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bouwrites · 9 months

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Those Warm and Halcyon Days: Chapter 79

Area 4: Beyul

Ao3.

First, Previous, Next.

Story under read-more.

In an effort to make the march to Beyul feel a bit less like a funeral procession (Veery is not convinced anyone has actually told the refugees that they’re going to be released into the hands of their fellow Agarthans, provided things go well) Veery decides to, for the first time, take initiative with the ridiculous reputation he has and do something with it.

So, he approaches the Agarthan refugees, hoping that talking calmly with them will set them at ease, but also that seeing the patchwork god (Holst has been spreading it, and the cult is starting to adopt it, too, with a lot of speculation on what “patchwork” really means.) reaching out will help the Fódlanders involved on the march relax a little.

It’s essentially the reason he comes to Fódlan to begin with. This tension between the two peoples will lead to war and death if nothing is done about it, and regardless of his actual capability to do anything about it, his are the only actions in his control and no one else is doing anything, so… he may as well do something.

After a few false starts, including some people who do believe he’s a new god but who unfortunately believe he’s a god determined to finally eradicate their people, Veery ends up spending a large part of the march chatting with a greying, heavyset man who claims to be nothing more than a cook. And who is positively offended that Veery has so few opinions on food beyond “edible is good”.

He’s very enthusiastic, and does most of the talking, and Veery frankly wants to walk away but the man does get into some details on how he acquires his ingredients which is interesting. Veery’s plan to ease some of the tension in the air seems to work as well, as despite the numerous eyes watching curiously, cautiously, or both, things do relax somewhat.

Veery is still happy to slip away when they finally approach the gates of Beyul.

Between Asura’s description, the history book, and a few of the refugees’ chiming in (and a few others attempting to shush them), they still only manage to find the narrow, hidden entrance tucked away on a relatively gentle mountain trail by Veery picking up on and following the sound of moving water.

Slipping through the opening in the wall, Veery finds himself gawking up at a massive statue of a great beast standing in front of a small cave opening and on top of a pool of water which seems to originate here and flows into the mountain. He gasps out, “A mammoth?”

“An elephant?” Claude wonders at the same time.

The two of them eye each other quizzically, then glance to the rest of their party who, by and large, look at the massive statue with none of the recognition that Veery and Claude have, only confusion and a healthy dose of fear.

“What in the world is an elephant?” Veery asks.

Claude shakes his head. “That,” he says, pointing at the statue. “They’re native to southern Almyra, though I heard they’re spreading in Dagda after the Dadgans took some home.”

“Oh.” Veery looks back at the statue.

“What in the world is a mammoth?”

“That,” Veery says, likewise pointing to the statue. On closer inspection, he frowns. “But mammoths are really hairy, so maybe that’s an elephant, then.” He assumes the hair is just difficult to carve into the stone. It’s not a particularly detailed mammoth. Elephant. Whatever.

“Oh. Why didn’t I learn about those when I was researching Albinea?”

“They’re pretty rare. Usually, you only find them deep in the snow wastes, where humans can’t get to even if they wanted to. I think Caub mentioned something about restricted trading? Same reason you don’t get agell fur down here; they don’t like to sell much more than the ivory to anyone outside Albinea. Even that’s too useful to not use ourselves.”

The Agarthan cook still next to Veery eyes the elephant statue, then Veery, then asks, “Have you ever eaten mammoth?”

Veery curls his lip, turning his disbelief towards the man. “Do you really think I’m stupid enough to hunt one of those things on my own? They’re herd animals. And even if you can get one on its own, it would still take a whole pride to actually kill it.”

“Really?” Claude asks. “Not once?”

“I’ve stumbled across a body or two in the snow wastes, but you all apparently think raw, frozen meat doesn’t count as good food.”

The cook is definitely offended, though Claude nods sagely. “You’ve got a point.”

Veery still isn’t convinced they’re telling him the truth when they say they can’t eat raw meat. But even he can admit that cooked usually tastes better. Insomuch as taste matters at all when it’s food in their stomachs.

“If you all are done,” Lysithea huffs (with no small amount of fondness), “can we get going, now?”

“Ha! Right,” Claude says. “Sorry. I just didn’t expect to see an elephant here of all places. Let’s get going.”

Veery has just enough time to hear Dorothea murmur to an equally impressed Leonie, “Creatures like that exist?” before he’s following Claude and the stream under the elephant’s feet into the cave.

They walk deep into the mountain, but it doesn’t take too long. They go far enough that the humans start muttering about the dark and the mages begin conjuring lights, but not far enough that Veery has any complaints about his vision.

But it’s only there, nested in the cave, where they find large metal gates.

Unlike those of Shambhala, which were draconian and military, the gates of Beyul are ornamental to the point of ostentatious. Every inch of the metal face is carved or molded into a complicated mural that towers over them all, easily matching the size of the doors to Rhea’s hall in Garreg Mach.

(Oh. Veery realizes just now that the size of those doors is probably for dragons, not humans. That makes sense, now.)

Veery and the others gather there in front of the doors, either examining the mural or considering how best to open it, when mechanical buzzing rings out and the doors open entirely on their own.

Tension rises, they prepare for whatever is on the other side to attack, then an old, tremulous voice cuts through. “So, the fell star and the winter sun grace the exalted halls of Beyul,” it says. “We greet you both, and your allies, with tidings of peace.”

Veery knows that “fell star” refers to Sothis, and it’s no surprise that Beyul knows about her and Byleth (though there is some surprise at the obeisance paid to her), but it isn’t until Veery sees the old man in flowing robes looking directly at him that he realizes he’s picked up another epithet.

The winter sun. Veery snorts openly when he realizes that it’s him that refers to. That is the politest way of calling him a fake that he’s heard. The church loyalists who still deny his divinity usually just call him heretic, but to name him after something that isn’t there, or only barely appears, is actually quite funny.

Strange as it may be, Veery thoroughly approves. It’s passive-aggressive, meant to insult, but it’s clever and Veery doesn’t think of himself as a god, anyway, no matter how he’s accepted that others do. He almost wishes he’d come up with it himself and told Holst to use it before spreading around his patchwork title. Since the sun doesn’t disappear for winter down here in Fódlan, most of the cult probably wouldn’t even realize what it implies.

In fact, no one at all except for Sadi and Hoarvug, after Veery openly expresses his humor at the title, seem to have any idea why. And though Sadi and Hoarvug clearly don’t find it funny in itself, they both roll their eyes at Veery’s reaction.

After a moment, it clicks into place for Claude, too, but instead of finding humor in it, he scowls, tensing for conflict, and asks, “Winter sun?”

The lone old man who greets them bows. “The fire of winter,” he explains, “named partly for his feats of ice magic and signature flames, as well as the more symbolic warmth in the midst of the greatest cold for his healing prowess.”

Oh. Oh, that’s so much worse. And here Veery was giving them credit for being clever.

The old man eyes Veery’s disappointment and Claude’s subtle relaxing for a moment, then has his own realization. “Ah, you were thinking of the polar night? My apologies for any disrespect. We clearly have failed to consider where the young god hails from.” He turns to Veery and bows deeply. “We beg your forgiveness for our oversight.”

Veery just shrugs. “I thought it was funny,” he says, knowing he shouldn’t fully admit that he prefers if it were insulting.

The old man clearly takes this as forgiveness for the unintended slight and rises once more. “Generous indeed. I should introduce myself. My name is Cadros. I am the current high priest of the silent dragon Anankos and have been asked to receive you guests to Beyul.”

“Been asked by who?” Claude asks. “We admittedly have very little information on Beyul, and I’d like to know who I’m going to need to be dealing with.”

Cadros smiles indulgently. He turns and speaks only as they walk. “Beyul is ruled by a council of religious leaders. As high priest of the silent dragon, I am among that council, but I am not the sole leader of our city.”

“I see. And how would you like to begin?”

“I see that you’ve brought the rest of the survivors of Shambhala with you,” Cadros says, smiling to the refugees behind them. “I assume, since you’ve brought them to our very first meeting, you’re willing to part with them?”

“Ideally,” Claude says stoically. “Fódlan is still at war and Shambhala is too close to the border with Adrestia. And I know Edelgard is no friend of Agartha. We can certainly give them refuge ourselves if necessary, but as a temporary measure, Beyul is the safest place for them.”

Cadros nods slowly.

Claude continues. “I don’t know how much you’ve heard about the state of Shambhala itself…”

“Little,” Cadros answers. “We’ve taken in a few survivors already, but they escaped during Thales’ attempt to collapse the city and do not know how much has survived.”

Oh, so Asura’s group does make it here. That’s good to know. Claude hums and says, “Most of the city’s infrastructure survived thanks to Veery and Marianne taking care of those javelins of light. Although, we don’t have the experience with your technology to examine much more than that. The center of the city, where Thales was holed up, is damaged from the cave-in, and we haven’t had time to determine if the rest of the cave is still sound, not to mention the exit path is also caved-in, so we evacuated the people that remained, pending investigation and clean-up to determine whether it’s safe for them to return to their homes.”

“All of which cannot be done until your war is over,” Cadros says sagely, stroking his beard. “You have already risked a great detour by focusing on Shambhala before Adrestia, and Shambhala lies close to the Adrestian border – if these people returned there to repair their home, there is a good chance that Emperor Edelgard will try to finish the job, even if you won’t.”

“We’d like to prevent that,” Claude says. “We, at least, realize that not all people are the same. Thales’ Koterija is our enemy, not Agartha as a whole, and certainly not Beyul, who we don’t have any evidence has taken part in any of Thales’ crimes.”

“Then you have proven yourself more reasonable than past generations. Of both our peoples.” Cadros frowns in thought for a moment, then says, “We will take the refugees off your hands. We also beg that, when the war is over, it will be safe for us to investigate what is left of Shambhala.”

“Naturally,” Claude says. “You understand we’ll have to provide an escort as you pass through Leicester.”

“I would expect no less,” Cadros says. “I hope that this meeting marks an era of openness and honesty between our peoples. That means we will both naturally need to respect each other’s boundaries and borders.”

They come upon another door which, when opened leads to a vast, light space. Veery blinks, trying to adjust his eyes to what he at first believes is daylight.

Abyss is dark by necessity. They don’t have the technology to make sustainable lights and torches are both dim and limited. If they want to keep having light at all, they need to ration their torches to match how quickly they can supply more from the surface.

Shambhala, however, has these strange, cold lights that can only be magic, or some magic-technology mix. Yet still the city is dim, like it’s permanently nighttime.

Beyul, however, is as bright as the midday sun. Massive blocks of light which hurt to look at almost as much as the sun hang suspended, dotted above the city. Deep shadows do find themselves to the distant cavern walls, but most of the whole open space is shockingly well lit.

Veery can see the same Agarthan script which lines the walls of Shambhala decorating the walls here, as well, but unlike the more draconian, military design of Shambhala, the walls of Beyul are alive with art.

Veery even hears Ignatz suck in an excited little gasp when he sees it.

Murals and decorations in all mediums appear as they walk through Beyul. Statues sit proudly in the middle of the streets, colorful banners like Veery has only ever seen in Derdriu hang across them from the buildings, paint and vibrant stone line the walls. The skill these artisans have is impressive, but Veery is just taken by the color. (Color like this is part of why Veery comes to Fódlan in the first place.)

He wants to explore.

Of course, despite the scents saturating Beyul, they don’t see a single soul as Cadros leads them into the streets. Clearly, they’re prepared. And cautious. As they should be. But that does mean Veery shouldn’t wander off.

They eventually enter a large building and are greeted inside by a large collection of people, most dressed in fancy, ornamented robes.

Just as he’s wondering who all these people are, one of the fancy ones and one with decidedly more plain robes separates themselves from the group to approach Professor Byleth and Veery together.

“Divine god,” the pain-clothed one says, bowing low, “exalted vessel, we greet you and welcome you to Beyul. I am Serin, priest of the winter sun.” Priest for Veery? Yikes. Veery meets cultists devoted to him all the time now, but someone calling themselves a priest… Gross. “I understand that you may wish to stay for the discussions to come, but if I might ask for a moment of your time before you depart, we would be honored to have our god visit our temple.”

The other man in fancier robes makes the same offer to Byleth.

Veery suppresses a weary sigh. When he says he wants to explore, this is not what he means.

“Go on, Kitty,” Hapi says. “Claudester and the rest of us will handle things here. You should go take a look around.”

Seriously? Granted, Veery has no interest in the details of whatever agreement they’re going to be negotiating for the next few hours, but he doesn’t consider visiting a temple dedicated to him to be an improvement.

“You too, Teach,” Lysithea says, with a look in her eye that gives Veery enough pause to think that there’s another reason they want someone outside the meeting room. “This is going to be mostly the boring part, anyway. You have time to visit the faithful.”

Surely, they can’t think that sending two high-profile targets to be alone with the Agarthans is a good idea. Veery might be on the side of giving an alliance with these people a chance, but trusting them like that? It’s laughable.

Do they think that they’re in danger, and they need someone outside to break them out if necessary? But the Agarthans approach them with the offer, so it would just be part of the Agarthan plot if so, so there’s no way that will work.

Or… are they on an information gathering job? That… does make sense. Byleth and Veery will have the chance to see more of the city and meet more of the people, which may yet be important for such a new relationship.

If that’s the case, Veery has very little room to refuse, does he? Still, he asks Serin, “You won’t be needed for the talks here?”

Serin shakes his head. “As we follow you, if you say that Mister Claude speaks with your authority, then he also speaks for us. My presence will be superfluous.”

Huh. Well, that’s stupid. Even Veery doesn’t so eagerly cast aside his voice in matters like these, always at least showing up to listen to war meetings. But if that’s his choice…

Veery is still unsure about it all, but he nonetheless agrees to follow Serin out of the building. Sadi and Hoarvug naturally stick to his side, as does, strangely, one of the random Knights of Seiros with their delegation, while several more knights accompany Byleth, who, along with her own priest, walk together with Veery for a while before eventually splitting at a corner.

It takes Veery an embarrassingly long time, until well after Professor Byleth’s group parts from them, to realize the knight tagging along with him is that Antony Garnel character who lost his marbles and decided to worship Veery after Veery healed him from a typical battlefield magic burn five years ago.

It’s not that long ago that he tells Veery his life story, or whatever, back on the road between Arianrhod and Daint Mach Monastery where Mercedes harbored Emile before they all returned to Garreg Mach, but Veery honestly doesn’t remember much more than that.

(He just really doesn’t care.)

Beyul, however, he does care about, if only because it’s a beautiful place. He’s sure that with more people milling about the streets he’ll have a different opinion, but the color and art all around him just makes him smile.

The temple that Serin leads him to is much less decorated, though that looks to be at least in part due to it being new. A few of the temples they pass are similarly bare of decoration but look much more worn. Here, however, everything is shiny and fresh.

It’s weird. Veery doesn’t like that newly constructed look at all. Then again, he doesn’t like human architecture as a whole, so that’s perhaps not surprising. He does find it within himself to question the difference, though, and turns to Serin. “Why is this building left so plain? I see murals on almost every wall here, but this one and some of those other temples are blank.”

“To decorate the walls of a temple,” Serin says, “the god the temple is dedicated to must approve.” Which, despite the fact that Veery is so far the only actually living god to voice an opinion on the matter, is fair enough reasoning. “As such, it is much more difficult for artists to gain the necessary permits to do so. Most temple murals are commissions requested by the high priests themselves – few others manage the honor.”

Veery hums.

“How do you feel about decorating your temple in such a way?”

Oh, boy. Veery sighs. “Beyul is a beautiful city,” he says. “I like the color. But I won’t tell you how to make your temple.”

Serin visibly hesitates. “…I see. In truth we, that is, all of us priests at this temple, were hoping that you might be willing to meet with the proper candidates and appoint an official high priest. As well as offer insight into how we can best please you that we are… regretfully unable to obtain due to our isolation.”

Veery curls his lip, blinking dumbly. That… is the worst thing he has ever heard.

It’s Antony who speaks up in Veery’s disgusted silence. “Might I ask, this being such a new religion, are you struggling to gain the respect of your peers? Is that why you need a high priest?”

