#farewell until next time i feel like posting here
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Dirty Little Secret - part 6 (leila ouahabi x reader)
Summary: A love story about secrets, flirty messages, football rivalries, and useless lesbians who don’t know how to communicate. And it all starts with one badly timed challenge in the Champions League.
Leila Ouahabi x Arsenal!reader
Part 6/?
Read other parts here.
———
You’re a European Champion.
You don’t really know what to do with that information.
To be honest, after the first twenty four hours that pass in a hungover blur, you end up on a bit of a downer. You should be delighted, riding the high of being the first England team to win a major trophy in fifty-six years, but after two glorious months in camp with a group of girls you’re now bonded with for life, returning to your hometown for a couple of weeks before pre-season is a dose of reality that’s just a little bit too big to swallow.
You’re happy to see your family, of course. You’ve spent most of the summer away from them with only limited visits while you were in camp. But after the best summer of your life with a football at your feet, it takes all of about three days for you to be itching to get back on the football pitch again.
A few days into your two weeks off, a few of the girls get together for what is part post-Euro reunion and part farewell dinner for Georgia, who departs for Munich the next day. It’s a mixed group - a few Lionesses and some of the girls from Manchester City - but it’s the familiar dark hair at the end of the table that catches your eye, deep in conversation with somebody else you don’t know.
You’re surprised to see Leila who, apart from having her own Euro hopes dashed by Georgia’s extra time winner, has no reason to know Georgia.
You take a seat next to Lauren, who notices you looking at the two girls at the far end of the table.
“Oh, that’s Laia and Leila,” she explains. “I invited them. They’re still settling into the team and there’s so many City girls here, I thought it would be nice for them to get to know people a bit better.”
Leila must feel your eyes on her because it’s at that exact moment that she looks up and her dark gaze meets yours. There’s no change to her expression, no giveaway to anybody else that you know each other except for the fact that her eyes linger on you for longer than they would if you were just strangers who happened to make eye contact, until she finally turns back to her conversation with Laia.
You feel a rush of giddiness go straight to your head, blocking out all the sounds around you as you continue to look at Leila, admiring the sharp angles of her side profile. It almost feels like the Arnold Clark Cup all over again, having this secret that nobody else around you knows. You enjoyed your time in Barcelona with Leila and getting to be all coupley with her in front of her old teammates, but you’d forgotten how much of a turn-on the thrill of secrecy could be.
———
As the evening goes on, you don’t forget about Leila - how could you, when she is right there and looks so damn good - but you get a little distracted by everything else. There are enough Lionesses present that means you spend a lot of time talking about the Euros, reminiscing over the best summer of your life, then because tonight is about Georgia leaving, you end up talking about old times at City. It’s been years since you played for them, a scrawny teenager playing alongside Keira and Georgia, all three of you with big dreams and no idea that you would one day become European Champions together. But even as you reminisce, there’s always a part of you that’s aware of Leila’s presence at the other end of the table and you can’t help but glancing at her throughout the night.
“All us OG City girls are gradually leaving the nest,” Georgia says, smiling fondly at you and Keira. “I wonder who’ll be next.”
You notice that Keira is suspiciously quiet and has suddenly taken a deep interest in the ice cubes at the bottom of her empty glass. With the performances she’s just put on at the Euros, you wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got interest from other clubs too.
“City’s got some new blood now though,” you say, your eyes wandering to Leila once more. “Not that it’ll matter, Arsenal will still beat City this season.”
Predictably in a room full of mostly City players, your comment causes outrage. Arsenal and City are due to play each other soon for the first fixture of the new season and you always enjoy the rivalry against your old club. And with Leila on the other team, you’ve got extra incentive to go out there and put on a show this time.
You let them banter with you for a moment. Even Georgia, technically no longer a City player, takes great joy in slandering Arsenal.
When the conversation finally moves on, your eyes wander back to Leila, and you tune out the voices around you as you stare, mentally trying to figure out if there’s a way you can subtly change seats to be closer to her without alerting the entire group to your motives.
There isn’t, and Leila chooses that exact moment to meet your gaze while her lips are still wrapped around the straw in her drink. She lets the straw slip out of her mouth but you still get a glimpse of the pink tip of her tongue and there’s no way in hell you can pay attention to whatever conversation is going on around you now.
You excuse yourself to the bathroom, anything to give yourself a chance to get away and recompose yourself, and thankfully they’re all too busy laughing at something Georgia is saying to pay any attention to the flush of your cheeks, nor the way that Leila’s gaze follows you as you go.
You hear somebody else enter the bathroom as you flush the toilet and when you exit the cubicle Leila is standing at the sinks checking her appearance in the mirror. Her dark eyes find yours in the reflection, and her mouth twitches in a smirk of recognition.
“Hi,” she says.
You glance around the bathroom, checking that all three stalls are empty, before you approach the sink to wash your hands and reply, “Hi yourself. How are you finding Manchester?”
“I like it. It’s a nice city.”
“At least the weather’s been nice since you got here. Just wait until it rains every day.”
You walk over to the paper towel dispenser to dry your hands and Leila turns around, leaning back against the sink to look at you.
“Everything is always about the weather to you English people,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Too hot, too cold.”
“What can I say - we like to complain.”
“Are you going to complain right now?” Leila asks.
The air in the bathroom suddenly feels a lot thicker, the way that Leila is watching you as you dispose of the balled up paper towel, coupled with the teasing lilt to her tone, reminding you of just how attracted you are to her.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Actually, there is one thing I want to complain about,” you say, taking a couple of steps closer to Leila.
“What‘s that?” Leila asks, her eyebrows crinkling together in a frown.
“I want to complain about the fact that we’re alone in this completely deserted bathroom and you haven’t kissed me yet.”
“You haven’t kissed me either,” Leila points out.
“Is that an invitation?” you challenge her.
Your words have the desired effect of provoking a reaction from Leila, because her eyes flash in defiance and she retaliates, “I want to complain about how annoying-”
You don’t give Leila the chance to finish her complaint, because you grab her by the lapels of her jacket and pull her in for a kiss. She lets out a surprised little grunt when your lips collide with hers, but melts into the kiss quickly, her hands finding your hips as her lips settle into a familiar movement against your own.
You only realise now that you’re here, kissing Leila in a secluded bathroom like your life depends on it, that it’s actually been months since you last did this. In all your focus for the Euros, the hard work and the euphoria, you’d sort of forgotten that you hadn’t actually kissed Leila since you bid your goodbyes to each other in the departure lounge of the Barcelona airport after your brief visit at the end of last season. Not even after your game against each other during the tournament did you kiss.
And with the way Leila kisses you, stealing the air from your mouth with such hunger, you vow never to go another three months without kissing her again.
“I’ve missed you,” you mumble against her mouth, when you have to draw back for breath, to save yourself from passing out from sheer lack of oxygen caused by Leila’s kiss. “I’ve missed this.”
Leila’s hand finds the back of your head and she uses it to pull you closer, not for another kiss, but to rest your head against her shoulder as she wraps her other arm around your back. You snake your own arms around her waist, burying your face into her neck and savouring the feeling of her arms around you, not wanting this moment to end.
“I’ve missed this too,” Leila murmurs, her fingers stroking through your hair.
She’s right, it’s this that you’ve been craving. Not the kissing or the sex, though you’ve spent more time thinking about that in the nearly three months since you last slept together than you’d care to admit, but everything else too. The intimacy of being held, of having somebody to share the little moments with, the ability to go from teasing each other about the weather to making out against a sink to cuddling like this, with each of those things feeling just as natural as the last.
And maybe, just maybe, all of that will be easier to facilitate than it was when you lived in different countries.
“Stay with me tonight?” Leila asks, feeling her voice rumble beneath your cheek as much as you hear the words.
You’d been planning on getting a taxi back to your parents’ house on the outskirts of Manchester, or maybe crashing with Lauren or Keira if it ends up being a late one tonight, but that was before you knew that you’d see Leila tonight. Now that this offer is on the table, there’s nowhere else you want to spend the night.
“Of course.”
———
Waking up the next morning, there are two things that you feel. The first is comfort, Leila’s warm body wrapped around your own with your hips nestled back against her own, feeling happy and well-rested after a night of good sleep in her arms.
The second is the desperate urge to pee.
You try to extract yourself from Leila’s embrace without disturbing her, but Leila only tightens her arms around you to stop you from leaving and mumbles words that you don’t understand in sleepy Spanish.
“Leila,” you murmur, trying to wriggle free. “Leila, I need to pee. Where’s your bathroom?”
Leila reluctantly lets you leave her arms and mutters in Spanish again, before she says in English, “Left.”
You slip out of bed and leave Leila’s bedroom, following her directions by finding the bathroom through the next door to the left.
When you’ve been to the toilet and freshened up a little with some cold water to your face and running your fingers through your mussed hair, you exit the bathroom and immediately stop in your tracks when you see somebody sitting at the dining table eating breakfast and drinking coffee. You think you recognise her as one of Leila’s new City teammates, though her name slips your mind, but you wonder if you really walked right past her without noticing her on your way to the bathroom.
“Hi,” she greets you, an amused smile gracing her lips. “I’m Deyna.”
You glance at Leila’s bedroom door, which stands slightly ajar as you left it, then introduce yourself to Deyna.
“Arsenal, right?” she asks.
“Yeah,” you nod. “And you’re at City with Leila?”
“Teammates. Roommates.” Deyna pauses, then adds, “Just regular mates.”
“Cool,” you say, unsure whether you’re supposed to continue to make smalltalk with Deyna out of politeness, or if it’s acceptable to make your excuses and return to Leila’s room.
Luckily you’re saved at that exact moment by Leila herself, who emerges from her bedroom with sleep-tousled hair to investigate what’s going on.
“Oh,” she says, when she sees Deyna. From the expression on her face, she’s as surprised to see Deyna as you are. She turns to you, then says, “This is Deyna.”
“She knows that already,” Deyna grins. “We were just getting to know each other.”
“Coffee?” Leila asks you, as she walks over to the kitchen units and grabs a couple of mugs out of a cupboard.
“Yes please,” you reply. At the table, Deyna’s attention is now on her phone as she eats, and you say to Leila, “You didn’t mention that you had a roommate.”
“Don’t worry, I’m a deep sleeper,” Deyna interjects, glancing up from the screen of her phone with a smirk gracing her lips.
Your cheeks burn red and Leila retaliates with what you can only assume is a string of Spanish expletives.
Deyna apologises, mostly directing it at you, before she asks, “So how did you two meet?”
“Champions League,” Leila answers, busying herself over the coffee again.
“We played each other twice in the group stage last season,” you elaborate.
“I beat her twice,” Leila says, glancing across at you with a glint of mischief in her eyes.
“Leila got a yellow card for trying to break my legs.”
“I didn’t … it was an accident,” Leila insists. “It was passion.”
“Strange way to flirt, but okay,” Deyna teases Leila.
“That’s what I said!” you exclaim in agreement.
Leila wanders over with two steaming mugs of coffee, one of which she offers out to you, and she leans in to press a quick kiss to your lips as she mumbles, “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”
You thank her for the coffee, bringing it to your lips and taking the tiniest sip from the mug, letting out a satisfied hum.
The only other time Leila has made you coffee was when you went to visit her in Barcelona, but the coffee is perfect, like heaven touching your tongue.
“You remembered how I take my coffee?” you ask.
“Yeah. Of course.”
“Thank you, it’s perfect.”
The domesticity of it is nice, as if you’re existing in a bubble where only you and Leila matter.
Until Deyna interrupts your moment.
“Go and be cute in your room,” she tells Leila, dismissing you both with a wave and a roll of her eyes. “I’m trying to eat.”
Leila nudges you back towards her bedroom and you soon find yourself nestled against Leila’s side again, propped up against the headboard with steaming mugs of coffee cradled in your hands.
“You promised me a tour?” she says.
“Of Manchester?”
Leila nods eagerly.
“You’re gonna have to wait a bit longer,” you tell Leila apologetically. “I can’t hang out today.”
The disappointment that flashes across Leila’s face is almost enough to have you reaching for your phone to call your agent to cancel your plans for the day.
“I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be going back to my old junior club today. Helping out with some training, taking photos with the kids, letting them see my medal. Inspiring the next generation and all that crap.”
“It’s not crap,” Leila assures you. “Well, maybe for me if it means we can’t hang out.”
“Didn’t know you were so clingy,” you tease her.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet,” Leila replies flirtatiously.
You smile across at her.
“And I can’t wait to find out.”
———
You return to London a couple of days later, regretfully without having seen Leila again since that morning at her flat, but you start to message each other more often. Not quite every day, but a few times a week, little things like talking about your days. It’s more familiar than it’s ever been before, with most of your conversations prior to the Euros being laced with flirtatious pictures and suggestive messages. But this is different - you talk about mundane things like training, or what you’re having for dinner, or the latest English slang words that Leila has learned from her new City teammates.
But that doesn’t mean your relationship has lost any of its spark. It’s still flirty, especially because Arsenal’s first fixture of the new season is away at City. It reminds you a little bit of those first couple of encounters in the Champions League last season, bantering about the upcoming contest in a way you hope leads to sparks on and off the pitch.
And then the game gets cancelled.
All that build-up, the jokes about yellow cards, the promises that you’d let Leila do whatever she wants to you if she let you score past her, falls away into nothing the moment that the game is called off.
You feel empty. And not just because football is your life and you’d been looking forward to the league starting up again, but because once the season starts you don’t know when you and Leila will both get time off at the same time. It might be months before you get to see each other again.
———
Two things happen when the season finally begins and September morphs into October.
The first is that you pick up a hamstring injury. It shouldn’t surprise you too much, given that you pretty much went straight from last season into the Euros, straight into pre-season. You’re in your prime as an athlete, but you’re not invincible. You work hard on your recovery, even if you’re a little bummed to be spending so much time in the gym and staying on the sidelines as the Champions League group stage begins.
The second thing that happens is that fifteen Spanish players, including Leila, step back from their national team in protest of their working conditions. You don’t know the details but you remember Leila alluding to some problems during the Euros, when she pointed out that talent alone doesn’t win Championships.
You don’t really know what you can do to support Leila, especially from London. The story blows up in the football media world and you imagine it must be particularly hard for Leila, being so far from Spain and away from most of the other girls involved, but you don’t know if there’s anything you can do or say to make it easier.
You eventually settle on messaging her a few hours after the story hits the headlines.
You
Proud of you for standing up for the right thing! Always here if you want to talk about it or if you want a distraction instead?
Leila likes your message after a few hours but doesn’t reply.
The red heart that taunts you from the screen of your phone is something you’ll come to realise is probably the beginning of the end.
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Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.
CHAERI'S MASTERLIST
YOU CAME
❒ words: 619
❒ summary: The night before Jungkook's enlistment
❒ pairing: Jungkook x 8thmember!OC
❒ notes: find notes at the bottom
December 11, 2023
A Fool
A fool to think she could be indifferent, a fool to think she could bear the separation, to say goodbye to him only in front of the cameras, to wish him to stay healthy and to take care of himself in front of everyone, Chaeri felt like an idiot. A fool to believe she could have stayed home the night before his departure.
Chaeri's AirPods were out of battery, and the volume on her cell phone was set to maximum, yet she didn't mind. She didn’t care that Jungkook's faint voice was echoing in the dim alley she was hurrying through, just having stepped out of the dark car that had hastily brought her to that point.
The pajama sweatpants she wore, not having had time to change into jeans, were lightweight. However, she remained unaffected by the biting winter wind, the weather gearing up for the first snow of that Christmas season. It would be the first snow she'd experience without her group, or rather, without her family, in 10 years.
The hoodie she had on was oversized, so much so that she had to repeatedly pull up the sleeves that kept sliding down her arms, extending to cover her hands, which made it challenging for her to hold the phone.
She knew the rest of the way by heart, so she allowed herself to stare at Jungkook's tired, sad face through the cell phone screen.
He was giggling over a comment about the dryer being active just hours before he started his military career, but the laughter didn't genuinely reflect in his eyes
The boy she had grown up with, the one who slept in the bed next to hers when all eight of them shared a single room, her best friend, her first kiss, her first love—the boy who had strained his voice singing to her until her nightmares faded away.
Her family.
He was going to leave in a few hours, and she would see him again, God knew when.
She was stupid to think that she could stay at her place without feeling the need to look him in the eye to bid him farewell, without the pressure of pretending and calculating words, smiles, looks.
"I'll miss you," Jungkook said, his voice soft, warm, almost hoarse. Chaeri knew him better than anyone else, knew for a fact that he would cry as soon as the live broadcast ended. And she had to be there. She owed it to him.
Despite all.
The janitor of the building where he lived recognized her right away; there was no need to show him documents or go through the necessary checks to ensure safety for the residents. She was grateful, as she was in such a hurry that she probably would not have stopped if he had tried.
She quickly made the decision to run up the stairs, two by two, as the elevator would be too slow, and she needed to reach there immediately. She felt the physical urgency.
The phone display went black; Jungkook had concluded the live, and she was right outside his door.
Gasping, her cheeks red from running.
The UGG TAZZs on her feet had only made it more challenging, threatening to trip her up more than once, but she was there. Finally.
Her long black hair stuck out messily from the ponytail she had tied back at home; she was stripped of her makeup, utterly unkempt, and hardly presentable. Yet, when the door slowly opened, and Jungkook's face appeared, his eyes wet with the tears she had anticipated, she felt perfectly in order.
Perfectly as she was supposed to be.
Perfectly where she was supposed to be.
“You came”
taglist: @alixnsuperstxr | @bts-dream | @enchantingbrowneyedgirl | @ycuvi | @cosmicwintr
❒ notes: Hiii. I wrote this out of the blue, it's 4:15 in the morning here, but I couldn't go to sleep without posting it
How are you?
I think I'll feel Jungkook's enlistment even more. His live sessions gave me comfort and helped me sleep during difficult times.
As for the story, just to clarify, this is not the end hehe
#bts 8th member#bts female addition#jungkook imagines#jungkook scenarios#jungkook x reader#jungkook drabbles#bts drabble#kpop female member#bts imagines#bts female member#kpop female oc#bts x reader#bts addition#bts eighth member#bts
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JOSH HUTCHERSON. I do badly wanna make a request for Josh from the forger but I must show restraint
Anyways Mike asking you to officially be his gf?
JOSH HUTCHERSON JOSH HUTCHERSON AOQWEIIOWEIOOIAWEFIOFWAEWGAGEHRGAHREW
my husband
anyways here u go pooksters
warnings: female pronouns, fluff, reader has a nightmare, smooching just a lil
I didn’t check spelling on this so if it’s horrible I’m so sorry 😭
--
mikes job was not an easy one.
neither was managing a younger sister.
but thats where you came in.
you and mike had known one another since high school, though you two hadn’t been the closest pair at the time. gentle smiles in the halls and small hellos were about all that went on in your mind.
but not for sweet old mike.
he adored you, every second he got to be in your presence was like heaven.
looking back on it he wasn't sure how you hadn't noticed his longing stares, the blush coating his cheeks, the way he fumbled over his words.
he was in love with you, that was clear to everyone but you.
so when the end of high school rolled around, the two of you fell out of touch.
he was sad, yes, but he had abby to worry about, and some cute girl couldn't get in his way.
so for the next few years nothing happened between the two of you, and he just assumed you had moved away to some far away place. eventually the amount thoughts of you in his mind began to dwindle down, until you only crossed his mind at most 2 times a year.
that was until a few months ago that is...
long story short mike had posted a few flyers about needing a baby sitter for abby, and low and behold someone sent him a message and sweetly said they'd love to meet up with him over coffee to discuss more details.
so thats exactly what happened, mike put on his most formal clothes (which wasnt really much) and began his journey to the coffee shop. He anxiously wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, silently cursing himself for his nervous habits. before he knew it the coffee shop was just ahead, and as he stepped inside it was like his heart stopped beating.
it was you.
