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God god god god god Colin going from pushing himself into the carriage in front of Deli, (That's my bodyguard!) wanting to protect and defend and kill for him, only to step back when Deli actually asked him to go into the cave first. And Colin said no, none of this was worth it and letting Deli wander into the unknown, I'm
#the ravening war#d20 trw#d20#WHAT IS HAPPENING#MATT I CANT KEEP UP#EVERYONE FEELS SO DIFFERENT AVOUT WHAT THEY DID#I NEED ANSWERS NOW MERCER#god the previews for next ep really make me think we're getting a colin deli falling out#deli just seemed unhappy with whay they did but resigned to it#colin seems like he fully regrets it all#AHHHHHHHHH
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[ let me show you ] d. mercer
day 5 of kinktober (praise kink w/ dawson mercer)
paring : Dawson Mercer x fem!reader
summary : Dawson shows his best friend how sex is supposed to feel
warning(s) : smut ! inexperienced!reader, soft dom!dawson, oral (f recieving), p in v, protected sex, praise kink, pet names during sex
author’s note : being so serious when i say that this is (i think) the first time im writing for merc so plsss bear w me and tell me what you think. it was supposed to be on she shorter end, but i got a lil carried away so there is actual plot including. enjoy <33
kinktober schedule
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That is not how sex is supposed to feel. Even with only one hookup prior to tonight under her belt, she doesn't think it was supposed to be that bad. Both her hookups to this day were honestly bad, and she's starting to think it has something to do with her.
She didn't think she would ever be the one to sneak out of someone's bed after hooking up with them, but here she is. She quietly and quickly gathers her clothes before she gets dressed so she can make her escape.
On the way down to the Uber that she ordered once her date fell asleep, she calls Dawson because she needs to tell someone about her night.
The phone rings a few times before he answers the phone.
"Aren't you supposed to be out on a date right now?" he questions as soon as he picks up the phone.
She pushes the door open and is met with cool New Jersey air. It whips through her hair. "Supposed to be are the key words," she tells him. "No, he brought me back to his apartment and attempted to fuck me."
"Attempted?" he asks, confusion evident in his voice. She can only imagine his face. "How did he attempt to fuck you? Because usually he did or he didn’t."
Before she gets into the Uber, she says in a hushed voice, "He couldn't figure out how to put his dick in me, Dawson. That's what I mean when I say he attempted to fuck me. He just went down on me instead and he came just from doing that. And I’m pretty sure I didn’t orgasm.”
He howls with laughter as she gets into the backseat of the Uber. "No way," Dawson laughs. "You're telling me he didn't know where to put it? Oh my God."
"It's embarrassing for me too, Merc," she tells him, face red like she is having this conversation face-to-face with him. "It's not like I knew any better either. Both hookups I’ve had have been the worst experiences of my life and taught me next to nothing about what I’m supposed to do.”
Her best friend is quiet as the Uber starts the drive to her apartment building in Hoboken. She raises her eyebrows, but he starts talking before she can ask if he’s still there.
“Come to my apartment,” he tells her. Dawson sounds a little more serious than he did thirty seconds ago.
“Why?”
“Just … come to my apartment,” he reiterates. “I’ll tell you why when you get here.”
Confused flood her body. “Okay,” she sighs. She tells the Uber driver Dawson’s address before she turns her attention back to the conversation. “You’re being very suspicious right now and I’m not sure I like it.”
“You love me anyway,” he laughs. “See you soon.”
Then the line beeps dead and she pulls the phone away from her ear. She blinks at the dark device and questions why he suddenly told her to come over. It’s almost one in the morning and she’s pretty sure he has morning skate at ten, yet he told her to come over.
If he wants to make her feel better, he could’ve waited until it wasn’t the middle of the night. They could’ve gone to lunch tomorrow when he got done practice and before he took his pre-game nap. Dawson didn’t have to tell her to come over.
The drive to Dawson’s place takes ten minutes longer than the drive to her apartment would’ve taken. It’s close to 1:30 in the morning when the Uber pulls up out front of his apartment building. She thanks the driver and heads up to Dawson's fourth floor apartment.
Three knocks later and she's face-to-face with Dawson in his pajama pants and Devils t-shirt. He looks her up and down where she stands in her little black dress and heels. The dress isn't too revealing but it shows off her curves with the way it hugs her body.