Serin inclines his head slowly. “Yes and no,” he says. “We do not lack for the respect of the other religions. Merely following a living god in the first place elevates us and overcomes any bias for our inexperience. We are not lesser than the other religions. At least not to any below Beyul’s two favored ones. That said, as we cannot appoint a high priest, we do lack for power in certain affairs. Only our god’s appointment of one for us, or another proxy dictated by terms set by our god, can fulfill that position in our government.”

“Ah,” Antony says, “so simply by answering a few questions, the patchwork god can elevate your religion’s position within Beyul.”

“Just so.” Serin nods. “But do not mistake, we do not ask solely for the purpose of gaining influence. As faithful to our god, we wish to know how best to worship. That is more important, and if he so chooses to ignore those aspects which will empower us, we will still be satisfied with whatever guidance he is willing to give.”

Veery only just resists scoffing. Like he believes that for a second. So, it’s all a power play. Good on Antony for figuring that out so quickly.

“Divine god, if I may…?” Serin presses. “Would you be willing?”

Veery gives in and finally rolls his eyes. “It is the utmost foolishness to believe one can speak for another,” he says. “Feelings can only truly be understood by the one feeling them. To claim to speak for the dead, who have no feelings or thoughts to share, god or no, is even more ridiculous.”

Serin gawks, jaw agape, floundering for words.

Hoarvug snorts. “What you must understand about my Veery,” Hoarvug says, “is that he is not a leader because he chooses to guide. He is a leader because he has those who choose to follow him. We choose to follow him because he spoils us so.”

Sadi shakes her head, smirking. “Spoiling us, he means to say, in that Veery does not dictate. He has no interest in controlling the lives of others, especially if he is asked to. One of the many reasons we follow him is precisely that he refuses to impose upon our agency.”

“Yes,” Antony says, “we of the cult on the surface were similarly baffled for a time. Especially after coming from the Church of Seiros and its doctrine. But we learned quickly, and I hope we are correct in this assessment, that the patchwork god values freedom and agency beyond most things. He would never appoint one man to speak for him or guide others in his name because he would never purposefully steer the course of another’s fate. You will find no guidance in begging for it, only in watching and finding meaning in what you see. You must find your path for yourself; it will not be shown to you.”

Serin frowns, thinking deeply on what he’s told. After a long moment, he mutters, “Symposium.” Louder, more confident, he says, “No high priest, because as per our god’s beliefs, no official leader makes sense. So instead, a symposium of ideas. All priests will be encouraged to bring their thoughts to improve the temple and the city forward, and we can act upon well-reasoned and well-planned ideas. Our seat in the government can be taken by an elected representative of the symposium itself. If our god approves?”

“I have no need or desire to be worshipped,” Veery says. “I certainly won’t tell you how to do so. If you want to gather together, that is your business, not mine.”

“I believe that’s a yes,” Antony says, chuckling lightly. “Or rather, it’s approval to arrange your temple as you priests see fit. As I said, you must find your path for yourself. He does not tend to look favorably upon those who beg for guidance.”

“I… I see,” Serin says, unsure.

“Fret not, friend,” Antony says. “We also had the same fears. When I say he does not like those who beg for guidance, I mean merely that he will not tell you what to do. If you need help upon the path you’ve chosen for yourself, that is another matter entirely.”

“There is no shame in asking for help,” Sadi says slowly, with a meaningful look at Veery. “Even us prideful agell can sometimes find this to be true. However, if you mean to consign your fate to another’s whim… that is shameful.”

“There is no meaning to life as another’s tool,” Veery huffs, thinking of Catherine, of Dedue, of Ingrid and Dimitri. “Even the most despicable among us lose something in death – our lives – that’s why survival should always be our priority. But to sign away your agency to another’s will is… I can understand serving someone, especially under threat. There is little debasement my pride cannot handle if it means survival. But to submit yourself like that, to become more object than person… in doing so, you kill the person. If nothing left of you remains, no matter if the heart still beats, that is not survival.”

It is this very reason why Veery is so terrified of the Degradation. The affliction itself doesn’t kill the body, but it does kill the mind. And, to Veery’s best estimate, the mind is where the soul truly resides.

“We know and agree, my Veery,” Hoarvug purrs.

“I think,” Serin says, “I am beginning to gain some understanding. The prioritizing of survival and agency over all else does explain much of what we have heard.”

“Life and the freedom to enjoy it are the basest of needs,” Hoarvug says. “All else is built for ourselves upon that foundation. Where else ought our priorities lie?”

“You’ve a fair point. The question then is what ought we build upon that foundation?”

“Whatever your heart yearns for! My path is determined by my heart in the present moment. None save perhaps my Veery would know enough to even begin carving that path for me, even if they could.”

“What you do with your agency,” Veery says, “is what makes you, you. What you strive for is yours to determine and yours to reach. No one can choose that path for another.”

“And what,” Serin says, “may I ask, are you striving for?”

“Arcadia, for one,” Veery answers with a shrug. “I believe in Claude’s ideals, and want to see the Fódlan he’ll create. So, in essence, I want to end the war.”

“As do many,” Serin says. “And beyond that?”

“I hope to refine a method to cleanse the old Crest Stones of the Nabateans.”

“I have heard you succeeded in undoing Shambhala’s dirty work.”

“I have,” Veery says, “at a cost I’m not willing to continue paying. The method must be improved if I’m to cleanse any others.” A method that doesn’t include the patchwork memories within the Crest Stone deciding to gift Veery with their power. Veery has more than enough power already without adding more to it.

Then again, Veery still needs to do more research to determine if that gifting of power is necessary, as it was necessary for Sothis to gift him power in the Sealed Forest, or if that was just Badb’s decision which he might convince others not to make.

He has a sneaking suspicion it’s the former, considering how it all resolved. Even the initial plan was to use Badb’s power, just not to take it into himself in a way that it sticks.

Whatever the case, that’s all part of what Veery needs to refine about the process before he’s willing to consider trying that with any other Crest Stones.

“I see,” Serin says.

“There are other atrocities committed by Shambhala that need to be corrected, as well,” Veery says. “The specifics will likely be brought up in the peace talks but suffice it to say that it is not only the Nabateans who have been hurt, and I plan to keep thinking on how to remedy that.”

“Our symposium will be glad to assist in any way we can.”

“If that’s what you want to do, then bring it up next time you see the other leaders. I won’t tell you anything that the victims don’t want me to, so they’ll have all the information we’re willing to share on that.”

“I most certainly will,” Serin says. “It will be our honor if we can be of assistance to you and your friends.”

“I’d appreciate the assistance,” Veery admits. “Limited knowledge of Agarthan technology has been probably the biggest reason we haven’t already found a solution. If Beyul does agree to help, we might be able to resolve it much sooner than expected.”

“Even if the others do not, I and my fellows will,” Serin assures. “We have many brilliant minds here, even in such a new temple. We will find something.”

Yeah, somehow that’s not reassuring. Veery only says, “We’ll see.”

Veery sighs. He really does have a lot to do, doesn’t he? Perhaps he should stop being quite so lazy as he normally is if he ever wants to get back home.

The problem being… he’s not sure he can safely go home. He’s not sure he can safely stay in Fódlan, either, but his friends here and, to an extent, the temple here in Beyul, are likely his best chance to find some way to stave off the Degradation. If he disappears on his own for another five years, there’s no telling how far it will have progressed, and whether Veery will still even have the wherewithal to bother fighting it by then.

But it’s not like he doesn’t plan on coming back, right? It’ll be fine.

Still, he hopes the Agarthans here figure out Lysithea and Hapi’s problems. That’s one less thing Veery has to worry about his divine power being necessary for. It makes going back home more feasible.

Or… or perhaps there’s another option. Veery wants to go home. Bleak and cold as it is, Albinea resides still in his heart, and he misses it dearly when he’s away. All the same, there is still more he wishes to see. To run the plains of Almyra, Shamir recommends visiting Dagda, and Veery can’t deny it’s tempting to look. Veery recalls his visit to Brigid. It was dreadful in so many ways, especially the climate, but it was also wonderful in many more ways. A new land, with new culture… he still wears the shorts and, now that the weather here in Fódlan has gotten warmer, he wears them much as he does in Brigid, with little else but them.

Innovations like that, things Veery would never experience in his isolation… they’re worth seeing. Worth doing. And that captain, Daithi… Veery can’t explain exactly what’s changed – maybe the end is just more real to him now. As an agell, his lifespan means he never expects to see the end approaching like this. He knows well that he’ll die any way but old age when he goes, but that means that there’s no date hanging over him. A life well lived extends beyond his perception.

Not so much, anymore. Not with the Degradation. Perhaps he will be fine until his death day, or perhaps… It feels looming. Maybe that’s why. That’s why Lysithea is so frantic, so unwilling to relax and laze. Now is the first time Veery feels he at all understands her on that matter.

Maybe, when the war is over, after he visits home just for a little while, he’ll look for Daithi and take him up on that offer. It might be fun to sail the world for a while, to see all there is to see. Though, he should probably decide that before the final battle. Daithi will be there, after all, and that’s the best chance Veery has to meet him again if he intends to join the man’s crew, even temporarily.

Something to think more on.

Those seem to be adding up. At least they’re coming upon the end of the war itself.

“Veery,” Sadi murmurs gently, “we should relax while we can. Once we’re done here, we’ll be back to Adrestia.”

“And thus to Enbarr,” Antony says. He holds a hand to his head. “I still can’t believe we’re so close to the end.”

“How do humans make merry?” Hoarvug asks. “There is no reason our business cannot be pleasurable.”

“Ah, there’s an idea.” Serin smiles. “Of course, when we heard of your visit, we prepared celebrations. The attendance of a god is a rare thing, indeed. We were simply holding everything until we could ask what might be appropriate, given the political climate.”

Veery snorts. “Politics.”

“We take our pleasure where we make it, human,” Sadi says. “And we are but one step away from victory. It is you who is in question.”

“Many in Beyul mourn Shambhala, it’s true,” Serin admits, “but few do not understand that they were a severe threat not only to you, but to everyone. While opinions are mixed, there are those who will find cause for celebration even in Shambhala’s fall.”

Oh, great. A party. Just what Veery wanted to put up with today.

---

Predictably, when the celebrations begin, Veery is far from the center of things.

That is to say, he literally Rewarps himself away from the center of things, because he is not willing to put up with that today. It’s too many people, too close together, being too loud, and to make it all worse, they revere him.

That’s not to say that Veery doesn’t participate, though. He does wander a bit, taking in if not particularly enjoying the festive atmosphere and waving celebrants. Hilda finds him at one point and drags him to a few pop-up stalls just outside the temple district where they’re given some sort of food on skewers that Veery thinks is primarily mushroom.

There isn’t much meat around, though Veery supposes it must be hard to hunt while trapped underground. He is given fish, and apparently fish do populate the four streams coming from the four entrances to Beyul, but even then, it’s treated as a sort of delicacy.

(Though admittedly the reverence with which they all share this food with him makes it hard to tell what’s special for them and what’s not.)

Still, for a primarily plant-based diet, it’s not that bad. Veery learns long ago that he’s far more carnivore than humans tend to be, but this is surprisingly good for something he generally associates with raw berries and frozen roots dug out from the tundra.

The day actually ends up being quite nice, all things considered, when Claude finds him and Hilda and the three of them spend time at some of the games put on in the square. They even have an archery competition, which Claude obviously dominates at, but which he somehow convinces Veery to try.

Veery obviously and unashamedly cheats, since he knows he won’t win with or without doing so, and barely even draws the bow before just using wind magic to guide the arrow towards the target. Claude sticks his tongue out at Veery, who eagerly returns the gesture. “I’ve never used a bow in my life,” he says, smiling slyly. “What did you expect?”

“I expected you to be subtler,” Claude answers.

Veery just laughs at the mere thought.

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

While they wander, Veery sees a familiar face. His eyes meet with Asura’s, but with nothing more than a subtle nod, they silently agree to not address each other and pass each other by as if they have never met before.

They eventually stumble across Professor Byleth, Lysithea, and Hapi as well, and spend the next while with them doing – and it’s equally exasperating and interesting that this is a party game here – logic puzzles of all things, complete with debates with other teams about their conclusions.

(Veery steers clear of the debating itself, but it’s overall surprisingly fun. Caub would have loved it.)

And then Dorothea finds them, intent on Veery, and all but latches onto his arm and drags him, the others following bemusedly, towards a theatre. Despite himself, Veery gets a little excited when he realizes where they are.

They catch the tail end of an amateur drama production, during which Dorothea informs him that’s it’s an open stage and all they need to do is sign up. With a lot of heckling, she informs Veery that she’s signed up the both of them and that they’re performing something she’s written herself about the patchwork god.

Veery only agrees because she’s so very excited. She used to perform often, but rarely does she perform her own work, so this is a unique opportunity for her and Veery just… apparently has a soft spot for her.

It does go well, though, despite him having little time to prepare. Mostly because Dorothea lets him ad lib most of his part, and only teaches him a few important points that have to be there, but also because this is hardly the first time Dorothea has dragged him off to an impromptu drama practice.

Performance. Veery is doing his level best to pretend it’s just another practice in her room with no one but the occasional visitor watching.

Out of breath and satisfied, the two share a hug once they’re off the stage, then along with the others, they share a beer as well – or the Beyul equivalent, anyway.

It turns out, in the end, to be a delightful day. One, Veery thinks, they all need.

#write #fanfiction #fe fanfiction #fire emblem three houses #fe3h

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fireemblem3h-incorrectquotes · 5 years

Text

(Lysithea's phone is ringing)

Claude: (glances over to see who's calling) "You still call your dad daddy? Didn't you say you're not a child?"

Lysithea: (answers the phone and glares directly into Claude's soul) "Hello, Cyril."

Claude: (chokes)

#Claude just stands there in disbelief.#claude von riegan #lysithea von ordelia #cyril (fire emblem)#cyrithea #cysithea #cyril x lysithea #lysithea x cyril #source: unknown #submission #submitted quote #admin note: ALDHAKDJA I CHOCKED

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davidpastrsnack · 3 years

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it’s crazy what you’ll do for a friend - nolan patrick

a/n: here’s a friends to lovers 4+1 with our fav boy loosely inspired by daddy issues by the neighbourhood. but there’s still a splash of smut because you know me lol. hope you enjoy :)

word count: 10.5k

The first time you met Nolan you didn’t know what to think. He was polite, giving you a gentle smile and reaching out to shake your hand, but you couldn’t help but fixate on how quiet he was and his seeming lack of emotion.

Regardless of your hesitation, that was the first time of many that Nolan took care of you.

You were new to Philadelphia, moving to continue your education and expand your horizons. You had always been one to play it safe, to stay in your comfort zone, but after having your heart broken and being unexpectedly accepted to one of the top graduate programs in your field you knew it was time to challenge yourself and leave behind everything you had ever known.

Well, almost everything, aside from Aubrey, one of your best friends since that first day of kindergarten so long ago. She worked in the city, practically begging you to join her when she found out you were considering the move. Just weeks later, the second bedroom in her apartment became yours and that’s how you met him.

one

It was only your third night in Philly and you were still unpacking, a glass of wine sitting on your dresser as you dug through the remaining boxes that were seemingly never-ending. It didn’t seem like this much stuff when you were packing it, but here you were overwhelmed with all of your belongings.

You were humming along to the music, taking it one box at a time as the room slowly came together when you heard a knock on your door.

“Come in,” you called, turning to face the door.

“Woah,” Aubrey muttered, “How’s it going in here?”

“I know, I know,” you laughed, “It looks bad but I’m almost there.”

She nodded, stepping into the room and sitting on your bed, “Time for a break?”

You knew what the hopeful smile on her face meant, she had plans for the two of you.

You looked at her with hesitant eyes and she chuckled, remembering how well you knew her.

“I was thinking we could go meet some of my friends?” Aubrey continued, “I’m kind of seeing this one guy and his friends are great. They’re a lot but I think you’ll love them and they’ll love you.”