He tried to hide his smile but you could read that man like an open book.
The two of you talked for several hours, about the job, about life, about everything.
you could've kept going even, if it werent for mike having to pick up abby from school.
so you bid your farewells and mike informed you that you could start watching abby the following day.
as mike worked each night, you stayed with abby, doing everything with her, and she loved it.
every day she would gush to mike about you, talking about the adventures and fun times the two of you had shared.
mike listened every time as well, and every time he did so he couldnt help but note how his feelings for you began to return.
after all, you were so sweet, so gentle, so... loving.
how could he help it?
every morning after his shift he would come home to find leftovers on the counter, alongside a small handwritten note from you, each time saying something ever so sweet.
on top of that he would also find you dozing on the couch, and every time he saw you sleeping so peacefully he would just admire you for a few moments, always opting to cover you with his jacket or a blanket before he sent himself off to bed as well.
so that brings us to tonight.
mike walks through the door with a yawn, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he places his vest on the coat rack, dragging himself into the kitchen as he picks up your sweet note.
"abby insisted on pizza and spaghetti tonight so take your pick sugar, i hope work was well, i hope you dont mind but i forgot a change of clothes tonight and abby grabbed a pair of your boxers and an old sweatshirt of yours, i just threw it on for tonight, i promise ill get it back to you clean asap! lots of love, - y/n" the note read.
mike cant help but chuckle at your rambling, and he picks up the plate full of pizza and he reaches out to open the microwave but stops in his tracks when he hears something.
something so faint he wasnt even sure he had really heard it.
then it happened again, louder now and mikes blood ran cold.
it was you, your cries.
mike rushes into the living room, and his body visibly relaxes when he finds you still deep in slumber on the couch.
a small frown falls on his face when he notices you squirming, a distressed look across your sleeping features as a few frantic words escape your mouth in slumber.
"no! mike- mike please- dont- i need you mike please" you murmured, so softly that mike was sure he was hallucinating.
still he approached your sleeping figure, his rough hands gently making their way to your shoulders.
“hey hey hey” he whispered as he gently shook you, concern in his eyes.
yet you didn’t budge, body trembling beneath him as small whines escape you, even some small tears slipping past your closed eyes.
he shook you harder now, and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when you shoot upright, but his relief quickly fades as a quiet sob escapes your lips.
your teary e/c eyes scan over him, almost checking to see if it’s really him.
once your brain finally decides to accept the fact that he’s really in front of you, you fling yourself towards him, more sobs escaping your lips “oh mikey” you cry out.
mike immediately wraps his arms around your torso, one hand moving up to comb through your hair.
“woah woah woah I’m right here pretty girl, I’m here, I’m here” he coos into your ear, holding your trembling frame.
the two of you stayed like that until your sobs turned into small sniffles, your head resting on his shoulder as you took in his scent.
“m’sorry…” you mumble into the crook of his neck
“it’s ok don’t apologise silly, do you wanna talk about it?” he quietly asks you, and you nod.
“I- you died mikey… in my dream… you- you were gone! I- I was so scared… I can’t lose you” you say between hiccups, and he hopes you can’t tell how your words make his heart race.
“im not leaving anytime soon pretty girl, can i tell you a secret y/n?” he asks as he brushes a hair behind your ear.
he chuckles when you nod and cuddle further into him, his face flushing ever so slightly, not that you could notice in the dim light of the room anyways.
“ive been in love with you since freshman year” he murmurs, and with those words your body grows stiff and you sight upright.
“y-you have?” your shaky voice asks
he nods, his orbs locking onto your own, and he goes to speak, his nerves getting the best of him, but before he can you cut him off.
with a kiss.
you had kissed mike.
mike just kissed the love of his life.
the kiss was sweet, gentle, and it seemingly lasted forever.
the two of you eventually pulled away for air, chests heaving as you both gasp gently for air.
you both go to speak at the same time
“I love you so much-“
“I’m so in love with you”
you both gasp at the others words, and you can’t help but giggle.
“so does this mean..?” you question, as you absentmindedly cuddle closer into him
“mean what? that you’re my girlfriend?” he asks gently
“if you want me to be” you say with a smile, awaiting his next words
“well how can I say no to a smile like that?”
—
this is prob really bad I haven’t written in forever but I’m lowkey kinda proud of it for rn, I hope you enjoy!
#gaytoadwithapopsicle <3#request#mike schimdt x reader#mike schmidt#josh hutcherson#josh hutcherson x reader#michael afton#michael afton x reader
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Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Eleven (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)
Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?
Genre: a LOT of angst, (some) smut, best friends to… lovers?
Warnings: see collated series warnings, here.
Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list).
Author’s note: THIS IS THE FINAL CHAPTER YOU GUYSSSSSS. I'm emotional!
It has been a journey. As always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send. ILYSM!
Word count: 6.4k for this part.
Weeks pass following the sojourn at the beach house, and you return to your new, blooming life. The strange, suffusing peace you’d felt when you and Santiago finally said your farewells - in more than words - has faded, a barbed tension instead taking root. The sense of resolution has all too quickly transitioned towards sleepless nights. To worrying about how the Lorea job will pan out, and whether Santiago and your other, dear squad mates will make it out unscathed - if at all.
Your usual pleasures and distractions are little comfort, and it is worst when you are alone. You don’t even have the other dumbasses to lean on, the rub of all of them being gone at once hard to take.
The nights are when you worry most intensely. When the world folds in on itself, the outside dark and the interior of your own thoughts all you have to rattle around in. Your house has never felt more empty to you, in fact, than in these moments. Most of all though, it feels empty without him; even though he’s never set foot in it. Your hard-won sanctuary feels, with each revolution of the clock, more and more like a collection of rooms and corridors boxing you in, and less and less like it had ever held the potential to feel like safety.
Anything that you do in attempts to quell this gnawing worry only makes the hole inside you grow more and more apparent. The more you tend your porch planters, the more friends you have over for game day, the more you try to tell yourself that you have everything you need, right here? The further from the truth it all feels.
The truth, in this moment, is that you’d burn down the entirety of this new life you’ve built if it would get him back safe. Back home safe. And it only makes you more certain that there is no “home” without him. No true feeling of sanctuary or peace while he is in danger.
The more time that passes too, the more your worries for the mission eat away at you. Some nights, you find yourself sitting bolt upright in bed, the damp sheets tangled constrictively around your heat-tacky skin. Heart thudding hard in the roll cage of your chest. In these moments, that’s when you come closest to abandoning your new life entirely. To hastily stuffing a rucksack and jumping on the next plane to Colombia or Brazil, for all the damn good it would do.
But you can’t do that. You can’t let yourself be dragged back into his world of danger.
You’d gotten out, and wasn’t that the point? To stay out?
You know it’s for the best. Best for you.
Still… there is something which really scares you about this mission. You can’t shake the sense they won’t come back quite the same after this. Can’t shake the impending sense of… finality about it. Santiago has always pushed for more. One more job. One more mission. Has always sought to go big or go home. You’ve always wished he would choose the latter option, by the way, and for some damn reason, he never has. Maybe he thinks he has nowhere like that to go. Maybe the bastard truly will run and gun until it kills him, and the thought of him ending that way…
The thought of him ending at all…
It sends cold shivers down your spine. Spins a tight knot in your stomach which becomes denser by the day.
You are mildly ashamed when you tuck Santiago’s old rosary beads beneath your pillow, fingertips unconsciously snaking under it during the night to grip them tightly. To hold something of his within your grip, when he seems so out of reach, is priceless to you. He’d gifted the beads to you years ago. For protection. Now, you curse yourself that they aren’t in his possession. You don’t even believe in any of that, for Christ’s sake. But it sure would comfort you all the same, you reckon. If he had some reminder on his person of how loved he is. Of the people counting on him to make it back.
Of course, you’ve been checking your phone constantly. Even though they’d warned you repeatedly when they were about to go dark. You’ve braced for it. For a shock. A collision. Bad news. You’ve been unable to eat, sleep, think. And so, even when you finally receive Frankie’s cursory text that they’ve made it out -a simple helicopter emoji and a thumbs-up delivered from a burner cell- you can’t fully trust it.
That night, you still wake in a cold-sweat, chest heaving with ragged breaths. Feeling like the momentarily relief you’d felt must have been a dream, and that the visions of Santiago lifeless and cloaked in red are far more likely to be real.
You won’t fully believe it, you think, until you hold him in your arms once again. See him with your own two eyes.
You need to see him again.
The problem is, Santiago has never excelled at coming home. Has never excelled at joining the dots to realise he even has one at all.
You don’t know when the next opportunity to do that -to see him, hold him - will be. Don’t know whether he’ll simply keep running into yet another mission, then the next and the next and the next, his path leading him further away from you all over again.
You don’t imagine that he’ll find his way back any time soon.
Turns out, you are wrong.
***
You are baking in your kitchen when you notice him, the window forming a perfect frame as he appears, stood at the mouth of your driveway. His head is tipped up towards the eaves of your house. A hold-all is slung over his shoulder. His unseated ball cap is clutched solemnly in folded hands - as though he’s rocked-up outside of church after a long absence, ready to repent his sins.
You aren’t able to tear your gaze away from him. It feels as though if you blink, he might simply vanish all over again, like you are so used to him doing.
Feet planted to the tiles, and without turning your head - without even blinking - you say your sister’s name out loud. Like you used to when you were small and afraid you’d heard a monster in the dark. And, coming to your side, just like she’d always done then, she follows your fixed gaze through the window. Right to the spot where Santiago stands, bathed in golden fall light like an epiphany - nothing monstrous about him.
“Oh, honey,” she says, placing a hand on your shoulder.
When she does so, you realise you’ve been holding your breath. Realise that your ears are ringing and your pulse is thudding in your neck. When you finally suck in air, its passage is stunted, your chest fluttering around it.
“Come on, kids,” your sister motions to your nephews, shooing them towards the living room with promises of cartoons and brownies. “We’ll give you some space,” she whispers across to you as she seamlessly shuffles the troops out. “Will you be okay?”
You finally turn to her then. Manage to tear your eyes away from him. When you do, whatever expression is rendered on your face causes her to shoot you a look of sympathy.
At first, no sound comes out when you try to respond, your lips quaking around the words. You try again, and it is better, though still croaky. “I have no idea.” You don’t know what you are feeling. All you know, is that when you settle your hands on the edge of the counter, they are shaking.
After a quick visual check, across the hall to the kids, once again your sister slots in at your side, squeezing your shoulder in reassurance. She dips to give you a quick kiss on the cheek, cupping the crown of your head. “Here. Splash your face,” she encourages, turning on the cold faucet and guiding you until you oblige, the shock of the cold water pooling in your cupped palms bringing you back to your body. The pleasant cool against your cheeks providing you some relief. You dry your face off on your sleeve. Rub your palms against the legs of your worn jeans. “I’ll be right in there.” She nods her head in the direction of the living room. “Any funny business, I’ll kick his damned ass all the way back to Colombia. Alright?”
It occurs to you that you love her dearly.
You nod and, satisfied, your sister vacates the kitchen. You watch her disappear through the mouth of the door frame, and, by the time you look back at Santiago, he is taking his first steps down your driveway.
Pressing your palms to your cheeks, you look helplessly back and forth; between him, and the door through which your sister had retreated. You don’t know what to do, exactly.
You weren’t expecting this.
Santiago “Pope” Garcia never comes home.
Santiago is never walking towards you; he is only ever running away. And now, here he is about to walk through your door? To make the house you’ve bought sing, for better or worse, with the pain of all the empty space still contained with it?
Like the Lorea job, this moment has a dreaded sense of finality to it, you think. Like this completely insignificant - yet wildly momentous - occasion is either about to slot everything you’ve ever wanted into place; or, to make any hope of it crumble into pieces.
Until so very recently, you’ve never had to think about how your story ends. Whether it will end up happy. You’ve simply been trying to survive the fraught middle.
Well, here Santiago is. He’s made it back to you.
You feel like you’re about to find out once and for all.
And so, you do the only logical thing you can think to do.
You run.
***
This is the one, he thinks as he pulls up to park, checking the mailbox numbers against Frankie’s text. This is the house.
He sits in the rental truck a good few moments longer than necessary before climbing out, grabbing up the navy hold-all from the backseat and turning towards the mouth of your driveway.
This is the house.
It’s the kind of house he’s always feared for what it represents - a commitment - and yet, now that he is stood here, looking-up at the structure in the flesh, it doesn’t look quite so fearsome as he’s always imagined.
He gives it a scan over, looking for signs of you. Sure enough, he notes that your lawn is the most unkempt on the block. That your porch hanging-baskets, filled with colourful lantanas, are bursting and full. Your drive is cluttered with strewn kids’ bicycles. And, the front door is painted in a bold hue that only you would have picked out, stood in stark defiance of the glum, muted tones along the rest of the row.
This is the house.
And it is perfect.
It is somehow still you, already - even from the outside. Santiago always thought that moving forward meant changing - losing something of yourself - but he is pleased to note he still recognises you in all of this. That, despite the white picket fence surrounding your garden, it no longer represents a perimeter he dare not cross.
Even so, Santiago freezes there for a moment. He finds his feet won’t quite carry him willingly over the threshold from the street to your property. He takes a moment to drink it in instead. To look at what you’ve done for yourself. What you’ve created. What you’ve chosen. Santiago has always, on some level, worried that he couldn’t give you the life you deserved; but it’s clear to him now that he didn’t have to, because you’ve built that for yourself.
As if anything could stop you.
You have a yard. You have a white fucking picket fence wrapped around it.
He half-snorts to himself. Shaking his head softly in disbelief.
Still, it is there in the back of his head. That small, constant niggle. Even now, Santiago has half a mind to run. This house, to him, represents a place of innocence. Represents a new start and a freshness - one that he would never wish to soil with his bloodied hands. He tries to imagine being inside the house, with you, and yet all he can envision is himself dragging his red, bloody palms all along your pristine white walls. All he can see is him staining this life you have built. Bringing the blood and the dark inside, the way it inhabits the interior of him.
He almost does too. Almost turns away.
Old habits die hard.
All of his fears and insecurities reliably surface, and he imagines the hold-all he is arriving with is the weight of all of his past baggage. He considers - for a moment - whether he would rather have the memory of you from the beachouse, asleep and naked, bathed in golden light and sea breeze, to be the last one he ever holds of you. Wonders if it might be eminently easier that way.
He thinks about it; but then, he sees you through the window. In the kitchen. Turned away from him, but still unmistakable.
He smiles wistfully. And he starts walking.
He knows he can’t possibly turn away from you now. There’s no damn way that the back of your head can be the last image of you he sees; and so, he is driven onwards. Now, more so than ever, Santiago knows he needs to face you.
He fixes his eyes on the path ahead, then. Continues walking, his thoughts abuzz with how he’s going to greet you. How he’s going to explain himself for turning up unannounced, somehow both early and overdue all at once.
His thoughts are cut short and his plans entirely foiled, however, when a body slams up against him. For a split second he wonders whether he is getting football tackled to the floor, but he knows, even as you are crushed up against him and your face is indiscernible, that it’s you. He would know the weight and shape of you against his body anywhere.
You run to him and you hug him, your cold cheek pressing up against his own. Your hands clawing into the back of his navy bomber, and your arms squeezing him with enough force that he abruptly - a bit winded from being body-slammed - drops the hold all to the floor like he’s finally letting go of all his bulllshit. Drops this precious cargo like there’s something far more precious to cling on to after all.
You pull away from him as he coughs emphatically from the chest-slam, clearly examining him to see if he’s in one piece. Your eyes rove over every inch of him - like they used to do when you would “buddy up” to check for injuries in the field. Instinctively, he attempts to mentally catalogue his own injuries too. He finds that he doesn’t feel hurt at all, no; but that he does feel entirely raw. Vulnerable, like a singing open wound as he sees your face again, emotion shining in your eyes like a sea at the edge of his land.
“You asshole! You’re okay? You’re really okay?” You tug on his lapels, hands fisting there like you’re trying to shake some sense into him.
“Went off without a hitch,” he reassures, hoping you don’t notice the way his voice breaks as you drag him back into your arms again. This time, too, Santiago’s arms loop around you in return, his eyes slowly closing as he takes a deep inhale from where his face tucks neatly into the crook of your shoulder, your familiar scent unravelling the tight knot in the pit of his chest. He wasn’t hurt, no; but nor was he okay. Knew that he wouldn’t really be okay until he was by your side again. That he never really had been.
“You got out clean?” you ask urgently, this time pulling away to smooth your palms over his lapels, undoing the disarray you’d caused.
He nods. “We don’t leave messes,” he opts to say assuredly, channelling Benny for a boost of confidence, as though luck hadn’t had a considerable amount to do with it.
“Yeah?” You examine his face for any sign he is smoothing over the truth of things, and he breathes a sigh of relief as his contrivedly neutral expression seems to satisfy you. “You got fucking lucky, you know that? Nothing got hairy?”
“Oh, it got fucking hairy. Cat almost tanked the chopper, for one thing.”
You tut emphatically. “Bull shit. That’s Cat slander and I won’t have it. Tell Ironhead to get the bastard better equipment next time, huh?”
Santiago likes this. Likes that no matter how long it’s been, you always greet one another like you’re mid conversation. Like despite the miles and countless moments which have passed, you were just in the middle of something.
Still… the suggestion of a “next time” drives a wedge through the space between you.
Next time.
One more mission; then another, and another, and another. Right?
Running in goddamn circles. Chasing his tail.
You sniff, and he watches your valiant attempt to shake it off, still staring at him with a misty look in your eye like he’s come back from the dead. You fold your arms across your chest, perhaps in efforts to subdue your initial, reckless affection. You toss your head over your shoulder, towards the wide open front door. “So. Y’ coming inside?” You nod down at his hold-all. “Or… do you have somewhere else to be?”
Santiago purses his mouth. Drops his gaze to the hold-all and stoops to wrap his fingers around the rough, looped handles. He feels the itch in his feet again. The urge to run. Sees the window open - his chance to escape. It wouldn’t take much. An easy, casual: yeah, I have a flight to catch. His age-old tricks. But at the same time he sees that window open, he sees your open door in view. The warm glow and invitation of your house beckoning him inside. The warm glow and invitation of you.
How could he possibly have anywhere else to be?
“I’d love- I mean, yeah. If I’m not intruding.”
You simply roll your eyes and -he’s pretty sure- mumble “idiota” under your breath. But, before he can wonder, you are taking him by the hand and leading him into the house.
He follows.
It’s a while since he’s followed you anywhere, but he does it now without a second thought.
Like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
Still. It should be a relief of sorts and yet… He feels his pulse quicken. Feels nerves twist in the pit of him - and he knows fine well it’s illogical. Knows it makes zero sense to fear a physical building.
But… no, that’s not quite it, is it? That was never it. His whole adult life, Santiago has been afraid of something far deeper than that, hasn't he?
