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galaxwrites · 3 years

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A past revealed

Just an Impulse oneshot. about Impulse.

This is set in the world of The Tale Of Eremita (the same story that Firecracker is in), so if you are reading along to that story, there will be slight spoilers. If you want to read it, the link is here!

also Bywyd is pronounced "Beh-wid", and it means Life in Welsh (according to Google Translate at least. someone tell me if I'm wrong). fitting of a life god honestly. And Marwolaeth means either Death or Decay, also in Welsh.

This is also half inspired by the song My Own Eyes by Cami-Cat. Not directly, but I was listening to it while making the concept. So give it a listen here!

youtube

Summary: After a vision from Bywyd, Impulse goes on a quest to discover who and what he truly is.

Fandom: Mcyt (Hermitcraft)

Ship: ...None really? There's some Tangpulse at the end but it's literally just Tango being protective and giving Imp a lil forehead kiss which can be interpreted in any way. And implied cuddling, but again, I tried to not make it explicitly romantic and up to interpretation.

Please, enjoy!

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There were many ways one could gain magic in the land of many realms. The Goodtimes family had it in their blood, producing many great sorcerers such as Scar. Sometimes, it was godly blood that ran through one's veins, like Grian's (and Tango, but he rather use tech than magic). And sometimes it was gifted by a god, like Philza of the Nations of Dreams; his magic gifted by the Goddess people call Mumza (that's the thing with death gods- few can speak their true name and get away with their life)

Impulse?

He didn't know how he got his.

Yes, he was raised and taught in the Temple of Bywyd, but he never knew how he got his magic.

The thing about Bywyd's temple is... rather dark. You see, children, no older than the age of three, are taken and raised in the temple as clerics and priests. At the age of five, they take on a new name based on their personality and their mind is wiped of their past, as that is when they begin their training. Impulse was given his name due to his impulsive nature back then, though he'd argue he's outgrown that behavior.

The only key he has to his past are the letters S and V, his last name. At the temple, last names are two letters, the first and last letter of their former name.

Impulse sighed. Thoughts like these often came to him before sleep. His bed, though comfy, couldn't just... let him sleep through them.

But then.. he heard a familiar chime. Wooden windchimes and leaves in the wind. The call of Bywyd. They wanted to speak with him.

Impulse knew this song and dance. He put on his Totem Earring-his sigil- and layed face up in bed, hands resting at his sides as he closed his eyes and breathed. He felt the lift of his spirit from his body, as he entered the dream world.

Hello, my child. He heard. Bywyd's voice was as calming as ever, a mix between a mother's voice and a wise elf. Not female, but feminine.

Impulse opened his eyes. The realm had become a starry sky; the full moon high above, and he rested on a cloud. Bywyd sat next to him; long, rose red hair against Oak wood skin. Their eyes shone like water, and their robes looked like they were woven from starlight, and a laurel rested in their hair. It has been a while since we last met here. Something about the Sky Realm appeal to you tonight?

Impulse shook his head. "Not really. Just... needed someplace familiar."

Familiar?

"This is the realm where I first made contact with you in my dreams. It's just... nostalgic." The cleric took a bit of cloud fluff, remembering how his younger self kept playing with it, awakening from the vision by being tucked in the clouds by the god.

Bywyd smiled. I am glad to see you still find peace here. Now, my child, I must give you a task.

"...What is it?"

Recently, you... you have seemed stressed. And I know why. You wish to learn of your past, do you not?

"..I do. I just.." Impulse sighed. "I know, it's against the code of the temple, but I want to know. I need to know. Just... It's been eating me up inside, where I've came from."

Bywyd nodded. Then I shall help you, my child. They took a part of the clouds, shaping it into a circle, which formed into a compass. Take this, my child. It will point to the past.

The cleric took the compass, nodding in thanks to Bywyd. He layed on the clouds, letting their softness lure him back to sleep. When he woke up, the compass was in his hands, and he was back in his room in the palace. Impulse gripped the compass, and got up.

He grabbed his bag, slipping in his compass, and slid on his black robes, and the yellow armor that went over it. He made sure his earing was secured, and he grabbed his staff.

Impulse left his room, quietly closing the door behind him. The sky outside the windows in the halls shows it was just before dawn. The others would be asleep- minus maybe Grian and Tango, for the latter's flying lessons. He quietly headed down the hall, to the balcony. As expected, King Xisuma stood there, watching the horizon.

The cleric cleared his throat. "..Your majesty, if I may..?"

The king turned around, dark veil fluttering in the breeze, giving slight glimpses of pale skin. "What is it?"

"..I've received a vision, from.. from Bywyd."

Xisuma turned back around, as if he knew what this vision was. "And what do they say?"

Impulse took a deep breath. "They wish for me to go on a bit of a pilgrimage. To find my family. My... My parents, and all that."

"Do you know when you shall be back?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't. I... all I have is a compass leading me.. home, apparently."

Xisuma turned to face Impulse, once again. "Will you require an escort?"

"No. I'll.. Bywyd will protect me, I'm sure of it."

"There is only so much the great protector can do, Impulse." The eyebrow raised could practically be heard in the King's tone.

Impulse nodded. "I know. But, I can fight, too. I learned more than healing at the temple."