“Aubrey, I-” You paused, “I really should finish up in here.”

“Come on, Y/N, we have all day tomorrow to finish and you need a break. I feel like I’ve barely even seen you and it’s been three days.”

You let out a laugh at her words, she was right. It felt like your life had been on hold for so long but now you had the opportunity to start fresh, to put yourself out there in a world that had no existing opinions of you.

“Fine,” you groaned, standing up from your spot on the hardwood, “But you have to help me find something to wear.”

“Deal!” Aubrey exclaimed, dragging you out of the room and into her own to go through her closet.

Just over an hour later, you were squeezed into a booth of the bar surrounded by men almost twice your size. Aubrey failed to mention that the guy she was seeing, but not dating as she vehemently claimed, was a Flyer and so were his friends.

You didn’t know what to expect from the group, but it didn’t take long for you to conclude that they were sweethearts, especially Travis, Aubrey’s “friend.” After introducing you to each of them, it felt like you had always been a part of the gang.

The beer and conversation were flowing, the bellowing laughs coming from the table practically feeling the air of the entire bar. You quickly fell into the banter, fitting in right away after growing up with brothers.

“There he is!” You suddenly heard Kevin shout from next to you, “Took you long enough, Patty.”

You looked up from your drink to see the man you could only assume to be Patty, his tall frame towering over you as you sat on the edge of the booth. He was dressed in all black, and his hair was long and frankly, unkempt as it curled around his ears. Even in the dim light of the bar, you could make out his light eyes, the blue piercing you as he finally met your gaze from his seat directly across from yours.

“Nolan, this is my friend Y/N,” Aubrey started, “She just moved in with me.”

Nolan reached out his hand across the table which you happily met, secretly hoping he couldn’t feel how clammy you had gotten since he walked in. He softly smiled as your hands touched, the corners of his mouth barely lifting but just enough.

“Nice to meet you,” he mumbled.

“You too,” you replied, flickering your eyes to the other end of the table before you caught yourself staring.

You were right away distracted by something Travis was chirping Claude for from this morning’s practice, but something about the man sitting just a few feet away from you was still consuming your thoughts.

You were pretty sure he had already decided that he didn’t like you. He had barely said a word aside from his initial pleasantries, but from then on it was almost like he wasn’t even acknowledging your presence. You didn’t know why you even cared, but there was something about his presence that made you on edge.

“I’m going to get another one,” you blurted out, everyone’s attention shifting to you.

“I’ll come with,” Aubrey declared.

“I’m good, stay,” you responded, giving her a knowing look. She was practically sitting in Travis’s lap, her hands wrapped around his neck while his eyes were stuck on her like she was the only one in the room. Not dating, my ass, you thought to yourself.

You slid off the cushion and headed towards the bar, the air already feeling lighter the further away from the group you got. You loved them, they were great, but it was just so much new at once. You needed a breather.

It was a packed Friday night and you knew it would be a while before you got your drink, so you sat down on the first available stool you saw. You caught the bartender's attention right away, but she was clearly swamped. You sent her a reassuring nod, telling her to take her time. She smiled right back at you, evidently grateful for your patience.

After what felt like barely a minute of waiting, you felt a body slide next to yours, the scent of cheap cologne overwhelming you as you braced yourself for what was about to happen.

“Hi there,” he spoke, leaning his weight against the bar top as he boxed you in.

“Hi,” you sighed. To put it simply, you were not in the mood.

“You got a name?”

“I do,” you chuckled in disbelief, turning your body away from his as your eyes scanned the room for anyone familiar. Which of course there wasn’t.

“A snappy one, alright,” he spoke, his hot breath fanning over your neck, “Well I’m Brett, what are you drinking?”

“Nothing,” you snapped.

“Oh c’mon, let me buy you a drink,” he continued, either not picking up on your hints or purposely ignoring them.

“I’m really all set.”

Just before he was about to open his mouth to speak once again, you felt his hand rest flat against your back, your body arching away from him immediately at the contact.

“Do not fucking touch her.”

The deep voice echoed in front of you, your vision clouded as your mind raced in a million directions.

“Listen, man, I got this.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” you heard, the vibrations of his voice running straight through your body.

Nolan.

You may have just met him, but that was a body and voice you couldn’t forget.

You had no idea what overcame you, but before you could process what you were doing you wrapped your arms around his torso. Nolan immediately reciprocated, his arm falling across your shoulders and pulling you close to his frame.

“Just leave,” Nolan asserted, “Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be. It’s already embarrassing enough that you can’t take no for an answer.”

Your body relaxed against his, Nolan’s words calming your worst fears right away. From your vantage point, you assumed Nolan easily had at least six inches and thirty pounds on him. That seemed to be enough for him, backing away with a faulty glare and disappearing into the crowd.

“Nolan, I-” you stuttered, not knowing what to say, “Thank you,” you finally got out, your voice barely loud enough to hear over the hum of voices.

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered, his aura still cold.

You were so caught up in the shock of the moment that you hadn’t realized you were still holding each other, and right away you dropped your arm from his waist. Nolan did the same, awkwardly moving to sit on the stool next to you and flag the bartender.

You missed the warmth of his body right away, the spicy scent of his skin in stark contrast to the Axe you could only assume the other one was wearing. You swore you could still feel the ripple of his abs beneath his t-shirt on your fingertips. It was silent for a minute, both of you trying to come up with the right words.

“I really can’t thank you enough. Let me buy this round,” you pleaded, your eyes locking with his.

“Y/N,” Nolan started, your face flushing as your name fell from his lips, “I’m buying.”

You smiled up at him, nodding before looking back down in hopes of hiding the flush you felt creeping up your neck and onto your cheeks.

“Can I be honest, Nolan?” You questioned.

“Shoot.”

“Do you not like me? Did I do something? I wasn’t expecting that from you of all people-” you rambled until Nolan cut you off.

“First of all, I would have done that even if I hated you. But no, I like you, Y/N. A friend of a friend of TK’s is a friend of mine.”

You laughed at the last part before you could even process the first. Nolan’s cheeks went red, clearly embarrassed at his cliché phrasing but it didn’t matter how badly he made a fool of himself as long as you were smiling. The way your eyes scrunched and your nose turned up while you laughed was enough to make him forget the day he had.

Your laughter was interrupted by your drinks, the woman leaving you with a knowing smile before she turned away. Nolan and you both stood up ready to head back to the table before he stopped you.

“Friends?” He asked, putting his hand out in front of himself.

“Friends,” you agreed with a grin, shaking his hand before walking back to the group together.

two

You dreaded first days.

No matter how old you got, the anxiety of walking into an unfamiliar room full of unfamiliar faces never lessened. But you were ready, you reminded yourself, putting your head up and walking to the classroom like you had been there a hundred times before.

By the time you were walking out after the 90 minutes were up, your heart was pounding and you could feel the tears pricking the back of your eyes as you ran out of the building, not even bothering to introduce yourself to anyone.

The walk from the university back to your apartment was a blur. You couldn’t believe you had made such a poor first impression. You thought you were prepared, you had your notebook ready and all the right textbooks in order, but you somehow missed that there was an assignment due on the very first day.

As you rushed through the busy streets of the city, dodging people left and right, your mind raced back to that room.

“Ms. Y/L/N, can you please give your thoughts on the first case study?” Your professor questioned, intently watching you as your panic set in.

Your heart began to race and your palms sweat as you struggled to find the words to say that you hadn’t done the reading. This had never happened to you before, you were an A+ student for your entire life, almost unhealthily so. You couldn’t remember the last time you had missed an assignment, it just wasn’t something you did.

“Alright, then. Anyone else who actually checked the syllabus have something to say?”

Your professor's words were stuck in your head, playing over and over again when you finally reached your building. Now that you were so close to being in the comfort of your own space you could feel your wheels spinning, the stress and emotion overtaking your body.

Your hands shook as you tried to unlock the door, your body pushing through the threshold when you finally got it open.

“Aubrey?” You called as you walked through the hallway. She had known you for so long and always knew what to do to calm you down. But instead of Aubrey’s bright voice welcoming you back, you were met with silence.

“Where are you?” You muttered under your breath, your voice shaking as the tears threatened to spill over any second. As you turned the corner into the living room, you found three bodies spread across the couch, none of whom belonged to Aubrey.

“Oh,” you sputtered out, surprised to see Travis, Kevin, and Nolan watching a game.

“Y/N!” Travis called out, his infectious smile almost making your tight-lipped frown fade, “Aubrey just ran out for something but she should be back soon.”

You could feel Nolan’s gaze burning into you. You did your best to avoid his eye contact in hopes of hiding your current state from him. He had been nothing but kind to you, but you still felt so exposed standing in front of him, suddenly insecure about your outfit.

“I’m just going to go,” you whispered, pointing down the hall to your room. You felt horrible just ignoring them like that, but you knew you didn’t have it in you to keep up with them right now.

Your bag fell out of your hands almost instantly as soon as the door to your room clicked shut, the sound of your laptop hitting the hardwood floor making you cringe. You collapsed on your bed face first, the emotion you had been holding back for what felt like forever overwhelming you. Your body wracked in sobs as you replayed your embarrassment in a seemingly endless loop.

Nolan knew something was wrong the second he saw you. He may have only met you just a few days ago, but after growing up with two sisters he recognized the signs right away. He had no idea what was wrong, but he did know that you were barely holding it together.

Your head snapped up when you heard a series of soft knocks on your door, “Aubrey?” You asked, your voice rising with hope.

“No, uh, it’s Nolan.”

Your face fell when you heard his deep voice through the wood. You barely knew Nolan, he couldn’t see you like this. You paused for a moment wondering if he would just leave if you didn’t respond, but you could see his shadow through the bottom crack of your door, his feet were planted and didn’t show any signs of moving any time soon.

You silently groaned and picked yourself up, not even bothering to look in the mirror before opening the door because you knew it was not going to a pretty sight regardless. You hastily wiped underneath your eyes, the black of your mascara flaking right off your tear-stained skin. This wasn’t exactly how you wanted the new boy in your life to see you right after meeting you, but you just were friends, right?

“What, Nolan?” You sighed when you finally opened the door.

You didn’t mean to be so stark, but it just came out. His presence overwhelmed you just like it had at the bar a few nights ago. He was leaning against the door frame with his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants. The backward hat resting atop his head flattered him perfectly, drawing attention to the tufts of his brown hair curling around his ears and neck.

Nolan stood up straight as soon as he saw you, his eyes softening when his suspicions were confirmed: you had been crying.

“I just wanted to check on you,” he mumbled, his eyes never leaving your own.

The tension in your shoulders released as you looked up at him. He didn’t say anything else, just tilting his head down towards you as he continued to scan your face for any signs of how you were feeling. You couldn’t pinpoint it, but there was something about Nolan that made you feel so safe, so secure, like as long as you were with him you could avoid your demons.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No you’re not,” Nolan rebutted, raising his eyebrows as if he was challenging you to lie to him again.

You didn’t say anything, but rather you moved your body to the side and ushered him into your room. Nolan happily obliged, awkwardly standing as he took in his surroundings. Your room was just as he expected, it was minimal, just like his. You didn’t like clutter, everything had a place. It was one way you tried to control the chaos that was your life.

“You can sit,” you spoke, breaking the silence.

Nolan nodded and sat next to you at the foot of the bed. You couldn’t help but let your eyes trail along his leg, the way his thighs stretched the fabric of his sweatpants making your cheeks flush.

“It was my first day at this new program I’m in and it didn’t go well, that’s all,” you finally sputtered out, staring down at your lap as your hands fidgeted. “I’ve never been good at first impressions,” you added, a gentle laugh escaping your lip as you thought back to your first time meeting Nolan.

“Listen, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Nolan encouraged, “You seem like a pretty great person.”

You scoffed at his attempt to make you feel better, your emotions creeping their way back into your head.

“It was-” you paused, using every fiber within your being to try not to lose it in front of him, “It was bad.”

“C’mere,” Nolan whispered, turning on the bed to face you more and opening his arms, practically begging for your embrace.

You shook your head, closing your eyes as the fresh tears started burning. You were so selective in who you exposed your most vulnerable state to, and you barely knew Nolan. But despite this, you felt such an instant connection with him, and if his overt kindness was any indication, he felt the same way.

You let your final guard down, leaning back and curling into Nolan’s frame. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight against him as one hand moved up to your head to rub soft circles into your hair.

“Go ahead and cry,” he hummed, his body gently rocking you back and forth.

You melted at his touch, your head nuzzling into the crook of his neck, the muted orange of his Flyers hoodie the last thing you saw before your eyes shut in sobs. His scent was overwhelming, the mix of his body wash and the leftover cologne lingering on his hoodie flooding your senses. You felt as if you disappeared in his grasp, like the world around you vanished and nothing else mattered.

You didn’t even know how much time had passed, but Nolan didn’t move an inch. He held you like it was the only thing he had to do all day. Once the tears stopped falling and your breathing steadied, you pulled back, instantly flooded with embarrassment.

“Wow,” you chuckled, wiping your cheeks, “I am so sorry, Nolan, I don’t know what happened I just-”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, “We’re friends, remember?” He teased, the corners of his mouth lifting in a gentle smile as he bumped your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you laughed.

“I think we were planning on grabbing some food,” Nolan mumbled, his hand scratching the back of his neck as he spoke, “If you want to come.”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“Come on, you’re coming. If I have to put up with those two out there so do you.”

You rolled your eyes, but it was the least you could do after what he had just done for you.

“Give me five minutes to look less dead.”

Nolan smiled as you agreed, slipping out of the room so you could change and freshen up.

“What the fuck was that?” Nolan was bombarded by Kevin as he sat back down.

“Nothing,” Nolan mumbled, not in the mood to be questioned about things he didn’t even know the answer to.

“She let you go in there?” Aubrey asked, just having gotten back.

“Yes?” He responded, confused by her question.

Aubrey didn’t bother getting into it and changed the subject instead, but inside she was scheming. She knew you, how closed off you were, but here you were opening up to Nolan like you’ve known him for years. Nothing made Aubrey happier than watching this friendship bloom, and she couldn’t help but wonder if there was potential for more.

three

Team galas usually didn’t bother Nolan, it was part of the job, but tonight it was the last place he wanted to be. His tux felt too tight, the stuffy conversation with potential sponsors was putting him to sleep, and his date was, to be frank, insufferable.

Nolan had no problem going to an event without a plus one, he and TK were usually the two single guys spending their time causing trouble, but now that Aubrey was in the picture Kevin had decided he had seen enough. So, despite Nolan begging him to leave him alone, Kevin set him up with one of his friends from Boston.

She was just as Kevin described, beautiful and smart, but that was about all. Nolan was calm and reserved, at least until he was comfortable with someone, but she was the complete opposite. Her personality filled the entire room and although he admired her confidence, Nolan was exhausted. He felt like he couldn’t be himself, like he had to work to match her energy.

After what felt like hours of entertaining her and Kevin, Nolan made his escape to the bar. It was the first moment to himself he had, the relief immediately flooding him as he leaned against the counter. He titled his glass to the bartender, silently requesting a refill when he felt his phone buzzing in the pocket of his suit pants.

Nolan begrudgingly pulled the phone, wondering who it could possibly be. The entire team was with him and it was unlike his family to call him on a Saturday night. But when he saw your name flashing across the screen, his whole demeanor shifted.

“Nolan!” He heard you exclaim, your voice like a breath of fresh air.

“Y/N?” He questioned. You had never called him out of the blue like this before. Nolan nodded to the bartender thanking him before taking his drink and walking out to the empty hallway so he could hear you better. “Everything okay?”

It wasn’t really. You had just come back home from a date, one Aubrey practically forced you to go on. You pleaded to her that you were fine, that you weren’t ready to start dating in the city yet, but regardless, you found yourself sitting across from one of her coworkers at a restaurant downtown.

There was nothing wrong with him, he was nice, but it was evident to you before your drinks were even ordered that this wasn’t going to work. You pushed through the meal, putting on your best fake smile and pretending to laugh at his forced humor. You politely declined his offer to walk you home, instead opting to get an Uber so you could get out of your dress as soon as possible.

