim. “Try such a thing again and you'll lose something precious to you.” He warned, then dragged you out of the quarters.

“Let her go!” Thomas roared, taking a step towards you both, only to be stopped with a punch to the gut.

“Father!” You shrieked, jerking against Henry, only to be yanked backwards against him and his free hand wrapped around your throat.

“Father?” Henry mocked, smiling between you and Thomas. “Is this your dear daughter?”

“Let her go.” Thomas wheezed, straightening himself up. “I'll give you anything you wish, just please let her go.” He begged.

“She's all I have left in this world.”

Henry grinned at your father and turned his face into your hair. “I'm sure you would give me anything in the world to have her back.” He whispered against the skin of your temple. “So, tell me, what is it you're willing to give me for her back?” He asked, looking at your father from the corner of his eye.

Thomas floundered, his heart racing as he held your terrified gaze. “I'm on my way to take my station as Governor of Lockemirth Island, in the Caribbean.” He gasped, trying to get a hold of himself. “That is the purpose of the HMS Kilmartin being at sea. Once there, I will be in command of a very large sum of money and goods, I will give you half of it, for her safety and return.”

Henry pursed his lips and clicked his tongue as he considered the offer, then shook his head. “Three fourths of it.” He demanded, twisting a lock of your loose hair around his finger. “No less, Governor.”

Your father floundered for another moment, before his shoulders dropped and he nodded his head. “Fine.”

“Excellent.” Henry grinned, gripping your arm again and pushing your forward, towards the gangplank bouncing up and down between the ships.

“Wait, no!” You shrieked, turning and trying to get back to your father. “Father!”

“It'll be all right, Petal!” He shouted back, blocked by three of Henry's men.

“You can't!” You protested, pushing back against Henry as he hustled you forward.

“I can and I am.” Henry laughed, grinning at you, then tossed you over his shoulder and stepped onto the gangplank.

“Papa!” You screamed, flailing on Henry's shoulder.

Your father shouted your name back, but it was lost in the wind. The pirates disembarked from the Kilmartin and back onto the Crimson Jersey, careful that the Kilmartin crew didn't try to storm them and try to return the attack, in an attempt to rescue you. Once everyone was onboard, the gangplank was drawn back and the ships were separated.

In no time, the HMS Kilmartin was starting to disappear in the dying light of the horizon.

Henry kicked open the door of his quarters, then kicked it closed again, before setting you down in front of his desk. He crossed to one side of the room, plucking a bottle of dark green glass from a table, uncorked it and poured a brown liquid from inside of it into a goblet, tossing it back and poured himself another.

“You monstrous swine!” You growled at him, sneering at his broad back.

He turned towards you, lifting his glass in salute. “Aye!” He laughed and downed his drink again, before pouring yet another drink. “You'll be kept here, in my quarters, with me.” He informed you, sipping this glass.

“I would rather rot on deck.” You barked at him, upper lip twitching with disgust.

“Oh, that can be arranged, if my lady wishes it.” He chuckled, swirling his drink. “But, I must inform you, pet.” He set his drink down and approached you, pinching your chin between his thumb and index finger and tipped your head back to look up at him. “It's been several months since my men have set a foot on land, so it's been many a month since they've had the pleasure of a woman's warm body.”

You gulped, your stubbornness starting to fail you.

“While I am far more educated and in command of myself, my men are not.” Henry continued, seeing the blooming realization and fear in your eyes. “So, you can take your chances with them, which you will have none, or you can stay in the relative safety of my quarters.” The register of his deep voice lowered. “Here, my men know better than to enter and anything inside is purely mine, under my protection.” He let go of your chin and strode to his door, yanking it open.

“Your choice.”

You stared at him, gulping and biting into your lip, but didn't move from the spot he had dropped you in, seeing the validity and safety of staying where you were at. A smile crept over his lips and he slammed the door shut again, seeing you had made your choice to stay in the safety only he could give you on board. He moved back to the table, pouring a drink into a second goblet and held it out to you, but you didn't move or say a word. He shrugged his shoulders at you and downed it instead, before taking up his first one around to his desk, settling himself in the high backed chair, to do the needed paperwork that came with piracy.

“Sit down.” He ordered you, motioning to a chair beside you. “Now!” He barked, when you didn't move.

Huffing at him, you pulled the chair sideways and dropped down into it, refusing to look at him or acknowledge his presence. None of which bothered him in the slightest, he was content in the quiet privacy of his mind and work, not paying you all much mind, other than making sure you stayed where he told you to be. After sundown, a soft knock sounded at his door and, at Henry's permission, opened to a crew member, who entered with a silver tray laden with food. He set the tray down on his Captain's desk, nodded his obedient head at him and left. Henry picked up one of the plates on the tray, then pushed the tray towards you.

“If you wish to starve, that's on you.” He commented, when you didn't move. “But, don't whine about it later.” He told you, tearing off a chunk of bread and popped it into his mouth.