She walks past him without a word. Her cheeks threaten to turn red as she turns back to face him. Dawson shuts the door and she asks, "Is there a reason I'm in your apartment in the middle of the night?"
"You said your hookup experiences weren't the best," Dawson slowly says, hesitating a bit.
"Did you seriously ask me to come over so you could make fun of me because of my lack of experience?" she asks, annoyance evident in her voice. "Because not all of us can be a professional hockey-"
"I might be your best friend, but I wouldn't make fun of you for that," he interrupts. "God. Who do you think I am? I make fun of you for a lot of things but not because of your lack of experience."
Her body begins to relax because she really thought he was going to make fun of her. "Then why did you ask me to come over if it wasn't to make fun of me?" she tries again.
There's a moment of hesitation like Dawson's unsure of what to say next. She raises her eyebrows in confusion until he speaks.
She's very surprised at the words that leave his mouth.
"Let me show you how sex is supposed to feel," he tells her. "I'm your best friend. I hope that means you trust me enough to let me show you how good sex is supposed to be."
As soon as the words pass his lips, she's taken aback.
They've been best friends since they met their freshman year of high school and she never fathomed hooking up with him. She would be lying if she had she never thought about it though, because she has a few times. He's attractive, an insanely good hockey player, and has the best sense of humor. She knows that; she just never thought he'd want to hook up with her.
"You would do that?" she questions. "For me?"
Dawson nods and takes a step toward her. "I'd do anything for you," he replies. "Including this, if you want. So you're not embarrassed and know what you're doing next time someone takes you home after a date."
Slowly, he crosses the living room until he's standing in front of her. She looks up at him and sharply inhales when their eyes meet for a second.
"I, um ..." she trails off. "Yeah."
A small smile forms on Dawson's lips. "Yeah?" he asks. "Is that a yes?"
She nods and reaches out to touch him. She hesitates, gnawing on her bottom lip. "It's a yes," she tells him. "Before we do though, just promise me that it won't change anything. You'll still be my best friend and you'll still make fun of me for stupid things and I'll still get to make fun of you every time you fall on the ice."
The grin on Dawson's face grows. "Nothing will ever change," he tells her. "You'll still be able to make fun of me every time I fall on the ice. As a matter of fact, please keep making fun of me when I fall on the ice because it's one of my favorite things when you do."
A smile forms on her face as she looks up at her best friend. "Then okay," she sighs. "Show me how sex is supposed to feel."
With her permission and consent, he leans down and captures her lips in a long, deep kiss. Her heart races in her chest the longer their lips touch. She reciprocates it, matching the slow pace he instigated the kiss with. His forehead rests on her as the kiss deepens slightly.
Dawson brings his hand up and cups her jaw, holding her close. She rests her hands on his waist, grabbing his shirt lightly and pulling at the thin fabric so he doesn't get too far. His free hand mirrors the other one. She hums at the feeling because she's never been kissed like this.
While she lacks experience in bed, she's had her fair share of kisses in her life. Teenage relationships in high school, a little experimentation during her college years, and a handful of dates since she moved to Jersey to be close to Dawson.
In all those years though, she's never been kissed the way her best friend is kissing her now. The way he's holding her, deeply kissing her. She's not sure she'll want to kiss anyone else but Dawson after this.
He moves his hands down to her waist and she slides hers up over his chest until she wraps them around his neck. Dawson's hands rest on her butt and she smiles into the kiss that follows. He kisses her smile before he takes advantage and licks into her mouth. She gasps and hums at the feeling.
Yeah, she may never kiss anyone but Dawson after this.
The kiss turns rushed, heated, and full of tongue. She kicks off the heels she's wearing while Dawson picks her up after he wraps his arms around her waist. She wraps her legs around him and he carries her off to his bedroom down the hallway.
A soft light illuminates the room from the lamp that's lit next to his bed. That's the only light in the room when Dawson crawls on his knees on the mattress before he lies her on her back. She rolls her hips against his and Dawson pulls back.
"Okay," he breathes out with a smile on his face. "You're rushing. Don't rush. You're chasing after something you have to build to first so take a second. I have you and I'll make sure you feel good."