Now you were home, your sweats on and hair up with a glass of wine in your hand. The glass quickly turned into almost the entire bottle, drowning your sorrows of another failed date with your favorite red. That’s when you made the mistake of picking up your phone, your fingers scrolling through your contacts until you found the one name you knew would be able to distract you.

“I’m great. I mean I’m not, but it’s fine,” you rambled, your words slurred as you spoke.

For once it was you mumbling and not Nolan. He didn’t know what, but his gut was telling him that something was wrong, he could practically smell the alcohol on your tongue through the phone. After a long pause of trying to figure out what to say, his thoughts were interrupted.

“Come over?” You whispered, “I’m so sick of being alone.”

Nolan’s heart dropped at your words, his eyes blinking shut as he pondered his next move. His eyes scanned the ballroom, finally landing on his date. She was sitting at their table, Nolan’s empty seat sticking out like a sore thumb, laughing at whatever story of his college days Kevin was regurgitating. He would feel like an ass if he just left, and he would be lying if he said the prospect of an easy lay hadn’t crossed his mind tonight, but you were more important.

“Give me twenty.”

Since calling Nolan you had migrated from your bed to the couch, a blanket sprawled across your body while you laid horizontal. The only light in the room was from the TV as one of your comfort movies played. You were barely paying attention, instead zoning out and staring at the lit-up city around you from the window.

Your mindless thoughts were interrupted by a series of knocks on the door. You threw the blanket off of your body and stood up, slowly dragging your feet across the hardwood as you made your way. But you were nowhere near prepared for what you saw as soon as you opened the door.

Nolan towered over you in the door frame. He was wearing a suit, the soft, grey fabric clinging to his thighs and shoulders perfectly. His long hair was slicked back and tucked behind his ears. The scent of his cologne overwhelmed you instantly, the warm aroma making you want to melt into him. One hand was resting in his pant pocket, while the other was carrying a take-out bag from one of your favorite spots.

“Hi,” Nolan quietly muttered, breaking the silence.

His deep voice broke the trance you were in, and that’s when the realization hit you.

“I completely forgot you guys had that thing tonight,” you blurted, the alcohol in your bloodstream clogging your train of thought, “I am so sorry. You have to go back, I feel horrible.”

Your hands came up to your face, hiding your embarrassment. How could you forget? You spent hours this morning helping Aubrey pick out her dress.

“Y/N,” Nolan cooed, his large hands gently pulling your own off of your face, “I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

Nolan didn’t let you get another word out before he was pushing past your body. He wasn’t even enjoying himself at the event and the last thing he wanted to do was go back.

It didn’t long for the two of you to finish the food, opting to head back to the couch and ignore the many empty containers for now.

“I’m never going on a date ever again,” you slurred, “I don’t even want to look at a man ever again.”

Despite trying to be quiet, Nolan couldn’t hide his chuckle. He had heard similar frustrations from his two sisters growing up. He had been around endless assholes throughout his life, he knew how exhausting it must have been to try to find a decent one.

“Can’t blame you,” he mumbled.

Your body slumped against the back of the couch, your eyes slipping shut as the wine and food started to lull you into a sleepy haze. Nolan scanned your face, a soft smile creeping onto his face as he watched your chest gently rise and fall with each breath. Before he could catch himself, he lifted his hand and pushed back the hair that had fallen in your face, tucking it behind your ear.

In that moment Nolan knew that he was fucked.

Never before had he dropped everything for a girl as he did for you tonight. But he also had never connected with someone like he did with you. You didn’t force him to be something he wasn’t, there was no pressure to put on an act. It just felt natural with you. But your words from just a few minutes before lingered in the back of his head. You made it clear that you weren’t looking for anything right now, it only took one miserable date to remind you of that. So Nolan pulled his hand away, trying to ignore the burning of your skin against his fingertips as they trailed across your soft cheek.

You were friends. Just friends.

You had no idea how much time had passed, but suddenly you felt yourself stir awake, your eyes peeling open to find yourself tucked into Nolan’s side. His body was warm below yours, his arm resting across your shoulders holding you in place as you lay against his chest. From your peripheral vision, you could see his suit jacket on one of the couch cushions, the soft material of his button-down rubbing on your cheek.

You had two options. You could either acknowledge that you awkwardly fell asleep on him in your drunken state, or you could pretend that you never woke up and continue to enjoy the comfort of his embrace.

Needless to say, you chose the latter.

But you must have dozed off again because the next time you woke up you were being carried into your bedroom. Your arms were wrapped tightly across Nolan’s neck, the tips of your fingers naturally lifting to twirl the tufts of his hair.

“Shhh, I got you,” Nolan whispered as he felt you move, just before he laid you down onto your bed, “I’ll be right back.”

Nolan hastily left the room, leaving you to bask in the memory of his warmth as your head fell back against your pillow. Within just a few seconds he was back, placing a cool glass of water on your nightstand table. But almost just as fast as he came back, he was leaving again.

“Stay,” you murmured, watching him pause at the outline of your door.

“I- I got the couch.”

“Okay,” you responded, trying to hide your disappointment.

Nolan visibly cringed the second your door was closed, his head falling to his lap once he sat down. He wanted nothing more than to climb into bed with you. The thought of holding you beneath the sheets and feeling your soft skin in contrast to his rough hands made him dizzy. But the last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. You weren’t sober enough to say he could stay, and there was no chance in hell Nolan was going to risk scaring you off. So he took the couch, laying across the cushions with his eyes locked on your door until his eyelids gave in to his exhaustion.

four

It was finally Friday, another week in the books.

Your classes were taking more out of you than you had expected, the hours of reading and note-taking blending together as you finally closed your last tab. You had no plans for the night, and you honestly couldn’t be happier about it. A hot shower, takeout, and falling asleep early encompassed your perfect night recently.

Just as you were about to get in the shower, you were distracted by your phone ringing. You picked it up, surprised to see it was Kevin calling.

“Hi, Kevin,” you spoke, a slight edge to your words. You adored Kevin, he was an absolute sweetheart, but sometimes you just didn’t have the patience.

“What are you doing tonight?”

You rolled your eyes at his question, “Nothing.”

“Incorrect, you’re coming over and hanging out with me and Pat.”

“I am?” You laughed, taken aback by Kevin’s forwardness.

“Teeks and Aubrey are coming too, come on, Y/N,” he continued.

You knew you weren’t getting out of this without a real excuse, no matter how much you wanted to stay in. You hadn’t seen Nolan since the night you embarrassed yourself, the cringe of drunk dialing him after a bad date had yet to escape your memory.

“What time?”

“Uh- Let’s say 7.”

“Alright, Kev. See you later,” you hung up the phone, throwing it back on your bed before getting in the shower.

As you approached the boys’ apartment door, it was quieter than you expected it to be. Aubrey said she was already with Travis and would meet you there, so you were arriving alone. You assumed they would already have been there by now, but you ignored the silence and knocked on the door.

Just a few seconds later, the door swung open and you were face to face with Nolan. Your eyes widened when you saw him, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips and his bare torso staring at you. You quickly composed yourself, using every ounce of self-control within you to avoid trailing your gaze across his broad shoulders and down his chest, the curves and divots of his abs making your mouth water.

“Sorry,” Nolan mumbled, his cheeks flushing even redder than they usually were, “I thought you were Kevin, he always forgets his keys. Come in.”

You followed Nolan into the apartment, the muscles of his back rippling as his arms swung. You sat down on the couch, awkwardly waiting while he disappeared into his room. He came back just a few seconds later, his body now hidden behind a wrinkly t-shirt.

“Where is everyone?” You questioned, your body stiff as Nolan relaxed into the cushion next to you.

“Not sure,” he mumbled, the red of his cheeks lingering, “Kev said you were coming with Aubrey?”

Your face scrunched in confusion, “He told me she was coming here with Travis.”

Nolan then pulled his phone out and started typing a message to Kevin, desperate to figure out where he was. For some reason being here with you alone was making him nervous, there was an awkward energy in the air that had never been there before.

Nolan was reaching for the TV remote, about to ask you if you wanted to put something on when his phone sounded.

Kevin: You’re welcome

Now it was Nolan’s turn to furrow his eyebrows, the boy even more confused by Kevin’s message.

Kevin: We couldn’t watch you two anymore please just do something

Kevin: I’ll be out all night

Kevin: Don’t forget protection!

Of course. Of course, this little miscommunication was, in fact, a setup. But the worst part was that Nolan knew Kevin was right. No matter how hard he tried, he had been pining over you since that very first night. And now here you two were in an empty apartment with enough sexual tension to last the year.

“No one’s coming, are they?” You broke the silence, snapping Nolan out of his trance.

He threw his phone to the side as a slight smile crept across his stern face, “Nope,” he chuckled.

If you thought there was tension before, it didn’t even compare to what you felt now. Since meeting Nolan you were under the impression that your secretly harbored feelings for him were just that, a secret, but apparently, you weren’t as subtle as you thought. This had Aubrey written all over it, and you knew Travis was under her spell and would do anything to help her, and bonus points for chirping Nolan simultaneously. It was the elephant in the room, your mutual feelings still not being spoken but you both knew you had been called out by the people who knew you best.

“What are you thinking about?” Nolan whispered, the rough hum of his voice sending chills down your spine.

You couldn’t get even a single word out, your thoughts and feelings jumbling in your mind. After all this time the perfect opportunity was finally handed to you on a silver platter, but you still couldn’t do it.

Nolan could sense your hesitation, your close proximity and sweet scent clouding his consciousness.

“I’ll tell you what I’m thinking about,” he murmured, turning his body so he was facing you.

Your eyes had yet to leave your lap, your focus stuck on the rip of your jeans. You jumped when you felt his warm touch on your lower thigh, the warmth of his calloused hands making your heart rate rise even though the thick denim. His size was intoxicating and he made you feel like putty as he leaned closer to you.

“Y/N,” Nolan mumbled, his voice deeper than ever before.

You finally lifted your gaze, turning your head up to look at him. His baby blue eyes were piercing yours, the contact lighting a fire within you. Every reasonable thought in your head was telling you to pull away, to grab your bag and politely excuse yourself. You weren’t ready for a relationship, you had barely put yourself back together after your last heartbreak and Philly was supposed to be different. But as you sat here, your face just inches away from Nolan’s, you gave in to your desire.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you connected your lips with his, immediately sighing in relief as his soft pout worked perfectly against you. You hastily swung your hips over and seated yourself on Nolan’s lap, an eager groan escaping him when your body rolled into his. His hands splayed across your hips, moving to circle your ass as he helped you grind deeper into his already hardening length.

Nolan trailed his lips down your jaw, nibbling and sucking on the plane of your neck. You knew he was leaving marks, but in the moment you couldn’t care less, the euphoria of his touch being the only comprehensive feeling.

“Please,” you whined, tightening your grip on his long locks, “Nolan.”

You couldn’t remember the last time someone had ignited you as Nolan had. He had barely even touched you and you were nearly certain you had already soaked through your panties, withering in his lap desperate for more.

“Now she has something to say,” Nolan teased, whispering into the shell of your ear. He gave you no warning before he was standing up, holding the back of your legs as you instinctually wrapped them around his waist.

Nolan gently tossed you on his bed, pausing to pull his shirt off before he was climbing on top of you. You were in a state of bliss, finally able to admire his frame shamelessly and without fear of getting caught. He continued to attack your neck, leaving mark after mark behind in his wake. You whimpered impatiently as his lips worked your sensitive skin, but Nolan was set on taking his time. He didn’t know if he would ever have you like this again and he was going to savor every second of it.

But you decided to take matters into your own hands, pushing his frame off of yours and pulling your sweater over your head. You grabbed Nolan’s face again, cupping both of his cheeks as your lips met again. He made quick work of your bra, unclasping it with ease behind your back and tossing it across the room.

“Fuck, you’re stunning,” he groaned, pausing to take you in. Your hair was splayed across the pillow, your cheeks flushed while your chest heaved up and down with heavy breathing. His praise went straight to your core, clenching around nothing as you grew more and more desperate for him.

Nolan wasted no more time, finally making his way down your torso before reaching the hem of your pants. His fingertips slowly ran beneath the fabric, stopping only to look up at you. Your eyes locked and you frantically nodded, understanding that he was waiting for your permission before continuing.

“Words, Y/N,” Nolan hummed into your thigh, his order gentle but firm.

“Yes,” you breathed out, “Fuck, yes.”

Nolan did as you said, unzipping your jeans and sliding them down your legs. He almost lost his balance on the mattress when he saw you laying before him, the pink lace resting across your hips being the only thing keeping him from you. Nolan settled himself between your legs, hooking both of them over his shoulders as his hot breath fanned over your pussy.

Nolan placed a soft kiss to your lace-covered clit, basking in your reaction as you let out an embarrassingly loud moan and your hands flew to his head, tangling in his hair. Your hips jerked up into the air, desperate for more friction. Nolan laid his thick forearm across your waist, his weight halting all of your movements and holding you at his mercy.

“Nolan, please just fuck me,” you begged, the suspense too much to handle as you felt yourself drip down the crease of your thigh.

“All in good time, baby,” he cooed, pulling your panties to the side and finally connecting with your throbbing pussy.

You cried out as his tongue flicked your clit back and forth, the pleasure only magnifying when he sucked it between his teeth. Your hands were locked with an iron grip in the roots of his hair, holding on like your life depended on it. Nolan hummed against your core as he continued to taste you, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves through your body.

Suddenly Nolan pulled back, but before you could protest you heard ripping. A gasp left your lips when you realized what he had done, the mangled lace of your panties now laying on his floor. You wanted to yell at him, complain that those were your favorite, but before you could get a word out he was back at work, this time fucking his tongue in and out of you.

Your head fell back against the pillow, your mouth opening in a silent scream when you felt him slide two fingers inside while his mouth circled your clit again. Nolan curled his fingers against your sweet spot and you knew you were done for, your back arching off the mattress as you combusted with your orgasm.

Nolan milked you through your high, his tongue flattening against your clit as his head shook and his fingers kept their pace. He finally slowed down as he felt you come down, pulling back to watch you shake as the last waves of pleasure rolled through your body. He slipped his fingers out of your fluttering pussy, only to bring them to his mouth and suck your juices clean.

“You’re really good at that,” you stammered, just now coming back to your senses after almost blacking out.

Nolan laughed, kissing his way back up your body until you two were face to face again. You couldn’t resist pulling him down and crashing your lips against his, moaning into his mouth as you tasted yourself on his tongue.

“I’m good at other things too,” he smirked, tucking your hair behind your ear, just as he had done last week, except this time he didn’t have to hide it. The soft action made your heart flutter, but his words made something else flutter.

“Give me your best, Patrick,” you challenged.

“Your wish is my command, baby.”

Nolan pushed off his arms and stood up, hurriedly stripping himself of his sweats and boxers in one fell swoop. A whimper escaped your lips when you heard the sound of his cock slapping against his stomach, your pupils dilated as your eyes trailed down his thighs admiring his tattoos.

Reaching across you to get a condom from his nightstand, Nolan was surprised when you plucked it right from his hand. You tore open the foil and slowly rolled the condom onto him, a small smile spreading across your face when his hips buckled into your hand at your touch.

You may have been embarrassingly weak for him, but he was just as weak for you.

Nolan shifted on the bed so he was hovering over your body, leaning down to press a kiss to your mouth. Your lips moved in sync with one another, the pure lust filling the room dictating every movement. He felt you grow more and more impatient, your body stirring beneath his as he finally pulled away.

Taking one last look at you spread out before him, waiting for him to touch you, Nolan directed his attention back to between your legs. He locked eyes with you before collecting the salvia in his mouth, harshly spitting on your pussy. The moan you let out was only amplified when he started teasing you even more, dragging the head of his cock through your soaking folds.

“Nolan,” you whined, the last letter of his name prolonged as you begged, your entire body tensing while he tapped your already so sensitive clit.

“Shhh,” he cooed, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles against your hip, “Got to make sure you’re ready for me.”