There was a pause. "... If you insist. I shall pray for your safe return." Xisuma gave Impulse a stone, with the mark of Bywyd on it. He always gave these for quests; if you're in danger, use this stone to call upon a favor of Bywyd, they shall bring you back to the castle. He had explained that on their first day as his personal questers.

Impulse took it, sliding it into his pack. "Thank you, your majesty. I will be back as soon as I can." He bowed, leaving the king to watch the sunrise.

His bootsteps were a bit louder than he would like, especially since False and Doc were light sleepers, and he didn't want to wake them. But, luckily, none of them came out of their rooms to check what those steps were. Or maybe they just thought it was Xisuma. Whatever the case, Impulse was glad he didn't have to explain this. They'd try and go with him and this was supposed to be a solo quest.

He made it to the castle entrance, the guards opening the door, sending him off with a nod. Welsknight and his clone...twin...other half seemed nice, Impulse thought. I should get to know them better.

As the sun went higher, Impulse payed no mind, only following his compass Northwest. It seemed to be an uneventful journey, if very long.

Four sunrises into the quest, and Impulse woke up from his sleep, in a small, abandoned house. The air from the forest fresh with rain.

He took his bag from besides him, heading out of the house... to see the compass pointing at it.

"That's... odd." He said, moving around to the side of the house. Still, the compass pointed to it. "This... must be the place."

Impulse carefully walked in the house, now being extra cautious about it. It was lighter than it was at night but still too dark to make out many details.

"Maybe..." He smiled, getting an idea. He was so glad Ren taught him this spell.

"So, a step here, slide here, aaaand... flare out arms!" Impulse repeated the steps as the bard taught him, and as his arms spread apart, plenty of glowing orbs filled the air, illuminating the house.

The first thing Impulse saw, was a teddy bear. A child's toy, in seemingly perfect condition. He picked it up, examining it.

It had green bead eyes, and soft brown fur. His mouth was sewn into a wide smile. And.. it looked familiar.

Impulse smiled, hugging the bear. "I'm gonna name you... Ginger." He said, talking to the stuffed bear.

It was a little silly, talking to a stuffed animal, but hey. Not like anyone would be around to see.

Ginger still in his arms, Impulse continued an exploration of the house. He found several children's toys and blankets. And something about them made him pick them all up, placing them in his bag. This was all so... familiar.

And... he made it to one of the bedrooms. It looked like a child's room; a soft bed, a toy chest, and a bookshelf of children's books.

"This... This is too weird.."

Impulse ran his hand over the walls, brushing off dust. Why did it seem like he knew this place? He'd never been here since... since...

"Since your mind was wiped."

The cleric turned around, seeing someone... very weird. His hair was long and white, tied in a long ponytail. He wore a practical, rouge-like garb, and covered his mouth and nose with a mask.

The stranger chuckled. "Been wondering when that god of yours would let you find out."

"...W-who are you?" Impulse asked. He didn't mean for his voice to sound so shaky.

"Aw, c'mon. Don't be like that." He said. "I thought you'd be able to recognize a god when you see one."

White hair

a...god..

"The only white-haired god we have is... oh, gosh. Etho!" Impulse dropped to his knees and hands, bowing. Etho was powerful, almost equal in power to the god Dream XD from The Nations of Dreams. (If Dream XD were a tad stronger, he would be equal with Etho)

Etho was one of the oldest gods. One of chaos, the void, and so much more. He could kill Impulse, if he wanted.

But instead, the god only chuckled. "Get up. You look ridiculous. I'm only here to clear some things up, you seem like you need it."

Impulse shakily stood up, keeping his head down. "..W-well, what is it?"

Etho ran his hands along the wall, his divine touch restoring the old walls. That was a trait of archaic gods- their touch made things new again. "This was your home, ages ago. When you were nothing but a child. You came here because you wanted to learn why you have magic, correct?"

Impulse nodded. "Yeah. not... not sure how this place would show that."

"To put it simply," Etho turned to face Impulse, eyes serious. "Your parents struggled with having children for so long. They wanted one but never could. So, they struck a deal. With Marwolaeth."

That name sent chills up Impulse's spine. Marwolaeth... the god who caused the land to die and decay because his champion lost a battle. The god who threatened to destroy Eremita forever.

The god... who had looked Impulse in the eyes and said he disappointed him.

Impulse had brushed it off, but now... Oh, gods.

"You're shocked. I'm not even done." Etho said. "Pick your jaw up off the floor. Marwolaeth's deal was simple: the child would be born, but the father did not sire it. Marwolaeth himself did. The child has the blood of a demon god in him. But, when he was three, to prevent the child from being the downfall of the continent, Bywyd sent a Deva to bring the child to the temple, in an attempt to quell its demonic powers."

The god approached Impulse, his hands touching the top of his head. The touch of the old god brought a searing pain there, as if something was tryin to break through the skin. "Turn around. This... might hurt." Etho warned.

Impulse simply did what he was told. Etho touched two areas on his back, and Impulse felt fabric ripping and he yelled out in agony, falling to the floor. He clutched Ginger close to his chest as he screamed until his voice died and his pain turned into whimpers.

"Your evil soul has been purified by Bywyd's magic, but it's about time you grew your wings. Now fly, Young Impulse. You have your toys. Time to go back from where you came."