Rubbing at his eyes in the dim candle light, Henry stacked his papers together and put them in the bottom drawer of his desk, locking it up with a key that hung around his neck, then stood. He toed out of his boots and crossed the room, hanging his sword and pistol on a hook by the door, removed the brown leather jerkin he was wearing over his shirt and hung it up on the same hook, then locked the door with the same key that was around his neck. He turned and regarded you, still sitting, motionless and sulky, on the chair in front of his desk and rolled his eyes.

“The stubbornness of women.” He huffed to himself, going to a set of heavy curtains to one side of the room.

“The ilk of men.” You growled back at him, angry eyes burning holes into his back.

Henry laughed, jerking back the curtains to reveal a bed behind them, then turned around to grin at you. “Something we agree on, pet.” He chuckled, amused, then sighed and reached behind his head, tugging loose the tight leather string that tied his hair back and shook his head, setting free a mop of dark cinnamon curls, that softened his look considerably.

“Lay down.” He ordered, jerking his curly head to the large, curtained bed.

You snorted at him. “No.”

“That wasn't a question, pet.”

“Don't call me that.”

“I'll call you what I want, now lay down.” He barked at you, eyes hardening.

You turned your own hardened eyes towards him, but didn't budge.

Growling deep in his throat, Henry took several long strides towards you, yanked you out of the chair and back over his shoulder, unphased by you beating on his back to be put down, then dropped you, bodily, onto his bed. With you where he wanted you, Henry turned towards the large bay window behind his desk and made himself comfortable on the cushions there, stuffing one of them behind his head, before dozing off.

You laid there, surprised he hadn't tried to force himself on you or the very least crawl into bed beside you. You half expected him to wait until you fell asleep to try something, but his soft snores soon reached you. Biting your lip, you sat up at the edge of the bed and looked over at him, he was laying half propped up, the quarter moon illuminating one side of his face. He wasn't faking, he was actually asleep. Sighing, you laid back again, your mind spinning, trying to work up the nerve to steal that key around his neck and escape. But, where would you go, once you did have the key and the door open? You had a ship full of his men, on an open ocean, where the ship had already put countless miles between you and the Kilmartin.

Perhaps, you could buy your time, until and in hopes, they made port, to wait for your father's word he had the ransom, then steal away, finding safety somewhere in the port until your father and the Crown could rescue you.

“Pirates.” You huffed, then drew the bed curtains closed, not wanting that bloody pirate to be the last face you saw before you managed to fall asleep.

#Henry Cavill #HenryCavill #Hoist the Colours #Hoist the Colours *fic* #viking-raider fics #Pirate!Henry #language #Pirates #Henry Cavill/You #Henry Cavill/Reader #Henry Cavill x You #Kidnapping #Ransom #Fluff #Angst #Stuart Period #Stuart Era #London #1686 #King James II #England #Caribbean #pirates of the caribbean #govenor #ransom demand

[barzzal]

between halls and thin walls → part four

summary: friends who fool around almost never works. almost.

↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you

↳ warnings: idiots, that’s all <3

↳ genre: fluff, angst, smut, roommates au, best friend’s best friend, friends with benefits, 18+

↳ length: series; part one, part two, part three, part four (6.7k), part five, part six

↳ masterlist: the barn

↳ track: my favorite part by mac miller, addicted by jorja smith, someone to spend time with by los retros

note: finally got myself to update this fic oml zzz quick psa tho, this will now be a six-part series! hope that’s okay and yenno as always, would love to hear what you think about this (validate me in the tags pls im lonely) happy reading babes! <3

“Yo, grandma. Haven’t you had too much tea to drink?” his voice echoes in the room as soon as he walks into it. You carefully set the cup down on the dining table and looked at him exasperatedly. 

“Haven’t you had too much care to give?” you snark back, earning yourself a disappointed look from him. 

“Really, y/n? That’s the best you’ve got?” he shakes his head at your appalling retort.  What a shame.

You were good at pissing him off to be fair. You just weren’t in the mood to throw teases back and forth especially now that you’re feeling particularly vulnerable.

The week has been far too dreadful for you and you know that you’re willing to grovel your way into the weekend to finally have the time to slack off, not worry about taking a bath, and just go crazy with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

However, just like always, Mathew seems to never run out of ways to get on your nerves. 

He carelessly puts his stuff on the table, causing a fairly loud thud on the surface. 

You let out a deep breath, massaging your temple. 

“Somebody’s cranky.” he grins. Not necessarily the kind you’d want to see from him. 

You try to ignore him for a few minutes but you can’t help noticing how his build easily took over much of the space you’ve already been occupying. You irkingly look up at him, closing the book you were reading. You meet Mat’s eyes who just innocently looked back into yours. Waiting. Possibly plotting on yet another sophisticated way to toy with you.

“You’re a child.” you roll your eyes and return to your reading. He says nothing and instead rests his chin atop his enclasped hands, continuing to bother you with his ridiculously beguiling eyes. He presses his lips together before sighing dramatically. 

“What?” you snap, finally shutting your book down as you look at him. 

“I wanna go out.” he looks up at you in an effort to make his huge physique smaller than it really was. 

“Then go out. You’re a big boy.” you breathe. 