Before you could get in another word of protest, Nolan was pushing one of your legs into your chest and sliding inside. Your mouth fell open as he slowly bottomed out, the sensation of him filling you paralyzing. A string of deep swears left his lips as he felt you already clenching around him.

After letting you adjust, Nolan started rocking his hips, quickly finding his rhythm. You didn’t have a single thought in your head, the way he hit your sweet spot inside and ground against your clit making you dizzy.

Nolan had never been in such bliss. He could never have imagined how good you would feel wrapped around him, your walls still pulsating from your first high as he slid in and out. The way your name sounded falling from his lips was pure ecstasy, his innate possessiveness in full drive. Your nails dug into his back, dragging burning lines into his skin that he knew he would be tormented about tomorrow in the locker room but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the way your bodies fit together in perfect harmony right this moment.

You could feel yourself growing close within mere minutes, Nolan’s relentless thrusts giving you no mercy. He could tell you were almost there by the way you were fluttering around him, along with the mindless sounds of pleasure escaping your lips getting louder and louder.

“That’s it,” Nolan encouraged in your ear, “Cum for me, Y/N.”

Between his hot breath against your tingling skin and his plunging thrusts, Nolan had you seeing stars.

“Nolan, Nolan,” you whined.

You swore you almost blacked out, your vision going blank as he fucked you through your high. He wasn’t far behind you, the clenching of your pussy egging him on until he finally let go, his hips stuttering and groans filling the air as his head fell into the crook of your neck.

“Fuck,” Nolan sighed, letting his heart rate steady as he laid above you, resting the majority of his weight on his forearms.

“Yeah,” you responded with a breathy laugh, your mind still blank as you came down.

Nolan stayed there for a few minutes before finally sitting up, cringing as you whimpered when he pulled out. Your eyes slipped shut, but you could hear him shifting around the room. After pulling on a pair of fresh boxers and dampening a towel, Nolan gently cleaned you up, biting back a smirk each time you shivered at his touch. He disappeared again, this time returning with a shirt in hand, urging you to sit up so he could help you pull the soft fabric over your head.

You had every intention of getting dressed and leaving, but you just couldn’t find the energy to remove yourself from his warm bed. The sheets that smelled like him enveloped you, and now his t-shirt was draped over your shoulders begging you to stay. Nolan slid next to you, his body cradling yours from behind as he wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you impossibly close.

“Sleep well, Y/N,” Nolan hummed into your neck as he settled in.

“Goodnight,” you managed to get out, the shame of what you had just done starting to spiral in your head.

You made a mistake. Nolan was good, so good, and he deserved more than you could give him. Your last relationship ended in disaster, leaving you broken and abandoning the idea of finding love ever again. Regardless of what you told your friends and family, it was what drove you from home. Then came Nolan, he was the definition of kind. Even when he barely knew you he did whatever he could to protect you. That kind of guy deserves someone who’s got it together, not whatever mess you were. You couldn’t believe you let your attraction to him get the best of you, and now here you were, pressed against his sleeping frame as he held you.

Everything inside of you was telling you to leave. It was too much, the eventual pain of whatever this was ending was overwhelming. You could hear Nolan snoring behind you, the sound of his contentment almost bringing tears to your eyes. Gently lifting his arm from its spot across your waist, you slid from underneath his grasp. It was nearly impossible to find your clothes in the dark, but you managed to do so without making too much noise. Nolan didn’t even stir as you moved around him, folding the shirt he gave you and placing it on the nightstand.

Just as you reached for the door, you felt yourself pause. Don’t do it, Y/N. Don’t do it. But you couldn’t resist, slowly turning to take in what you were leaving behind.

Nolan was passed out, his body leaning towards the pillow where you once laid your head and his arm laying flat as if he was still holding you. You could make out the redness of his cheeks in the dim light, his eyelashes curling down onto his cheeks. Your heart broke as you looked at him, but you knew it was what you had to do. He deserved the world, which was much more than you were able to give him. Without giving it another second of thought, you opened the door as quietly as possible and made your escape.

+ one

It had been over three weeks since you last spoke to Nolan.

You couldn’t handle facing him just yet, so you did what you knew best: shutting out the people that cared about you the most. You ignored every single one of his calls and texts, eventually muting his number when it became too much. You replayed what you imagined he looked and felt like that morning, waking up to a cold, empty bed. It was heartbreaking, but you stayed firm in your decision. As long as you didn’t have to see his face you would be fine.

But of course, Aubrey had different plans for you.

Since that night, you had been more distant from her than ever before. You left the apartment early in the morning, spending your day in class and bouncing between different coffee shops while working. You kept up appearances when you returned in the evening, saying hello and asking her how her day was, but practically nothing else. You made an early exit to your room, citing homework or lack of sleep as your excuse. But she knew you better than anyone else, it was no secret something was wrong. Much to your content, you could only assume that Nolan was keeping your secret as well, knowing that if he told anyone on the team you would be getting an earful from her.

But Aubrey had decided that she was done letting you sulk about whatever it was you were so clearly upset by. The Flyers had been away for almost two weeks and tonight was their first game back home. Thanks to Travis, she had two tickets in hand ready for the two of you.

Before you had even shut the apartment door behind you after arriving home, she was jumping up to greet you.

“Hey!” Aubrey exclaimed as you walked in, “We’re going out tonight.”

You just stared at her confused, knowing damn well you had no intention of going anywhere. “Hey,” you started, “I- I don’t think so, I have a lot to do.”

“No, you don’t. Listen, I don’t know what is going on with you but I’m sick of watching you wallow in whatever it is. I’ve barely talked to you in almost a month, you’re coming with me,” Aubrey snapped. If there was one thing about having such an old friend it was that she always gave it to you straight.

“Where?” You begrudgingly inquired.

“Nope, it’s a surprise,” she answered. If her inkling was correct, whatever had you in this funk had something to do with a certain Flyers centerman and she was not risking you ditching because of it.

“Fine,” you groaned.

It wasn’t news to you that you had been a horrible friend recently. Despite the anxiety that came with breaking your current routine, maybe a night with Aubrey was just what you needed to take your mind off everything.

A few hours had passed, and you were sitting in the back of an Uber watching the city pass you by. Aubrey maintained the anonymity of the destination, ignoring all of your pleas for even just a hint. But there were some things that she couldn’t control.

Your stomach dropped when you saw where the car was heading towards, the large Wells Fargo Center plastered on the side of the building cluing you in. Of course, you thought, how could you not have known. You had so strictly blocked Nolan and the entire team from your mind that didn’t think to look at their schedule, but now it all made sense.

“Aubrey, no,” you stated, your voice already shaking as you got closer and closer.

“What the hell happened?” she snapped back, finally getting confirmation that your funk was related to Nolan.

“Nothing, nothing happened. I just don’t want to go,” you rebutted, “I’m not in the mood to see everyone, okay?”

“You don’t have to, we’re sitting alone,” she responded, turning her phone on and showing you the location of the tickets. As she promised, they were nowhere near the family boxes.

You didn’t say anything else, instead choosing silence as the car pulled up to the entrance. You both thanked the driver before quickly exiting, a long, awkward silence falling over the two of you as you entered the arena.

You could do this, you told yourself while adjusting in your seat. You could sit through one game, you didn’t even have to see or talk to anyone. If it would make Aubrey happy, you could suck it up and sit down. The two of you had still barely said a word to each other since arriving, and you could see the disappointment on her face. Deciding it was time to get over it, you put your arm around Aubrey, smiling as you instantly felt her relax and place her head on your shoulder. Neither of you said anything, but after knowing each other for so long, you didn’t have to. She knew what you meant.

You didn’t know what to expect, but the second you saw Nolan step onto the ice you were flooded with emotion. He looked tired, like he hadn’t been sleeping much or well, and your heart dropped at the thought that you may have been the reason why. You still were firm in your decision to avoid anything serious right now, but you knew you went about it in the completely wrong way. Nolan was the closest thing you had ever met to an angel, but you treated him like a random one night stand from the bar you barely knew. The guilt had overtaken you over the past few weeks, and seeing him in the flesh wasn’t helping.

It was a relatively uneventful game, the rebuilding Red Wings visiting and not giving the Flyers much of a fight. By the third period they were up 4-0, one of which was scored by number 19 himself. As the horn sounded signaling the end of the game, Aubrey turned to you.

“I was going to go see Travis,” she hesitated, “Do you want to come? Or I can meet you right after?”

“I’ll wait for you,” you encouraged.

Aubrey thanked you, squeezing your hand before getting up and heading downstairs. Instead of going to the main concourse to wait, you stayed in your seat, waiting for the crowds to clear out before you moved. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you started mindlessly scrolling as a distraction.

But your distraction didn’t last for long.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Your eyes slipped shut when you heard his voice, that same voice that left you weak in the knees. You immediately felt your heart begin to race and your palms sweat. You felt caught. After taking a moment to pause, you finally mustered up the courage to look up at him.

Nolan’s eyes were focused on your own, his hair slicked back and soaking wet still with sweat. He had definitely not showered yet, between the fact that the game just ended minutes ago and his appearance. He was dressed in his undergarments and slides, clearly he wasted no time before coming up here to find you.

“How did you even know I was here?” you questioned back, already feeling yourself on the defense.

“Really?” Nolan scoffed, “Travis told me. How else would I have known? It’s not like you talk to me.” He trailed off, his words becoming quieter.

“Nolan, please,” you pleaded, “Please sit down.”

There was no doubt in your mind that it was time for you to come clean. You could see the pain in his eyes and the hurt behind his voice. He obliged, sinking to sit in the seat beside you, but he didn’t turn to face you. His coldness was evident, and you knew that you deserved nothing else.

“I’m sorry,” you began, “I’m so sorry, Nolan. I- I shouldn’t have left like that, with no explanation-”

“I thought I had you,” he interrupted, “Finally, Y/N, after all those weeks of tiptoeing around it, I thought we were done pretending.”

You could feel the tears burning behind your irises, and it was taking everything within you not to let them out. Nolan’s words broke you, even more than you were already broken.

“Nolan, I wanted- I want,” you corrected yourself, “Nothing more than to give myself to you, but I- I just can’t. I’m not ready.”

“Then why did you sleep with me?” his voice cracked, “And what does that even mean, ‘you’re not ready’?”

“I can’t let myself get hurt again, okay? I can’t do it,” you sighed, finally succumbing to your emotion, “I am so sorry for dragging you into my mess, but I can’t let myself go through that again. And you deserve so much better.”

Your head fell to your hands, hiding your face from him as you cried. Even just speaking out loud your last heartbreak made you a wreck. Deep down you knew Nolan wasn’t capable of hurting you like that, but you wouldn’t let him take care of you anymore. You couldn’t. He deserved someone who didn’t need to be taken care of.

“Y/N,” Nolan hummed, gently placing a hand on your back. He cringed when you jumped at his touch. “Y/N, look at me, please.”

You did as he asked, your red, puffy eyes lifting to meet his baby blues, putting you at ease almost right away.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Nolan murmured, “I don’t know what you think, but you’re not a burden. You’re the complete opposite and I want to show you that. If you’ll let me.” He paused, his eyes frantically scanning your face for any sign of your reaction. You were staring ahead of you, entranced with the ice below as you processed his words. Despite knowing how much it could potentially hurt, Nolan said what he thought he had to, “Even if it’s just as friends, but you can’t disappear on me again.”

You made Nolan feel at peace, like when he was with you nothing else mattered. But no matter how strong his feelings were, he cared for you enough to put them aside if that’s what it took to keep you in his life.

“I don't want to be friends,” you whispered, finally breaking the silence.

As if there was some kind of magnifying force between the two of you, your body lunged towards Nolan’s, your lips crashing together instantly. He was stunned, his body frozen in shock, but within seconds he melted against your touch with one hand on your lower back and the other tangled in your hair. It felt like time stopped in that moment, the only thing making you pull away was the lack of air.

You were both breathless, your foreheads resting against one another. Nolan took both of your hands in his, intertwining his much larger fingers with yours.

“I trust you,” you breathed out.

The grin that spread on Nolan’s face was like nothing you had ever seen before. You matched him right away, smiling as you watched the pure joy and relief wash over. The same joy and relief that you were feeling.

“Does this mean I finally get to take you out?” he asked, his deep mumble making you feel right at home again.

“Maybe,” you teased, “Only if you shower,” you added, pretending to push him off of you.

Nolan couldn’t help but fall into a fit of laughter at your subtle jab. That’s what he loved about you most, the way you could earn a smile or chuckle out of him like no one else.

He stood up from his seat, extending his hand out as he stared down at you. Without even a crumb of doubt creeping its way into your mind, you took his hand. Wrapping your arms around Nolan’s and resting your head against his shoulder, you walked out and into the hallway together.

Nolan leaned down and pressed a gentle peck to your forehead, and for the first time in longer than you could remember, you felt untouchable.

#nolan patrick #nolan patrick imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #nhl smut #hockey smut #my writing

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arcadia-city-stories-if · 3 years

Note

How would the ROs react to a casual kiss from the MC? Just something spontaneous like in greeting or as a thank you?

I really like this ask but I'm out of practice so these little scenes may not be up to standard, sorry!

I also had to leave Claude/Claudia out of this one because there is literally no way to casually or spontaneously kiss this vampire and I don’t want to force the prompt where it doesn’t fit. If I get a wave of inspiration later on, I’ll be sure to edit the post to include it.

Under the cut for length!

Murphy -

"Murph, you're a genius!"

Murphy leans back, tempted to fully commit to the bit by putting his feet up on the corner of his desk, raising his arms and linking his fingers behind his head as he reclines as far as his chair will allow him. The very picture of self-satisfaction, "I know."

He watches his partners eyes dance across the tablet screen in their hand as their smile becomes more pronounced, face lit up with sheer excitement as the depth of his discovery starts to sink in. They shake their head in disbelief before meeting his eye, "We need to tell Shae."

Murphy gives a nod and an easy shrug, "You know where they are. Run along, partner." As they turn to hurry away he shuts his eyes, taking a second to bask in the glory of his little victory. Honestly, what would this place do without me-

The thought is interrupted by warm hands pressed against either side of his face. Eyes darting open, he's met with the sight of a grinning MC leaning down and pressing their lips firmly against his own. It doesn't last for more than a second before they're pulling away again, the grin still in place, as they mutter the word genius once more, and start making a beeline towards their handlers office.

Eyes still wide, mouth slightly agape, he stares after the vanishing figure of his partner, only moving when he loses his balance, his chair almost slipping out from under him as he clumsily steadies himself. He glances around the office, relieved to find no one looking his way as he brings the back of his hand to his lips, mind racing. Well... that's new.

Shae -

“Shae!”

Shae glances up from the lunch menu in their hand to see the newest member of their team give a small wave, carefully making their way through the busy dining area. Maybe I should’ve picked somewhere quieter. They stand to greet the new agent, unconsciously smoothing down their clothes as they do, brandishing a tentative smile and bracing themself for this latest attempt at a more ‘casual’ meeting.

“Agent, I... oh.” Their prepared welcome stutters to a halt as the agent leans in, their lips pressing, feather-light, against Shae’s cheek, lingering for a heartbeat too long before finally moving away.

Shae feels their cheeks start to warm as they snap their arm back down to their side, hoping their subordinate hadn’t noticed that Shae had been about to lay a hand on their shoulder in, what, some vague attempt to keep them close?

Horrified by the hint of disappointment they feel at having missed the opportunity, their smile turns tight, their unshakeable professional facade falling back into place as they gesture to the seat opposite them, “Please, sit. We have a lot to cover and not much time to do it, Agent.”

Callie -

“It’s not funny!”

Callie’s tone turns whiny as the agent continues to laugh, busying herself instead with wiping the spattered oil from her overalls. She had been so sure she had it this time. She dumps her gloves on top of her toolbox and kicks a crate out from under the workbench, dropping herself heavily onto it with a frustrated groan.

Wiping her brow with the back of her hand, she gives it an annoyed look when it comes away smeared with oil. She rubs her hands together, an ineffective attempt at dislodging some of the grime as she stares at the floor, her mind in overdrive. What went wrong? I was so careful.