Those feelings and fears, however, begin to drop away like leaves from a fall tree the moment he steps inside. From the moment you fuss his jacket off of his shoulders and hang it on the single empty coat hook, as though there’s been a space reserved for him all along. From the moment the wafted scents of home-baking and you fill his lungs he feels…
He feels… not quite ready to name what he feels yet; but he does acknowledge the lump lodging in his throat when he crosses the threshold, enveloped by the life you have been living without him.
You beckon him further inside, trying, to no avail, to prize the hold-all from his grip, so instead, tutting and letting him hang on to it anyway. Tugging the baseball cap from off of his head and throwing it in a spot right next to the key bowl, right before you instinctually ruffle his flattened, graying curls free.
You chat aimlessly - a natural and familiar commentary. He listens, but he’s also scanning, as per usual. Observing. Drinking the details of this house in. Taking in each framed photo arranged along the hall, curling up the stairs in a timeline of sorts. A record of your life. And, as he assesses, he stops dead in his tracks in front of one particular photo. It’s a buddy from years back. A friend you’d both lost to an IED. Above that, there’s a picture of you and Will standing jubilantly on top of a humvee, which makes his face split with a grin even as tears are balling in his eyes from the prior flood of memories. Beside that, there’s a goofy picture of you and him together, taken at his late mom’s 60th birthday. That one, in particular, makes him unsure whether to laugh or cry or both.
You come to stand beside him. Silently. Solemnly - as he saws a hand self-consciously across his stubble, not knowing quite how to feel amidst the concoction of varied emotions lodging in him like schrapnel. Fragments.
Meanwhile, you bump his shoulder with yours, before joining him in concentrating wistfully on the wall of photos suckering his attention.
Then, he finally places the feeling. He feels… like an idiot. For not seeing it before.
It’s your life, he realises. All set out here. Summarised. Catalogued.
But it’s his life too. It’s a shared life. He recognises most of the faces, events, occasions, and locations pictured. Feels the memories and emotions attached -his and yours, first-hand, second-hand - as his eyes tick over the display. Christ. He’s spent so long trying to run from you, hasn’t he, that he’s neglected to recall all the times you have walked side-by-side. He’s spent so long in staunch refusal that he could give you the life that you deserved that he’s neglected to realise that all this time, you were already building one together.
And oh boy. What a messy and complicated and hard and fucking beautiful life it has been.
All of that - he realises - is exactly why. Exactly why being here with you now, in this house he’s never even set foot in before, feels exactly like coming home.
For a moment, he looks at you, and -struck by you, like a gut punch - Santiago doesn’t know what to say. Quickly though, he remembers. Remembers that with you, it always feels like you’re right in the middle of a conversation.
He takes an emphatic sniff. “You’re baking?”
“Heh. Yeah.” You nod towards the living room door, from behind which a kerfuffle of cartoons and chatter is sounding, he clocks. “My nephews are here.” You place a finger over your beautiful lips and lean in, like you’re telling him a deep, dark secret. “I bought a packet mix.”
Santiago can feel his eyes glowing at you like headlights as your cheeky, full-beam smile shines back at him, but suddenly, he’s no longer particularly inclined to hide it.
“So?” You press gently, as his knuckles almost whiten from gripping the hold-all so tight. “What brings you to this neck of the woods, anyway?”
His mouth drops open wordlessly. For a moment, Santiago legitimately forgets. Forgets that he hasn’t always been here. He forgets, in fact, that he’s here for anything besides falling to his knees and clinging to you. Anything besides weeping for joy with his head buried against your stomach. Holding you so tightly, to make up for all of the times he’s so willingly let you go.
Fortunately, the weight of the hold-all tugging at his arm reminds him of one more reason, which, now that he’s here, actually feels a hell of a lot more like an excuse. “I’ve brought something for you.” He nods towards the kitchen. “Can we..?”
The kitchen is the heart of the home. It’s the heart of your home, and it’s the place where so far - recently - Santiago has tried to possess you, claim you, blame you, plead with you, and appease you. As though your body carries the memory of that you nod, tension pinching your face, and he clocks a swallow of apprehension darting abruptly down your throat. Still, you gesture for him to enter, and he follows closely behind.
“It’s weird that the kitchen’s at the front of the house, right?” You waffle, banaly. “But I like it. Feels more open. I like looking out at the front yard when I-”
“-Cook-up a storm?”
You scoff; not likely. “Throw away my pizza boxes.”
With your quip, mirth lights his eyes; yet - as ever - Santiago remains laser-focussed on his mission. He lifts up the hold-all, and plonks it down right on top of your kitchen island. “Here.” He nods towards the bag as you eye it sceptically.
“What? Did you bring me your fucking laundry?”
“Christ,” he scolds, even as your comment raises a warm chuckle. “No. It’s your share.”
You exhale softly through your raised palms as realisation dawns on you. “Santi. What the fuck?”
You cross to the bag and unzip it, mouth dropping into an “o” and eyes bugging as you reveal stacks and stacks of neatly bundled cash inside. Immediately, you shake your head, holding your palms up in the air and thrusting them away from your body. “No. Hell no.” His face drops. “I didn’t do anything to earn this.”
Oh, that’s your issue? On the contrary. You’ve earned this a hundred times over. “Oh, really? Remind me. How many times did you get shot, huh?”
You peer down to the bag again in disbelief. Santiago would continue to emphasise all that you deserve; but he can tell that you’ve already tuned him out anyway. He can transparently see the calculations ticking over in your head. What this money might mean for you. What you could do with it. Conversely, the strings that could feasibly be attached. The blood on it.
“It wasn’t just me. We all agreed.” He nods decisively, brows pinching down. “You and Tom get a share too. We wouldn’t be anywhere without you.” His voice breaks. “Shit. I wouldn’t be…” He simply couldn’t picture his life without you. Doesn’t even want to begin to try.
You drag both hands back over your head, elbows jutting out at sharp angles. “Santiago. I can’t keep this.”
He steps closer to you. Waits until your arms drop and cups your elbows with his sure palms. “So donate it. Set up a college fund for the boys. Whatever.” His eyes grow big and unusually earnest as he searches yours. “But would you please take it?”
He knows it’s hardly a drop in the ocean. That there is no way he could begin to repay all you’ve done for him. All he knows is that he wants you to have it. All he knows is that you deserve anything and everything he can give you, even if it’s never going to be enough.
Your hands are shaking slightly when you bring them up to your mouth, but he can see the beginnings of the cautious, giddy smile which eventually claims you. As you begin to accept this is really happening.
“You brought cash? Seriously? You motherfucker.”
His throat bobs with a deep chuckle. “Why not? Wasn’t it you who said you always wanted to fuck on a huge pile of money?”
“I’m almost 1000% confident that was Benny.”
“Meh. Doesn’t hurt to have the option,” he teases, but once again, you’re no longer listening to him - not really. Your fingers are carefully gripping the lip of the bag and peeling it open, finally letting it sink in.
“Thank you,” you say resonantly, dragging your eyes up to him only after you have managed to push the words out. Crossing to him. Wrapping your arms around him, your fingers tracing over the ridged scar at the back of his neck, your voice turning wet. “But… You know that this means nothing to me, right?”His hand moves slow and steady, up and down your back. “You know that all I wanted was for you to come back?”
He holds you more tightly then, as your emotions begin to spill over, tiny fractures in your voice. You subdue it, though. You clear your throat. Compose yourself a little too quickly for his liking, his body missing the warmth of you immediately as you pull away.
“Since we’re doing gifts though. I’ve actually got something for you too.” You clasp your hands together, pleading. “And you have to promise me you’ll take it.”
You move only once he’s nodded, your serious expression compelling him into acquiescence. You don’t need to go far to retrieve it. Instead, you reach to fumble something out of your jeans pocket.
His eyebrows leap up towards his hairline. “Fuck me. Are these-?”
It knocks him for six as you unfurl a string of familiar black rosary beads, the loop penduluming from your thumb as you hold them out, offering them to him. Offering them back to him.
“You remember?”
He scoops his forefinger and thumb around his mouth, stubble bristling. He answers your question without even answering. “You kept them.”
“Well. Yeah.” You grab hold of his hand. Fumble his palm open and thrust the beads into it, curling his fingers back around them until he grasps on to them tightly. “And I don’t want you to be without them anymore, okay?”
Santiago is lost for words - his mouth agape. He shuffles from foot to foot in disbelief for a moment, before clamping his hand over yours, his grip as warm and sure as it’s ever been.
God.
You’ve loved him, haven’t you? You’ve loved him whether he believed that he deserved it or not. You’ve loved him every single step of the way. You’ve loved him even when he was difficult and stubborn. When he was in the throes of grief. When he was bleeding out from a stab wound.
You have loved him at his best and at his worst; and goddamn it, he has loved you back.
He didn’t do so before, when the thought had first occurred to him, but he does now. He does drop to his knees on the cold, tiled kitchen floor, wrapping his arms around your middle. He does bury his face in your stomach, holding you as tightly as possible.
He drops to his knees as though he’s finally repenting of his ‘sins’. He holds you now, to make up for all of the times he so willingly let you go. To show you - he hopes - how he never wants to let you go again.
Meanwhile, his gesture appears to punch the air from your lungs. Your hands hover -uncertain- just moments from him, and then, as you inhale, you must find you already know what to do. Your fingertips dip into his hair. Your palms cradle his head. He feels tears wet his cheeks as he buries his face in your soft, sweater adorned stomach. He silently rues every single time he thought he needed one more mission - and the next, and the next, and the next. Wonders how he’d believed all this time he was built for brutality, when, although his hands were trained to kill, they were made to love you gently.
“Santiago.” He screws his eyes shut at the softness in your voice as you sound his name, a roughly hewn sob gently wracking his chest. You say his name in a way he’s never heard it spoken, and before he knows it, you are on your knees with him, tipping his chin up with careful fingers until his wet eyes meet your soft, warm, bathtub gaze.
You stroke your palm down the side of his face and you nod, slowly, tears beading in your eyes too.
He knows what your touch is telling him now. What it has been telling him all along even whilst he was still too stubborn to hear it.
It’s telling him… That this is what safety feels like.
That he’s home.
You are his home, and what’s more; he is welcome.
He surges up onto his knees, pressing his chest to yours, winding his broad hands into your hair to pull you into an achingly raw, desperate kiss.
Your lips are a door. Your mouth a corridor. Your heart is a room. Your chest is his roof. He wants to live in you. Bury himself inside you. Wants to walk barefoot on your tender carpet. Wants to fill his chest with the warm rumble of a kettle. Wants to step into you like a warm bath. To be covered by you. Held by you. You are his walls. His sanctuary. All roads lead here to you, to this house; and they always have, even when he’d felt so lost.
He has never been home before; but this must be how it feels, he thinks, to finally stop running.
He kisses you, his urgency dissolving into softness like sugar into water. You kiss him back. It’s a sweet, tender thing, as delicate as the tears beading in his lashes.
“Santiago. Christ, your knees. Get up. Please.” You’re crying too, he realises. Crying as though you’re as glad as he is that he has finally arrived somewhere that does not ask him to wound himself. You cup his face again, concern in your eyes, but he slides his hand over yours. Tucks the rosary beads into his pocket, an item far more priceless than the - now forgotten - bag of money on the counter.
It has been a long road.
It has been a long time.
It has been a lifetime, and he sees now, that his road was always leading him to you.
Your gaze flits all over his face. “Heyyy,” you soothe, with a softness he finally feels he deserves. “You okay?”
“Y-Yeah. I…”
“What?”
He fumbles a tear away from his cheek, a bright feeling bursting out of his chest. “Can I…?” He laughs, it feels so preposterous. “Do you mind if I… stay for a little while?”
Your eyebrows briefly pump up in surprise; but even so you smile fondly at him, answering his question without answering. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”
You rise together to standing, chest to chest and still hovering moments from a kiss; and yet, neither of you are closing the distance. Not yet, not now, and it’s… actually a wonderful thing. To wait. It feels suddenly like there is time now. For the first time in Santiago’s life, it feels like there is a future. A future for him, instead of isolated moment after moment, grasped in haste. Instead of one mission to the next, to the next. So, instead of kissing you again; more; deeper; Santiago reaches up, the crook of his curled forefinger gently tracing the line of your jaw until you flutter your eyes at him bashfully. Until his mouth twists into a lopsided, disbelieving smile.
Then: “Oh-my-God-I’m-sorry-” your sister blunders as she unceremoniously cracks the door, poking her head rather unsubtly around it. “We were, uh, just wondering what to do. We were gonna put a movie on but…” - she looks pointedly between the two of you and clocks your proximity - “We can always clear out if loud sex is about to ensue.”
Next, she catches a glimpse of the bag full of money and her eyes bug, though she abruptly tries to cover it.
You tut loudly at your sibling. “Jesus. Would you either come in or get out? You’re like a little floating head.”
She opts to step gingerly around the door, looking all the more awkward for it.
“Hi,” Santiago greets warmly, moving in for a heartfelt hug which catches your sister even further off-guard.
“Oh, hi!” she says (as though she’s only just noticed him) before asking - maybe with malice, or maybe through sheer force of habit - “How long are you sticking around for?”
Santiago looks sheepish for a moment.
After all, he doesn’t want to tell you just yet.
No - he doesn’t want to tell you that he’s signed a six-month lease on an apartment downtown. That he’s arranged to get therapy from a guy Will recommended. That he’s started working his networks and shifting his money around so he can finally make the leap into consulting. That he’s pretty sure - as sure as he’s ever been about anything - that he wants to marry you.
Of course, he isn’t seriously entertaining the idea that he can simply turn up and upend your life. Doesn’t expect -would never expect- to have everything laid out on a platter for him. But, this time, he at least has the strength to stick around. To find out once and for all what might be next, after so long going round in circles.
That’s why he doesn’t even want to tell you at all. Not yet. Not now.
Instead, he simply wants to show you.
“A movie sounds good.” He twines his fingertips with yours and your sister’s eyes bug harder at that than they had at the hold-all. “I mean. If I won’t be intruding?”
He looks to you for approval, and he hates that, right now, the prevailing emotion he can read on your face is surprise.
“You can really stay?!”
It’s a far bigger question.
That much is obvious. A question he realises you’ve been asking him for a long time, in a whole host of different ways.
Looking at you, here and now, it’s so alien to him that he wouldn’t. That he would ever run from you; bail out; seek out other women; skip town; bury his feelings. All of that bullshit.
In his time, Santiago has jumped out of planes; has run into burning buildings; launched himself towards enemy fire. But has he ever let himself love you so wholly and recklessly? Has he ever been as brave as that?
So, Santiago simply gazes back at you. Smiles, rehearsed crinkles radiating from around his warm, good-morning eyes.
This time, he answers your question. He thinks you finally deserve to hear it. After all; you deserve everything - and so you definitely deserve this.
“I can stay.”
You don’t even respond -not in words - and it might be because finally, finally, there is nothing between you which remains unsaid. You simply squeeze his hand, just a little tighter.
Santiago has known you for so many years. Has known you as a soldier; a friend; a lover.
He finally has the courage to see you all at once, and, in the years ahead, he can’t wait to know you in all the other ways there are.
You lead him through the door; and he follows.
It always was easy to follow you. To love you. It was the running that was hard.
He doesn’t know exactly what will happen next; but one thing’s for sure.
You’ll always be his Ride or Die.
THE END
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Kissed by Moonlight (Alucard x Witch! Reader) 7
A/N: I feel like an ass for posting this one, surely I am cockblocking, but this slow-burning is here for a reason! Enjoy regardless! Mentions of anatomy and some language, Y/N gets drunk and nearly blurts all.
Summary: To be loved is to be changed.
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Chapter 7
In the day, Adrian was as glorious as the sun. At night, as beautiful and haunting as the moon and its glow.
In the month you had been in the castle, you had turned the once secluded castle into a living, existing place, for you and Adrian to simply ignore the rest of the world in. It had grown not to resemble a tattered and destroyed ruin, but instead, a place Adrian could call home once again.
Adrian himself had flourished in his skin once more: where you found him to take up hobbies when you were not with him. Before was once a man, lonely beyond an age before the age of twenty, losing his parents and closest allies, now, a man you could look upon with admiration and pride. He had grown out from his enclosed shell, opening his heart to a stranger, trusting you with his life unlike those who betrayed him.
It hurt more to know that this was your final day.
You feared for Adrian’s wellbeing, whether he would grow reclused after you left him, or would he rather thrive with your farewell?
You had grown recluse yourself from the Dhampir, finding closure in the fact that you would never look upon the face of Adrian ever again. Where could you go apart from as far out from Wallachia? Nowhere was safe for a girl like me. You told yourself when you wished you could explain to Adrian—though the words would always freeze on your tongue any time you tried bringing it up.
It seemed that Adrian had almost forgotten about the promise too, and you couldn’t help but feel guilt when he spoke of promises he wanted to do for you.
“I’ll show you one day the town nearby,” he said one night, curled up by the fire as he stared into its flames. “I know you’d like it. We could buy anything you’d like: spices, dresses, jewellery.”
He spoke of a future not just with him alone, but with you co-existing beside him, and it thrilled and destroyed you to know that this promise would crumple like sand.
The day came for you to leave, silently waking with dried tears still stinging your red eyes. You had spent all that night crying before you fell to sleep, dreaming of being with Adrian, laughter shared and memories to be made. You had even kissed him, your heart fluttering as he muttered words softly in your words that gave away he did not want you to go.
'Always and forever.' His words were soft and dying in the air when you faced the morning, and your lips could still feel his against yours, a dying dream never to be lived.
You tip-toed around to not wake Adrian, gathering anything you could and folding neatly the dresses you had been given to him. They were too lovely to be ruined and deserved to be in a place that could keep its beauty.
The only things you carried on you were the same dress you came to the castle in, rags that had been sitting in the corner of the room, waiting for the day you would have to wear them. The air grew heavy with a feeling of forlorn as you walked to find the kitchen, setting yourself by the counter and waiting for the person you dreaded to upset.
It was not long until you heard familiar footsteps drawing closer, familiar honey-blond locks coming into view as the man appeared. It snapped your heart in two to see the softness in his golden eyes as if you were better than the sun itself and you were his star. That all fell apart when his smile dropped, the uncertainty washing over his face when he saw the glumness on your face.
“Has something happened?” He did not waste two seconds stepping closer towards you, giving a small gap between the two but enough that you could be up close to him. In the four weeks, it had taken some time for Adrian to grow used to touch once again, always coiling away from your closeness, before he had taken the time to build trust and reciprocate first. "Y/N?"
He was quick to reach out to you first, extending for your arm as he pulled it towards him. He was warm to the touch, and you dared not want to look upon his concerned gaze without knowing you would blubber into a mess once again.
“You remember the promise, correct?” You lamented, watching for a moment as he took in your words carefully. It was as if everything poured through just from the question, and you could just about read every emotion visible in his eyes; melancholy, regret, grief.
“Where will you go?” His voice was quiet. Don’t go, it read in his eyes.
It didn’t dawn on you, no matter how many times you came to think of it. “Some place where it is warmer, perhaps east. But that means…” your voice cracked momentarily, “Wallachia will not be a home for me.”
“But how do you know?” His calmness cracked, and beneath you could see the grief-stricken man appear, though you did not think he would be holding concern for you of all people.
You didn’t want to answer his question, despite the unknowing questions that boiled, the silence was deafening, and it hammered in your chest like the chiming of a hammer.