Etho's voice grew to be only a whisper in the wind. Impulse took a deep breath, still shaking in pain, and stood up. He looked around the room. It did seem every toy and blanket might now be in his pack. So, he left the house, forcing himself to take one step at a time.

When he left, he caught his reflection in a still puddle of water. Horns now grew from his head, and giant leathery wings made him look bigger than he was. He...

He looked like Marwolaeth's son. Granted, he was his son. But, still.

Impulse shook his head to clear it, before spreading his wings. Mimicing the flapping motions he'd seen Grian teach Tango so many times, he flew off. Towards where he hoped Eremita was.

He landed on the balcony of his room, and he entered quickly. Flopping down on the bed, he held Ginger close and closed his eyes. As expected, there was a vision.

Once again, Impulse found himself in the Sky Realm; clouds and stars everywhere. And he was besides Bywyd, who smiled.

My child, you returned. I... I am sorry, that I never told you before.

Impulse shrugged. "It's... I get why you did. It's alright, Bywyd."

...Do you know how hard it is to turn death magic into healing?

"...What?"

One born of death cannot become a cleric, normally. Bywyd stated. But, you can. You take your deathly energy and use it to heal. That is more powerful than even some gods can do.

Impulse blushed slightly, still not used to praise from his god. "...Thank you, Bywyd." He yawned. "...Now I'm tired... can you..?"

Without needing another word, Bywyd nodded. Impulse lied down on the clouds, and the god pulled a cloud blanket over him. Sweet dreams, my child..

Impulse closed his eyes, but he did not feel his vision end. He opened them again, and he was somewhere new. Somewhere...deadly.

Son, so you have come into your powers? a gruff, almost twisted voice said. And you still serve the light?

Impulse reached for his staff, wielding it like a spear. "Marwolaeth, I am not your son!"

But you are! You have my blood flowing through you. It is the sole reason you have your wings! The death god Impulse had seen Scar kill came into view, grinning wickedly. So, are you going to swear your loyalty, or face my consequences?

Impulse let out a low noise, like a snarl. It was not like him, but he could care less about that, now.

"I'd rather die." He growled, eyes narrowed.

Then die, like the cowardly light-slave you are!

Marwolaeth reached to claw at Impulse, and then...

"IMPULSE!"

Impulse turned around. Why was Tango here? He wasn't- No one can get into someone else' vision without some magical help!

Nevertheless, the angelic cambion flew in, feathers falling from his otherwise leathery wings. He landed in front of Impulse, and drew his sword. "Stay away from him. We've killed you once, and will do it again."

Marwolaeth only laughed. Foolish mortal! You cannot defeat me on your own, you know this!

"I know," Tango started, before gaining a smirk. "But my friend can. SCAR!"

The god grew frightened at his name. ...Fine. Leave this place. But you, my son... He pointed at Impulse, who gulped. You must accept your roll as my new champion, soon...

And then.... Impulse found himself collapsing into Tango's arms, and waking up from his vision in bed, Tango having taken to laying on the ground.

"Mrfph... what happened?" He asked, sitting up groggily.

"You.. entered my vision. How?" Impulse asked.

Tango shrugged. "I just... heard you making some sort of noise in here. I went in to look... and I passed out before I could wake you up. I found myself in what I think was your vision. Scar had nothing to do with it, I was only bluffing there."

"Well... thanks, for saving me there." Impulse smiled. "It means a lot."

"Anytime, Impulse. Anyways, you have wings now! That's amazing!" Tango grinned. "We can be flight buddies with Grian!"

"Flight buddies... I like that. But for now," Impulse interrupted himself with a yawn. "I'm still tired. Can we just.. take a nap?"

Tango nodded, leaning over to kiss Impulse's forehead, now weary of his horns. "We can take a nap. Get some rest, alright?"

Impulse nodded. He layed back down, getting curled up holding Ginger. Tango lifted Impulse for a moment, only to lay Impulse on his chest to hug him. "I'll protect you from Marwolaeth.."

"Thanks, Tango..." And, with a sigh of relief, Impulse fell into a peaceful, dreamless, sleep.

#Youtube #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfic #galax writes #impulse sv #hermitcraft impulse #tangotek #hermitcraft tango #ethoslab #hermitcraft etho

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everfaraway · 3 years

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So I literally don't know anyone on eah Tumblr and idk how to put myself forward so instead imma introduce the eah ocs I made! One of them is almost a self-insert, and the other three are inspired by my friends (for the third friend one, I wanted to make a visual design for him but I used the Doll Divine eah character maker for these since I can't draw and I couldn't make a guy)

Dama Jaida Sailor (DJ Sailor for short) is the daughter of Sinbad the Sailor. She is a rebel that is very excited to follow her destiny. Her only love is sailing and exploring, so she doesn't really like Ever After High that much: she's already explored all she wants there. Nothing could really set her off her path except for the threat of people not signing their names into the Storybook of Legends. She has a pet cockatoo she named Ghoti (pronounced fish), and is close friends with Melody Piper and Rhian Knight.