“You just said that I’m a child.” he coos, mimicking a five-year-old’s voice. 

“Stop that.” you glare at him. Mat props himself back and laughs, “Come on. I’m bored.” 

You open your book again just as you reply in a tone that Mat’s getting used to hearing. “Boredom doesn’t give you the right to pester me, Barzal.” 

And as an exchange, he speaks in the same tone rather mockingly, “And so is that attitude, Y/L/N.” 

“Come on, y/n. Let’s go out.” he now pleads, looking up at you with what seems to be his worst impression of a ‘puppy eye’.

“Fine.” you finally concede and you see Mat’s beaming smile instantly. 

“Where’d you want to go?” you ask as you take your reading glasses off.

“Dunno.” He shrugs, obviously teasing. 

On the edge of being irritated, you say, “Are you kidding me?”

“Grandma.” he mumbles before saying, “Do you have anything you want to do? And please don’t say book hunt.”

You suppress a smile and maintain your composure. “I’m craving for pancakes right now but I also wanna drink. Go to a bar or something.”

He nods in agreement. Already stitching his game plan.

“We can do both.”  he bobs his all too fine brows.

He didn’t have a hard time getting you on board with his spontaneity. You actually haven’t gone out in a while and the thought of a possible night out doesn’t seem to be so bad of an idea.

You’ve been with Mat to parties and while the two of you don’t mingle as much as the other guys did, he does know his way around the club. The dance floor, however, he tries. He really does.

For about an hour Mathew waited patiently in the living room as he scrolled endlessly on instagram liking a few photos and laughing at posts the fans tag him occasionally. His eyes were peeled away from the screen when he heard the door to your room click. His irises trail onto your body even if he didn’t plan to originally. 

Mathew, albeit dressed simply in his black turtleneck sweater and a beige overcoat exudes just about the right ‘swag’ (as per how he puts it) to stop you in your stupor. Although what you didn’t know was how you weren’t any different in his eyes. You were dressed quite nicely in a black lace bodysuit with a pair of blackpants accentuated by the black boots you usually wear on a night out. Your coat was slung on your forearm whilst you held your clutch purse in your hand so you could close the door with the other. 

“What?” you blink just as you look down to eye yourself. Feeling a tad self-conscious under his gaze.

Mat immediately breaks it off. He clears his throat, pretending to wipe off the non-existent dust on the accent table. 

“What?” he mirrors with an arched brow.

You shrug off his demeanor, snatching your keys from the accent table before putting it in your purse. 

“Have you called a lyft already?” he nods, absentmindedly scratching his temple. 

“You ready? You look— decent.” He says, trying to act casual and distant when he gives you the compliment.

Not noticing the unfamiliar look his eyes had, you return the compliment and say,  “And so do you. Good job for not looking like you came straight out of an H&M catalogue.” you wink at him with a grin. A thing which was then reciprocated by a deadpan look on his end. 

Before he could even come up with yet another clever way to come at you, you start walking towards the door, looking at him once as you motion the way by curling your finger.

“Haul ass, buddy.”

𖥸

10:15 PM 

Mat decided to bring you to the usual place he goes to when he wants to be alone and just enjoy a couple of beers while he chats with River, the bartender he eventually befriends after years spent drinking in solitude. 

The bar had a rustic feel filled with wine barrels in the corner of the room. The seats were leather (mind you, it wasn’t the kind that gets easily worn out through time) and everything looked new to you regardless of all the vintage stuff displayed articulately on the brick wall. A turntable was set on the table stacked with vinyl records, most of which were from the 70s to 80s underneath.

It was obvious that it wasn’t the kind people would know about. Aside from it being located at such a secluded street leading to the suburbs, it wasn’t the type of bar kids would want to hang out in. It only had a few customers and most of them wore suits and came with company. No one really gave a hoot when you walked in with Mathew, aka, the face of the New York Islanders. Which is basically the reason why Mat kept coming back to the place. He felt comfortable and at peace. Almost in retrospect to being at home hanging with his father. 

“I can’t believe this place exists.” you say, mouthing your thanks to River as he hands you both of your drinks. The man that’s definitely aged like fine wine smiles, nodding his head over to Mat who was doing the same before he headed back to mix another set of drinks. 

“Me neither.” he grins, reminiscing about the time he’s found the small pub by accident. 

“This place looks expensive though.” you whisper, making Mathew laugh. 

“Well, it kinda is.” he sheepishly chuckles. “River’s filthy rich.”

“Is he really?” your mouth falls and you look back over the build of the old man. The way his salt and pepper hair was neatly slicked back makes quite a compelling case for what Mat had just said. 

Mat eventually explains who he was. Apparently, he was just another bored fancy man who happened to love making people drop dead and drunk with his over the top mixes. His dark deep set brown eyes are quite of a crowd favourite too. Case in point, the group of ladies seated from across you and Mathew.

“Hey.” you absentmindedly call on Mat who had just sipped on his drink. “I know what we should do.”

“All right.” he puts the glass down, “Lay it on me.”