“I will have to leave whilst there is still light,” you squeezed Adrian’s hand before it slipped from his, “Thank you for allowing me to use your library, and… to call you a dear friend.”
You didn’t know if that pained you more to call him a friend when your feelings had bloomed for him during your time there. A friend was the only thing you could call him: why would he want anything else with you? He’s immortal, he will have lovers come and go, but none will ever be you.
“Don’t,” he called to you when he stepped out of his reach, not expecting him to call you. Your name was a whisper on his tongue, hanging in the air as if he wished to say something more to you, “I don’t want you to leave.”
“I would be overstaying here, Adrian.” You could feel tears slip from your face, but you braved not to look at him, even when you knew he was staring at you. “You said a month-”
“Please,” there it was. Pain in his voice in the way he pleaded, desperate and gentle that you didn’t think you’d see this side of him, “I don’t think… living within these walls would ever feel the same with you gone.”
He stepped out to you again.
Closer.
His hand gingerly found your chin, raising your head to meet his gaze, delicately wiping the tear collecting at the corner of your right eye. You were both silent, only staring at one another, and never did you think anyone would stare at you the way he did with you.
“You wish for me to stay?” Forever?
Your mother had told you what that feeling would be like, though she had been young and never knew the experience herself. Did Alucard’s parents experience the same when they first met?
That feeling grew within your chest, butterflies you couldn’t stop from feeling: the great emotion that one day would bless you in having. Why was it that the moment you had to leave was when it came?
‘People come and go,’ your mother told you one day when you asked about it, naïve and full of hope. ‘It hurts when it grows for those you care for.’
Yes, you understand now why it came at this moment and all the times before.
It hurt.
Love hurt when it was about to leave for the first and final time.
It was his smile, so gentle and warm, so inviting and bright – full like the sun and the beginning of spring – that you could not decline his offer.
“I would very much like that.”
-
Telling yourself you had gotten used to the castle was an understatement.
The rooms you were more familiar with were the ones you kept to, never straying that much to explore. You knew that there were many rooms even Adrian never went into, telling you that they held too many memories, either good or bad.
You were understanding, knowing how much the castle – his childhood home – could hold a lot of disturbance to what he went through. He told you one day that his childhood bedroom was off limits: it was after all, where he had killed his father. He mentioned it was a place too “dampened with gloom” that you knew something else had happened for him to keep that part of the castle off-limits.
It had only gotten the best of you when you told Adrian you were going to do some cleaning, leaving him as he cooked in the kitchen.
You sprinted with much glee and inquisitiveness: the endless hallways could lead you anywhere!
Roaming the halls, you remembered to stay away from the rooms you were not allowed to go to, including his old and current bedroom. It was quite easy to get lost, taking to the upper floors, where the light grew dimmer, more eerie.
The rooms as you found them didn’t hold much for you to be intrigued until you passed what was another room in another endless hallway, you spotted that this room had its door ajar.
This was certainly a room you had not been told of by Adrian.
Bravely, the room seemed to be more of an intrigue to you than any other room. Slowly peeling the door back, you stepped through.
The room is dimly lit, with a sense of sweet orange that lingers in the air. It’s his scent, sweet, alluring, inviting; just like what surrounds you. There are books of all assortments: astronomy, philosophy, ecology, history – to name a few. Knowledge spanning from decades to thousands of years back, of all cultures and dynasties long gone and remaining. Maps hung around the room, some of the entirety of Europe, the world and one finally above his desk of Wallachia.
It took longer to find literature, where you find poetry, prose, children’s stories and old fables. You’re shocked when you stumble across some romance novels, not expecting that to come from Adrian.
His desk is a display of many things: papers, books, and journals. You dare not look in his journals knowing his work is private, but something catches your gaze. Since when was Adrian into drawing?
You find one first that makes you pick it up, a sketch of his mother, only a fine-line sketch that is only shaded and not with much detail, but you recognise her from the portraits that decorate the castle.
Will you be needing a muse anytime soon? You think to yourself, jokingly. You knew it was rude to snoop, and knowing you had come across Adrian’s study, you knew you had the best chance to look around when he wasn’t there.
But when you find his sketchbook, all nosiness takes over.
The leather-bound book is beautifully decorated, with its pages filled to the brim from use. The beginning of the pages were those you recognised simply by objects that Adrian used for inspiration: a stag beetle shell, many plotted plants and flowers some you recognised from your mother’s herbs. You read the dates that dated back to almost a decade ago, impressed by his skill at such a young age.
The more you draw the pages further into the book, the older the dates get, and his practice grows. His inspirations change from objects to anatomy. You’re impressed by the way Adrian draws the human body so well. Some sketches of hands in different positions and poses, full body sketches of a mixture of men and women, some clothed and others nude.
You could feel your cheeks darken, and though it was surprising to see the natural state of the human body, art was still captivating in showing it, Adrian drew with a way of conveying vulnerability. His mother was a doctor after all.
Other pages were of human faces: more drawings of his mother and father. Another was of a different man and woman: the woman had short hair whilst the man had a scar over his right eye and a shadow of a wispy beard on his face. You now had a reference to Adrian’s friends and allies: Sypha and Trevor.
A Belmont, scholar and sleeping soldier, Adrian told you, all out for different clauses and paths but joined to meet on one path; to kill Dracula.
You had forgotten to make sure you were still alone and not spotted looking through his things when you reached the last few of the pages, recently used. Wait a minute. You had to do a double take, imagining you were seeing double. This isn’t… who I think it is.
Those eyes, were similar to you, not that you could remember where you had seen them last. It dawned on you quickly why they were a distant memory: they looked like your mother's eyes—but that was impossible if Adrian had never met or seen an image of her.
But, as if looking back through a mirror, a glimpse through time, those eyes weren’t just hers, but yours as well.
Oh. Your heart hammered in your chest, and you dared not drop the book to draw attention to where you were. You didn’t close it, despite feeling that this was intruding—it was too late for that now.
He had gotten your likeness in a way you didn’t think he could: as if you had been captured in a moment, ready to come back to life on the page. Another sketch of you, reclined with your nose in a book and laying in a way that could’ve been uncomfortable to anyone else. Another of you tying your hair back, the ribbon dangling in your mouth, eyes in heavy concentration. The final one took you by surprise: a moment where you were snuggled into the armchair, a blanket wrapped protectively around you to keep you warm.
Have I been so blinded this entire time? It seemed like this wasn’t right: did Alucard… fancy you? You scoffed, absolutely not, there was no way—though you the more you spiralled, the more it had you questioning everything.
You had been so preoccupied with what you had discovered, that you failed to suspect the presence behind you, someone standing just on the edge of the doorframe.
An awkward cough brought you back to your senses.
“Forgive me!” You stumbled, throwing the papers behind you to hide them behind your back, in hopes you were quick on your feet. You were clumsy, ineptly whipping back to look at the blond Dhampir standing just a few metres in the doorframe. “I did not hear you come in.”
Adrian was dressed simply in his shirt, trousers and boots as he did if the weather was not too cold. It was only a small subtle detail that his dark trousers were coated and dusted with a light cast of flour, as if he had nothing else to wipe but on them. His hair was also tied up, revealing his slender neck, wisps of blond tresses falling to frame his handsome angular features.
How long had he been waiting there for? You panicked, knowing that he could’ve used his speed to reach you, using his inhuman scent of smell or to pick up your heart rate to find you.
“Yes, well, you did seem rather… occupied.” Adrian teased, though his face was incomprehensible, his movements leisurely as he ambled into the room, inspecting if anything looked out of place.
Was he just as embarrassed as how you were feeling? Regardless if he was or not, he was very good at hiding it from you.
He stopped just to the side of his desk, eyes quickly scanning as he spotted the disarray of papers, his sketchbook ‘neatly’ placed back where it looked to have been before. He did not say anything about it, instead, resuming conversation as if nothing was out of place.
“I was asking if you were free to help me downstairs. I needed assistance in deciding which spices to add to the cakes.” He continued, watching the way you shuffled to block what you were putting back on the desk.
You were not subtle in the slightest but Adrian did not make any remark for you to be snooping, rather, he watched on in visible amusement. The refined look when he raised an eyebrow, the small smirk that made you even more flustered when you were caught.
“Okay, ready.” You gestured for him to walk in front, hanging back as you took a final glance back, wondering when Adrian started drawing you.
-
It’s his idea when he decides the two of you should share a bottle of wine.
Though you think it’s not good to have the entire bottle, Adrian agrees upon a glass or two, sharing thoughts as the night grows dark with the creatures of the forest outside, and your worries melt for a moment on your tongue.
The wine is sweet, not though you like it, and it's hard to consume something that feels so foreign. Adrian drinks it as if it's water, and you struggle to keep up. You’re a lightweight after all, and though you’re slower, you can feel the haziness that crawls in your vision, and you swear you’re almost seeing double.
Your laughter is warmer, chatter easier, and you notice he’s closer beside you by the table when he first brings the bottle and glasses.
“This is nice,” his voice does not slur as he speaks, and you’re shocked just by how content he is in drinking glass after glass if he could. If perhaps you didn’t say anything, perhaps he would, “It’s been some time since I stopped drinking.”
“When did you stop?” You can feel a headache begin to dull your senses, and you’re feeling bolder.
Adrian seems hesitant when he looks back at you before he answers. “I stopped after a couple of days after your arrival.” He’s nervously swirling the glass in small circles on the table, a distraction. “I’m sure the smell of piss and blood wasn’t helping.”
You chortle, “No, it didn’t, but I don’t suppose I was any different. A girl smelling of chickens.”
“I did wonder why.” He says in a dry tone, but his eyes are sincere, and you find yourself staring periodically down at his lips, the glint of his sharp teeth some distraction from the wine.
“It seems funny when I say it now, but I used to have two, and they had names.”
Adrian seems surprised by this, that of all things to have named were chickens, but he coaxes you with a raised brow, intrigued, to say the least. “Tell me they had normal names.”
“Henrietta and Duchess.”
“Oh, my God,” Adrian laughs quietly, “Next you’ll say you had a pig called Duke and a horse called Lieutenant.”
“Well, the pig was called Truffle.”
“Seems almost cruel,” Adrian laughs at the idea, “I don’t think I was any different. I did have a stuffed wolf called Fluffy.”
“Hey, that’s cute though.”
You laugh at the idea, but you’re carrying a sad smile as you continue to sip slowly at your drink. “I loved those chickens. It was weird, but I treated them like humans rather than animals—livestock. They were much nicer than-” You stop yourself mid-sentence, unsure if you’re ready to continue.
Your stomach coils as if ready to lurch, for you to leap from your chair and leave to your room, but Adrian is calm and patient, running a soothing hand over yours to console you.
“Take your time,” he says with quiet empathy, and it’s enough to pull you back to reality. “I’m here.”
“After my mama’s death, I fled to the nearby town—I was on the streets for some time, hiding behind buildings and sometimes getting shelter from a sweet old lady, before I was old enough to sell myself as a servant to any passing man who needed my service.”
You felt sick to your stomach, and the wine was not helping. “I stayed in his service for almost a decade, serving his son and wife who was no older than me.” You confessed. “It all boiled down one day when I was fed up with the fucking treatment. I was beaten if I did something incorrect, slapped if I spoke when not spoken to, and something… snapped in me. I… hurt him when he hurt me.” You pushed the wine away from you, eyes welling with tears. “I wish I did more.”
“You survived,” Adrian said with a sad grimace, “You’re much braver than most I know.”
“I didn’t feel brave then,” you admitted. “I felt like a stupid little girl, not capable of anything.”
“Hey,” Adrian seems clumsy in giving close comfort, but he tried nonetheless, leaning closer to finally embrace you. He smelt of oranges and lavender, and you nearly broke down into his shoulder, “you’re the strongest person I know. The bravest witch.”
He seemed tongue-tied with his next words, eyes moving across your face as if he wished to say something that you yearned to hear. “I’m proud of you.” He finally said, but in your mind, it didn’t seem like it was what he wanted to say as if there was something he was holding back.
Was I overthinking? You thought as you pulled away from his embrace, so tempted to lean across the table and kiss him there and then, but you pulled enough restraint to not horrify the man. “Thank you, Adrian. I’m thankful I have you.” You finally said.
“I’m thankful too.” He confesses, quickly realising what he’s just said and the blush on his face is obvious as he tries to change the subject. “I will leave you to catch some sleep. I thought it would be a good idea to head into town tomorrow morning. Gather some more supplies. What do you say?”
You smile sadly, “That’s a good idea.” You’re on your feet fast enough as you say goodnight to one another before you’re speeding down the hallway to your room, wiping the tears that have not dried from your face.
When you reach your room, you slink against the inside of the door. Your head is hammering, vision is hazy. Damn for drinking so much. You groan, only listening to the crackling of the fire lit in your room, the soft luring sound of crisp pages of a book being shut as a lovely interference.
“Ah, there you are.” the voice that pulled you from your thoughts was the one thing you needed to hear, sweet as honey as the figure emerged to stand close by from where you stood. His soft locks are pulled back from his face, and he’s practically glowing in the soft ambers of your room, the fire gently burning to keep the warmth.
Your lips are pulled into a tired smile, which the Dhampir notices quickly enough to soothe you for a night of sleep. “You’re exhausted, my little witch.” He’s yanking you by your hand, directing you to your bed. “You need sleep before it comes for you first.”
“Was it so obvious?” You laugh dryly, and the lack of sleep is fast indeed; your eyes are heavy, limbs sluggish as your mind slows from the alcohol. “I can get myself to bed by myself, you know?”
“I don’t doubt you,” he scolds lightly, the way he moves you is more persistent. “Dreams help everything go away, isn’t that what your mother said?”
“Yes.” You drawl quietly, silent in watching Adrian move around you, sitting you delicately on the edge of the side of the bed. He is gentle in getting you settled for the night, removing your outer layers of clothing until you’re left in your chemise. There is nothing overtly sexual in the way he undresses you, more so there’s such a tenderness to his touches that it almost leaves you weeping.
When you’re ready, he follows, undressing until he stands in his nightgown. You watch as he goes to as he crawls onto the other side to lay there. Shutting his eyes, his light blond hair cascades around the pillow like a halo, his body silent and still as stone.
You’re staring for some time before he speaks up, aware even without having to open your eyes. “Are you going to watch me sleep or are you going to join me?” He cracks one eye open, full of mirth as he catches the exact moment your face brightens.
“Right.” You scootch over closer, lying stiffly beside him on your back, not daring to get any cosier before he stretches like a cat, catching you by surprise as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in close.
“You’re shaking like a leaf, little witch.” He jokes, humming as he rests his head into the crook of your neck. This is all so real, and you dare fear if you fall asleep, it’ll all be gone, a fading memory to die in the back of your mind. “Am I that cold?”
“No,” you finally relax in his hold, having turned to face him, a feeling you wish not to ever forget. “It feels nice.”
“I’m sure one thing could make you feel better,” his eyes are open, watching you almost hawkishly, scooting himself closer. “Though, I’d have to know what you think.”
“What is it?”
He doesn’t answer you directly, but his eyes tell you what you’ve been waiting for. It’s the way his gold eyes glance from your eyes down to your lips, way too slowly before coming back up to meet your flustered state.
Neither of you make the first move, your heart is hammering too fast that you can barely keep up with your racing thoughts. You know he can hear how fast it's pumping, thunderous and dreadful against your ribs. It feels like it could explode any second.
Should I wait for him to lean in? Or would it be better for me to meet him halfway? To see how he reacts.
With your mind racing, your body moves on its own, ignoring your many questions and moving with little patience. A hand finds his cheek, stroking his cheekbone in contemplation, soft to the touch that you gasp from just the exhilaration alone.
You’re not waiting for him when you’re leaning close to him, closer and closer until his face is inches from yours. Your noses bump as you catch the final moment where his eyes flutter shut as you’re copying, stretching over until your lips meet his.
You didn’t know how long you had been counting for this moment to happen. Drinking him in, he is the sun, and you are a secluded plant, waiting for his rays to keep you from shrivelling. His lips are soft, neither warm nor cool as your contact is chaste and quick, and all that is gone when you’re not chasing for more-
“No,” you rasp as you pull yourself from him, leaping up to sit on the edge of the bed. “This is wrong.”
“Oh?” He doesn’t seem dissatisfied or enraged, rather it seems more like a question. He is calm when he asks, voice a soft rumble. “Is it wrong because you wish to continue? Or because you wish to experience this with him?”
You slump in your spot, guilt overflowing your body like a wave, ready to drown. “It’s wrong because… I’m using him.” You hug yourself, ready to weep aloud from it all. “I’m using him for this twisted fantasy, just to feel happy.”
This fake version of Adrian is collected, reaching your side of the bed as he places a consoling hand on your shoulder. “Happy… that you want to imagine a future with him?”
“Yes. Is that so wrong to have?” You sigh exasperated. “I want him to be happy, but I fear… I will never give him that happiness.”
“He’s been through so much already.” You continue. “I think of him all the time: like how the sun can’t live without the moon.”
You’re completely consumed by Adrian: mind, body and soul and it aches that this crush will continue to remain as one. His acts of kindness have completely floored you, confusing you to the point that you were left over questioning every small act he did for you.
The night is long and you’re left distraught, conjuring a version of him that you hope can give you comfort. “What do I do?”
“Tell him the truth.”
Your head snaps almost drastically to glare at the fake version, who simply looks just as perplexed as you. “I’m just a manifested form you created of him in your head whilst inebriated. I’m the wrong person you should be talking to.”
Sighing defeatedly, you look to him for security. “I’m… confused.”
“How so?”
“Well, I know he sees me as a friend, but he’s just so thoughtful. He carries me back to bed, and we spend all day together. I mean, he drew sketches of me for fuck’s sake—that’s saying something, isn’t it?”
“He seems lonely too.” ‘Adrian’ answers, but it’s a reasonable answer that could be what you’re looking for, regardless of how you’re feeling.
“I know, I know. He’s awkward, but it can’t just be out of friendship.”
“Tell him in the morning,” he says, “you can’t see for yourself if he’s quick to reciprocate your feelings for him. Perhaps then you’ll be able to cuddle something that’s flesh and bone.”
You chortle at his words, knowing how uncanny and realistic he is sitting beside you. “Can we just- can we just cuddle for the rest of the night? Just so I don’t feel so lonely.”
Alucard gives you a sorrowful smile, pulling you into a side embrace. “You realise I won’t be there by morning?”
It’s a sad realisation, but you come to accept it. “I know. I just… want to imagine feeling something for once.”
“Of course, my little witch,” he kisses your forehead lovingly, leading you both back down to lie on the bed. The bed doesn’t feel as big when you share it with another, now in the fond embrace of the Dhampir you conjured in your mind.
“Sleep well, Y/N.” He tells you all the right things you want to hear, the lull of sleep pulls you in deeper and deeper, his voice growing quieter. “I’m still here with you, no matter what.”
“I love you,” you slur as darkness consumes you, the heaviness of your body pulling you into a sleep you need. You don’t feel upset when you don’t hear a response, just the arms of his embrace.
By the time early morning comes, the other side of the bed is cold, and the ghost of Adrian’s arms remains.
It’s not just knowing that the person on the other side of the hallway would never know how you felt, but the sense that you could never go back to seeing him just as a dear friend.
-
A/N:
This was a long one to write, but I hope you enjoyed it!