Rhian Knight is the child of Peredur. She is a royal, though she follows in the steps of most rebels that don't want to follow their destinies because, despite the positive destiny in store for her, she just doesn't care enough about being a knight to want it. She's also close with Dama Sailor who, even though she has nothing to do with her story, is a magical person herself, and the idea of hurting magical people like her just doesn't sit well for Rhian. She has a pet dragon dog called Gelert (not a dog that becomes a dragon, straight up a dragon dog)!

Frauke stiltskin is the oldest daughter of Rumpelstiltskin, a rebel that is destined to follow in her father's footsteps. Her fairytale ends up with her shoving her foot into the ground so hard she opens a chasm she falls through, leaving her trapped in an endless fall. While Frauke doesn't want to face such a fate, she would rather go through with it than not follow her legacy and threaten the lives of her friends. She cherishes her younger brother and the path he chose as a jeweller.

The fourth person's description:

Lupin Badwolf is the oldest son of the Big Bad Wolf, and and third oldest sibling of six. Both of Lupin's older siblings were supposed to be the big bad wolf. However, when only Ramona accepted her destiny as the Big Bad Wolf in the Three Little Pigs, Lupin was the only one left to take the role in Little Red Riding Hood: his younger siblings were all possible Little Red Riding Hoods. To not mess up the story of one of his siblings, he took on the role of Big Bad Wolf with pride.

A couple things

I'm 100% basing all the "canon" things on the show because I never got the opportunity to read the books, which sucks but oh well.

In making the characters I asked everyone what fairytale they wanted to be part of. In some alternate universe, I made Frauke a whole other character that was the child of the Pied Piper, but I liked the idea of a child of Rumpelstiltskin more, which is why Frauke exists.

Peredur is another name for Percival, a knight of the round table but Percival has multiple names and for some reason the different names have different stories??? When Rhian's inspo showed me Peredur's story, I didn't know it was Percival until I searched it up. Read the story though, it's a good one. Also Peredur is Welsh, fun fact.

Yes I know Rumpelstiltskin is a real character in the show but we're gonna pretend that there's more than one Rumpelstiltskin and Frauke is the child of the Rumpelstiltskin. I'm not letting anyone be related to that gremlin of a character.

The show never really specified who the big bad wolf of the three little pigs story was so to give Lupin some spice I let him have the riding hood story while I made Ramona take the three little pigs.

So... yeah that's it! If anyone wants to ask more about the characters, send me asks in my ask box!

#far away posts #long post #ever after high #eah #dj sailor #rhian knight #frauke stiltskin #lupin badwolf #ocs #yeah the characters aren't great but they're mine and i love them #also gelert was gonna be named something else but *someone* didn't respond when i asked what the dog dragon should be called #but i like gelert so i don't mind too much

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softspaceboibrian · 5 years

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Journeys End in Lovers Meeting (Chapter 5)

Pairing: Professor Gwilym Lee x student reader

Summary: Reader is a new student at Harvard University and, on her first day, she does something she might regret. Or maybe not.

Warnings: fluff, like so much fluff

Wc: 3081

A/N: once again, I'm sorry for not being active! uni is driving me crazy and I'm trying my best to upload, but I obviously cannot do it everyday... anyway, enjoy the new chapter! please, remember to reblog and comment, I love it when I find nice comments from all of you!

Previous Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Taglist: @tegan-eva @kerouacsroad (if you would like to be tagged in future ones, just ask)

Now you were sitting at the table in Gwilym’s kitchen, waiting for the cookies to be ready, while reading an old book. You hadn’t been doing much in the last few days, you had probably seen pretty much every single Christmas movie available on Netflix, you had listened to the entire Michael Bublé’s Christmas album at least 14 times, you had even put up a little Christmas tree, just to make the house look a little more festive, and helped Gwilym with his own tree. It was Christmas day and Gwilym was supposed to pick you up at 6, but, since neither of you had nothing to do, he picked you up earlier, so that you could spend more time together.

“They smell so good” he smiled, immediately trying to steal a cookie. You covered the tray as fast as you could, reminding him that they had to rest before he could actually eat them. “But, please! Just one” He pouted, hoping that it would make you give in and give him one.

“Gwil, I know you pretty well by now, and I know that you will ask to eat one and you will end up eating most of them.” You chuckled, winking at him, while closing the oven door with your hip.

He rolled his eyes, laughing softly. “Remind me again what their name is”

“Pepperkaker. They are Norwegian cookies with cinnamon, ginger and cloves” You replied, a gentle smile on your lips while you sat next to him, the book you were previously reading still open on the table. “I used to make them with my mama every Christmas Eve and then we would eat them in front of the TV while watching Love Actually”

You never really talked about your past with anyone, but with him it was different, everything just came naturally. And he appreciated it. He understood with time that the taboo subject was your father, which he never dared to ask you anything about, fearing you might get upset, and close yourself up. That was far more than enough. “Well, I’m sure my mama is going to love them.”

“I hope so” You replied, your usual genuine smile, a soft reddish blush on your cheeks, both due to the high temperature in the room and the way he looked at you. He couldn’t help it but stare at you in awe; he had often read in books how people describe a man looking a woman as if she was the sun, but that wasn’t him. He never really looked at the sun except in frustration. Maybe he basked in its warmth, but he never really complained when it was gone. He never looked at it until it was leaving, admiring the beauty of the sunset. That wasn’t the case: Gwilym looked at you like you were the moon, he looked at you in wonder and love and amazement, he admired you, and he knew a part of you was always hidden away, but that didn’t scare him off.