“Let’s fix you up with one of the girls over there.” you suggest, leaning towards his body so you could get a better view upfront. Mat does not move and instead follows your finger subtly pointing at the other end of the room.

“What’s with the sudden fixation of getting me bagged tonight, huh?” he smirks, shaking his head at the idea of having to go home with some random girl. You give him a side eye as you move away from him. 

“Fixation is an overstatement. We’ll be here long enough for us to get sick of each other.” you explicitly told him. 

Mat eyes you intently. Searching if there was even the slightest doubt in your eyes. 

Long enough to get sick of each other. 

He clears his throat instead and looks across the room. “Which one?”

A gleeful cheer erupts from you just before you look over the girls in question. “What’s your type?” you ask him, not sparing a glance.

Mat looks down on you underneath the bar lights accentuating your features. Your eyes had a certain glint in them that Mat still can’t get a grasp on. Something that was just enough to spark something inside him. He didn’t want to overthink it nonetheless. It must have been just the lights. 

Once Mat sensed that you were about to look at him he immediately turned his gaze forward, squinting his eyes a little pretending to check out the women you’ve been eyeing for the last minute. 

“I don’t really have a type.” he shrugs, casually taking the fragile glass to his mouth. 

You dismiss what he said at once, “Do I look like a child to you? Just answer it.”

Mat shakes his head, “I told you. I don’t have one. If we vibe then we vibe. Simple as that.” 

You did not believe him but you decide to drop it off. Instead, you look back and return to your new found mission. Across the bar, seated were three girls busy talking to each other. 

“Got it.” you tell Mat, nodding your head towards the clueless girl sitting right across from where Mathew was. “The one in the center.” you add. “The one wearing a white bodycon.”

“She’s pretty.” he nods, validating your taste as his potential wingman. “Nice smile.”

Your hand met a firm slap on the table as you went on cheering for him. “Well? Go then!” you give him a nudge, taking it back quickly when you feel a slight hesitation on his part, “Don’t tell me you need me to introduce you?”

He takes the remainder of his glass and shaked off the kick it had in his throat. “You just sit and watch, babe.”

You do as you’re told and lean towards the bar, your elbow carrying all your weight whilst you sip on your half-full martini. 

Mathew’s stance and the way he carries himself immediately caused the girls to notice him coming. Of course, you weren’t really surprised. You watch him approach her,– reading along the words leaving his mouth. There was an exchange of proper ‘hello’s’ as Mat introduced himself to the girls. He reaches out his hand and the curly noirette in the center gives him a firm shake. 

Mat’s eyes momentarily locked with yours just as you see their hands linger in the air— tangled long enough for him to make a quick segway. He winks your way as he sees you grin from your seat, shaking your head just after you felt the need to take a deep breath. A thing you assumed to be because of the drink. So, while Mat leads the girl to one of the empty booths and sits across from her, you call on River and ask for another drink. 

Mathew must have lost track of time by the second drink he shared with Zoe. He learns that she’s from upstate and was just on the island to visit her friends. She’s still working on her major at NYU; coincidentally in the same field as Lianna so that was one of the things they’ve talked about first hand. She wasn’t really into sports so Mat steered clear of his job because he didn’t want to bore her. 

“So…” Zoe smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear. “What’s the deal with you and the girl you’re with?” 

By the time she asked about you, only then did Mat remember who he was originally with. 

“Oh! She’s—” he looks over to where you’re seated only to find you laughing— no giggling with a man that was obviously a few years older than you. He’s wearing a neat black suit and a button down shirt with a couple of its first buttons opened. Zoe sees him frown, evidently losing his train of thought. 

She calls him with her sweet voice, “Mat?” 

“Yeah?” he absentmindedly answers, not wanting to take his eyes off of your hand that was now gently pushing the man’s arm whilst the two of you continue to burst into laughter. 

“Are you okay?” she asks.

What’s so funny? 

Finally, Mat hears Zoe’s distant voice that eventually took him back to his seat.

“Oh. Y-Yeah.” he apologetically smiles. “Sorry. What were you saying again?” 

She hesitates to ask about you after taking a quick glance your way upon seeing the way Mathew looked at you. Nevertheless, she decides to go for it.

“Aren’t you two together? I don’t want to come off strong here or anything. It’s just that I don’t want to get in between something if there ever is.” 

Mat looks at you one more time and as if you’ve felt his eyes all along you turn your way and meet his gaze. You shoot him a quiet smile, eyeing the guy sitting beside you, mouthing what he assumes to be an exaggerated “So hot!” on your end. He reciprocates your smile and gives you an approving nod.

Once you looked away, that’s the only time Mat finally answered the woman waiting patiently for his attention. 

“What?” Mat shakes his head wildly, blowing out air off his lips defensively. “No no no. We’re just friends. She’s my roommate actually.” he shrugs you off his mind and instead tries to put his entire focus on her. 

The remaining hours were spent with you and Mat getting along with your respective potential hook-ups. Not that it wasn’t the endgame either of you were hoping for at the back of your minds. 

He’s got to admit that Zoe was the kind of girl he’d be interested in. Another fact he’s kept a mental tab not to mention to you because he knows you’ll just get cocky. 