She nods and relaxes her entire body under his. She stares up at him and bites her bottom lip. Dawson sits back on his feet and pulls his t-shirt over his head. Her eyes widen at the sight of him without a shirt and his checkered pants hanging low on his waist.
"Oh, fuck me," she breathes out.
"That's the plan," Dawson replies.
He hooks his fingers around the thin straps that sit on her shoulders. He pulls them down off her shoulders very slowly, pulling the fabric down with the straps. When she pulls her arms out, Dawson keeps pulling the dress off.
Her breasts are exposed and she doesn't feel the need to cover her chest up. She lets Dawson keep looking at her the way she can't help but look at him.
She lifts her hips so Dawson can pull off the dress. It hits the floor with a soft thud. Her fingers splay across his torso and run up his chest. Dawson wraps his hands around her wrists and pulls her so she's sitting up, chest against his.
Dawson lifts her head up with a curled pointer finger. "I've always thought you were pretty," he softly tells her while his eyes study her face. Her face turns red. "But holy shit. You are so beautiful. I'm going to make sure you feel so good, my pretty girl."
His words shoot straight to her core. "Merc," she sighs. "You can't just say those things."
"I can," he replies while he runs a finger between her breasts. "And I will because in this moment, I'm allowed to." His fingers trails down her stomach until it reaches the waistband of her ruined panties. "So get used to it."
She shivers at his words and allows him to pull off the thin fabric. She is completely bare in front of him, and he looks at her like she's the only thing in the entire world.
It might be because they're sharing this intimate moment, but she can't help but think maybe he feels something for her. She's had a couple of moments where she thought maybe they could be more than friends, but she didn't think he shared those sentiments so she never said anything. She's never initiated anything, but he suggested they do this tonight so she can't help but wonder if he feels something for her.
Dawson lies down on his stomach with his face between her legs. He licks his bottom lip and mumbles, "So wet, pretty girl. All for me?"
Pretty girl rings throughout her head and leaves her tongue-tied. All she can do is nod in response to his question. Dawson grins and kisses her thigh. Her body shudders in response. He trails kisses from her thigh to her core. He licks a slow stripe over her core and she lets out a soft hum as her hands find a home in his hair.
"God, Dawson," she gasps. His lips wrap around her clit and he hums, sending shocks throughout her entire body.
In the two hookups she's had before this one, it's never felt like this. Her body has never reacted like this before. An unfamiliar knot has already formed in the pit of her stomach, and Dawson has only used his tongue on her. He hasn't touched her, but it already feels so good.
His tongue runs through her soaked folds. Soft hums pass his lips every so often, and each time she gasps.
"So good for me," Dawson tells her. "So patient for me. You taste so good, baby."
Before she can even react to his words, he slips his tongue inside of her. A borderline pornographic moan passes her lips while her fingers curl in his locks. She throws her head back in pleasure as Dawson licks her closer to her inevitable orgasm.
He shifts his position on the bed so he’s more on his knees than his stomach. His hands rest on her belly for a second before they slide up to cup her breasts. She hums and rests her own hands on his.
“Merc,” she sighs. “I think I’m close. Please.”
If her shaking legs and knot in her stomach are any kind of indication then she’s close. Closer than she probably thinks she is.
Dawson pulls back and she whines at the loss of contact. He stands up next to the bed and completely undresses himself. She basically starts salivating at the sight of his cock springing free of it’s checkered confines. She gnaws on her bottom lip and can’t wait to get her mouth on his dick.
Tonight is not that night though. Dawson probably won’t let it happen because he’s so bent on making her feel good.
He reached into his bedside table drawer and pulls out a small silver package. She presses her lips into a tight line when she realizes that is going to be inside her.
Dawson crawls back onto the bed between her legs. He rips open the package with his teeth and slides its contents onto his dick. He lines his tip up with her entrance and she lets out a sigh.
“I’ve got you,” he promises. “You’re doing so well for me.”
His praise is one thing she never expected to turn her on. The more he praises her, the closer her orgasm gets. It’s new, but she likes hearing Dawson talk to her like that.
She lets her legs fall to the side and Dawson hovers over her. She pulls him down for a deep kiss. He pushes into her.