“Is something wrong?” You asked, your own face burning hot.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, you’re staring at me”

He shook his head, a soft smile on his face. “I was just think that you look really good” He wheedled, tilting his head to the side, placing his cheek on the palm of his hand. You were wearing a red, blue and green tartan skirt, with a black turtleneck sweater tucked in, and black platform shoes. Definitely nothing too formal, but still nice. You still wanted to impress Gwilym’s mother. Not that you had a reason to, but it was the least. After all you were going join their “family dinner”. “Maybe we should get started. My mom is going to be here in less than an hour and we still need to set the table.”

Not even half an hour later, everything was ready. The two of you had been laying on the couch for a while now, the TV was off and no music was playing. It was just the two of you laughing, telling each other embarrassing stories from the past. But you couldn’t stop noticing how good Gwilym looked that night. His hair was a little longer now, since he hadn’t got a cut in a while. But even that messy look suited him. You were just now realising how it made his eyes pop – as an expert would say. “You look nice with your hair like this” You admitted, not knowing where you had found all that courage to pronounce those words. And you could see that he was trying to cover the fact that his cheeks were warming up a little, but then the doorbell rang, and he had to get up. When he opened the door, a beautiful woman walked in. She had Gwilym’s eyes, but she was smaller.

“Hi, my dear” She greeted him, her voice was so soft, she spoke with that gentle tone any mom would used after seeing their child after a long time, no matter how old their child was now.

“Hi, mom” He replied, leaving a quick kiss on her cheek, immediately helping her with all the bags she had. She really did prepare enough food for an entire army. At that point, you stood up from the couch and walked towards the woman that was still talking with her son, whom had to stop her to introduce you to her. “Mama, she is our guest. I talked to you about her, do you remember?”

The woman quickly glanced at you, studying your figure, smiling only after a few seconds. “Yes, yes, I do remember her. She’s the girl that works with you. – she spoke with a strong Welsh accent – She’s younger than I expected.”

“Well, I’m a stu-” You were trying to explain to the woman the fact that you were that young because you were only a student, but Gwilym cut you off by coughing and catching his mother attention. Didn’t he tell her that you were his student other than his assistant?

“Is there anything that we need to warm up, mom?”

“Oh, yes, dear, in here – she moved quickly, taking the dishes out of the bags, and putting them on the kitchen counter – what’s this smell?”

“Y/N made Norwegian biscuits! They smell amazing!”

“Well, then I can’t wait to taste them” The Woman smiled towards you. You had just met the woman, but you already loved her. She reminded you of your own mother, in a way. The rest of the evening was spent like so, the woman would ask questions about her son’s work, how he treated you, whether he was good to you or not. Every once in a while, you would look over to your left just to catch the man already with his eyes on your small figure, always ready to smile, to reassure you. For once, after a long time, you felt accepted, you didn’t feel like a weight, or anything. You knew you could be yourself around the man, and he would never criticize you, at least not with bad intension. He had too big of a heart to even think of hurting a fly, let alone you. And, even though he would never admit it to himself, and neither would you, the woman sitting at that table with the two of you could see how you both cared for each other, how much her own son was concerned with you feeling comfortable, feeling good. She had never seen him this happy, not in a long time at least. And that filled her heart with so much joy.

The hours went by and the woman decided it was probably time for her to go back home and rest. Or, at least, that was what she told you while putting on her coat. She told you how happy she was to have finally been able to meet the girl her son couldn’t stop talking about every time he called her, immediately noticing how quickly your cheeks turned red. At that point she was ready to go. “Bye, mama. Drive carefully. Text me once you’re home” said the man, before quickly kissing her cheek. And he was going to get away, knowing how mushy she can be when saying goodbye. But he felt her hand on his shoulder, as if she was trying to prevent him from running away.

“Dear, treat her well. She’s a good girl and I can see you care for her.” Her voice was soft, caring, loving. She really did want to see her own son this happy more often.

He tried to hide the blush on his face, but his mother knew him too well. “I will, mama. I will.”

“I have no doubt about that” she said, before kissing him once again on his forehead, before turning around and walking out of the house. You were standing only a few feet behind the man, and you did obviously hear everything but, once he turned around to face you, you acted as if you didn’t notice the small trace of blush left on his cheeks.

A few minutes later the kitchen and table were clean, and you two were finally relaxing, the man sitting on one end of the sofa, you occupying the rest of it. “I have something for you. I was just waiting for the right moment to give it to you” you said, stretching out a little bit towards your bag, which was lying on the floor right next to where you were sitting. You took out the present, wrapped with a newspaper page. “I’m sorry, I didn’t have wrapping at home” you giggled while handing it to the man. He didn’t expect you to get him a gift, and that surprised him, in a good way. “It’s nothing, really. I know for sure you already have it, but when I saw it, I immediately thought of you.” Your eyes were fixed on his face, waiting to detect any kind of reaction. It was really a simple present, but you still wanted to make sure he liked it. When he opened it and read the title, his lips curled up in a little smile, a genuine one, which made you feel as if your stomach was all tied in knots. But then he turned around to face you, his lips immediately reaching for your forehead to leave a soft, slow kiss there.