She was sweet and obviously eloquent. He knows she’s way smarter than he’ll ever be. But out of all those qualities, she was just as passionate at her craft as someone he likes to think he knows well enough. And that alone made a small smile creep on his lips. 

Nonetheless, despite all the aforementioned, Mathew found himself a bit more reserved than he usually is whenever he gets to meet and talk to his potential ‘lady friends’ as how you’ve put it countless times. He just wasn’t his exact self.  And he was beginning to question it. 

There were no fancy hockey plays thrown subtly into the conversation. Neither mentions of golfing nor over the top league events.  No butchered french pet names swiftly tucked in his sentences. And no endless questions that would eventually lead to something along the lines of ‘Do you want to get out of here?’

Well, not until Zoe’s friends got up their seats and she told him herself. 

“Hey. The girls and I are meeting up with some friends in Brooklyn. D’ya wanna come?” 

Mat’s eyes trail down to her hand now gently caressing his. He raises both his brows thinking of a possible ‘out’ because he wasn’t sure if it was a smart thing to leave you alone with a stranger. 

He hums, “Sure.” 

Zoe shows him a delighted smile before eventually sliding out of the booth to walk towards the bar she and her friends were formally seated. 

“I gotta use the restroom first. Please excuse me.” she gives him a nod before going back to chatting with her friends. 

You, on the other hand, see Mat leave the table aiming for an archway you presume to be where the loo was. 

“Hey,” you call the man whose name you’ve already forgotten. Your pause was long enough for him to acknowledge the chances that you actually did forget who he was. Obviously.

“Chris.” The man in his early 30s answers with a submitting grin. 

You shyly laugh, squeezing his forearm as you try to apologize for forgetting. 

“Would you mind if I use the restroom?” you politely ask. 

“No, not at all.” he replies and immediately stands to help you get on your feet. Gentleman. 

Once you are in front of the men’s room, you anxiously wait for your wingman. You hug your purse close to your chest. Not a whole minute after, the door finally opens and you meet Mat’s irises with quite a gleeful look. 

A look he wasn’t a fan of for he knew what’s about to come next. 

“Are you taking off?” you eagerly ask, almost hopping on your feet. 

Mat eyes you from head to toe, looking for signs that would stink from a drunk y/n. When he sees none, that’s when he decides to say that he was. 

“Mkay good. I’ll be on my way too. Chris is taking me to New Jersey.” you tell him, briefly looking through the archway to see if there were people listening.

Once you know you’re clear, you lean towards Mat, your lips dangerously close to the sensitive skin of his ear. Mat feels your heated breath sending a familiar tingle up his spine. “I’ll get to ride a yacht tonight.” you bite your lower lip and giddily smile as if you were a cheeky 16 year-old usually depicted in a coming of age movie. 

“Who’s Chris?” Mat, in spite of taking rounds observing you all night, finds the need to ask. “And why are you coming with him to NJ?” he further questions. 

“Uh– okay, dad.” you step back for a second. You let out a scoff, checking if he was being serious about it. “I thought we’re supposed to go get laid tonight? Weren’t you about to take off with that girl yourself?” 

Mat averts your gaze and starts to scratch the corner of his brow. “Well yeah. It’s just that— he looks sketchy.” he pauses, “plus… isn’t he a little too old for you?” 

You roll your eyes as you’ve already expected to hear the words from him. 

“He’s 31. He’s not that old.” you say rather defensively so you turn the ball back on his court. “And what if he was?  Didn’t you ask one of the moms out??”

Mat’s eyes widens and you try to bite back a laugh. He whispers with a biting tone, trying to save himself. “She didn’t look like one! I’m gonna kill Beau I swear to god.”

“Come on Barz. Don’t be such a killjoy. Text me if you need anything, okay? Wrap things up while you’re at it.” you say at once. Mat doesn’t get the chance to talk you out of such a stupid idea because before he even could, you’ve already planted a kiss on his cheek and started walking away. 

Mat waited for the sound of the heavy doors of the bar, signaling that you and your friend have gone, before stepping back to where Zoe was. She waves him near the coat closet. 

“Hi.” Mat greets her friends before eventually turning his attention on the unsuspecting lass. She meets her with a smile (just like what she’s been doing all night). The same smile, however, drops the second Mat opens his mouth. “Can I talk to you for a sec?” 

Zoe nods and willfully abides, letting Mat take her gently by the arm. 

“What’s up?” she innocently asks. 

“Something came up.” he says a little too fast than what he’d originally intended. He was going to let her down either way might as well get it over with and rip up the asshole band-aid. 

“Oh.” she says in a tone Mat knew that she completely understood. 

“No worries.” she looks at him with a knowing look in her eyes. “I’ll see you around then.” 

He gives her a kind smile and nods. “Take care.” 

Mathew walks towards the bar, catching River’s teasing grin whilst he cleans up after the bottles left on the center of the counter. 

“What?” Mat reacts defensively, taking a seat in front of the lone bartender. River faintly shakes his head to leave just enough curiosity in Mathew’s mind. 