“Hey now.” She glances up at the agent to find them looking at her with that smile, the one that always makes her stomach feel fluttery whenever she sees it, their voice gentle as they come to stand beside her. “You’ll figure it out. I mean, if anyone can do it, it’s you, right?”

She feels herself puff up a little at the praise. Even if they don’t really mean it, it’s still nice to hear. She tilts her head, considering, before the corner of her mouth twitches and she tries her best to look modest, “Maybe.”

“That’s my girl.” They say, affectionately, as they wrap a loose arm around her shoulder, heedless of the oil and grime, and give her a reassuring squeeze. She closes her eyes as she leans into it, hoping that she isn’t ruining their suit too much, as they start to say their goodbyes before Murphy can get too impatient and make a reappearance.

Her eyes flutter open as she feels a pressure against the crown of her head, her heart skipping a beat as she realises it’s a kiss. She’s so distracted she barely registers that the agent is still speaking until they start to move away from her. “-ou’ll get there. I have faith in you.”

They give her a quick wave and then they’re gone, leaving Callie able to do nothing except sit there grinning like an idiot. She gives herself a minute to bask before she stands and cracks her knuckles, ready to take another swing at her project. She can’t let her agent down, now, can she?

Toni -

The third time Toni feels their neighbours head start to drop onto their shoulder, they decide enough is enough.

They take in a deep breath of cool night air and tamp down on the fond smile threatening to appear on their lips, instead making a loose fist and rapping it gently against the crown of MC’s head, “Knock knock, sleepyhead, I think we’ve passed your bedtime.”

When a tired hum of complaint is the only response they get, Toni nudges them gently with their shoulder, “Go on now,” they say with a huff of laughter, “Murphy will wring my neck if he finds out I kept you up late again.” Toni reaches for their rolling papers as MC takes a moment to stretch, their tired hum turning into a full blown yawn as they begin to move.

Lost in the familiar motions, they don’t notice MC’s proximity until warm breath licks against their cheek. Instinctively turning their face towards MC’s, their whole chest seemingly seizes up, paralysed, as soft lips press against the corner of their mouth.

As they pull away, Toni feels themself start to follow, craving that closeness, before snapping back into place. They watch their neighbour, eyes hooded with fatigue, smile soft and warm, “Goodnight, Toni.”

“Good-” The word rings out strained, and an octave too high, before Toni clears their throat. “Yeah,” they force their eyes back onto the part rolled joint in their hands, “goodnight.”

When they hear the window close behind MC, they let out a strangled groan as they knock their head against the brick wall behind them. Stupid stupid stupid. Letting out a heavy sigh, they stare up at the starless sky, dragging their teeth across their lower lip as they try to convince themself they can’t still feel that buzz of anticipation dancing across their skin.

What am I going to do?

#4/5 aint bad #i try to tell myself lol #but ive been staring blankly into nothingness for like half an hour now #and i got nothing that fits or makes sense canonically lol #this is gonna keep my up tonight #i can feel it #ro asks #prompts #please be gentle with me #its been 84 years #im out of practice #and if i dont post this now #i wont post it at all #cos im a dickhead like that

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boundlesshart · 2 years

Text

priam&claude boel r1

pillow fight with @radiantpriamos (continued from here)

Priam stared in disbelief as Claude healed from the measly cut he’d dealt him. Unless he landed a hugely successful hit, nothing would stick, and to do that, he’d have to land several in a row, fighting Claude’s regeneration with the wind sword’s own piddly build.

“I thought you were better than this,” he muttered to the sword. He gave it one last swing. He was unable to counter Claude from the stretch of land away that Claude had fired at him, so he swung at the air again, watching it travel to Claude.

> Priam Round 3 Attack Roll: 15, hit. -0.5 damage. Claude HP: 4.5/5. Priam HP: 4.5/5

Claude hadn’t managed to get him yet, but Priam figured he was fighting an uphill battle with a slope that continually steepened. It didn’t matter how much muscle he put behind the wind sword swing, it only whooshed through the air with a light whee! to little effect.

Well, he was in it for the long haul.

Not running? He did say he was a gladiator or whatever... open jeers and mind games would be par for the course. Priam catches up quick, swinging his sword to send a gust of wind magic.

Round 3 attack: Priam deals 0.5 damage! Claude HP: 4.5/5

Claude braces himself, feeling his meager resistance guard against this spell. A ranged attack, as if he needed more reasons to get as much distance between them as he can. A height advantage won’t work–standing still is the last thing Claude needs. If this guy could be slower...

Two arrows get pulled from the quiver, nocked and aimed at Priam’s legs. Claude risks precious seconds by slowing down, ensuring that he could get the perfect shot...

Close Counter activates! Round 3 counterattack: Roll: 18 + 4 = 22, hit. -0.5 damage. Claude heals +0.5HP, Claude HP 5/5

Round 2 attack: Roll: 16 + 4 = 20, hit. 0.5 damage

Two arrows fire in quick succession, and yet again a healing energy flows through Claude’s veins. With renewed energy, now’s the perfect time for a good plan to get him out of this mess...

...the woods? The cover is appealing, but it’ll be hard to rush through the unbeaten path. Not to mention, just the thought of having to aim through knotted tree trunks and bowing branches immediately annoys Claude. But Priam doesn’t seem all that skilled with this sword of his... a melee fighter, out of his element with a ranged weapon. Branches and leaves are annoying for a seasoned archer–for a guy like him, it’ll be infuriating.

And so Claude heads for the woods, relying on past memory to guide him through.

#t. boel r1 #toaboel2022 #radiantpriamos #sticking here for cleanliness sake

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pemfrost · 3 years

Note

Dimiclaude- arranged marriage ?

I had something else in mind completely, but then I saw a preview for "married at first sight" and decided to do a modern AU. Never seen the show, so I just made the rest up. Hope you like it!

Dimitri assessed himself in the ornate mirror again, acutely aware of the cameras capturing his every movement, every emotion. Even his wildest daydreams never once included a television camera crew filming his wedding. Yet, the chaos helped keep his attention far from the very real vows he was about to make to a man he had never met.

The venue was fantastic, he couldn't have selected something better himself. It warmed his heart to know the man he would be marrying found an outdoor wedding ideal as well, and where better than a vineyard overlooking a lush valley? So far, everything was perfect. Perfect venue, perfect weather, perfect suit, and, if all went well, he would leave with the perfect husband.

Sylvain's laughter announced his arrival, and Dimitri wasn't surprised to find the Producer, Manuela, fawning over him. "Heya, Dimitri! Whoa, Felix wasn't joking when he said you're dressed to the nines."

Manuela laughed, a practiced sound. "Of course, we couldn't have our star looking anything less than his best on his wedding day!" She clapped her hands together, "Alright, we need to film some camera confessionals to splice into the intro and before the breaks. Are you ready?"

Dimitri nodded, not trusting his voice. Dedue, his best man, had left to take a personal call. He was his rock through the whole process, by his side from the day he caved into Sylvain's suggestion and signed up for the matchmaking television show. Dedue's calm presence kept him centered while he waited months for a match to be made.

"Alright," Manuela clapped again, bringing his attention to the camera now in front of him. "First question: How are you feeling now?"

Dimitri inhaled and mentally repeated the general rules Manuela gave him for talking to the camera. He didn't want to redo the shots like he often had to at the beginning of the process. Being in front of the camera was nothing new for him, but filming reality television was very different from filming one of his movies.

"Right now… I am still in disbelief. I gave up finding love years ago, and to have this chance…" He looked away from the camera. "Knowing the man waiting for me at the altar is there because experts have determined we are compatible… Knowing he is not here because of my family name or my wealth means so much."

"Good, good. Question two" Do you think getting married will impact your career?"

"I hope not. My movies have been successful because of my talent, and while I am very aware of my… fan club… I believe they will be happy if I am happy."

"Question three: any pushback from your family during this process?"

"Only concern from my friends, but they support me going through with this. One of them is actually why I signed up for it- after a lot of cajoling. And some alcohol to calm my nerves."

Someone with a clipboard and earpiece grabbed Manuela's attention, and she motioned for him to walk around for some action shots as she disappeared out the door. He complied, but was disappointed to note Sylvain had slipped away during his interview. Typical; the man couldn't stay still on a normal day.

He walked to the window, looking out at the vineyard. Two small guest houses sat on the estate, built so couples could get ready for their wedding separately. There was no chance he would accidentally see his fiancé, and even if he did, how would he tell him apart from the other guests and crew milling about the property?

Would he like the man they chose for him? After so many interviews, personality tests, and various questionnaires, he sure hoped so. More importantly, would he like Dimitri? Was his custom Brioni suit too much? Would the non traditional deep blue be acceptable? His life was often a whirlwind when he was filming a movie, could his husband handle it? It was one of the most common relationship killer for him, and had been one of the first things he mentioned when he first signed up for the show. Had they remembered to take it into account?

"Good, good." Manuela's voice filled the room once more. "We can throw a voice over this, the audience will eat up that pensive staring out the window. Dimitri, are you ready?"

"Ready?"

"To get married, silly. We're about to start."

It was time already?

"Dimitri." Dedue's strong voice came from the doorway. He turned his gaze to Manuela, "May we have a moment?"

"Of course." She motioned for the camera to keep rolling and Dimitri sighed. Even with her out of the room, he needed to be camera ready.

"Dimitri," Dedue said again as he pulled Dimitri into a tight embrace. How in his head was he if he hadn't noticed Dedue crossing the room? "Breathe."

"Aww, are you guys having a moment I wasn't invited to?" Sylvain appeared at his side as he pulled away from Dedue. Immediately, he pulled Dimitri into a hug of his own. "If this doesn't work, then I had nothing to do with it. If you fall madly in love, then you're welcome."

Dimitri chuckled and pulled away from the embrace. Lingering just out of reach stood Felix. He knew better than to try and hug his prickly friend, instead he nodded towards him. "Thank you all. I could not imagine doing this without your support."

"Not having a change of heart, are we?" Manuela's head peeked into the room.

Dimitri forced a smile through his anxiety. "No. Let's go meet my future husband."

Manuela ushered him outside and into a covered golf cart. As they were driven up the hill to where he would get married, she double checked the microphone hidden in his Boutonniere. "Alright, so this venue is a tricky one since it's outside. There are two curtain boxes set up opposite each other. You will both step through them on cue and walk towards each other and meet in the middle at the altar. Got it?"

Dimitri nodded as the cart came to a stop. Manuela exited first then motioned for him to follow her. She pointed to where he should stand, and he strained his neck to catch a glimpse of anything before the white curtains blocked his view. A similar curtain was on the other side as she'd said. Chairs were set up for the few guests each brought with them, but were currently empty.

As he stood behind the curtains, Dimitri strained to hear what was going on. He couldn't see the chairs or the altar, but after a few minutes the sounds of soft chatter floated to him. The altar was just beyond a thin fabric. His husband was just beyond thin fabric.

Dimitri focused on his breathing. It was real. He was about to marry someone who's name he didn't know. While he thought he worked through his anxiety over it, he clearly had not. What did he do with his hands? What if he tripped as he walked to the altar?

Before he could continue to spiral further, Manuela was signaling him to walk out. He hesitated. His friends were out there, his husband's friends were out there. His husband was out there. With a deep breath, Dimitri pushed the curtain aside and stepped out.

He paid no attention to the people to his left, focused only on the man already standing across from him. Gorgeous did not do the man justice, and once Dimitri stepped out his face lit up, flashing Dimitri a wide smile. There was something familiar about him, something Dimitri couldn’t yet place as distracted as he was by the way his green eyes danced.

His husband stepped forward, breaking the spell he put over Dimitri. When they met in the middle, between the altar and their friends, Dimitri thought it was too good to be true.

Remembering himself, Dimitri smiled down and introduced himself. "H-hello, I am Dimitri."

"Whoa," the man said. "I thought my eyes were deceiving me, but it really is you." Dimitri's heart began to sink, afraid he was just another fanboy until he continued. "I'm Claude."

Oh- it clicked. Claude Von Riegan, lead singer of the band The Golden Deer. "This is really happening."

Claude smiled, "Yeah, it suuure is."

Dimitri wanted to talk to him, ask so many questions- touch him. But they were not alone up at the altar and a soft voice startled them both out of the moment they were sharing. "Welcome, everyone. I am Byleth, the officiant for this joyous occasion."

They paused to give Dimitri and Claude a moment to catch their bearings. Dimitri risked a glance to his friends, and was relieved to find them looking content. Annette gave him a thumbs up at the same time Sylvain wolf whistled. Claude's side was just as lively, and Dimitri recognized members of his band in the front row.

Byleth continued, bringing their focus back to them. "We welcome Claude Von Riegan and Dimitri Blaiddyd-"

Dimitri couldn’t focus on their speech, too busy getting lost in Claude's eyes. He had enough sense about him to respond to the vows when prompted, and was endlessly glad they didn't have to write their own.

"Now, I pronounce you married. You may now kiss your groom, forever sealing your union."

Dimitri was eager to do so, his nerves falling away when Claude's lips found his. He completely forgot about the cameras as he eagerly returned the kiss, and nearly groaned when Claude pulled away.

Cheers rang out from their friends. He heard Sylvain's shout of, "Power couple!" over everyone else.

They were ushered down the aisle, through their friends' congratulations and into another covered cart. Claude's hand found his as they were driven to where the reception was being held, and Dimitri squeezed it in silent answer.

"Hey?" Claude looked at him, a smile tugging playfully at his lips.

"Yes?"

"We're married," Claude said, nudging his shoulder into Dimitri's.

Dimitri leaned over, placing a chaste kiss on Claude's cheek. "Yes, we are." He brushed his knuckles along his husband's cheek before diving for his lips.

He couldn't be happier with the outcome, and looked forward to getting to know his new husband, and starting their life together.

Thanks for reading!!

#dimiclaude #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #claude von reigen #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #pem writes #this is too much fluff I feel sticky

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undertaker1827 · 4 years

Note

For your Halloween prompt list, can you do 2 for Sebastian and Claude (separately) where the reader convinces them to wear a maid dress for the day? 👀

No worries at all, hope you enjoy!! This was hilarious to write

2] Dressing up (costumes, cosplay and the like)

Masterlist

Claude

You want him to what? Why?

Exactly what purpose is this humiliation tactic supposed to serve

And ‘Because it would be funny’ really wasn’t the answer he was looking for

Be prepared for literally no verbal answer, just the slow raising of one eyebrow and a sudden feeling of being very small

You start laughing - nervous laughing - in an attempt to cover the flush creeping up your cheeks and how embarrassed you are beginning to feel

However, instead of a straight out, deadpan ‘no��, which is what you were expecting, you get instead a “Are you being serious?”

It’s said in that monotone voice of his so you can’t tell exactly what he is thinking, equally you can’t manage that most of the time - it’s something of a goal you set yourself to get his expression and or tone of voice to change

Frankly you were expecting at least some sort of emotion to show itself at this request

A huff emits from your partner’s lips

Well that counts as something, right? Better than-

A chuckle

Your eyes widen and your head shoots up in surprise, but your eyes tell you what you heard was indeed correct

His lips were quirked upwards at the corner and his eyes slightly narrowed; a hand brought up to his face in an attempt to cover it

It happens again when he takes in the look on your features, utter shock and disbelief

What shocks you more is when he gently pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and steps closer to you to rest his hands on your waist

And then says yes

You’re sorely tempted to ask who is standing on front of you and what have they done with Claude

“This is perhaps one of the most ridiculous things I have been asked to do during my time in the human realm,” you were already aware that amounted to a good few centuries, “but fine. If and only if it would serve to amuse you.”