#castlevania alucard x reader#castlevania fanfic#alucard castlevania#adrian tepes x reader#adrian tepes#reader x alucard tepes#itstheendofthegoddamnworld writes#reader is a witch#half black! reader#mixed race reader#part 7#witch! reader#alternate universe
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I must have missed it recently but from a post I read yesterday I think you have you left your position and are moving? Or is this something that happens often in your line of work?
Dear Position Anon,
When you are a diplomat, you must also be ready to change places on the regular. Staying indefinitely in a country is not really encouraged, as the longer you stay, the more biased or blasé you can become: it's called 'going native' (I know, that's an idiom, nothing more).
Before the Industrial Revolution, the world was a much bigger place than now. People like Ruy González de Clavijo were not expected to return anytime soon to Madrid, from his embassy to Tamerlane, in 1403. Others were posted for life to Venice, to Versailles or to Munich, especially from the Renaissance and until the Congress of Vienna, in 1815. But this (bad) habit was gradually abandoned, thank God!
Five years and a half spent here are more than enough, even if I will always feel like three of them were robbed by COVID (and, unlike many other colleagues, I did go on holiday in the islands in 2020, because otherwise my brain would have burst). Anyways, all this time flies by in a jiffy.
Where next? I wish I knew and, despite the general fantasy, you never get to choose the where and when. Also, you are rarely sent to familiar places and stepping into the unknown is one of the greatest appeals of this job, to me. Until then, I am homeward bound, for a while. That is a much, much needed decompression chamber moment.
I will always, always come back to this view, Anon, but I prefer to do it without the extra daily life pressure, to be honest. This is a lazy summer evening in Kardamyli, in the sublime Mani Peninsula, a place Patrick Leigh Fermor never left:
Taken by me, in 2021. As for the rest, I'll keep you posted. I am ready to say good-bye. Farewell? Never.
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The Hare and The Tower
Okay, so I know I just straight up peaced out from updating this story with no warning and I really apologize for that, but after the last chapter the engagement with the story had dropped off pretty significantly and I felt discouraged. Like, I didn't even have writer's block, I just didn't feel like writing another chapter at that point. But now, I'm feeling inspiration again and ready to start posting. So, I present to you a snippet of the next chapter of The Hare and Tower. I'm in graduate school now and I have a midterm paper due by Monday, so don't expect the full chapter to be out until sometime next week.
Taglist: @dogmatic255 @sidechrisporn @amethystwonders11 @ladysindar @sweetwanderlust05 @newandykes @helloimlateforeverything @loveofvernonslife @stitchattacks @dariequeen @kishie8 @girlonfireice @snowymarvel1205 @greenlightower @harrypotteranna23-blog @ipostwhtifeel @poisonedcrowns @ninacutebee16 @watercolorskyy
A terrible dread washed through Jesmyn as she approached the carved, oak door ahead of her. The corridor was far too dark, too quiet. Her body felt heavy, and the air was akin to molasses—each step closer seeming to take a greater effort than the one before. Fear, panic, and apprehension coiled and collided within Jesmyn, the onslaught of emotions created a horrible churning, stomach twisting vortex.
Coming to a standstill just outside of the door, she reached out with a trembling hand to knock on the door, but froze in mid-air.
"I've been informed I'll be traveling to Driftmark with Princess Rhaenyra. We sail at dawn," Jesmyn informed quietly, her hand limply dropping back to her side.
Standing outside of Otto’s bedchamber door, a shiver ran down her spine for the night seemed colder than most. Jesmyn could only stare at the warped flaws in the wood, waiting for a reply, but ultimately was met by silence. Jesmyn strained her ears for a sign of movement behind his door, for she knew he was awake, and he knew that she knew it as well. With each passing second, Jesmyn felt her heart turn into lead, sinking down further and further in her chest.
She remained silent for a few more moments.
"I'm here to bid you farewell Husband, as we part on our separate journeys," she continued, placing her hand on the door. "You are angry at me, this I know," she stated, releasing a shaky breath. "But I will not depart without speaking these words. I love you Otto," she said, spreading her fingers out against the door. "Despite the harsh words we traded, my heart remains yours. Should anything—"
Forcefully, the door swung open drawing a startled gasp from her as the heat of husband’s gaze burned into her own. Otto's expression was unreadable as ever, his jaw was set tight while his mouth a thin line. They held each others stare for a few seconds, both waiting for the other to say something. Jesmyn broke first.
"I will not let our last words be ones we regret," she said firmly
Another long, uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Still, Otto only stared at her, an act which only began to draw Jesmyn's ire. She knew her husband well enough that she didn't expect an immediate reconciliation, but the hope was there in her mind. To her, this silence she was being subjected was bordering on ridiculous, did he not comprehend her words? She was set to sail on the unpredictable waters of the sea.
"I see," Jesmyn said softly, with a nod. "I shouldn't have came. I'm sorry for disturbing you," she apologized, dropping her eyes from him to the floor. "May sleep find you well, Husband," she wished, before turning away from Otto.
Wrapping her arms around herself, Jesmyn walked back down the corridor to her own chambers.
"You posses both beauty and brawn,"
A velvety voice broke through the silence, lingering in the air like a caress. Jesmyn froze in place, mid-step, before slowly turning back around. Once more, her brown eyes stared at Otto's blue and for the first time she finally noticed the tiredness around his eyes; the way his face was paler than usual. Their argument had taken its toll on him far more than he would let on.
"It's why I was so keen on securing your hand in marriage," Otto continued, deeply exhaling as he moved towards her. "Yet, your intellect fails you when it comes to Rhaenyra," Otto noted, coming to a stop in front of her. Leaning down, he pressed his lips against Jesmyn's hairline. "Knowingly or not," he uttered, before kissing the top of her head and lingering there for a bit.
Otto drew back and pushed the few loose hairs from where his lips had touched.
"Otto," Jesmyn whispered, leaning into his embrace.
But as quickly as his embrace came, he retreated from her, like a wave being pulled back into the sea. Entering his chambers, Otto spared one last glance at Jesmyn before he shut the door with quiet click.
#otto hightower x reader#black!reader#black fanfiction#house of the dragon x reader#house of the dragon fanfiction#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones fanfiction#game of thrones oc#otto hightower x oc#hotd x reader#got x reader
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Animals Without Direction
Chapter Six - Aye, My Lord
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Masterlist
Neither you nor Hyunjin spoke a single word to one another on the walk back to the capital. Even if he tried, you would’ve shut it down immediately. There wasn’t a single nice word you would’ve been able to conjure up to say to him.
By the time you entered the stone walls of Miroh’s capital, it was close to midnight. Gone was the laughter that filled the streets. Instead, you were met with a close silence.
It wasn’t eerie, but you’re sure that you would’ve appreciated the distraction. What wouldn’t you give to walk into one of the taverns and order yourself a strong drink.
Once you both stepped inside the keep, Hyunjin spoke up. “Until next time, Y/N.” His voice still had that cocky tilt to it. Truly, it made your teeth grind.
Your fingers itched to connect your fist with his jaw.
His farewell receives no response from you.
But, as soon as he disappeared down a hallway, all you could feel was the ghost of his gentle touch on your ears. The feeling slid down your spine and you shivered.
He knows. He knows how sensitive they are. What he did was akin to him shoving his tongue down your throat and pulling your hair.
Honestly, maybe that would’ve evoked less of a reaction.
There were so many other ways he could’ve proved his point, but he chose the most… intimate way you could think of.
You should feel a lot angrier than you do. You should’ve slapped him, kicked him in the groin, ran your sword through him. But instead you leaned into it and let yourself be consumed by the shivers that came with the sensation.
The way your body reacted to his touch like a cat curling around its owner’s legs.
You immediately shake your head free of those thoughts. Enough.
A deep sigh comes from your chest and you take in where you’re standing in the keep. Since you returned, you should probably check in with the Jarl if he’s awake. You can definitely find the throne room from here. Maybe you’re starting to get the hang of this place.
----------------------------------------------
To your surprise, Chan was awake. He was standing at the end of one of the tables in the throne room.
He was in a simple tunic and cotton pants. The top of the tunic was undone, revealing a large portion of his sculpted chest. It was strange seeing him in normal clothes. The last few times you saw him, he had on regal, expensive looking robes.
The clothes he wore were still tame considering what you’re used to seeing nobles wear.
It was also a surprise to you that he never wore a crown.
His hair looked even curlier and more unkempt than usual. Did he wake up and come down here? Has he not gone to sleep yet? A deep frown pulls at his lips, he looks lost in thought. One of his hands comes up by his mouth.
There were no guards in the room, the only sound was the fire flicking in the grand hearth.
As soon as your footsteps crossed the threshold of the room, he looked up in surprise.
“Ah, Y/N. I see you’ve made it back in one piece.” A genuine smile crosses his face. “And you have a new shield.” He looks over your shoulder at the Shield of Absorption poking out from behind you.
Even with shoulders on the broader side, the shield showed around you.
“Aye, an enchanted one too.” You say, taking steps closer to him until you’re about five feet away, standing on the other side of the table.
“A fantastic find, then.”
Sprawled out on top of the table is a map of the continent, Olera. The six holds of the continent are clearly labeled. There are several smaller villages and cities written in ink that you’ve never heard of. But the most interesting part of the map was the small flags placed on top.
They were on top of military posts and forts.
This was a war map.
Most of the forts that were identified were in Miroh and Erbus, but there were a few in the other four holds. Especially the two kingdoms that shared northern borders with Miroh and Erbus: Bewaes and Inuin. But there were a few known strongholds labeled in Daefall and Upera.
Chan made no move to shield your eyes from the map. Twenty four hours you’ve been here and he trusts you to see the location of his strongholds. Not only his strongholds, but the other holds as well.
Back in Erbus you could be hung just for being in the same room as a map like this.
“How did it go?” He asks you.
Pulling your gaze from the map, you look up at him. “Ah,” you couldn’t hold eye contact with him. A sheepish smile crosses your face and you look away, “I do not believe we will be doing business with Camus again… nor will… anyone.”
Truly, the consequences of your actions didn’t cross your mind until now. Would you be charged with another murder? Would he take away your room? Banished to the dungeons?
Obviously, this merchant was someone they counted on for supplies, and you killed him the first time you met him. Within the first twenty minutes of meeting him.
Chan sucks in a breath and lets out a deep sigh. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his head roll around his neck like he’s stretching. “Did you strike first?”
“Nay, my lord. He slammed Hyunjin’s head into the counter, I threw a tankard at his head before it could get worse, it all went downhill from there.”
You gulped, ready to accept your punishment. There’s a stiff moment of silence before you hear gentle laughter coming from Chan.
“I apologize, it is just not every day I hear that Hyunjin had his bell rung.” When you look over at him, he has his hand over his mouth. He’s trying so hard not to laugh out loud.
The corner of your mouth pulls up. “I believe he still has a red mark on his forehead if you would like to see it yourself.”
That seems to delight him even more and the floodgates of his laughter break. It’s musical, his laughter. And apparently contagious, as you find yourself chuckling under your breath. His eyes crinkle shut with laughter and he leans over on the table and braces his weight on his hands.
It’s such a warm sight.
With clothing like this, his hair messy, the beautiful smile on his face, you would never realize the power this man holds. This man could snap his fingers and bring an army to their knees.
He’s laughing while holding himself over a war map. That, in itself, is poetry to you.
Eventually, after a few moments, he calms down. “Thank you for reporting in, Y/N.”
“Of course, my lord.”
“Please call me Chan.”
You nod your head once. “If you don’t need me for anything else…” you bow your head and turn to leave.
“Y/N.”
When Chan’s voice calls out, you turn back around, a curious expression on your face.
“I know it has only been a day, but I am glad you’re here,” Chan states, his hands staying put on the table.
“Thank you, my lord.” You nod, heat coming up to your cheeks.
“I know you spoke of a life back in Erbus…” his eyes stare deeply into yours, they’re so warm and comforting. “But it could not have been easy. Especially given the details you provided.”
Your eyebrows furrow as memories of Erbus play through your mind; both good and bad. Playing in the streets with other children, song filled nights in the tavern, but what you hear the loudest in your mind is the night that the city guard discovered your father was an Elf in hiding.
Slowly, your gaze falls from Chan’s eyes, to the floor. The mirthful glint from your eyes fades.
You can still hear the sound of the door to your cottage being kicked in, the guards screaming and calling your mother and father such vile, nasty words. The way it sounded when they snapped his bones, when they-
“Y/N.” Chan spoke your name so softly, but it took you out of that nasty memory so fast.
When you look up, you see nothing but compassion written on his face. One day, you’ve been here one day, and already he looks at you as if he knows exactly what you’ve been through. Like he wants nothing but to comfort you.
“I know it must not have been easy,” he pauses, searching your face, “but you are here now.”
Your throat feels dry when you respond, “Thank you, my lord.” the words crack a bit and you realize that if you do not leave this room soon, you’re going to start crying in front of him.
“Chan.” he repeats in a stern, yet gentle manner. Again, all you do is nod. “Oh, before you leave.” Chan reaches over and grabs a small pouch from the table, he holds it out for you. “Your payment.”
You raise an eyebrow, “I’ve only been here a day.”
“Aye, but I pay all my workers on the same day, it would be a pain to adjust it for one person. Additionally, you did complete a job today, so it is not as if I am paying you for nothing.” He motions for you to take the pouch from him.
Hesitantly, you reach out to grab it. Chan reaches forward and grabs your hand with his empty one, forcibly placing the pouch of gold in your palm and closing your fingers over it.
It’s the first time he’s touched you. The warmth from his palms spreads all the way up your arm. His touch lingers for a moment before he drops your hand.
“Do with it whatever you please.” he adds with that loving smile of his.
Your mind goes back to the market you passed by today.
Nervously, you look around the room, absentmindedly shifting your weight from foot to foot. “Am I permitted to go to the market in the city?”
When Chan doesn’t answer, you look at him. He’s staring at you with an absolutely flabbergasted expression. As if you asked him the most ridiculous question.
“You…” he trips over his words, “Y/N, you are not our prisoner. You can come and go however you wish. All I ask is that you report to me when I request you for a job.”
Your tongue pokes from your lips and you lick them nervously. “Aye, of course, I knew that. I was simply making sure, thank you, my lord.”
“Chan.” he repeats. Once more, you only nod.
There’s a few moments of silence, the pouch of gold in your palm is the heaviest you’ve ever held. All you want to do is roll it around in your fingers, open it up and count each coin.
“Um,” you stutter after a moment, “I’ll be going then.”
Swiftly, you turn on your heel and walk towards the door that leads to the closest path to your room– at least, it’s the closest you know of.
“Goodnight, Y/N.” he calls after you, there’s a bit of mirth laced in his voice.
“Goodnight, my lord.” you answer, a bit softer than his.
“Chan.”
“Sure.”
#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids fantasy au#animals without direction#bang chan x reader#lee know x reader#changbin x reader#hyunjin x reader#han jisung x reader#felix x reader#seungmin x reader#jeongin x reader#stray kids fanfic
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○ Senior ○
Yan!Dottore x Fem!reader (deity)
Can be connected to Specimen Girl
(You can read their meeting from my post with the title 'Greetings from the Doctor')
Dottore didn’t really regard you as someone important to him at all until he caught you doing something behind the academy’s building. Oh, what a surprise. Starting then, he started to see you as the kind upperclassman that everyone regarded you as. You had always been so kind to him despite his attitude and questionable experiments. That alone is not enough to make him bat an eye to you until his eyes landed on you doing something with your friend.
“ You’ll be moving out from here next week right, sister?”
You turned your head to him. He was mixing inserting some kind of fluid into the syringe, face stoic. True, you’ll be leaving this academy next week because of something urgent. In fact, you might be moving out tomorrow if the situation escalated sooner than you expected.
“ mmh, I‘ll continue my study somewhere else with my friend. Don’t miss me too much, okay?” You poked your head inside his vision, a grin plastered on your face. Dottore scrunched his nose while turning himself away from you. You simply giggled at his reaction.
A giggle that managed to make him shiver for a while.
“ I doubt I’ll miss you at all as a matter of fact” Oh he knew he’s a bad liar. His words didn’t match his face at all. He hated himself for not being able to convince you to stay. He hated the fact that he couldn’t do anything about your problem at all. He was powerless. He was only a student. A nobody.
You were only with him for 6 months and that’s all it takes to make him fall head over heel on you. Someone who finally acknowledged him as a human being. Someone who didn’t judge him. Someone who cared for him. Someone who held him. Someone who’s genuine about it all.
Dottore walked toward you, closing all the distances between you two. You can feel his breath fanning your face. Oh he knew what to do with his syringe.
“ … what’s wrong, boy?” you asked as he cupped your face. You returned his gesture. His red eyes gazed into yours as though trying to pluck out your eyeballs out.
“ Sister, aren’t you tired? Running around here and there?”
“ Wha-?” You were cut off by him. Something jabbed your neck. Something cold and sharp… they syringe. It took few moments before you finally dropped down in his hold. His face remained stoic as he laid you down on the table. Now, should he dissect you up? Or should he yank that eyes of your out? Either way, he only had less than 6 hours before your friend returned.
“ Senior…” Dottore leaned closer to your body as he placed his ear on your chest, listening to your steady heartbeats. Good. He placed a kiss on your lips and hand before he left the table to take all his tools out. He couldn't wait to dissect you up and stuff few lovely things inside you.
“ Let’s start it by drawing out your blood first okay?” and with that, he jabbed another syringe on you.
You woke up on your bed. Weird, you didn’t feel anything off with you at all. You rubbed your neck, searching for a wound or anything. Nothing. Was it all a dream? Your friend had returned with a luggage next to her. Ah, it seems like you had to depart sooner than you expected. Dottore wouldn’t be happy knowing this but that won’t stop you.
Just before you were about to leave the academy, you found Dottore standing by the gate.
“ Seriously sister? You didn’t plan to bid any farewell to me at all?” what a sly boy you muttered out in your head. You simply chuckled at him, opening your arms widely to hug him one last time. He hugged you back, resting his head on your shoulder. Your friend didn’t say anything the whole time despite the cold stares she sent toward him.
“ I didn’t expect you to skip your class just to see me off you know?” You cooed at him as you playfully ruffled his hair. He didn’t complain at all. Perhaps it’s because this might be your last meeting? You let go of him only for him to yank your hand.
“ We’ll meet each other again right…?” It sounded like a plead instead of a question. How adorable. You shook your head lightly while a smile remained on your face.
“ No comment” You answered before you gave him a light kiss on his forehead. And just like that, you left. You left the academy. You left him. And you left an outburst. Everyone was practically screaming, frantically running around. Oh what a sight. A dead body had been hung upside down. To top things even better, it’s not just a nobody but rather, one of the important figure in the academy.
Dottore took advantage over the situation, slipping himself into the headmaster’s office while rummaging the files inside his office. To be exact, the files about human trafficking. He had long known about this but didn’t mind it at all. It’s not like it was someone important to him that was sent away for the cadaver. It’s not like the eyeballs belonged to someone he held dearly. It’s not like it’s the brain of someone he cared for. Of course, the other students were not aware of this at all. How foolish.
He chuckled to himself as he found you inside the list. Nameless.
“ Well, looks like there’s still more for me to learn about you, Senior”
You were supposed to be one of the pitiful souls until that poor hung upside down man fell in love with you. How disgusting. For someone so impure as him to fancy you? No wonder you were registered as one of the students so easily. As if for your little friend, she was also listed in it. Well, you probably convinced that man to let her go too. How adorable.