“You’re such a tool, old man.” the kid says aiming for the cold beer River has put away for himself. River did not mind because he’s grown fond of the star player for the past years he’s spent going on late night drinks at his bar. Years that even justifies a proper amount of time for him to know the in’s and out’s of one Mathew Barzal. 

“I haven’t said a thing.” he shrugs amidst the already wide grin on his face. 

There’s wisdom in his eyes that Mathew has always admired. He wasn’t the guy who’d want to talk about what’s going on inside his head but with how River’s pub seems to be just the right place, he eventually concedes and takes a shot to pick on the old man’s brain.

“Come on, spill it out. I know you’re going to anyway.” Mat gives in, running his thumb on the moist label of the bottle. 

River wipes his hands before resting it atop the counter. “Well, it’s just that– I ain’t used to seeing you turn down ladies like that too often. And you’re definitely not one to stick around watching me clean up.”

Mat stays silent for a moment, as if to gather the exact reason as to why he chose to stay. He still has a long way to go before figuring that one out. He wasn’t exactly as sharp as he was on the ice.

“I don’t know, man.” he chuckles tirelessly, “I guess I wasn’t in the mood. That’s all.”

“You?” River shots a brow and dismisses him, shaking his head. When Mat doesn’t answer, he carefully picks on his choice of words and lays it down carefully for him. After all, Mathew should have known that River was old enough to not know what’s going on.

“Though I gotta be honest with you, hijo. Never imagined you’d bring someone here.” he starts. 

What must have been a shot in the dark for the old man was just enough to tear Mathew’s eyes away from staring at the water beads on the bottle.

“What?”

“The girl, Barz.” he says, banging on the head of the bottle to knock the cap off. “She a friend?” 

“What? Y/N?” Mat quirks his brows trailing off where River was exactly headed, “What about her?— Oh, her? Yeah, no. She’s just a friend.”

“She pretty.” he speaks in a sound accent, not wanting to let Mat know he’s growing to like catching the young lad off guard. Mathew nods casually despite the continuous blabbering. “She’s y/n. But yeah— I guess, she is pretty.” 

“Then what are you doing being just friends with a pretty girl?” River inquires, taking a sip of his beer. When he sees him trying to register what he’d just said he then adds, “Why not be with her? Date her?”

“Psh. What? Date y/n? That’s crazy.” Mat shakes his head furiously, “You’re crazy.” 

“What’s so crazy about that?” River takes offense, laughing at the child’s naivete. 

“I can’t date her. I mean— I won’t date her.” he takes the bottle to his mouth, taking a large gulp before continuing, “We’re in this weird relationship thing. A setup, actually, and it’s— it’s crazier than dating her. I swear, you of all people won’t get it.” 

“What makes you think I can’t?” he smirks, “I’ve had my fair share of crazy.” River points out despite the hesitation in Mat’s eyes. “I got all night, kid.” he adds, letting him have the floor to himself. 

“You really want in on this?” he second guesses, not wanting to bore the man with his personal life.

River leans against the brass counter just below the lit rack of vintage scotch displayed on the bar. He then gestures him to give a piece of his mind and Mat finally submits to his offer.

“We’ve been in a few… prior engagements,” he starts trying to find the appropriate word. “Well, sort of.”

River hums, not necessarily getting on the same page as him so he decides to be upfront about it.

“We’ve… slept together.” he confesses.

“So you used to date her?” the old man asks. 

“No.” he answers, “I told you we’re just friends.” 

With furrowed brows, River takes a minute. And once Mat hears an all too familiar “Oh.” he sees him break a chuckle, shaking his head at the thought of what Mat had just told him. “You kids have way too much fun these days.”

Mathew shrugs, “Hey, I warned you. Told you you wouldn’t get it.”

“Okay, make me understand something here. You two sleep together, fool around, do all that shit.” he says, “and you swear you’re not in a relationship?”

“Nope.” Mat answers with pride, popping out the word with a hard ‘p’.

“Huh.” River clicks his tongue, “How long have you two been… engaged?” 

He rolls his eyes when River uses his word, “About two months.” he answers shortly.

“Is she seeing anyone since you two started this thing? You know, casual dates, the ones I presume she’s been getting before you got her into this mess?” he asks him in a tone that only fathers would ever dare to use.

Mat thinks for a moment, trying to recall the last time he’s seen a guy pick you up for dinner besides the old man you’ve successfully bagged for the night. He firmly shakes his head no and simply says, “At least not in my recollection.”

River willfully nods, walking Mat right into the trap. “Well have you been seeing anyone lately?” he asks again, this time slipping a hint of assertion. He hears a crystal clear ‘no’ from the forward and that’s when he broke a goading grin. 

“And you’re telling me you two aren’t together?” he asks yet again, getting on Mat's nerves as he continues to flood him with biting queries, building up the final point he was about to break on Mathew.

“Rivs, for the hundredth time, no. We are not.” he clarifies. 