There a pinch of pain when he stretches her out before it turns into pleasure the further into her he pushes. She hums as he buries himself into her. “So big, Merc,” she tells him between kisses. “Might ruin me for anyone else.”
“Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” he replies. She smiles into the kiss that follows.
He allows her to adjust to his size for a second before he starts rolling his hips. She gasps as he feels his cock inside of her. Again, there’s slight pain for a second before it turns into pleasure.
The room is quickly filled with the creak of the bed and soft sounds that rise from her throat. She wraps her legs around his waist and he changes his angle to move even deeper into her.
“Fuck, Dawson!” she gasps. “Fucking me so good. God.”
Dawson smiles and quickens his pace.
She throws her head back and his lips leave hers to attach to her jaw. She wraps her arms around his neck to keep him close. One of his hands rests on her waist while he moves.
“So tight for me, pretty girl,” Dawson tells her. "Perfect little pussy. All for me."
"All for you, Merc," she pants. Her legs begin to shake as she does everything she can to keep herself from coming before she wants to.
Dawson slows his pace but continues to move deeply into her. He hits a sweet spot and she cries out his name.
"Come for me, pretty girl," Dawson pants. "Make a mess on my cock."
With his words, the knot in her stomach comes undone and a wave of pleasure overcomes her. She completely blacks out. Her vision whitens and Dawson's name falls from her lips. Dawson fucks her though what's probably the first proper orgasm she's ever had.
She's so out of it that she doesn't feel Dawson come into the condom he's wearing, pull out of her to dispose of it, go into the bathroom and come back out to clean them both up.
That experience was so much better than the last two. The first time she had sex in college was messy and painful. The second time was that night before she went to Dawson's. Third time really was the charm because she's never felt that good when having sex.
That's the Dawson Mercer experience.
Eventually, she finds the strength to move and Dawson laughs. "You okay?" he asks. "I lost you for a second there."
"You are ..." she trails off. "That was-- Dawson. Holy shit. No wonder women keep wanting to fuck you."
He grins, proud of himself. "I guess that means it was a much better experience than you've already had?" he asks.
"Much," she laughs. "I don't think I'll find anything better than that."
"Well, you're welcome to come back whenever you want," he tells her. "Honestly. It felt really good for me too so I wouldn't say no if you ever wanted to run it back."
"Yeah?"
Dawson hums as she curls up around him. She looks up at him and tries hard not to stare at his swollen lips, unsure if she can kiss him at this point.
Their moment is over, but she suspects that it won't be the only moment they share in the coming weeks or months. Maybe their whole relationship will change after tonight. Who knows?
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MAIN HOCKEY
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#hockey imagines#hockey imagine#hockey fanfiction#hockey fic#hockey oneshot#hockey smut#nhl imagines#nhl imagine#nhl fanfiction#nhl fic#nhl oneshot#nhl smut#dawson mercer#dawson mercer x reader#dawson mercer fic#dawson mercer smut#👻 malia’s kinktober
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Those Summer Nights, When I Look in Your Eyes
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader
Setting: Commonwealth (No France) Warnings: Sexual Situations; Vague Smut
Summary: Daryl's childhood had lacked so much and at the beginning of the turn, he had never known love beyond Merle's version of it. Now, he had it all and he would never let them wonder how much he cherished them.
A/N: For @louifaith, I hope this is close to what you imagined for our archer. 🩵 - Also, I have Daryl calling reader "pip" because someone suggested him nicknaming her "pipsqueak" in another story and it has just stuck with me. I was as vague as possible about reader’s age but let me be clear - she is above 18. I don’t write for huge age gaps. I don’t judge those that do and I do read them. I just do not write them but I have no control over where your mind takes you. Anyway, the song he hums is attached. ;)
Life was good.
For thirteen years, there had never been a point in time where Daryl had felt like he could say that and genuinely believe it. For an entire year, the Commonwealth had thrived. Not a single threat. The walls held. The governing unit was fair and compassionate. It really was like the old world.
But not for Daryl.
In the old world, he had been a drifter. A useless drifter walking in the shadow of his brother. No job, no friends, no purpose. And he had, at that time, liked it that way.
Not anymore.