Dottore ripped the pages about you and your friend before stuffing it inside of his pocket, casually leaving the office with a smirk plastered on his face. Not only has he obtained your blood, he has also obtained few informations about you. He was pleased with it although there’s only few lines about you.
Dottore walked himself to the place he once caught you doing something… adorable. He dug the dirt out before he chuckled to himself. A headless body. Judging from the tattered outfits, it’s undoubtedly the headmaster. He laughed to himself before he finally stuffed the dirt back again.
“ I really still have lots to learn from you Senior. Even the way you managed to intact his damn head back to a dummy without any marks is incredible”
And so, this whole tragedy was covered up the headmaster, preventing any words about this to spread even more. Nobody questioned your disappearance at all. Nobody knew where you went to. Not even Dottore himself knew.
“ Oh well, I’m certain we’ll meet each other again, sister”
True to his words, you did return. With both Sandrone and Childe escorting you to him. Kagami (Mirror Maiden) and Cicin stood behind you motionless. Where’s your little friend? Oh well, whatever.
His earring’s liquid glowed for a while. It’s reacting to the liquid he injected inside you years ago. Oh he could feel your blood inside him tickled him too.
We met again, Senior.
#yandere dottore#dottore x reader#dottore#fatui harbingers#fatui x reader#fatui#genshin x reader#yandere fatui#cult genshin au#yandere cult genshin
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In the Quiet Dark
Zevran/Arianwen Tabris | 1,633 Words | M | CW: Mild/implied sexual content
I originally started writing this to go with this piece I commissioned from pinayelf (thank you again!) but I did not finish it in time to post them together. It may be a little late, but here they are in all their messy, sharp glory c:
Zevran sat on the other side of the campfire from Arianwen.
She knew this without looking, just as she had known approximately where he was all day. It had been a traveling day, uneventful, and they’d made their way through the Brecilian’s outskirts with little trouble. This annoyed her almost as much as her new awareness of Zevran did, for she would have dearly loved the distraction of a fight.
Instead, she…itched.
Nowhere in particular. Under her skin, perhaps; she did not know. She knew only that she had gone a very long time untouched and uncaring and now she could feel every inch of her skin where he was presently not in contact with it. There had been some barrier, perhaps, some veneer that had kept her from noticing such things. Now, she could not stop feeling the precise distance between them. Every scuff of his boots grated against her skin, every laugh felt pressed directly into her eardrums, and whenever she caught his eyes—
“Are you alright?” Alistair murmured next to her. Tabris dropped her fork, grimacing, and set the plate aside. It clattered in indignation against a loose rock and fell silent sooner than she would have liked.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’ve been scraping your fork against the plate there for minutes on end. Just thought I’d—don’t give me that look! I’m only asking.”
Arianwen stopped glaring at him and glared at the fire instead, which was a poor replacement for looking across it at Zevran.
All sorts of people lay together all the time and still the world went on turning. It was nothing; ought to be nothing important. She certainly shouldn’t feel any different than she had when she’d woken up yesterday. Wen ran sharp nails over her forearm, but it made little difference; this wasn’t that sort of itch.
“Ugh,” she said, slinging her leg over the other side of the log and walking away without any more farewell than that. She didn’t have the words; had left them all behind in Zevran’s tent the night before, it would seem.
Her own tent was dark and cool, a welcome contrast to the fire outside. When the flap of fabric fell closed behind her, Wen pulled the tie loose from her braid and combed the plait to loose waves with harsh fingers. Disarming took some time, her knife belt set less neatly in its place than usual, the knives in her boots cast aside with an equal lack of care. Her armor fell into a dark corner readily enough when she was done. She retrieved her final dagger from it the moment before it thudded against the bottom of her tent. Wen tucked the scabbard into her waistband and loosened the ties of her tunic, as if doing so would help her breathe more easily.
She had just cleared her plate, but she was hungry. She needed to run, to climb, to fight. She wanted blood, the thrill of battle, wanted to bite into—
“Warden?’
Wen hissed between her teeth before she could stop herself, the exhale of relief whistling and sharp instead of the soft thing she supposed it ought to be.
“You seemed as if you may want company,” Zevran said, his voice low. “Do you?”
“Yes,” she said, short and clipped.
Firelight painted her tent with fingers of gold and red when he ducked inside, but when the fabric fell again the two of them were left in near-complete darkness.
Touch me, she thought, and leave. Her hands flexed until they ached, then curled into fists at her sides.
“Why did you come?” she asked him.
The words felt almost detached from her, for they were nowhere near the things she wanted to say instead.
A pause. She could almost feel him weighing his answer.
“Because,” he said at last, the words very slow, “I wanted to.”
She didn’t see him move, but she felt his callused fingertips when they trailed along her forearm. For a moment, she thought she might cry out at even so little contact. All day, she had been thinking of this and now—it was like an itch. She had been scratching at the absence of him all day and now she had finally dug her nails in deep enough to find relief, but too deeply for it not to hurt a little.
Arianwen pressed her hand over his, deepening the contact and stopping the gentle motion at once.
“Then stay,” she said.
When she breathed in, the air was sharp and too much. She wanted; she wanted far more than was safe. Knowing that she could have this almost made it worse—because who was she, to want to be touched? Who was she, that she couldn’t stand knowing she’d already forgotten the way his bare skin felt under her hands, the precise texture of his hair—who was she? She did not know.
A stranger, she thought.
“If you’d like,” she finished, because even now she would not say please, and he laughed somewhere before her in the dark.
“Yes, I think I would,” Zevran said. When he touched her hair, he was gentler with it than she’d been, the touch a caress instead of a rebuke.
“I have never seen it loose before,” he murmured.
His breath skimmed her cheek–too close. Not close enough.
“You still haven’t.”
“I did for a moment—in the light,” he told her. Wen let go of his other hand and he found her jaw with it instead. His palms were warm and rough and perfect. She vowed never to tell him so and pressed her cheek against his hand instead.
“How lovely you are, mi vida,” he went on.
His lips pressed against her ear, moving so slightly that she almost didn’t feel it at all. Wen reached between them and found the leather tie in his own hair. It came loose with little effort, but the tug it took to free his braids seemed somehow momentous. She had half-undressed him last night, but she had been too distracted then to think of doing this. It felt…intimate, somehow, as Zevran seeing her hair unbound had felt intimate.
“More,” she said, and he laughed again.
When he answered her, he murmured directly into her ear.
“More flattery? I am sure that I can think of a few such things to say, my dearest Warden, but I did not think you were the t—”
“No,” she said, impatient. When she turned them both and tripped him onto her bedroll, he fell so easily that he must have done so on purpose. Arianwen did not care. She cared only that she could finally feel him pressed against her at last. A relief, though it was relief that did not lessen the need at all.
“More,” she told him again, and caught his laughter on her tongue when she pressed her mouth to his. Zevran felt just as good as she remembered—better, perhaps, because she had already begun to doubt her own memory. He moved with her whenever she shifted, tilting his head when she angled hers, tucking his fingers beneath her collar when her fingers trailed across his cheekbone.
“Impatient,” he murmured when she abandoned his mouth in favor of his neck, his voice low and breathless. Wen grunted in response and nipped at the warm skin there. His pulse thrummed against her mouth, frantic as her own heartbeat and twice as precious. She traced the skin with her tongue when she was finished, soothing the small hurt she’d set against his skin.
“Perhaps I am impatient, too,” he said. She did not know how he had grown so skilled at kissing her in the dark when he had only a night’s practice at it. She hovered on a dagger’s edge, much as she had the night before; unlike the night before, she knew she would not run from this. When it was almost too much to bear, she twisted a lock of his hair between her fingers and found herself anchored again.
Zevran’s hand slipped lower, lower down her back. The knife she’d tucked behind her shifted slightly.
“You should be more careful,” he said between kisses. “Leaving your blades where anybody can find them. Someone dangerous could take it, yes?”
Wen nudged his nose with hers, searching in the dark for what little she could see of his face. The faint light flashed in his eyes, there and gone in a heartbeat.
“But not you,” she said.
After a moment, he squeezed her hip. His hand slid away from the knife, tracing the length of her spine instead.
“Not me, no,” he agreed. She could feel his voice now as much as she had felt him not touching her earlier. She wanted his words and wanted them to stop in equal measure, but silence was the easy choice. It had always been kinder to her.
Wen leaned forward to kiss him again. If she shut her eyes very tightly, she could feel his body wherever it touched hers, could focus more completely on his hair wrapped around her fingers, on his fingernails where they dragged lightly against the base of her skull.
If she had left them open, she might have seen the way he looked at her all the while—might have known that he watched her as intently as she had not watched him before.
In fact—she did not think of her dagger at all.
But this was not something she was ready to see. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut as tight as they could go.
Zevran rolled her onto her back several minutes later, the motion as natural and obvious as the moon rising somewhere outside her tent. When he set her dagger to the side, Arianwen neither lifted it from the blanket nor drew it from its sheath.
#zevwarden#zevran arainai#arianwen tabris#warden tabris#da fic#shivunin scrivening#zevwen#okay!!! this is the first of three as my little private celebration of a kudo milestone#but i fear the other two will have to wait for tomorrow! c:#feelings are always so intense to wen that it is a pleasure and a challenge to write her#(but more the former than the latter!)
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Just like I did with the previous parts of Book 7, I've made a summary for Part 3, and I've put it all underneath the cut.
Starting off with the parts about Idia's dream, that all happens just as it does in canon despite all the preparations he, Ortho, and Yuu had made for Malleus's OB since Malleus's magic is just that powerful.
However, I will say that Idia's feeling that he's forgetting something feels more urgent here than in canon cause, deep down, he unconsciously remembers that Yuu is counting on him and that nothing good will result from leaving that danger magnet to her own devices.
Plus, he's also feeling like something is missing in his dream, which is Yuu since she's become a regular fixture in his life like Ortho by this point in the timeline, so that's another thing that makes this dream feel off to him, although he still goes along with things like in canon.
Since I feel like this will read better if I just cover the Shroud brothers' portion of this update first, I'll move on to Ortho's part next.
For the most part, everything with Ortho pretty much happens as it does in canon because, while Ortho knew what to expect with Malleus, he, Idia, & Yuu didn't know the full scope of Malleus's UM since I figure, if NRC did have digital records of students' UM, like what I mentioned in my last summary post, the school probably wouldn't ask for an in-depth description of everyone's UM since this isn't really essential info.
Basically, it'd be in a brief summary format like what you'd see on a person's one page bio. I could also see most students just not feeling bothered to give detailed explanations on paperwork, and Crowley just not caring enough to get all the details lol
Ergo, Ortho knew that Malleus would OB and that he could put people to sleep, but he was not expecting the whole island to go under, nor did he expect the barrier around the island that not only stops time but also keeps people from entering the area.
Ortho still checks out the island to get a full scope of the situation, but he doesn't spend as much time trying to wake people up, like in canon, cause he knows it's pointless.
Also, I'll add that Idia and Ortho had thought that Ortho could possibly potentially resist the effects of Malleus's UM due to the anti-magic properties of Ortho's gear, although Idia had figured if anyone could put Ortho to sleep it would be Malleus.
That's why they had the plan of Ortho reporting to Styx if that happens and Ortho ends up in digital form like in canon.
Because Ortho and Idia weren't expecting that Ortho wouldn't be able to leave the island, Ortho still has to use the satellite to get back to Styx.
Another difference from canon is that Styx already knows what's going on because Mama and Papa Shroud got warned beforehand of what was to come, although they obviously also didn't expect things to get as bad as they did, so they've been making preparations up until this point.
Even though Ortho is certain that Styx knows about Malleus's OB, he still heads there in canon because he knows he'll be more useful there than at NRC in his current form, and he wants to provide all the data he collected to them.
So, overall, there aren't any major changes in canon with Ortho and Styx.
Anyway, moving on to Yuu and Grim's situation, Yuu has the same dream about Maleficent as her game counterpart does, and she also sees some more memories of Malleus's childhood.
After that, she wakes up in a room that resembles the room she and Grim sleep in at Ramshackle, but she can tell this room is different.
Initially, Yuu's mind is foggy as a result of Malleus's magic, but she quickly recovers and recalls everything that happened at Lilia's farewell party.
Yuu is immediately overcome with an immense feeling of frustration upon remembering that she failed to stop Malleus, even though she knew her chances of succeeding were extremely low.
Knowing that dwelling in her regrets won't do her any favors, Yuu quickly collects herself and begins examining her surroundings.
Upon finding a sleeping Grim, she wonders if it's the real Grim or if he's just a part of her dream since she wouldn't be surprised if her "happily ever after" dream is just about her living a normal happy life in Twisted Wonderland since that's truly what she wants most, although that wouldn't explain her unfamiliar surroundings.
Either way, she figures she should wake him up, so she does just that.
When Grim later recalls what happened with Malleus after waking up, Yuu realizes this must be the real Grim since a dream Grim wouldn't be bringing up what happened in the real world since that would make her want to wake up, which is obviously not what Malleus would want.
While Yuu is relieved that Grim is with her, she's also very confused because she doesn't understand why she and Grim were sent to the same dream.
Shouldn't the two of them have their own "happily ever after" scenario dreams? Why would Malleus put the two of them together when that could result in them trying to work together to wake up? It just doesn't make sense.
As Yuu is trying to wrap her mind around this puzzling turn of events, Grim is discovering that they're locked inside the room they woke up in and that the ghosts on the windows were painted on there for some reason.
This makes Yuu even more confused because how is being locked in an strange, unfamiliar room a "happy end" type dream for her. This isn't anything like she imagined when Malleus promised wonderful dreams for everyone.
When Grim finds the Ottoman Dog, Yuu immediately recalls Mickey having mentioned seeing something like this in his dream, which leads to her wondering if this is the same place Mickey goes whenever he dreams and connects to the mirror in her room.
Her suspicions are later confirmed when she sees all the other crazy living objects inside the room that are just as Mickey had previously described to her.
When Yuu shares this information with Grim, the room starts moving and getting out of focus like what happens in canon.
After things finally calm down, Mickey arrives on the scene, and Yuu is beyond shocked since, despite all her past meetings with him through the mirror, she never thought she'd actually get to meet him like this. It's so surreal for her to meet a cartoon from her childhood lol
While Yuu is utterly dumbfounded, Mickey is excited about finally meeting her like in canon and asks for the high-five, and of course, she gives him one cause she's not gonna leave him hanging. Plus, it's not every day a girl can get the chance to high-five Mickey Mouse 😂
From there things proceed like in canon with Yuu/Grim talking to Mickey about Yuu's situation. However, unlike in canon, Yuu isn't trying to find a way home. She's just wondering if Mickey is somehow connected to how she suddenly ended up in TW and if she can somehow find a way to stay in TW by gaining info about his mysterious connection to her.
(She refrains from telling Mickey that he's a fictional character in the world she came from and just instead says that she wanted to investigate his connection to her since he's from another world like her.)
Another difference from canon is that Yuu knows from the start that she and Grim are dreaming, so she's not surprised like Grim is by that revelation, although she was surprised when she learned how Mickey gets into that mysterious Ramshackle-like room.
She hadn't realized that Grim hadn't figured out they were both asleep. Otherwise, she would've said something sooner lol
This leads to Yuu properly explaining the situation to Mickey and Grim, so the chat about looking for Ace and the others doesn't happen since Yuu is certain that Malleus has everyone else trapped in their own separate dreams.
Around that time, Mickey starts to fade away because he's waking up in his world, much to Yuu's great frustration since she has yet to get any worthwhile information out of him.
After that, things play out like in canon with the ink pouring into the room after Mickey leaves the dream. While Grim is futilely trying to fight off the ink with his magic, Yuu is desperately trying to find a way to help him without touching the ink which her instincts are screaming at her to stay away from.
Remembering the ring Malleus made her for Christmas, Yuu looks down at her hand and sees that she's still wearing it, so she tries to repel the ink using it since, even though she used up all the magic the dorm leaders gave her when she tried to resist Malleus's UM earlier, the ring should still have the magic Malleus originally poured into the ring when making it so that it could always protect her from magical attacks regardless of how often its used.
Much to her relief, the ring does summon a barrier around her and Grim, but considering how the ink persistently pounds against it, she's not sure it'll hold up for long.
Just as Yuu is wondering if they should try to break down the locked door and run out of the room, the floor behind her and Grim gives way, taking away their option to run, much to their dismay.
Around that time, Silver arrives on the scene and orders them to grab ahold of him, catching them by surprise.
After they follow his orders, Silver uses his UM, and Yuu realizes that Silver must be capable of traveling between dreams thanks to his UM since that's the only explanation for this crazy turn of events.
The next thing Yuu knows, she's out of the Ramshackle-like room and is suddenly now in the sky, falling from a great height.
Yuu naturally starts screaming along with Grim, and Silver tightly latches onto them and tells them to hold tight, so they won't get separated.
Yuu, of course, doesn't hesitate to oblige, so she starts hugging Silver with all her might.
Fortunately, before they hit the ground, Silver is able to use wind magic to break their fall, like in canon.
However, unlike in canon, Yuu is more than just dizzy when they finally land.
Because poor Yuu has unfortunately been involved in several separate incidents that resulted in her falling from a great height, aka what happened in Book 3 and Flight Class, My Beloathed, etc., she is basically on the verge of developing a phobia of falling by this point, and it's honestly a wonder that she hasn't already done so by now cause of how scary all of the incidents she was a part of were.
That's why she's really pale and trembling as she sits there on the ground, doing her best to calm her unsteady breathing.
Having noticed this, a worried Silver kneels down beside Yuu and asks if she's okay, to which she shakily says that she is, which, of course, isn't very convincing.
When Yuu says that she just has a bad experience with falling, Grim remembers and points out that this kinda thing has happened multiple times to Yuu during this school year.
Upon hearing that, Silver apologizes for putting Yuu through another scary experience since it was because of his UM that they ended up falling from the sky.
He also wraps his arms around her in hopes that a hug may bring her some form of comfort since Lilia raised his boy right so Silver knows he's gotta act whenever he sees a poor girl distress.
Fortunately, Yuu does begin to calm down thanks to his actions since she takes comfort from physical contact.
As she's calming down, Yuu tells Silver it's not his fault and points out that it's thanks to him that she and Grim are both safe now.
In hopes of further distracting herself from her most recent falling incident, Yuu starts questioning Silver about his UM and everything he knows related to the world of dreams.
That's how Yuu finds out about what happened with Mickey's dream and the darkness that attacked them as well as the details of Silver's UM.
When Silver mentions having met Mickey before in a dream, Yuu realizes that's how Mickey saw Silver that one time. Silver wasn't in her room but in Mickey's dream room at some point.
Upon learning from Silver that he can only normally enter the dreams of people he has some form of association with and how Silver finds it surprising that Mickey actually remembered seeing him, Yuu wonders what the two's connection could be.
Also, if Mickey is connected to her and Silver, does that mean she and Silver are also connected in some way, or is she just jumping to conclusions?
Yuu is eventually pulled away from those thoughts when Silver and Grim start talking about the situation at hand, like in canon, which leads to Silver saying that Lilia may know how to escape Malleus's UM.
Unfortunately, Silver's UM won't allow him to choose whose dream he visits, although he has a higher chance of visiting the people he's especially close to.