Mat watches River pour himself a glass of scotch, still wearing a smug grin. “Imma give you a piece of advice, yeah?” he smiles rather teasingly and doesn’t wait for Mat to rebut, “I’m a happily married man so I don’t know a single squat about dating nowadays, but if you’re telling me that you kids aren’t sleeping with anyone else but yourselves? Looks like a damn relationship to me.”

With his brows all quirked in confusion (and denial in the very least), Mathew gathers all his might just so he could refute whatever madness River was trying to inflict on him and screw him up in the head. But before he could even open his mouth, the sound of the heavy doors was all it took to tear up both River’s and Mat’s attention.

“Hi.” you say the moment you were welcomed by unsuspecting men talking by the bar. River acknowledges you by raising his drink, his gaze landing on Mat the moment yours did. 

“Hi.” Mathew mirrors you in an attempt to drown his already racing heart. A smile impending to break loose at any moment but he manages to suppress it. Instead of dealing with his adrenaline, he gestures for you to take a seat beside him. 

“Where’s the sugar daddy?” he laughs the moment you drag yourself from across the room, mocking every word he said. 

“His wife called when I got into his car.” you cringe.

“Oof. Lovely.” Mat makes the distinct expression on his face just before the two of you share a laugh.

“He’s not very smooth with adultery. He needs more practice.” you casually state sarcastically, clicking your tongue. 

As you find the narrative funny, you take a sip on Mathew’s beer. “How are you not drunk? You’ve been drinking way too much the entire night.”

“Well. I’ve got some things to think about—” he cuts himself off upon seeing your mouth ajar, “And no, you’re not allowed to ask because none of it concerns you.” 

“I wasn’t going to.” you dismiss him, excusing yourself to River which he gladly took as his cue to leave.

When he disappeared into the kitchen, you turned your gaze on your friend wearing another one of your mischievous grins, “Hey, wanna get pancakes?” 

“Y/N, it’s almost 3 AM.” Mat sighs, the tiring night starting to creep up to him. 

“So?” you question, swatting his hand away when you catch him checking on his watch. 

“Come on. Stop drinking that.” you insist and take the bottle from his hand before putting it over to the side. 

The two of you said your goodbyes to the lone bartender who was just starting to clean up again. River gives the two of you a nod of acknowledgement before landing a knowing look on Mathew. One that he’s thankful enough not to be discerned by you. 

As you walk alongside Mathew, he unconsciously places a hand on the small of your back— feeling it graze on the fabric of your coat as if to guide you towards the door in an almost romantic type of way. Perhaps, a way someone would behave if they were actually in a relationship. 

Mat notices your body tense but he doesn’t move an inch. Instead, his hand travels to the curve of your waist just as he leads you through the brass doors.

Once you’re out on the streets, he lets go.

𖥸

After almost half an hour of fighting over which diner is better to eat and get sober at, you and Mat decide to just try the new diner three blocks from your apartment. Being that it was an ungodly hour, the diner was good as closed when you got in. There were a few people inside and besides the student studying alone in the corner booth, the people lounging in the vacant seats were mostly just staff. Too bad they had to work the grave shift.

Mathew, who was rather preoccupied digging in his breakfast platter, gets interrupted when you call his attention. 

“So tell me,” you ask as you take a forkful of syrupy pancake into your mouth. Finally satisfying your cravings. You put the food modestly in the insides of your cheeks when you ask him a question, “What are you like on dates?” 

Mat disgustingly looks at you. You easily get what such a look meant and you immediately roll your eyes. You let your hand fall in mid-air amidst still holding a fork in it to prove a point. “I’m not trying to ask you out, dumbass. Don’t be so delusional.”

He puts his silverware down and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Why the sudden interest?” 

“Just curious.” you simply say.

He hums, thinking about how he pulls off a first date. He then clears his throat as he takes you down that road. “First, I’m not bringing her to a 24/7 Diner.” you nearly gag. “She deserves a formal one just in case there won’t be a second date.” he explains. 

You sit there, nodding your head every now and then as he further goes on the details of how he’s like on a date. “Of course, I’d put my best foot forward all the time. Talk about her stuff more than mine and make sure she has a good time.” 

“Have you ever had a bad first date?” you curiously ask. To which he only answers with a stubborn look on his face, the one only Mat Barzal could pull off. “What? me? I don’t do bad first dates.”

“Oh, fuck off.” you flick his forehead as you laugh. The sound of his laughter echoing in your ears, drowning all the existing noise inside the lone diner.

But as the laughter dies down, Mat catches your eyes as soon as it falls on his. And just like that, there it was again, the exact same glint it had back in the bar. This time, illuminated by the pink shaded light lining up the wall accents of the diner. 

When he realizes that he’s been staring for too long, he settles on turning the tables on you. 

“How about you?” he props in his seat, “What are you like on dates?”

“You know, apart from the fact that you’re obviously into old men.” he snickers and you throw a curly fry on his forehead.

“Excuse me, I don’t.” you say sticking up for yourself.

Mat takes the curly fry that has fallen on his plate and proceeds to eat it. “Sure you do.” 

You roll your eyes, finding it hard to suppress the fact that you might actually do. “There’s a reason why women like old men, chico.”