Because now he had a job. He had friends. He had a family. He had a purpose. And he had everything he had lacked growing up. He had love, and not just Merle’s variation of it.
Carol had taken over Lance’s position when Ezekiel and Mercer had stepped up to govern. She had pulled Daryl aside and asked him if he wanted to stay in their reformed force, giving him the choice. His decision was to promptly decline. So they put their heads together to come up with something.
Daryl possessed many skills, most of them learned by doing throughout the years. He had one condition that he would not negotiate on, however.
Daryl’s time outside the walls was over.
He agreed to train hunters to take his place and conceded to three weeks on the road with volunteers that he left up to Carol’s choosing. There was more than enough trust between them for him to be comfortable with who she would deem worthy to provide for the community.
Then he was given the job of overseeing construction and structural upkeep, equipment maintenance, and of course, a seat in the governmental advisory council. He was nothing if not adaptable and took to his position quickly, finding that he liked it. He was respected and his suggestions for the good of the community were heard and considered.
If he chose to hunt or ride, it would be for leisure but he’d hardly needed it in the past year. Domestic life had tamed the inner need to hide or escape that had been ingrained throughout the years even before the turn.
Years ago, you had tumbled into his life. A hot mess that he had spent many a day battling the urge to absolutely throttle. You had a stubborn streak a mile wide that made his own nothing more than a small trail. He absolutely couldn’t stand you.
Funny thing, time.
Now you wore his ring and proudly carried his last name. You had wanted the ceremony, even if his proposal was lackluster. He had been seeking you out after the end of the Whisperers.
“Where’s Y/N?” At first no one answered. He barely parted his lips, intent on asking again with a little more well placed ardor when a woman he recognized as a former Hilltop resident spoke up. “I saw your wife! She’s over with the children!” He muttered his thanks and took a single step before you were finding him. “Daryl!” Your body collided with his, knocking the air from his lungs. His heartbeat lowered regardless, feeling you there in his arms, alive and breathing and whole. “I couldn’t see you in the herd. I was about to come find you but Jude, she made me promise to stay.” “M’here. An’ they’re gone” He tightened his arms around you and rested his cheek on the crown of your head. “So I’m your wife now, huh?” He felt the shift of your facial muscles against his chest, knew you were smiling. “What of it?” He grunted. “Ya wanna be?” He felt his heart skip a few beats when you lifted your head to smile at him, beaming and beautiful. “Of course, I do. Might as well be at this point. We sound like an old married couple.” Daryl snorted and then shrugged. “Then I guess we are.” “That simple?” “That simple.” When you grinned, he knew you would never let it be that simple.
You got your wedding, simple and intimate, with only the few remaining people that were closest to the two of you. When Gabriel said the words, you got your ring, too. Oh, the hell and herds Daryl had gone through to get them. Matching bands, camelot black titanium. Crafted to withstand the way the world was.
He was twisting the ring round and round as he walked home, tired from a full day’s work and more than ready for the weekend with his family: you, Jude, RJ, and his little River. His boy was nearly two years old, the spitting image of Daryl with a heaping dose of your attitude.
You were younger than Daryl, still at an age where pregnancy and giving birth was not considered risky beyond the state the world was in and the lack of some resources. It was horrifying yet the best news he’d ever heard in his self-proclaimed useless life.
River Merle came along right in the midst of the unease in the Commonwealth. When they had taken you and River along with Jude and RJ, it had required all the power Carol possessed to stop Daryl from losing his goddamn mind. He was prepared to rip out entrails with his bare hands and use them to strangle each and every trooper that stood between him and his wife and kids. It was not a good time to support Pamela.
It all worked out in the end when, bruised but alive, the people took back the Commonwealth.
And now, here he was. A husband. A father. A boss. A survivor.
Life. Was. Good.
“Ya home, Pip?” The words habitually rolled off his tongue the moment he opened the door and stepped inside. Jude and RJ were watching a movie, the elder looking over with a hey, Uncle Daryl before turning right back to the television. It was the weekend. No reason to bug them about homework.
“Where else would we be?” You called from the kitchen. Daryl unlaced his boots, was in the middle of pulling off the second one when you came out with River on your hip. “Someone’s cranky today.”
“I ain’t cranky.”