“Thank you” he breathed, losing himself in your eyes for a few, quick seconds, before turning around and reaching for the drawer on the side table, opening it and taking out a present neatly wrapped in a lovely green wrapping with Santa Claus and other typical Christmas images. “This one is for you. I was going to leave it on your desk once we got back to University, without a note or anything, almost like a secret Santa, but this moment is probably a lot more adequate.” You looked at him, you eyes full of surprise. You didn’t even feel like you deserved it. “Go on, open it. I’m anxious. I need to know if you like it” He giggled, bopping your nose with his finger. You nodded, moving your eyes from his face to the present in your hands, which you started to carefully unwrap, making sure not to tear the paper. As soon as your eyes were able to read the title, a sincere smile made its way on your face. It was probably the biggest smile Gwilym had ever seen on you, and he loved to think he was the reason behind it. “I know Keats is your favourite poet ever. And when I saw you looking at this collection of all his poems and compositions online, I knew I had to get it for you.” Suddenly, your arms were wrapped around his neck, a simple, whispered thank you. He gently placed his hands on your back, pulling you onto his lap, his lips getting in contact once again with your forehead, leaving another soft kiss on it. As soon as he felt you moving, he held on tight to you, saying into your ear “Wait, don’t pull away… Not yet. I like to have you this close”. Those words made your heart beat even faster than it was already doing, her cheeks turning crimson. It was the closest thing to admitting his own feelings for you he had ever said. And you loved it.

The silence that followed was far from uncomfortable. It was filled with your heartbeat echoing in your ears, the sound of the man leaving soft kisses on the your temple. You closed your eyes, your head on his shoulder, while his fingers gently traced lines on your back. You could definitely fall asleep right there, in that position, cradled by the man’s attention. “Do you think I could stay here tonight?” You mumbled, looking up, receiving a simple nod in response.

“You can take some of my clothes, you know where to find them” he added after a few more seconds of silence, letting you get up, following your small figure with his eyes, till you disappeared into his bedroom. He had loved having you over since the first night you fell asleep at his apartment. That first time wasn’t on purpose, but as the months went on, he would put on a movie really late at night just to be able to have you over for the night, spend as much time together as you could. He loved seeing you first thing in the morning, with messy hair, the blanket he had covered you with the night before wrapped around you small body, asking for a hot cup of tea with cookies. After a while, things started to change, you would ask him to stay at your place whenever Rose was out of town or simply staying at her friend’s house; or he would tell you that you could sleep at his place if you were going to work late. And in those cases, he would often give you a hoodie or one of his sweatshirts, loving the way they smelled the morning after. Little did he know you too loved being able to wear his clothes, mainly for the smell. Lately you had often found yourself recognising that smell as something safe, warm, home.

He got lost in those thoughts, and when he finally came back to reality, the door of the room was open, the warm light of the lamp on the nightstand washed everything out. He stopped at the door, his shoulder against the door frame, looking at the girl who was lying on the bed, now with his clothes on, clothes that were definitely too big for her, but he didn’t really cared much about it. And neither did you. “Are you tired?” the man asked after a few moments, finally walking towards the bed to lay next to you.

You opened your eyes, which you had kept close, but something told you that he was there, meeting his gaze and blushing. “Not really, I’m just not used to eat this much anymore” you giggled, hiding behind your hand and the few strands of hair that had fallen in front of your face. He didn’t comment, he just raised his hand to move the hair from in front of your face, meeting once again your eyes, almost as if he could not look at anything else. You just spent what seemed both an eternity and a quick second in silence, looking each other in the eyes, wanting to say so many things, but still not wanting to ruin the moment. Looking at him, you realized you knew a million little things about him. But, most of all, you knew that he was all you wanted in your life in that moment. You wanted to be around him, you wanted to go places with him, you wanted to do everything as long as you had him by your side. And maybe Rose was right, you did have feelings for him, maybe even more. You were just too scared to admit it to yourself. To scared of the consequences, too scared of not being enough, of him not feeling the same. But whenever you looked at him, you could almost read it in his eyes, or at least you believed. And that was probably why you did it. You did the simplest thing. You leaned over and kissed him. And the world cracked open. All the million things you thought you knew disappeared from your mind; when your lips met for the first time you couldn’t even remember your own name. You were told to expect fireworks, but his lips set your whole heart on fire. His hand slowly moved to your back, gently pulling you to himself, while holding the sweatshirt you were wearing in a fist, almost as if he didn’t want to let you go, too scared that, if he did, you might slip away from him. After a few moments, you pulled away, both gasping for air. No one said nothing, not yet. You just enjoyed the music of their heavy breaths, his forehead against yours. It didn’t take long for him to press his lips once again against yours, making your heart beat like crazy. When you kissed him the first time, he felt as if he were losing his mind. When you kissed twice, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted his sanity back.