This naturally makes Yuu wonder whose dream they're in right now. It has to be either Lilia's or Sebek's since she can see the Diasomnia dorm, and those are the people Silver is closest too aside from Malleus, who's, of course, not asleep like everyone else.
Just as Yuu thinks that, Silver asks Yuu how she's feeling since she has finally stopped trembling in his arms.
Before she can tell him that she's alright now, Sebek suddenly arrives on the scene, catching everyone by surprise.
Unlike in canon, Sebek, who has been looking everywhere for Silver, ventures outside to look for Silver rather than meets up with Yuu's group inside the dorm since they all spend more time outside due to Yuu needing to recover from that scary fall.
While an annoyed Sebek calls out to Silver when he finally finds Silver, his scolding abruptly cuts off when Sebek sees Silver and Yuu huddled together on the ground with Silver's arms around Yuu.
Upon seeing Yuu's face, which is still a little pale thanks to what happened earlier, a worried Sebek immediately hurries over to them and starts demanding answers.
Meanwhile, Silver makes the comment that this is Sebek's dream, like he does in canon.
Yuu naturally is happy that Sebek is concerned on her behalf, and she's especially relieved to see another of her sons safe and sound.
She's quick to try to assure Sebek that she's alright, but he unsurprisingly doesn't believe her, so he starts questioning Silver.
Because he's an honest boy and still feels guilty about Yuu's current condition, Silver says that he's responsible for Yuu's current state despite Yuu insisting that he's not at fault, and hearing that, of course, gets Sebek riled up, so Yuu has to quickly intervene before her son really loses his cool.
Since it's better to just be honest with him, Yuu tells Sebek about what happened with Mickey and how they had ended up falling after Silver used his UM to save her and Grim.
Naturally, Sebek finds this all hard to believe since that would imply he's currently dreaming which obviously can't be true. This makes him wonder if Silver's carelessness resulted in Yuu hitting her head in addition to everything else that led to her current worrisome state.
When Yuu's group tries to tell Sebek about Malleus's OB, he says that's impossible - that something like that could never happen. He then reveals that Malleus is currently inside the dorm along with Lilia waiting for Silver, so they can celebrate their upcoming internships.
Upon realizing that Sebek's happy ending dream is Lilia remaining with his family and not losing his magic, Yuu says that it's just like Sebek to have such a kind dream where all that matters to him is the happiness and well-being of his loved ones since that, in turn, makes him happy.
Knowing desperate times call for desperate measures, Yuu firmly cups Sebek's face and makes him hold her gaze.
Yuu: Sebek, I'm sorry. If we had any other options, I'd let you continue enjoying this happy dream. More than anything, I want you to always remain where you'll be safe and happy.
With a pained expression, she continues, "But I can't afford to do that right now, because this situation we're in is just that dire. We need you. I need you."
She pleads, "Please trust me, Sebek. I know your faith in Tsunotaro is unshakeable and eternal - that your trust in no one else would ever compare, but please trust me when I say that I would never ever lie to you nor would I ever say such painful, unbelievable things like this to you without a good reason. Please."
Upon being on the receiving end of Yuu's sincere pleading, Sebek falters, because he does trust Yuu, very in much in fact. Just as she said, he knows that she would never say things like Malleus has overblotted unless she actually meant it, but because of Malleus's magic and because he just doesn't want to admit the truth, he's been in denial.
However, when he hears Yuu say that she needs him, Sebek can't remain in denial because he swore he'd always protect her. Even though Malleus is his number one priority, he can't just ignore Yuu when she needs him, especially if she needs him for the sake of Malleus who's important to her, just as he is to Sebek.
It's at that moment Sebek's memories of what happened during Lilia's farewell party abruptly come back to him, and he finally recalls everything that happened up until Malleus put everyone to sleep.
(I really wanted to focus on Yuu & Sebek's bond here which is why I didn't have them go to party and completely veered away from canon in that regard.)
Yuu feels both relieved and guilty for making Sebek recall such painful memories since she's glad he's back to his senses but hates that he has to remember his beloved liege in such a dreadful state.
Before anything else can be said or done, an angry OB Malleus arrives on the scene, having sensed that Sebek woke up.
This leads to Yuu and the others immediately realizing that Malleus is monitoring and actually taking part in everyone's dreams. He's not just in the real world, watching over everyone's unconscious bodies like Yuu had expected.
Upon realizing this, Yuu catches everyone off guard when she snaps, because seeing Malleus getting so angry makes her angry in return.
While she had gotten upset with him before he put her to sleep, she really gets riled up here because he has the nerve to invade people's dreams, acting like it's his right as king, and to get angry at her for not playing by his rules and following his orders.
Yuu has had enough of Malleus's selfish behavior since, no matter how tragic his past or his current situation regarding Lilia are, this does not give Malleus the right to act like a spoiled brat with a god-complex.
At this point, her stress meter has just maxed out thanks to everything she's had to deal with as of late, so she has finally just completely reached her snapping point.
As a result, Yuu just basically starts going off on Malleus and cursing up a storm, similar to what she did to Leona when she fought him in his OB state lol 😂
Not having ever seen her like this before, Silver is just silent and wide-eyed, and Sebek is loudly gasping like a Victorian who has seen a lady's ankle for the first time. Meanwhile, Grim's like, "Oh crap. Yuu's swtich got flipped." lol
Malleus, of course, gets increasingly angry at Yuu for her daring to treat him so disrespectfully, but his anger doesn't faze Yuu cause she is way too far past the point of giving a damn 😂
What really pisses Malleus off is when Yuu calls him out for trying to run away from reality by putting everyone to sleep. She says it's really no wonder why Lilia still treats him like a kid since that's exactly what he's acting like.
She also grills him for endangering everyone's lives since, while his UM gives everyone happy dreams, that doesn't change the fact that their physical bodies are still back in reality going without food and water.
The fact that Malleus is using all his time dream watching means he's not looking after everyone's bodies, like what she had hoped he would do, which is another reason why she's pissed since he's essentially killing everyone as they speak.
Around that time, Malleus finally snaps and lashes out with magic, prompting Yuu to use her ring, which just barely manages to protect her.
However, Yuu realizes that her ring won't be able to hold up long and that, no matter how much she wants to punch Malleus, that's just not doable right now.
That's why she moves closer to Grim and the others and asks Silver if he can use his UM again since trying to fight Malleus is pointless under these current circumstances.
As much as Silver wants to stop Malleus right now, he knows Yuu is right, so he tries to use his UM again after getting everyone to grab onto him, which Yuu makes Sebek agree to do despite his reluctance to hold Silver's hand lol
So, they don't fight against Malleus like in canon thanks to Yuu suggesting they hightail it out of there and focus on finding another way to stop Malleus.
Fortunately, while Silver has trouble at first, he's able to use his UM when the ring Lilia gave him starts glowing, like in canon.
That's how they later find themselves in a forest, obviously having successfully traveled to another person's dream world.
Since they didn't fight Malleus, Sebek doesn't lament raising his fist against his beloved liege and instead scolds Yuu for going off on Malleus like a wild hooligan lol
He gets cut off, though, when Grim nervously asks if they really will die if Malleus doesn't get stopped, to which Yuu says that it's a very likely possibility.
That's why Malleus has to be stopped at all costs. Otherwise, he'll go down in history as an infamous murderer.
As she says that, she meets Sebek's eyes, because she knows he won't want to fight Malleus but that's exactly what he'll need to do for Malleus's sake since Malleus will only suffer if he continues down the path he's on.
Obviously, that's the last thing Sebek wants to happen, so despite how much it pains him to even think of opposing Malleus, he agrees that Malleus must be stopped since he refuses to allow his beloved liege's reputation to be forever tarnished.
Right after that exchange, Yuu's instincts start screaming at her, telling her that danger is nearby, so she scoops a surprised Grim up into her arms and yells for everyone to run, to which Sebek and Silver thankfully oblige.
That's when the attacks from Lilia's men happen, and said attacks are thankfully all avoided. And because Yuu grabbed Grim, she's able to prevent him from getting caught like in canon.
From there, Lilia's men start speaking fae while Sebek tries to talk to them like in canon.
Yuu doesn't focus too much on that exchange, however, because there's a dangerous presence nearby that she senses that isn't coming from the guys Sebek is talking to.
It's a very familiar presence.
Feeling its approach, Yuu quickly throws Grim at a surprised Silver and jumps in a completely different direction, just barely avoiding Lilia's weapon.
When Lilia continues attacking Yuu, putting her on the defensive, her friends call out her name in surprise/concern before Silver/Sebek freeze upon recognizing her attacker's weapon.
Meanwhile, Yuu has entered combat mode and is relying on all the fighting experience she has accumulated over the last ten-plus years of cage-fighting since that's the only way to stand a chance against the veteran attacking her, whose identity she quickly figures out since she's spent so much time around Lilia.
She also recognizes his voice when he tells his men that Yuu and her friends have been blessed by a nocturnal fae, so Yuu and the others aren't ironclads like they had been accused of being.
(By this point in the timeline, Yuu has been blessed by both Malleus and Lilia, but she doesn't know about it since they did it without her knowing so anyone who can sense those blessings can see she's under a fae's protection. Yuu just assumes that the blessing being talked about is when Malleus helped her out at the end of Book 5 or just a side effect of wearing the ring he made for her.)
Despite saying that, Lilia keeps attacking Yuu for some reason, and what's even more confusing is that he's not trying to land any lethal blows.
Eventually, Lilia stops attacking her and declares that she's not a formally trained soldier cause her movements suggest she was completely self-taught, and she wouldn't be allowed on a battlefield without any kind of proper training.
Like how Yuu could sense Lilia and see him for the threat he was, he could tell she wasn't a normal girl - that she was a warrior in her own right, and that's why he attacked her since that was the best way to figure out just what kinda warrior she was.
Of course, that still doesn't tell Lilia who the hell Yuu is, so he threateningly holds up his weapon and demands that she answer all of his questions unless she wants to be vaporized by his magearm.
Needless to say, this was not the kind of reunion with Lilia that Yuu and the others were hoping for.
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The Escape - Part 16
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15
The next morning when you wake up you sit down by your small window, to write a letter to Luffy. You are sure he feels guilty that he left you with the clown pirate, but you also remember his face full of confidence when you got carried away. He knew you would be alright, but he also needed to know why you made this decision.
In your letter you tell Luffy to not worry, that you had all the luxury on this ship since Buggy was very fond of you. You also told him to meet you again on the Grand Line, knowing he would grow even more until then and become stronger. You also express your sadness being unable to meet his crew this time, but you promise there will be a second chance.
As you put the pen down you can hear the seagulls outside of your small window, the waves gently crashing against the ship's wall. You roll the letter together and stand up, getting on deck to find a letter carrier seagull to bring your post to the straw hat pirates.
Mohji is on deck and as he sees you in good spirit, he rushes towards you with a cheerful smile.
“Y/n! Was everything okay yesterday? Did the captain treat you well?”
You are happy to see Mohji again, you felt how uncomfortable he was during your encounter yesterday, feeling sympathy for you and your situation but being unable to act.
“He was very kind yesterday, he tried his very best to make me feel more comfortable on the ship. So I decided to stay a bit longer!”
Mohji jumps up out of joy before he gives you a hug.
“I am so glad, Y/n! You belong here. You are a freak, just like us!”
Not sure if he means this as a compliment you just laugh and give him a short hug back.
Just in that moment a post carrier seagull approaches, bringing the newspaper from this morning. You hand her the letter to Luffy, “Bring it to the Straw Hat Pirates, please!”, you urge the bird and she seems to understand.
Mohji looks at you in surprise.
“Dont worry!” you reassure him, “By telling Luffy I am fine he will not search for us and not start an attack on us. This is exactly what I want.”
Mohji nods understandingly and you both bid farewell to the seagull.
Later you continue working on deck, hoisting the sail and leaving Loguetown towards the Grand Line. All provisions have been brought on board and the ship is ready to enter more dangerous waters. As you have never been to the Grand Line before you also get excited, knowing this would eventually lead you to all the places Gol D. Roger has been too and maybe even to his legendary treasure, the One Piece. You know that Buggys aim is to find exactly that treasure and become King of the pirates and as much as you would want this for him, you also know that Luffys determination acquiring the One Piece was something no other pirate should mess with.
As you work on deck you meet the pirate again who you have knocked out in your attempt to escape, you apologize to him and he seems to be forgiving, with a big bandage around his head. Cabaji is still eyeing you from time to time, probably not trusting your sudden willingness to be a crew member. You also hardly believe it. But you catch yourself thinking of Buggy more and more during the day. You hardly see him around, he is in his Captains cabin most of the time. Being blessed with good weather for the last days and no dangerous encounters on sea, there is not much for him to do, so he trusts his crew to navigate him safely to the Grand Line.
#one piece#buggytheclown#one piece buggy#buggy the clown x reader#buggy x reader#buggy x you#long fanfic#nanowrimo 2023
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𝐚𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐤𝐬𝐬𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞 ˚✩彡
clearing out my drafts with semi coherent thoughts
unfinished drafts, warning listed before the post.
masterlist.
UNTITLED - open character
the only way to escape this unreasonable situation, is to escape the unfair life that gave it to you..
suicide. escapism. slight domestic abuse.
the air on the balcomy was cool, cool enough to calm you from the several in terractions
the breeze danced around the delicate fabrics of your dress, shoes being long disregarded as you stood on the railings. you whisper faint and final farewells to the very stars that keep you company on your lowest nights, the garden that you would hide away in when you needed some time alone, and to the very life that you have been blessed with.
you doubt you'd be able to live as lavishly in your next life, (you doubt you'll even remember this one, much less make a comparison) but you decided to let fate take the lead.
"you can feel the midnight air just fine from down here, i don't think the need for elevation is mandatory"
fate has got to be fucking with you right now. you didn't even look at him
...
"very trivial matters, i'm afraid. im just a coward running away from my problems"
"a matter worth taking ur life over isn't trivial to me"
...
"count ( ) of ( ), he's have many wives in his years. there has been rumors of the women he weds only serving as countess for a few months... until never being seen again."
you sniffle as you try to blink away the upcoming tears, you shouldn't be weak right now, you can't be weak right now.
"...i've told father about the rumors but he tells me i'm being dramatic, that there was nothing to worry about and that his past wives were just incompetent, and to never be like them..."
you can hear his stern voice boom throughout his office:
"all of those women simply went back to their homes. to add, they came back disastrous, unfulfilled, disappointments. that will not be you, understand?
...
he didnt know what to say, there was nothing he could say
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST - xiao ver.
as you run away from the ball to save you exiled father, the beast finally confronts his thoughts on the past weeks
no warnings applied
the beast looks off at you as you scurry to get your horse, the mirror he gave you had shown your father being harassed and held down by townspeople and you ran off to go save him. he sighs.
his head hangs low as he walks into the uppermost room of the east wing, the whilting rose, that determines not only his fate but the fate of the whole castle, is covered by glass as the fallen petals rot below it.
he reflects on what happened so far, the time he spent with you as his 'prisoner'.
...
he finds himself not only do these memories plague his mind but you stand out the most in them, the entire ballroom was but a blur - insignificant and unremarkable - compared to you. the way how your gown glistened as the moonlight hit is, your unwavering eye contact made his head spin, and the awe inspiring ambiance curated by cadenza.
BESTFRIEND!AETHER - aether obvi
hcs on best friend aether (could count as a sfw version of this post)
no warnings applied
best friend!aether who you met when your teacher recommended tutoring. as you listen to the teacher go on and on about something you didn't care enough to listen to, your supposed tutor gives you a shy wave, to which you respond with a small nod.
best friend!aether that tutors you effectively, he seemed to be able to explain events in history like he's actually been there. no wonder prof. morax likes him so much, they're similar in that matter.
best friend!aether who seems even more excited than you about your grades, rocking you from side to side in a tight hug that you could only laugh to and hug him back. he never fails to make your achievements feel like actual achievements, things to be proud of and be celebrated.
speaking of celebration, best friend!aether, who takes you out to your favorite restaurant next weekend. it doesn't matter how much you ordered, how expensive the food might be, or even the location. he will find a way to take you there and will pay in full.
best friend!aether who you started to hang out with without needing to study. either you two would be chatting away over nonsensical topics or you would be silently sharing one of his airpods as you listen to your blended playlist.
best friend!aether who you got so close with without even realizing it.
UNTITLED - aexiao poly
gossiping with ur boyfriends lawl
gossiping, i hope no one knows me irl is reading this...
“bro, shut up” aether said, as he momentarily stops playing with your hair
“no i’m so serious!” you say as you lean your head up to look at him
“haven’t they been together for a year now?!” xiao kicks in, his eyes still glued to his phone
“almost, bebe, its been 9 months” you respond as you start to weave his hair through your fingers “thats what makes it so sad, pinterest is very much obsessed with mackerel and i don’t know if i should be the one to break it to her”
you sigh as you sink more into aether’s lap, burying your face in his basketball shorts. as aether plays with the locs of your hair, you busy your hands with xiao’s hair as his head lies between your thighs. being “the quiet kid” in your class pays off as you always overhear different stories with a variety of people. of course, their identities are hidden using different code names.
right now, you were telling your lovers what you have heard earlier that day. the cafeteria was a breeding ground for drama, as different people with different majors are in one place. if you leave your headphones — on purpose or not — you could hear the table beside you loud and clear. doggie and wolfie were constantly in some sort of drama, doggie found solace in useless and wolfie got jealous, and banana yogurt was on the rise again? you thought that she moved schools!
@aeferkssr.
#. ❀ gallery !#genshin impact#genshin#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#aether genshin impact#aether x reader#xiao genshin impact#xiao x reader#aexiao x reader#xiaother x reader#aether x reader x xiao
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Hi! Your posts bring me so much joy, I love reading them! How would the inquisition companions react to an inquisitor who is expecting that they will die in the fight against Corypheus? An inquisitor that has fully accepted death, isn't happy about it but doesn't see a way out, and is making their final goodbyes with everyone, because they know that they won't survive this, and that the hero always has to die in the end
Cassandra is no stranger to death. She hails from Nevarra, where death is a common topic of conversation. She has seen death take her parents and she has watched it take her brother. Yet she has never before seen someone so easily give death their hand and allow it into their embrace. That someone being the Inquisitor, no less. Cassandra is terrified. And she is so, so proud. "This is not goodbye forever," she says. "Only goodbye for now." She means it.
Varric knows shitty odds like the back of his hand. What were the odds that he'd survive Corypheus, or Meredith, or even the blasted Thaig his brother trapped him in? It takes courage to face shitty odds and more courage to be realistic about them. Doesn't mean Varric has to be happy about it. Why does the hero always have to die in the end? He can see there's no talking the Inquisitor out of this one, so he says his goodbyes and plans to write a book about a hero, the dangers they face and their very happy ending.
Solas is numb. It's better than feeling anything else. He can't have any regrets about his original intentions with the veil... but that doesn't mean he can't regret the circumstances the Inquisitor finds themself in. And regret he does, but in his own time, in a quiet place that doesn't reflect the fight to come. "Perhaps you may survive this yet," he offers, but his words are hollow and tinged with sadness.
Dorian doesn't know what to say. For a man with many words, he's not often rendered speechless. And it's not like he's not seen this before. Felix was of the same mind... so Dorian offers them a drink. If it is their last hours together, they may as well have fun. And he's going to make damn well sure he cherishes every moment, and to not let his best friend go without a fight.