You couldn’t keep the cheeky grin off your lips

“It definitely would”

Getting an outfit big enough to successfully fit him was the first issue, the second was convincing him to put it on in the morning and wear it for the whole day

“I doubt many dress up for Halloween until the evening, afternoon if it involves children”

You tell him that yes, people definitely do dress up earlier than that

What finally tips him over is you saying that you’ll put your costume on as well

Which turns out to be a matching maid dress

You’ve successfully confused the demon more than anything else, but he does actually wear the costume for the day

Sebastian

Sebastian looks about as confused as you’ve ever seen him when you make your request

His eyebrows draw together almost comically as his gaze flicks between your eyes, working out whether you were joking or not

Evidently you weren’t

You laugh to cover up your nervousness as he just kind of stares at you, grinning as you wait for your reply

“May I enquire as to why?” The demon asks in the end, amusement now starting to bubble just under the surface of his straight face

You just shrug lightly, smile growing, and tell him you think it would be really funny

Sebastian steps towards you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him

You rest your hands on his shoulders and keep eye contact with him

“You think it would be funny,” he repeats back to you, raising a teasing eyebrow as you nod slowly

“Then what would I get to amuse me in return?”

You open your mouth to answer, then falter, hesitating as you ponder what exactly he would want you to do

“I’ll wear whatever costume you want?” You ask, mentally crossing your fingers and hoping he doesn’t pick anything too ridiculous

The sudden, decidedly evil grin you get makes you question that thought

What he decides on in the end (after multiple dramatic pauses for effect) is to get you to dress up like a butler

Not too bad all things considered - you were expecting to end up wearing something far more ridiculous and less Halloweeny

That said, when it turns out you want him to wear the costume the whole day, Sebastian’s conditions change

You have to also wear your costume for the whole day, but on top of that, you have to play butler to him

You can’t help but laugh when he says it, wondering what Ciel would think if he were around or happened to find out about your deal

It seems a comparatively small price to pay though, so you agree to it quickly

And that was how you ended up spending Halloween doing all the things Sebastian wanted to which you had previously disagreed on

He wanted a cat and so did you, but you didn’t think there would be enough time for you to look after one

Therefore you went to a local shelter and came back with two cats, Sebastian insisting the two of you would be able to look after them

He knew how much you loved Halloween and wanted to treat you to an awesome grave decoration, one you’d previously told him was too expensive

If Sebastian got weird looks from people, he really couldn’t care less

He just carried on regardless

You got home again in the early afternoon, ready to start preparing for trick or treaters

#sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian michaelis #claude faustus x reader #claude faustus #black butler sebastian x reader #black butler sebastian #black butler claude x reader #black butler claude #black butler #kuroshitsuji #black butler x reader #kuroshitsuji x reader #black butler reader inserts

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faeriequeensook · 3 years

Text

* Sookie Stackhouse

* 100% Faerie Queen

* Based on True Blood and SVM. Crossovers welcome

* Trigger warnings

* Dark Themes possible

* 21 + Only

* Ships with Chemistry

* Played By @desilikearnaz

Sookie, the Faery Princess of all the Fae had seen her great grandfather Niall just a few days ago. He'd given her advice. It wasn't like having Gran around. Now she was always was what Sookie needed for a sounding board.

But back on topic.

Warlow had not received the True Death. He had escaped just in time to avoid the stake by being pulled back into the void by Niall. Jason and Sookie aided in Niall's escape. Only to hope and pray Warlow was gone for good. But if he'd gotten out once, they no doubt concluded he would get out again and seek out Sookie as his Faery Vampire bride.

They had to be prepared for it. However they didn't know how or when to prepare for this attack. She had no way to keep him from entering her home, Warlow was impervious to silver. And worse yet, if she were to kill him she'd be "Fae no longer" as Claude put it. And the barmaid had come to accept who she was and didn't want to lose that side of herself.

Her normal routine of sunbathing in the morning on the hot late spring morning she was thinking of her best friend, Tara and how she couldn't be here talking to her in the sun anymore. "That's my own darn fault. She didn't want to become a vampire and now she hates me." Tears sliding down her cheeks could be seen streaming down under her sunglasses.

She began to fall asleep. Something Gran would kill her for. She'd get burned. Sook awoke to her own laughter wondering if Gran hadn't come and woken her up. Wondering how she and Granddaddy were doing. Did Gran give him a real what for like he thought she would?

It was sudden. Almost a rush. A wave of bright light emanated throughout her body. Much like when Claude and his sisters checked her light in the Faery club. But this was intense giving off a sudden knowledge that Sookie felt something had occurred in which had gone remarkably askew. Askew was the word of the day on her calendar.

Unaware of the presence of Claudellen and Claudewina Crane, the "sunshine in a pretty blonde bottle" sat up to look over herself. Different. Something felt different. "Sookie." A voice came directly from behind her. Jumping she turned to see the Crane Faeries. "You must come with us quickly! It is urgent. Your life may depend upon it! All of Faery depends upon it!"

Rolling her eyes as stood and gazed her beautiful eyes at them. "Would y'all stop doing that? Gosh darn it, between you and Bill I'm aimin' to die of a heart attack." Trekking towards her porch, she mumbled how sick and tired she was of all this.

Claudellen appeared before her when Sookie exited Gran's room dressed for the day. Only then when the woman bowed before her, she stopped. "What are you doing? Save that for Great Grandpa Niall." Upon saying that, Sookie propelled Claudellen to the side and walked down the stairs. Claudwina took a gander at her sister. "She doesn't know. She didn't feel it. Or didn't understand it."

A more than frustrated Sookie Stackhouse turned to both of them. "Know what? Tell me right now!" A Fae who seemed to have looked death in the eye spoke. "Warlow has escaped. Sookie, Your great grandfather Niall is dead. You have become 100% Faerie and are now Queen of us all."

Shaking her head in disbelief, Sookie thought back to the surge of energy she received while sunbathing. "Is that what that was? And No I ain't going to Faery. Last time I did that I went missing for 13 months. Whoever needs to talk to me can meet me on the graveyard plane. It's my day off so you go tell them to meet me there."

Sookie made way out of her ancestral home. She would not be leaving Bon Temps. A home she'd had for almost 30 years. Her house had been standing for almost 150. This was her home. Queen or not. She could make her turf on the graveyard plane. If they didn't like it, too bad.

As she entered the plane, the elders were there. Including Mab. They all bowed to her. The two Cranes were told to leave. Sookie held up her hand. "The remaining Cranes stay with me as my Faery Godmothers. Claudellen, please get the rest of your sisters." 13 other Crane sisters appeared.

Sookie turned to Mab. "What is she doing here? She is an elder my Queen." Came a voice of Claudia Crane. "Are we not almost extinct thanks to vampires and now Warlow?" A nod came from all around. "She has killed or ordered the killing of our kind as well. Come night fall, Mab you will be escorted by my brother and my friend Lafayette to my home. There you will meet a friend of mine." There was a gasp as they knew her fate. Sookie would take no rebellion seeing that great grandpa Niall was murdered.

"If Warlow were here I would do the same. Better yet I would stake him myself. When we meet it will be here. Do we have any Faery that can build us a meeting table? If not, I have a werewolf friend will do it for us."

Sookie attempted to maintain her body and her voice from shaking like a leaf. She was scared as all get out. She needed to talk to Jason, Sam, Bill and yes even Eric. After all he was going to be the one she asked to kill Mab. Just then she turned to the Cranes. "I want you out of sight on the human plane. I can't risk you dying." Her voice so caring. The Sookie Stackhouse everyone knew and loved. "Open the portals. NOW!"

With that, the newly appointed Queen, left the plane and made her way home. It was barely 11:00. As she started lunch, Jason walked in the door. As always. It was almost as if he was Pavlov's dog.

#Eric Northman #Sookie Stackhouse #Eric and Sookie #Bill Compton #Bill and Sookie #Warlow #Sookie and Warlow #anna paquin #alexander skarsgard #stephen moyer #robert kazinsky #true blood #merlottes #faeries #Vampires #Tru blood #Fangtasia #Faery

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chaseatinydream · 4 years

Text

sly san who sacrifices (i) || c.s (atz)

➳ pairing: reader x choi san (ateez)

➳ word count: 2396

➳ genre: badboy au; fluff; angst

➳ synopsis: to the school, he may be a bad boy, the worst of the worst, but to you, he’s choi san, father of three cats, your best friend and ultimately, the boy you love.

>>>

San has often been called ‘catlike’.

It’s no surprise, given his near obsession with picking up strays from roadsides and giving them a home in his family’s third mansion, where he lives, and his behaviour does remind you of a cat’s. There’s something distinctively feline about him, from those uncannily sharp eyes to his whimsical, distinctly teasing personality. Some find it off putting, citing him as arrogant and aloof, but you know him better than that.

He’s your best friend, after all.

Honestly, you’re not very sure how the two of you became friends. It’d started this way on the first day of term with him seated at your side. Within the first three minutes you had known each other, he’d ripped off his tie, called it ugly and flung it across the room, all while ranting to you that the colour scheme was an abomination and how the school should have at least hired a competent designer to do their uniform.

You had merely stared at him in wide eyed shock and nodded along with everything he’d said.

And that… was how it’d just happened.

You like to think that you understand him, but it seems a humanly impossible task. Choi San toes the line between sweet as cotton candy and cold as ice like a professional tightrope walker, a double faced enigma that you can never predict. One second, he’s cradling a baby bird in his hands, cooing about how cute it is to you, and the next moment, he’s in a fist fight with another student, your hands pulling on his sleeve as you desperately beg him to stop with tears in your eyes.

Sometimes, you don’t know why San is your friend. All the rest of his gang – ATEEZ, as they call themselves – are what one would label as bad boys, terrible influences, a stain on your school’s otherwise pristine reputation. The two of you are polar opposites, you’re everything he’s not and he’s everything you would have steered clear of.

But here you are, in this strange, peculiar situation, with Choi San still seated at your side two years after your first meeting, his head resting against your shoulder as he dozes off in class.

You jab his side with a pen.

“Psst, San.”

Your best friend cracks open one eye lazily, feet propped up on the table. He’s wearing slippers today, you groan mentally, together with school issue pants and one of his self-designed shirts. Not the typical bad boy image he usually goes for, but then again you know that San had been out clubbing in town till the wee hours of morning, so it explains his state of casual dress. Still, if he was just going to sleep the whole lesson away, he should have just stayed at home!

“Wassgoinon?” San mumbles sleepily into your shoulder and you puff out your cheeks in exasperation, ready to lecture him on how he should be paying attention to the teacher instead of sleeping his life away like an actual cat.

But then one look at how peaceful and serene he looks with his eyes closed has something melting inside and you momentarily falter, chewing on your bottom lip as you struggle to chide him.

Stupid pretty face. Stupid jawline. Stupid dimples.

“If you were just going to sleep you should have just stayed home, you know?” You mutter, running your fingers through the red streaks in his hair that he just refuses to get rid of. He mumbles absentmindedly under his breath, curling into your side like a large cat and your breath hitches in your throat.

You turn to study him a little more intently. He looks tired, with purplish-black bags under his eyes that remind you of bruises, his flawless skin a little more sallow than usual. Frowning, you press a hand to his forehead… and yelp when you realise how feverish he is.

“San, you’re sick!” You whisper worriedly to him as you sit up a little straighter, hand touching his neck, where his leather choker lies. Yup, he’s burning up, alright. Concern shoots through you and you immediately speak your mind. “You should go home.”

But he merely bats your hand away, grumbling incoherently under his breath as he shifts into a more comfortable position against you. “But I wanna stay in school…”

Your eyes widen in horror at the words that have just left his mouth. The fever must have fried his brain, turned it into a smoking pile of mush, because San never wants to stay in school. Truly on the verge of panicking now, you turn towards the teacher at the front of the classroom and raise a hand desperately, trying to grab her attention.

When she does turn to look at you, you gesture at the pouting boy next to you.

“Professor, can San go home first? He’s sick.”

Your best friend doesn’t have the best reputation with the professors, in fact, most of them are scared stiff by him. San is a wild card, you’re never sure what hand he might play when dealing with him, so you can’t really blame the teachers for being terrified of him, but you can’t leave him be like this in class.

The class abruptly falls silent, tension settling over the room like a thick, unbearable smog.

The teacher glances over at the pair of you, looking nervous when her eyes flit over San. “Well, of course Mr Choi can leave-”

“I don’t want to go.” San growls from next to you, starting to rise from his seat with darkening eyes. The teacher actually shrinks back in fear, colour draining from her face at the potential ticking time bomb on her hands. Instead, you smack your best friend over the head, the charms on your bracelet jingling as you scold him for his bratty behavior.

“San, you’re sick! You need to go home and rest!” You chide, but San merely gives you the best puppy dog eyes he can, a complete opposite of the terrifying glare he’d been projecting earlier.

“I’ll go home if you come with me.” He whines like a petulant puppy, tugging at your sleeve and you groan in exasperation, jerking your head in the teacher’s direction.

“San-ah, lessons are still ongoing! You know I can’t just leave class like that-”

“You can leave too! Please!” The teacher near begs and you scowl at San, who quickly paints the gaze of an innocent angel over the smug, victorious grin on his face. Scowling, you shove your books into your bag before you reach over and grab him hard by the ear, yanking him out of the classroom as he yelps in pain behind you.

“Ow… ow ow ow!” San squawks as you haul him out of the building to the main gate, whipping out your phone with your other hand and speed dialing San’s chauffeur. Honestly, you love San, but sometimes he’s just... ugh.

Ring, ring, ring.

“Good morning, Young Miss. What has Master San done this time?” The dry, monotonous voice of San’s chauffeur and personal assistant comes over the phone and you snort at his opening gambit, both of you all too used to San’s shenanigans.

San flails and struggles against your vice grip on his ear and for a moment you’re afraid that you might actually tear the piercing out of his flesh, so you let him go and he stumbles to the ground dramatically, groaning as he cradles the abused appendage with both hands.

“Surprisingly, nothing. He’s just sick today.” You tell Claude honestly and you can practically hear the stoic man’s eyebrows rise from over the phone.

“He has not? Please, wait for a moment while I check Young Master’s room for him. The one at your side now cannot be the real Master San-”

“You know I can hear the two of you, right?” The topic of your conversation slings an arm over your shoulder, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. You shiver at the feeling of his warm breath against the juncture of your shoulder and raise a hand to smack him in the face, but he dodges to the side with ease. “And Claude! I’m supposed to be your master, you know? Could you stop talking about me like a mutt that keeps pissing on the carpet?”

The man draws in a deep breath to counter. “Well, Young Master, perhaps I would have reason to if you behaved more like a young master instead of a dog-”

You shove San away from you and press the phone to your ear once more. “Anyway, Claude, could you please pick up San from school? He’s at the main gate now.”

There’s the purr of the engine over the call, sleek and velvety as you hear the car pull out of the driveway. “Anything for you, young miss. Please keep Master San under containment until I reach the venue.”

San grabs the phone from you in fury and shrieks into the receiver, voice reminiscent of a dying cat. “Stop talking about me like that! And I’m your master, not her, you know-”

The call hangs up abruptly.

You dissolve into fits of laughter at the look of stunned shock on San’s face and pluck the phone from his hands, while he merely continues staring blankly into the space where the mobile device once was. Bopping him once on the nose to snap him out of his daze, you grin smugly at him and wave the phone in your palm. “I told you that Claude likes me more than he likes you. Honestly, sometimes we have tea chats over the nonsense you get up to.”

Your best friend sputters incoherently.

“Preposterous! Unbelievable! Unacceptable!” San’s face is red with disbelief, almost the same hue of crimson as the coat he wears. Giggles nearly spill forth from you at the comical look on his features as you fight to keep your laughter in your chest, admiring the way his flush makes his cheeks like blossoming roses. “I’m going to fire that traitorous little bastar-”

He breaks off into a coughing fit.

“San!” You yelp in horror, dropping all pretense and rushing to his side to support him. Your arms wind around his shoulders and pull him close to you as he bends over still coughing, waving you off with a raspy ‘I’m fine, I’m fine– ’.

“You shouldn’t lie, Young Master.”

Whirling around in surprise, you see Claude standing there, sleek black limousine behind him, posture perfect like a statue, not a thread on his impeccable suit out of place. San had designed it for him with his very own hands, from the sketching of the outfit to the selection of the material, explaining to you every bit about how all these would come together eventually to form a suit perfect for Claude’s thirty seventh birthday gift.