He leans back and answers with a level headed and quite teasing reply, “And why’s that?”

“Because they’re men.” you look at him with a jerky grin as you continue, “And men, especially of River’s kind, definitely knows how to eat his french fry.”

Mat’s mouth falls wide in disbelief, appalled that you’ve actually found a way to pick up a stone and throw it straight to his face just to rub more salt on the fact that you had to teach a 23-year-old grown man how to eat cunt.

 “You’re an ass.” he says, rolling his eyes. You let out a laugh and shake your head. You were proud of yourself, sure; but showing just that is far too much for a boy’s already hurting ego. Who would have known humbling this man was such a task. 

“I’m playing! You know how to now.” you tell him, “Thanks to me, of course.”

He scoffs and takes a bite off his pancakes, “Cocky.”

“But you still haven’t answered my question.” he reminds you whilst he wipes off his lips with a napkin. 

“There’s not much to tell. You know I’m not high maintenance.” you tell him, ignoring the fact that you haven’t been on an actual date for so long you’re almost sure you’ve forgotten how to be in one. 

“I know it’s cheesy and corny but I do think it’s still in the littlest things, you know?” you sigh. Trying to remember the last relationship (date even) you had wherein those little things, the ones that are merely the bare minimum, were actually given to you. 

“You know, it’s not much, really. Maybe just a good talk without having to watch him watch me talk all night when he’s really thinking about how I’d look naked, you know what I mean?” you laugh it off, “I know, it’s stupid.”

The arrogant man sitting before you was silent for once, profusely wanting to wash the pool of melancholy he sees in your eyes. There must have been a shit ton of guys who overlooked how great of a woman you actually are just because they couldn’t stop thinking with the head in between their legs even just for a second. 

Mathew knows. And he hates that he’s been ‘that’ guy at some point. Probably until now considering him thinking with his balls on was the very thing that got the two of you here in the first place.

You take a deep breath, smiling. “Anyway, that’s better than almost getting with a married man. Right?”

“Right.” Mat laughs, his gray eyes bright under all the lights as he plays with his silverware,— devoid of how much he looked like as if he was utterly and undeniably in awe of not just the energy of the woman sitting in front of him alone nor the fact that she was by far the most unbelievable woman he’s known, but most importantly, he’s yet to realize how much in deep he’s beginning to be for the woman she actually were. 

Just as she is. 

𖥸

You left the diner a good hour before the sunrise and what must have been a quick five minute drive if you had only taken a cab, became a twenty minute foot race between you and Mathew.

You knew that walking was a bad idea but somehow, Mat’s charm and persuasive antics had a better hold than you thought you had on your very capable cognition. 

As you drag your feet into the confines of the elevator in your complex, you hear Mathew chuckling behind you with a firm hand securely placed on your waist supporting your balance. 

“You know— and not just ‘cause I’m an athlete, can I just say that you’re in a very bad shape?” he says almost a whisper in your ear, his voice low and deep.

You roll your eyes, leaning on the steel cold mirror once he pulls away, “You do it in heels then tell me who’s in a bad shape.” 

“Fair point.” he chuckles yet again, shying away. He presses the number for your floor before resting across from you. As Mat watches you catch your breath, he jokes in the hopes of breaking the ice between the two of you. 

“So…” he clicks his tongue, playful eyes looking at you, “Wanna tap?”

Disgusted to your very core, you let out a scoff just as you shake your head. “You’re fucking sick.” you laugh upon meeting his dumb grinning face. Seconds into laughter, Mat’s silence kills off the humor. The two of you exchange glances, the smiles on your faces receding into quietude. 

Mathew didn’t want to end the night letting you in the apartment not knowing what he’s been feeling the moment you’ve let him drag you out for an impromptu night out. And stupid as it was, the only thing he could think of was to slide his foot across the enclosed space embracing the two of you, nudging on your boot. You on the one hand were rather puzzled as to what caused such language. You send him a mental query by arching a brow. He lets his head fall back on the cold metal surrounding the elevator finally deciding to speak his truth.

 “I’m glad we get to hang out now. You know, just like friends do.” he genuinely says. 

“Me too.” you say, smiling. “I really had fun tonight. Thank you.”

As you meet his eyes, you see a glimmer of softness in his gaze. 

“Good thing I got bored, eh?” he says with a smirk. 

“Good thing I came back for you.” you reply.

A quiet smile parts from his lips.

“Yeah. I’m glad you did.”

It was a few seconds when you and Barzy parted from your respective walls to meet the sliding doors as it opened on your designated floor. You were pulling him closer by the tie of his coat whilst his hand was instinctively placed on your hips letting him press his body on you. Your faces were inches from each other’s, evident of not wanting to prolong the totally unplanned foreplay that’s about to go down in a communal lift. 

But just like every film you’ve watched your whole life, the inevitable cliché befalls the two of you when the next words that filled the enclosed walls you’re currently caged in came from the man who has yet to miss a morning jog. 

“What the hell is going on here?”

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fic #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal smut #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #hockey fic #nhl fic #hockey smut #letters to barzy #barzzal imagines