The rest of the night was spent like that, with your back against his chest, his arms holding you tight, while whispering random thing in the soft light coming from the nightstand’s lamp, giggling at each other’s jokes. The feeling of being curled up in Gwilym’s arms with your fingers intertwined and the soft feeling of his breath on your exposed neck could never be put into words. You could, however, say for sure that it was where you belonged, and it was in those arms that you felt at home. Often, you had pictured the two of you holding hands and watching movies, sitting on benches beneath old oak trees, hearing his breath and catching his smile when he thought you couldn’t see. And all you could do was hope that, when he closed his eyes, his mind would be filled with thoughts of you. But now everything was slowly changing, becoming everyday more real.

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #professor gwilym lee #gwilym lee x you #professor!gwilym lee #journeys end in lovers meeting #jeilm #softspaceboibrian writings #softspaceboibrian

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istheresomebodywhocanimagine · 5 years

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hey, dear! would you ship me, love? btw i love love love your blog!! 💓💞💗💖 i'm blonde and have big brown eyes. people see me as shy, quite, introverted, but intelligent ( atleast some people of my class told me that!). i'm interested in politics and history. i read english literature. i'm into older men. my favorite artists besides queen, are lana del rey + arctic monkeys. i love walking around alone in the nature, maybe listening to music. i live in an old town in south-germany. thank you!❤

hi i assumed you just wanted a borhap ship since lana del rey and arctic monkeys are current artists (that i am 100% a fan of - born to die and am are my religion)

so here it is!!!!!! and thx for the love hehe

ship below the cut

I without a doubt ship you with Gwilym Lee!

Older man, intellectual, general soft boi? Gwilym is your man!

We’ll say you met Gwilym at a library where you worked as a side job - Gwilym came in to study for his part in Jamestown, and as it was a big library in a fancier part of London that often had celebrities coming in for research, you were assigned by one of your superiors to help him out.

He’d requested a private study room that you set up camp outside of, and every so often, the tall, handsome man with a velvety baritone voice would poke his head out of the door, flash you a charming smile, and request another title he needed.

He did this several times over the course of the week, and you always got assigned to him, for one reason or another.

But once when you came back and popped in to give him one of his requested books, he stopped you before you were able to leave.

“Actually, would you stay in here for a moment? I’d like to pick your brain, if you don’t mind?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in question. Although it would probably get you in hot water with your boss, something about the way Gwilym asked had you immediately sitting down across the table from him, smoothing out your skirt and smiling pleasantly.

This was slightly horrifying to you, seeing as you’d regularly never engage in conversation with anyone, let alone a handsome Welsh man. But here you were, seated across from him and entertaining his conversation.

“Sure. What would you like to ask?” you replied, Gwilym cocking his head to the side as he sat back in his chair a bit, returning an unnervingly charming smile.

“Well, for one,” he started, clearing his throat and crossing his arms. “I’d like your opinion... D’you think it’s worth sitting here for another few hours and burying myself in this research when it’s so nice outside, or should I just saw screw it and come in early tomorrow?”

“Well, it is nice outside. Definitely glad I’m off in about 20 minutes, it gets a bit stuffy in here” you agreed, ducking your head a bit bashfully as you continued. “But I’d be careful to not come in too early tomorrow. Abigail is at the desk until noon and she’s a bit cranky.”

“Is that the one with the red hair?” he asked, grinning a bit, and when you nodded, he nodded as recognition flashed over his face. Anyone who had crossed her path would remember her.

After a moment of silence as he started to gather up his books, you coughed a bit awkwardly and played with your hands as you watched him. “You had another question?” you asked shyly, Gwilym laughing when he realized he’d gotten off track.

“Oh, yeah, silly me,” he chuckled, shaking his head at himself. “I was going to ask if you’d like to join me for some coffee. You did say you’re off soon, right?”

“Er, yeah, I am,” you replied quietly, a light pink color as you realized he was asking you out on a date. Gwilym’s smile broadened, and he waited for an affirmative or negative patiently, stacking all of his books up on a cart carefully. “And sure, I’d love to.”

Gwilym was a complete gentleman the rest of the day, as well as the following days he came into the library and requested you to be his helper. He came in far more often than he needed to, but you absolutely loved it and loved how in depth your conversations were. He was well versed in so many areas, it made your head spin.

So when he asked you to officially be his girlfriend over coffee once, you (of course) said yes!

After a while of dating, your family caught wind of some pictures of the two of you out and about in London, and practically begged you to bring him to Germany so they could meet him. They were hesitant about the age difference of over a decade, but they still wanted to have him there to see who’d captured your heart.

You obliged, a bit grudgingly, but he was absolutely ecstatic to go there and learn more about your childhood/where you grew up. One of the things he adored about you was the Germanic accent that affected your speech, how you pronounced certain words, so he desperately wanted to see you in your element, in the middle of it all.

And your family loved him, of course. He was, again, a perfect gentleman, and it was like your age gap didn’t exist all of a sudden. The reservations were gone, and they adored/fawned over him so much that you had to practically drag him away from the house for some alone time, opting to take a walk through your favorite nature path near your childhood home.

As you walked, hand in hand, Gwilym was cheery.

“I think it went really well. I don’t think I was quite the old geezer they were expecting,” he chuckled, squeezing your hand and looking down at you as you rolled your eyes playfully.

“You’re not an old geezer, hush,” you replied. He made a noise of disagreement, but shut up when you gently bumped his hip with yours, the both of you giggling a bit. “But, yes, they adore you. Think they might cry when you have to go back to London.”