You had strongly vetoed San’s idea of making the suit canary yellow, but that had been one of the experiences that had really bonded the two of you together. You remember staying over at his house till the wee hours of the morning, curled up in his bed with Darong as you watched him work the sewing machine through sleepy, half lidded eyes. When you did fall asleep, you would often wake up a few moments later to see San on the floor of his room, head tilted against the bed in a manner that must surely not have been comfortable, his long fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist and Puchi in his lap as he snoozed away before you.

Innocent and vulnerable.

Your heart softens at the memory.

“What? How did you get here so fast? I swear you’re like… Usain Bolt in disguise or something.” San grumbles as he tosses his backpack with the force he can muster at the chauffeur, the older man catching it easily with the same, unruffled, serene smile on his face.

“Usain Bolt is a respectable Olympic Sprinter, I merely have a very expensive car provided to me by your father. Also, I did tell you this morning that you were sick and needed to stay at home today, but you refused to listen to me and walked all the way here on your own.” Claude answers as he holds open the door to the backseat. San’s face turns even redder at being exposed and your eyes widen in shock.

“San, you walked all the way here this morning? It was pouring buckets!” You exclaim angrily, now thoroughly furious and also confused by why San was so determined to come to school today. There was nothing especially exciting or interesting going on in school, so San’s behavior was completely counter intuitive. “You’re sick and you don’t carry an umbrella! So that’s why you were so wet this morning! Stay at home next time, you dummy!”

Instead of defending himself, something in San’s eyes soften at your little outburst, the dimples in his cheeks appearing as he gazes at you. “Cute.” He hums under his breath and you recoil a little in confusion, a frown pulling at your lips. San has been doing strange stuff like this recently, dancing hot and cold around you, saying strange things. You chalk this one up to his fever – it must have really fried his brain – and turn your head away to hide your flush.

“I’m just worried, okay?” You mumble, a little embarrassed by his words but you push them out of your mind, forcibly shoving San into the backseat of his car. He nearly trips, stumbles a little, and falls into the leather seat with a yelp. “There! Now, I’m heading back to class–”

His fingers close around your wrist and tug you in after him.

“Choi San!” You shriek in indignation but San merely chuckles tiredly, sagging against your side with his head resting on your shoulder, eyes already sliding shut. You’re about to push him off, but you falter when he sighs gently, his warm breath fanning over your collarbone.

You nearly shiver at the feeling, but keep a hold of yourself.

As Claude closes the door after you and slides into driver’s seat to begin the drive back home, he glances at the interior driver’s mirror to see the peaceful expression on his young master’s face.

He smiles knowingly to himself.

#ateez #ateez san #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #san #choi san #san fanfic #w; san #w; fanfiction

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pl-panda · 4 years

Text

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 10

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 10

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Chloé felt that something was wrong. She knew that the drama would only start with the class kicked out. She tried to enjoy the evening and do what she did at all other galas: be a star. As the daughter of the mayor of Paris and a famous fashion icon, she attracted quite a bit of attention. Now that she was the only reliable source of information on Marinette and Hawkmoth-related stuff, she found herself in the center of attention. Someone even asked her about her time as Queen Bee. She loved it here!

She just finished a small talk with the wife of… someone important, when unmistakable sausage hair flashed in the crowd. She would recognize her anywhere. Lila was still at the gala.

The blonde tried to find someone to tell it to, but she couldn’t do it fast enough. She saw her disappear into a corridor that led to the kitchen. Making a split-second decision, she followed her alone. On her way, she got a bright idea and sent the text to whoever she called last. There was no time to search through the contact list. It better be someone who can help.

The doors to the kitchen were closed and inside buzzed with the work of several hired helpers. They were preparing for the midnight toast. There was no way Lie-la could hide there. The only other doors led to the servants’ staircase.

“Ugh! The sacrifice I make for friendship.” She sighed before entering the tight passage.

This led her to the second floor, where she found the doors already open. It led to a long corridor with several doors on the one side and large windows overlooking the back garden. She realized she was in the west wing, which was the second oldest part of the manor.

“More creepy secret passageways…” She quickly checked her phone to see if somebody answered, but a crashing sound coming from one of the rooms got her attention.

Slowly, she crept toward the only room with lights on. She managed to get a sneaky peek inside before something hit her in the back of her head and everything turned black.

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“So… he really asked you out on the first day?” Allegra starred at Marinette in disbelief.

“Yeah. He was all shy and flustered, almost certain I would reject him.” She giggled. The two girls were standing on the sidelines while Jon got the boys to finally talk their differences out in a safe manner.

“That guy? Flustered?” Allegra giggled. “I think not.”

“And you? I thought Damian had no friends? Well, Jon was more of a family friend from what I heard.”

“My dad is the Gotham Mayor. Probably the only one who stayed in office longer than a week in the last decade.”

“No way!”

“Yes, way.” Allegra nodded. “I met Jon during the interview his mom was doing in Gotham for the Daily Planet. Then, we met at Gotham Academy. Damian was kinda just tagging along. And he still does. Well, I think he actually likes the occasional hanging out with us, but Claude disagrees.” She nodded toward the boys, who seemed to be coming their way. “It’s going to be nice to have a second girl in the pack.”

“I should totally introduce you to Chloé.” Marinette giggled before walking to meet Damian half-way.

“Tt. Felix is not his cousin.”

“And the floor is indeed made of floor.” Jon chuckled.

“I have the dusters…” He threatened, but his friend just laughed.

“Can we dance?” Marinette asked fast. Truth to be told she was waiting for a chance for quite a while, but with the press and then the drama and all the people wishing them well.

Nodding, he led them to the dancing floor and they joined many other couples.

“I just hope I don’t fall over… Or step on…”

“If a man doesn’t come to this thing with reinforced shoes, it’s his fault.” Damian stopped her before she could spiral. Then, his voice softened. “There is nothing to worry about. The only important person today is already dancing with me and the rest can stuff it.”

She blushed bright pink but didn’t respond. Instead, she hugged closer to his chest and allowed him to take the lead. The pair glided seamlessly through the dance floor, moving between other pairs and completely obvious to the stares they received. They melded in perfect harmony, losing the sense of time and space.

Inside Marinette’s head, they were dancing between the stars, bathed in subtle light coming from nowhere and everywhere. In the distance, her imaginary eyes could’ve seen the comet passing by and the full moon glowing in the sky. The music seemed to be coming from everywhere and encompassing them in soothing tones.

For Damian, they were the only constant in the sea of darkness. There was nothing to distract them from dancing. Even the music faded to the background when they moved in perfect harmony. The only source of light seemed to be Marinette. And even her glow was only an aura around her, not illuminating the rest of the place at first. In his imagination, everywhere they stepped, she would leave a small trail of light in the darkness.

Finally, the music stopped. The couple didn’t notice at first until the applause finally broke to them. They both realized they were now in the center of the large circle where people watched. One old lady had a tear in her eye. Marinette blushed at the attention, but did her best not to appear shy. Damian shrugged. He was superior to them, so it was obvious their dance was the center of attention. He bowed slightly to the crowd while Marinette curtsied before rushing away from the prying eyes.

“That was something…” Allegra smiled at her. “You two looked amazing. I really love how your dress reflected the light.”

“Thanks. I ma… nevermind.” She stopped herself. She wanted to reveal she made it, but Allegra was still unknown to her and she wasn’t comfortable with revealing that she is MDC so soon. Even if Jon vouched for her.

“Mari-bear!” Chloé rushed to the pair. “Quick! You need to come with me!”

“What’s going on Chlo?”

“It’s Lila!” The blonde motioned. The reaction was immediate. Marinette’s eyes narrowed and her whole body tensed. She nodded and followed the blonde, who led her toward the kitchen and servants’ staircase.

A saner part of Marinette’s mind noted that Chloé had no problem with the tight passage used only by ‘peasants’ but the majority of her focused solely on stopping whatever evil scheme Lila concocted.

On the second floor, the blonde led Marinette toward Bruce’s private office. Blood started to run cold in her veins. Did Rossi discover the entrance to the batcave? But no, Chloé would be calling the whole Batfam then. She was probably just scoping around and now awaits inside. Or maybe she just broke something in rage?

When they got close, Chloé opened the doors. Inside was in perfect order, except the chair was turned back. As it rotated slowly, Marinette managed to see disheveled blonde hair before pain exploded from the back of her head and she collapsed into the embrace of darkness.

Nobody noticed one more person in the corridor when Marinette left the office alone.

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Damian was ‘enjoying’ the small talk with some rich snob, doing his best to appear as the perfect son and heir to Bruce Wayne. Inside, he was cursing Allegra for stealing his angel so close to midnight. He could see the waiters hired for the evening spreading the champagne already.

“Hi. You’re Damian Wayne, right?” A girl asked him. Her blonde hair was let loose to form a large mane around her head. She looked maybe a year younger. What attracted attention were her eyes. One was bright pink and the other was brown to the point it was almost black.

“Tt. I need to get a better mask.”

“It’s the eyes. They give you away.” She smiled.

“What is it?” He scoffed. “I’m looking for someone so if you excu…”

She grabbed his wrist in a strong grip. “I’ve got a message for Damian Wayne. You will listen to what I have to say.” Her hand squeezed his wrist to the point it started to sting. “You’re far from victory yet.”

She then let go of his hand and disappeared into the crowd. She was small enough for him not to be able to track her. He took a sip of his (non-alcoholic) champagne and returned to his search, promising to check on the cameras later. Finding his beloved was now even more important.

Cursing under his breath, he turned. Marinette was just coming back from where Chloé dragged her. As soon as she saw him, she rushed toward him. A small smile ghosted his face when they met. Except something was wrong. She looked ashamed and scared.

“Damian… I… I think… I must confess something…” She said loudly, attracting the crowd. “I’m so sorry. I really am! It… I never wanted to push it that far! I just wanted a bit of the fame…” Tears welled in her eyes.

“What are you…” He started.

“They were right! I was just a filthy gold digger! But your family was so kind and you’re so precious and smart and I feel so bad for manipulating you! I can’t continue like that! It’s over between us. For your own good!”

A sword was suddenly pressed into her neck to the point it drew blood. Nobody was sure where Damian got the sword , but by now the guests were used to the fact that he could get the sword at any point in the Manor.

“Who are you, harlot, and what did you do to my Angel?” He seethed. People around quickly made a space for them, not wanting to accidentally find themselves on the business end of the sword.

“I’m sorry Damian. I know it must be hard but…”

“You are definitely not Habibti and you can drop the act. She would not act like this. You don’t even know her well enough to realize that this gold digging crap is laughable,” he accused. His voice was full of cold fury.

“You must let go. I… I really don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t even tie someone correctly.” A new voice joined the discussion as another Marinette pushed her way through the crowd. “Or check if someone sees you change. You’re pretty amateurish for a villain.”

“But… but…! Impostor!” The Marinette at the end of the sword screamed. People were already too confused for that to have any real effect.

“Tt. You’re the only impostor.”

“She wants to get the hands on your fortune!” The girl tried. “I’m so sorry!”

“For the love of god shut up. You sound like a broken record.” Marinette snapped. “And for your information, I don’t need to try and attach myself to someone. I have my own source of income.” Marinette hesitated. Even if the impostor, whoever they were, was dealt with, the media would still keep accusing her of trying to marry into wealth. And at school it would be even worse. She would not give Lila more lie material. “After all, I made my dress for today’s evening.”

Murmurs immediately broke. So far, everyone assumed that it was an MDC original. Very few smarter ones caught up on that, but the majority was scratching their heads. Slowly, the small intelligent percent explained to their oblivious colleagues what that meant.

“Yes, I’m MDC. It used to stand for Marinette Dupain-Cheng before I switched to Marinette Désign et Création.” She gazed over the crowd. “You can ask uncle Jagged if you see him.” She grinned. “Or Tim Drake. He has a signed CD. In fact…” She pulled her phone and made a quick tweet about the Wayne Gala on her MDC account.

“No…” The other Marinette starred in disbelief.

“Yes. I wanted to keep it a secret until I graduate, but someone forced me to unmask a bit earlier…” She glared at the impostor.

“No!” They screamed. Black bubbling energy covered them. Damian tried to stab with his sword and fell right through it, with his suit burning in several places. When it stabilized again, A teenager stood there. She looked mostly human, except her hair was fluorescent orange and her dress was torn in several places now. She had no accessories and her feet were bare. “You ruined everything! This was supposed to be my trip!”

Marinette took a battle stance, mentally giving herself a pat on the back for making her dress combat-ready. She didn’t bring the rope dart this evening since it would clash with her look, but she did put a small, almost unnoticeable sheethe with a knife on her left thigh. She quickly drew the blade and got ready.

“I will not be denied again!” The villain charged at Marinette. The girl tried to strike with her knife, but the blade broke on the first contact, shattering into small pieces that flew everywhere. Several cut her arm. In retaliation, the criminal delivered a punch that pushed all the air from her lungs and made her tumble.

Impostor was just preparing to deliver a final strike when suddenly a blade cut off her right hand before being stabbed through her calf, making her fall one one knee and pinning her to the ground.

Sabine was there, with fury on her face that would make demons run for cover and saints pray to God.

“No one.” She delivered a spin-kick at the downed enemy’s head. She tumbled down and spread like a run-over frog “Hurts.” Before the villain could catch the second wind, she pulled the sword from her calf and stabbed it deep into her left palm, pinning her into the ground. There was no blood whatsoever. “My daughter.” She spat on the impostor and stepped on her head with enough strength to knock out any normal human.

Just as her leg was supposed to give the villain a concussion, she turned into purple bubbling energy and moved. Sabine’s leg passed through the energy and her leg started to smoke a bit and turn red.

“That hurt!” The villain screamed once she reformed, all wounds gone like they were never there. A purple butterfly-shaped mask appeared over her face and the few people that knew what happened in Paris gasped. “Ugh! Fine!” She tried to lunge at Marinette, but a chair smashed into her head and batted her away like a baseball ball.

“Run!” Tom screamed at her daughter and charged with the chair. Marinette looked at her mother and Damian and all three nodded at the same time. Using the panic and people running away, they ducked into an empty corridor and locked the door.

“Tikki! Spots on!”

“Plagg! Claws out!”

“Roaar! Prowl!”

The light of three transformations was blinding. When it died, Sabine looked over the couple and noticed that she was the only one that had an unchanged outfit.

Damian’s outfit consisted of what were dark gray linen pants, a linen shirt with long sleeves and a hood with two folds on the top of his head that resembled cat ears. Over the shirt, he wore a black vest with dark-green finishes. On his left breast was a cat symbol. His forearms were wrapped with gray straps, over which he wore green armguards that reached a bit over the back of his hand. His dark-gray gloves had sharp claws at the end of each finger. His feet were covered with soft shoes that would make no sound as he moved. Behind him, a loose sash of gray imitated cat’s tail. The final touch was the black mask almost identical to what he wore as Robin, except the white eyes were green in this case. His baton was safely attached to his right thigh for easy access.

Marinette now wore a much more stealthy outfit. The core of it was black with dark-red accents. The boots that reached beyond mid-thigh had a single black spot on each vamp, knee, and at the top. There were dark red spots on each of her hips that doubled as some protection. Over her shoulders she wore a dark-red bolero with a black spot near her neck. The sleeves of her bolero ended just below her elbot and on each end was another black spot. She had an additional, very large black spot, on her back. A simple red mask covered her eyes. Her dark hair, which she wore loose these days, was tied into low twin ponytails with red ribbons. On each hand, she wore a red fingerless glove with a single spot on the wrists.

Sabine looked over the two of them. She immediately noted that Damian’s outfit was much more assassin-esque than the leather tights Chat Noir wore. Her daughter also looked more mature now.

“What happened to your outfit?” She asked, curious why the change happened now.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir are connected. Since I’ve got a new cat, I have a new outfit.” She smiled.

“Black Cat. In the outfit, I’m Black Cat. Chat Noir was a bastard.”

“Um�� Akuma?” Ladybug waved her hand toward the main room.

The three jumped out of the corridor to the pandemonium that was happening there.

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Masterlist // Next

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