Sera wants to yell until she's red in the face. Not at the Inquisitor, but at the circumstances that put them in that position. It's not fair. She knows life isn't fair - the people she helps are a demonstration of that. But the Inquisitor, her friend... they've beaten the odds before. They have to beat them again. They have so many more pranks to pull, cookies to bake and precious time to spend together. Fuck Corypheus for taking that away from her.
Blackwall doesn't want to say goodbye. Goodbyes are too final for his liking. Far too final for someone he cares about. So he decides to give the Inquisitor a gift. A good luck charm of sorts, carved from wood by his own hand and delicately painted in the Inquisitor's favourite colours. It's not a goodbye, not really. Just a very fond farewell.
Cole has watched a lot of people die. Some of those people he killed himself. Always they fought against death, clinging onto life like they clung onto his hand. Then Cole moved on to the next person who needed his help, never thinking back, never grieving for the soul that slipped from his grasp. This time is different, and oddly enough he finds himself mourning someone who hasn't even left. He sits with the Inquisitor, says goodbye, and makes sure that they will be remembered... that no one will forget.
The Iron Bull doesn't know what to say. What do you say to someone who's going to die? What does anyone say? 'You will get through this'? A lie. He doesn't lie anymore. And, as Bull is finding out, he hates goodbyes. So he sits there in silence, a mug of ale in his hand, and tells the truth - he's glad to have the Inquisitor with him, here at the end of all things.
Vivienne suspected the Inquisitor would come to this conclusion. They are smart, realistic, and not shy about their odds. It's part of what she likes about them. She sits them down, takes their hands into her own and tells them she is very, very proud of them. "You have taken us further than I could ever have believed, my dear. Thank you for everything... and be safe."
#dragon age#dragon age inquisition#dragon age companions#dragon age companion reactions#cassandra pentaghast#varric tethras#dragon age solas#dorian pavus#dragon age sera#dragon age blackwall#dragon age cole#the iron bull#vivienne de fer#fun game: spot the tolkien references#can't believe it's taken me this long to answer omfg
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So, what do you think would have happened to Amphibia if its third season got shortened down to three hour long specials like Owl House did?
So A: this question is flawed. The shortening wasn't told to TOH's crew post S2. They were told WELL in advance. Dana is on record (source) for having said as much. The news came down on episode 7 of S2. Reasonably, this probably meant not a lot of S2A could have been changed due to deadlines but I don't know how all this works that well. For the sake of this, I'm going to mostly assume that something could have started changing starting episode eight and more drastic changes could be done after the mid season hiatus.
B: TOH needed S2B to mostly look identical to setup for going into the human realm, for having the Day of Unity as the finale and for the Collector to be set up as a villain by then. There are maybe two episodes you could change but nothing that is emblematic of the problems of S2B as a whole. Here's an entire blog about that. Btw, I published that blog before the finale came out and my opinion is mostly that that blog is kinder than it should have been.
C: I am not going to say this is a better version of Amphibia. Some might though. A lot of people think S2B and S3 of Amphibia is loaded with what they see as filler. Even I agree that you could probably cut a fair amount and not lose the core of the show. I'm about to demonstrate that. Also, just inherently because of a faster pace, the show would have to be more about the trio, or feel that way at least (again, I'll get into it), which the majority of the Amphibia fandom argues is what the show should have done anyways. So yeah, it's kind of an interesting conundrum.
D: I'll mostly talk about the weaknesses of this rewrite once I'm done. For anyone who needs a refresher though: S2, Episode 7 of Amphibia, the last one before this change, is one after Marcy at the Gates and has the segments "Scavenger Hunt" and "The Plantars Check In." Oh and before I get to the three specials, I'll mostly just be trying to slot in episode segments because that feels the most fair to actually capture a reasonable timeline for the show. Like I'm not coming up with cheats to handwave issues that this change would cause. As such, I'm not going to do something like cut The First Temple in half just for the sake of claiming more time. Once we get to the specials, that will change because those episodes' structures would have inherently changed, kind of like how The Hardest Thing has a different structure due to its extended run time. Until then though? I'll mostly be trying to effectively Mad Libs this off of what we already have despite the fact that the creators would have, at least if they're responsible, made changes to work within their new time frame. I'm going to give myself one unreasonable shift in return for this handicap effectively of not being able to change the core structure of the show or its plot points.
ANYWAYS. With that out of the way:
For the sake of pacing, you probably do Lost in Newtopia and then the Sleepover to End All Sleepovers as episode 8 because we can't literally go straight into leaving Newtopia and one could argue that the sleepover is important foreshadowing. However, the next episode is then a double whammy of A Day at the Aquarium to say farewell to Newtopia and still have that touching confirmation of the found family before then skipping Night Drivers and going straight to Return to Wartwood for the second segment, bringing us up to nine.
Then I would actually move Toad to Redemption into the first slot for episode ten because it is thematically important and a good rallying moment for Wartwood. You could also replace with Ivy on the Run for the sake of Sprivy and just make episode 13 into episode 10 by making After the Rain be the mid season finale. It's dramatic enough to do so and lets:
The First Temple opens S2B and episode 15 of the normal show, New Wartwood and Friend or Frobo stays too in order to help setup Wartwood's relationship with humans besides Anne and to get Frobo in. That brings the count to 12.
Then you do episode 17 as episode 13, Barrel's Warhammer and The Second Temple, because we do still need a bit more time with Sasha to prep for True Colors and The Second Temple is obvious. However, I'd probably swap their positions because then episode 14 is The Third Temple (so you don't have two temples literally back to back, even if the two are different episodes like in the actual show) and The Dinner... With Battle of the Bands being cut. It's Sasha's weakest episode, is just kind of reinforcement of a few elements and some expansion on the three's relationship, though mostly Anne and Sasha. The Dinner is needed though to get Sasha with the other two and heading to Newtopia because...
There is a quarter season finale now with True Colors. It is ABSOLUTELY the most radical choice in this rewrite and you could arguably say that it's not fair because Disney wouldn't have allowed them to have that episode as anything but a season finale. This is the only 'cheat' I'll give myself since I'm not altering episodes drastically or the like to fit in with the new time frame. Plus side: They'd have the compelling pitch that in five episodes, they CAN get back to Amphibia to make that the season finale. Otherwise there isn't really much to change before S3 because so much has to wait on the major turn of Andrias becoming the main villain. That version of this outline though, that S2 doesn't change at ALL, is... A genuine nightmare on a lot of fronts and honestly less reasonable than thinking this would be allowed and I'll get to why after the outline. Oh, there is one change that needs to happen unfortunately: Frobo probably doesn't make it in this version after this. Polly and him unfortunately just aren't important enough to really get the wrap up they do in S3. It does mean that mechanic Polly during the ending probably has an RC robo or the like with her to help explain where her being a mechanic came from.
Anywhos: Episode 16 is The New Normal... Mixed with Anne-sterminator. Anne is honest about the danger they're in from go and instead of the quarantine montage, we get her actually beating the Cloak Bot first try to show how far she's come to her parents and to show off the new powers alongside their cost.
Then you do Fight at the Museum followed by Turning Point for episode 17 to start the ball rolling on getting back as well as get Sasha into place and finish up her arc.
Episode 18 has Temple Frogs because the Plantars DO need to still connect with Earth and Temple Frogs is EASILY the best episode of that as it explores how different Anne is from the start of the show and how that isn't entirely a good thing because of the things she's now ignoring, fits thematically with the show as a whole and is just a lot of fun. The other side meanwhile is Olivia and Yunan. I would almost not advocate for keeping this episode for a lot of reasons but it's kind of necessary in order to set up for:
The Core and the King is in episode 19 because Andrias' backstory is REALLY important to how he is beat and to also understand what the Core is and what the kingdom of Amphibia can do. What the stakes are to all of this. It is also the one segment in the actual show itself that explores the villain so you can't really cut it. The other half of the episode though is If You Give a Frog a Cookie because we need Terry.
Especially because you might have noticed that I didn't include Mr. X. There just isn't room for them for the most part which luckily... Is okay. He's fun but his parts can be mostly replaced either with faceless people or Terry. You can also just go with his first appearance actually being him taking the Plantars in this episode. Maybe there's been foreshadowing at the end of Earth segments of someone watching. Something that only takes a few seconds but builds up to honestly having Escape to Amphibia be mostly the same as it was but with a reduced cast and less familiarity with Mr. X as a villain.
So that covers S2. Now there are 3 45 minute specials on average to cover all of S3B. Or more so there's two specials to cover the seven episodes between Escape to Amphibia and The Hardest Thing because Amphibia's finale already had an extended time slot. As 45 minutes is effectively two episodes each, you need to save on three episodes. Six segments.
That's... easier said than done because the segments are actually incredibly important to Amphibia's storytelling and these specials could technically be split into four segments each but more likely they actually have to tell a through line story per special. You can't jump AS MUCH as you could before.
So Special 1 starts with effectively Commander. The reintroduction to Wartwood and the finalizing of Sasha's new self after her character arc is not something you can really leave out. Plus side is that Commander Anne is a really efficient eleven minutes to introduce what Amphibia is like now and you probably don't do the pampered brat routine with the Plantars which is not a real loss. The theme of this special though is allies so the target of Sasha's mission when Anne gets back changes.
The goal is now to free Mother Olm. This way you can skip the Olms themselves and still get the prophecy and foresight from Mother Olm that sets up the finale. It also allows a smooth transition into meeting with Mother Olm in general. She warns them they'll need allies once they're done and we get a montage of the a lot of what people consider filler in S3 with getting allies, though mostly the Toads, Newts and the Killerpillars probably. You could also do this with people splitting up so that each one gets a truncated version of the full segment to get them. Then the final portion of the special is Sasha and Anne hoping their efforts paid off before Sprig shows Lief's hidden room to get Lief's letter.
Then Special 2 is effectively episodes 16 and 17 of S3. Just consolidating the army, heading out, then protecting Earth after midway through the special everything goes wrong. Not really anything even has to be changed here really except just smoothing out the transitions between segments. Admittedly, the Plantars probably rely more on Domino 2 to replace the loss of Frobo and unfortunately Polly just doesn't have a lot to do in All In.
Then Special 3 is literally just The Hardest Thing. Pretty much no changes I think because the elements for it have still been covered.
And that's it. It's not by any means perfect of course. Elements are rushed and some elements probably feel neglected or abandoned entirely. I already mentioned Polly but this version also means Sprivy is ignored post S1 effectively and just has a nice come back at the end of the finale (which is a good argument for Ivy on the Run over Toad of Redemption for the filler segment in episode 10 of the rewrite). Worse yet... Sprig is kind of ignored and Anne and his friendship is mostly left fallow. I admittedly don't think the show does the best job keeping it burning post S1 but S1 sells it HARD already as part of the stable base of the show so it's not a big problem. It also harms the connection to Amphibia itself so a line like "They aren't Amphibia's greatest treasure" doesn't hit as hard.
It would almost certainly feel actually rushed... Which is a fuckton better than what happened with TOH because TOH doesn't feel rushed. Its three specials are incredibly bloated with plotlines THEY introduce, or S2B introduced, that go nowhere. Or hell, resolutions that mean nothing, like how Luz finishes her character arc THREE. FUCKING. TIMES. Even people who love TOH still will admit the majority of For the Future is filler. That it does nothing to actually move anything forward, wrap much of anything up that couldn't have been left alone (besides Stringbean but that moment is cut off at the knees immediately by the finale's dream sequence) and those are people who won't bring up how Willow had her power problems resolved literally two seasons ago. S3 is so bankrupt on what to do to fill the time that they bring it back anyways, alongside Kikimora who has NO REASON to still be a villain we're dealing with.
That is the HUGE difference here. TOH doesn't actually feel like we're missing out on anything with its S3 besides fluff and maybe a bit of exploration on the whole Grimmwalker thing. The specials just don't feel like they actually know what to do in the first place though. It makes it feel like we're mostly missing out on filler but there's already so much of that in these episodes. Even the elements that could have been expanded, like Belos backstory, the human realm shenanigans and the Collector's redemption are rough because none of these are from before the shortening. Only Hunter's arc is really something stared BEFORE THE SHORTENING. Belos' backstory and the contradictory nature of The Collector, like how he absolutely knows what death is during Hollow Mind and is a complete evil fucker there... Are written in S2B. They were included and written as part of the shortening. Hell, the human realm and the Collector as a whole weren't even planned for S3 supposedly. They were things they wanted to do but didn't have a place for them and so just jammed in these MASSIVE new elements that needed more time than was available with no care for the fact that they had NO TIME. (I don't have a source for this unfortunately.)
Admit you didn't have a plan for your show without admitting you didn't have a plan.
That also brings up an element that I brought up at the top: How much the story might have actually changed. I'm having to work off of the main outline provided by the show but it's entirely possible that The Core might not have been included. That Earth might not have. Changes would have happened to the overall story and it's kind of impossible to reasonably guess how. After all, I wouldn't have guessed that an all powerful child and a trip to the human realm would have been responses to a shortening for The Owl House.
So I did my best and I still stand by that this would still be a fine to good version of the show. That it wouldn't have been impossible to tell a full narrative with the time given. One that is still thematically coherent, has a strong finale that doesn't contradict itself and still has plenty of fun in it to counterbalance the higher focus on the more dramatic elements.
That's still a LOT better than can be said for TOH's finale, let alone its three specials.
======+++++======
I ended up just rewriting the outline as a way to give it more thought instead of copy and pasting the first one I wrote. *whimpers*
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…so I feel awkward asking cause I usually just respond to posts, but would you per chance have any thoughts on a Ezio/Des cousins scene. Like we know Mario and Giovanni went to Masyaf to look for a way into Altair’s vault, I’m pretty sure they did anyway, so who’s to say that Mario didn’t meet a courtesan or something and through the eye slash Isu bs Desmond is now the first born to the eldest son of the Auditore who also bears a striking resemblance to the statue of Altair. (Ps ik Mario and Giovanni looked to the armor keys together and failed but I’m pretty sure they also looked for a way into the hidden library)
Giovanni in Mario’s study staring down his only nipote, who is also giving a judgment look because Desmond doesn’t approve of Gio being an on call assassin for the Medici“… brother…just who was that woman you slept with?”
I know saying things like ‘oh, don’t feel awkward’ is just… weird so I’ll just say that I’m happy to hear (read?) from you and I enjoy all your responses. :)
Okay, let’s talk about the Auditore brothers’ search for Altaïr’s library.
As far as I can remember from AC wiki’s pages on Giovanni and Mario, they didn’t search for the library. Giovanni writes about it in one of his letters that’s marked as 1458 (a year before Ezio’s birth). There was no real mention that the brothers searched for it. I believe that the confusion might be caused by the event where Mario contacted Giovanni about the Shroud? That’s the only time I can remember where Giovanni and Mario contacted one another after their relationship went cold (thanks to Mario telling Giovanni he’d rather fight like a man than be a banker)
But we can make this work using that!
Instead of both Giovanni and Mario going to Masyaf, let’s have Mario go to Masyaf in secret. Perhaps he heard of Giovanni’s letter, maybe the one who received it talked to him about it and Mario wanted to find this great library. Whether it was his awkward way of trying to reconnect with his brother or if this was simply him wishing to show who is the better Auditore will be left a mystery with no concrete answer.
Of course, during this time, the way to the library underneath Masyaf was still unknown so Mario spent his days searching for clues about this mysterious library supposedly hidden in Masyaf.
During his stay in Masyaf, he stays with the local Assassins. Just a single family in charge of keeping an eye on things in Masyaf. There’s no real bureau or anything of the sort.
Masyaf was quite peaceful, all things considered.
And that’s where he meets the Assassin’s daughter. He would describe her as a woman with hair as dark as night yet with eyes the color of the morning sky.
(This is meant to hint that the Assassin family in Masyaf is a descendant of Darim who canonically has Maria’s blue eyes)
Alas. Mario is summoned back to Monteriggioni soon enough because he is the ruler of a place that tends to get attacked a lot so off he goes without even a goodbye for he knew he would not be able to leave had he said his farewell to the lady of Masyaf.
Not knowing that said lady was pregnant with his child at that point.
Now, here’s where we play around a bit and say that Desmond actually didn’t know he was an Auditore until a bit later. His grandparents had been offended by Mario’s sudden disappearance and only grew more bitter when their daughter died in childbirth (sorry, unnamed lady). This would make Desmond be raised in a cold-ish environment which he’s fine with, it reminded him a lot of William Miles’ wife actually.
Then he sees the letters that Mario had been sending. Letters that his grandparents had kept from his mother because they talk about how he still remembers her and how she only need to say the word and he will come bring her back to Monteriggioni.
Desmond’s first reaction is… “Holy shit, I’m an Auditore.”
Then next was… “What the fuck?! My grandparents are assholes?!”
And so Desmond runs away from home at the tender age of fourteen, helped by his Bleeds, and becomes a stowaway to a ship bound somewhere near Monteriggioni or Firenze, he’s not picky. He’ll steal a horse if he has to.
When he gets to Monteriggioni, he goes up to Mario and announces that his name is Desmond (which isn’t the name his grandparents gave him but fuck it) and he’s his son.
Mario is, of course, skeptical but Desmond’s eyes were very similar to those blue eyes that haunted Mario’s every dream. (They still turn gold when Desmond uses the Eagle Vision)
And, since Desmond knew that Mario would not believe him, he brought the letters Mario sent but his mother never received and the letters his mother had written but never sent.
This propels Mario to, in a bout of grief and ‘holy shit I’m a father’ panic, write a letter to his brother asking for help because he is absolutely not ready for this, he never even thought he would ever be a father, what the fuck is he supposed to do???
Giovanni receives the letter and is like ‘holy shit, I’m an uncle??? What do I do, Maria??? Stop laughing, Maria, this is serious!!!’ and, before anybody knows it, the Auditores are suddenly going on a vacation to Monteriggioni.
Maria is pretty sure Giovanni has no other plans other than talk to Mario so they can freak out about this while trying to get drunk.
On the flip side, this might be the catalyst that would finally mend the broken bond between the Auditore Brothers.
Unorganized Ideas/Plot:
They will learn that Desmond is Darim’s descendant and it will make them believe that’s the reason why Desmond looks so similar to the statue of Altaïr
Ezio starts off as being jealous of Desmond because they’re similar in age but Petruccio loves hearing his stories about Masyaf and Claudia likes him because he’s nice to her and doesn’t tease her like her older brothers.
Desmond is pretty sweet on Ezio though and Ezio starts to warm up to him because he can see how genuine Desmond is. (Also, they may or may not have gotten into some shenanigans. NO ONE CAN PROVE ANYTHING!)
Federico is trying to be the responsible older brother but he and Desmond are slacker buddies. Desmond knows the best spots in Monteriggioni and he shares them with Federico so people won’t find them napping.
Desmond’s disapproval of Giovanni is seen by everyone. Everyone just assumes he’s heard of the strained relationship between his father and uncle.
After Giovanni gets snarked at by Desmond over his loyalty to a person instead of the Creed, everyone now assumed that Desmond was raised as an Assassin since he was young.
They would be wrong. Desmond didn’t even know his grandparents were Assassins until he saw Mario’s letters.
#desmond as mario's son#this does mean he's the heir of house auditore#pretty sure mario's gonna make him the head as soon as he turned sixteen#mario just seems like the type to do such a thing#assassin's creed#desmond miles#ezio auditore#mario auditore#giovanni auditore#teecup writes/has a plot#ask and answer
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