“But you’re going back with me?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow, and you shrugged as you let a playful smile take over your lips.

“That’s not going to matter to them. All they know is that their precious Gwilym is going to leave them eventually.”

“Oh, hush!” It was his turn to gently chastise you as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, mussing your hair gently and making you squeal in protest as you shoved him away. He quickly wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up and twirling you a bit as you fought his grip, laughing and squealing in delight.

“Gwil, stop it! You’re going to mess up my hair even more!”

“But it’s so pretty, I can’t help it,” he whined melodramatically, setting you down and standing in front of you as he played with a few strands of the beautiful, blonde locks, smiling down at you. Leaning down, he gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before taking your hand again, continuing down the trail with you as you spoke again.

“Touch it again and I’ll have to take you down, mister.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try!”

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honeylikewords · 6 years

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PSPS - The next day, the big lug has a bit of a cold but he insists he's fine. "I'm built for the winter, it is impossible that I am sick," he insists stubbornly. God, you love him but also Viktor, please, stop this madness and take back your coat and hat. - I'm Just Gonna Do This Until You Destroy Me >;)~~

weHH

Viktor very rarely gets sick because, well, he is actually very used to the cold, and he keeps a very healthy diet and exercise regime, but... he is visiting a foreign school with foreign contaminants and three schools’ worths of kids crammed into one location, all sharing germs and what have you... so... yeah. He does end up with a bit of a headcold. A hefty one, actually, since his immune system just wasn’t ready for that oh-so-pungent mixture of bacteria from all manner of Scots and Brits and Welsh children who don’t wash their goddamn hands after Herbology.

He pretends he doesn’t have that nasty cold because he’s Viktor Krum and he’s a Big Freaking Deal and he can’t be sick because he has to practice and do all his work and his classes and keep up a good public image because god only knows there’s always some reporter ready to hound him--

But there he is, perched in bed, his big nose red and runny, his eyes brimming with tears, his skin more pallid than ever, and he whines softly, tossing on the pillows. Not because he can’t bear the pain- he’s borne much worse- but because he’s sad and lonesome, like an abandoned bear cub.

“Dahrlink,” he murmurs, “Come and hold me, I am not sick! I am verry wehl.”

His h-sounds come out like little cat hisses.

He also happens to sneeze very sharply, as if punctuating his sentence.

She shakes her head and carries his big, heavy cloak over to the bedside, the ushanka placed on top. She sets the ushanka on a nearby chair, then unfolds the furs of the cloak and lays it atop her disease-ridden dear one, watching him pout at her.

“I wahnted you to use dat,” complains Viktor. “It was a gihft!”

“It’s part of your uniform. You need it.”

“I can get anodur uniforrm.”

He has a funny way of pronouncing his “er” sounds, most of them aligning with the way he showed her how to pronounce the character “Ъ” when he was showing her how to write his name in Bulgarian. His g-sounds, too, come out a little odd, ringing more like k-sounds.

It’s even odder when paired with his stuffy nose from the cold. Still, he sounds so sweet and plaintive that she can’t help but stand next to him, brushing her fingers along his sweaty forehead as he closes his eyes and hums, relaxing into her touch.

“Poor, sweet boy,” she coos. “You’ll be better soon.”

“The healink nurse sed in two daze,” Viktor mumbles, giving in to the truth. Yes, he’s sick, he admits, without ever saying those words. “Two daze too long for me.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.”

She goes to kiss his forehead, but Viktor squirms, fastening his arms around her shoulders and tugging her in tight. She falls onto the bed with a soft “oop!” and Viktor squeezes in, enfolding her in his hug, refusing to let go. All those years of intense practice have really made those arms of his like steel cables, forcefully anchoring her to him.

“Viktor!”

“I want to be held,” he mumbles, face mushed into her shoulder. “I miss you when you arre gohne.”

His voice is soft and honest, vulnerable, which is so continually suprising in this big, strong boy. The gentleness, the heartfelt nature that is so inherent in him. It comes as a shock, and yet, seems to be the most obvious thing in the world. Of course he’s tender: he’s Viktor.

So she melts into him, letting him burrow in closer, his great big nose pressed into her neck, his happy, deep sighs filling the room. He rubs a broad hand up and down her back, as if to reassure her, to give her comfort, even though he is the one in dire need of the comforting.

“Please keep de furs. I want you to have sometink of me wit you...”

His voice trails off and he sleepily rubs his face on her, settling in. Her fingers rise to brush at the prickle-burr hair of his buzzcut, and he purrs like a kitten, delighted to be petted. She wishes they’d let him grow his hair out- he has such nice curls, after all- but Durmstrang is very strict with the dress code, insistent that all boys have the same short buzz.

“I’ll think about it,” she says as she brushes his hair. “I just... I want you to have what you need.”

“I do,” he smiles, even as his eyes remain closed.

She thinks they both do, here, together. She kisses his brow, gazing at his peaceful, calm face, the kiss lulling him into the first real, restful sleep he’s had since he got sick. What an angel, that Viktor.

#messages #viktor krum #harry potter #I LIVE ONLY TO WRITE THAT WHICH I DESIRE #Anonymous

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