“I’m not talking about you but assuming I was says a lot.” You smiled softly, passing off the baby while simultaneously stealing a kiss. “Hi.”
“Hey.” He nearly melted, probably would have if you weren’t situating a small human right against his chest.
“Get a room.” Judith was rolling her eyes when Daryl shot her a harmless look.
River’s little arms went straight around his father’s neck, his little hiccups and sniffles muffled against Dary’s shirt. “S’wrong, lil’ man. Mama houndin’ ya over veggies like she does me an’ RJ?” River pulled back, rubbing his left eye with a chubby fist, looking at Daryl with a scowl that he knew very well adorned his own face more often than not. Even being so content with his life, he couldn’t seem to rid himself of what you called his resting bitch face.
“Daddy.” Was all the boy said before burying his face back into Daryl’s shirt.
“He had a nap?” Daryl was jostling his son as little as possible while ridding himself of his precious vest, tossing it over the back of ‘his’ chair at the dining table. His large hand covered a wide expanse of the small boy’s back when he rubbed soothing little circles, following you into the kitchen. You shook your head and took the lid off the pot on the stove. The scent of meat and herbs wafted toward Daryl and his mouth watered, but first thing was first.
“He wouldn’t go down. I think it’s a daddy day.” You smiled at the sauce but it wasn’t meant for the pasta topping at all. Daddy days were Daryl’s favorite. River wanted absolutely no one but him. The baby would fuss during meals, refuse to nap, and absolutely forget about bath and bedtime unless Daryl was there.
“I got ‘im then. See if I can get ‘im down for a bit.” Daryl was ducking and angling his head to catch River’s attention, finally earning a shy smile when blue met blue and the archer scrunched his nose and stuck out his tongue. Pressing a kiss into the mess of wavy hair, he noticed you standing with your back against the countertop, a certain type of smile on your face.
“What?”
“Nothing. You’re just sexy.”
“Pfft, stop.”
“We are so playing chess tonight.”
Daryl arched a brow. “Yeah?”
You nodded, your smile morphing into something else entirely; something sinful. “Oh, yeah.”
Dinner done, older kids in their rooms after teeth brushing and goodnight hugs, Daryl sat in the nursery with a sleepy River resting his head on his father’s shoulder while the chair gently rocked. The baby’s hair was only the least bit damp but he smelled of the lavender lotion that you always seemed to have near the changing table, instructing Daryl to use it after baths and before bed because it was calming.
Bathed and in a fresh diaper and pajamas, mini-Daryl was beginning to drift off while his father simply rubbed his back or kissed his cheek or even held a little hand just to count the fingers over and over. Soon enough there would be potty training and pre-school—Carol had said that was still a thing in the world now and yes, they had one in the Commonwealth—so for now, Daryl just wanted to soak it all up, take it all in.
River would likely be the only baby the two of you would have, so not a single second was being wasted or taken for granted. You kept a daily journal of simple things that some might find trivial but Daryl knew he’d be reading that journal often enough to wear the ink right off the pages. Sometimes, he missed things because of work, but in the end, that’s what happened when you were a parent, he supposed. His old man didn’t care about milestones or daddy days, and his mama wasn’t around for bath time or boo-boo kisses. River would have it all. And as long as they were his to care for, so would Judith and RJ. In fact, since the baby had Daryl, you were currently reading a story to Rick and Michonne’s son before bed.
Man, if Rick could see Daryl now. Would his brother even recognize him? God, would his brother even recognize him? He let his mind drift for a moment to Rick and Merle, just long enough to keep them close and then he was back to River, pressing a kiss to a chubby cheek.
You would always rock and sing to the little one but he didn’t need that from Daryl. There was just something about their bond that didn’t require words and hardly even movement. It had been that way since the moment you had pushed him into the world. He had cried, red-faced and angry and cold while Tomi leaned to put him onto your chest. You had your time with him, cuddling and nursing, his little sounds still expressing his discontentment with the change from your warm womb to a loud, bright world.
They had Daryl take off his shirt, which he didn’t understand until you explained better than any doctor or nurse could. The moment River was pressed against his skin, the connection was apparent to anyone who saw. The baby went silent, wide eyes mirroring the ones Daryl himself had. He had felt guilty for the longest time that River wanted you to feed him and then he wanted his daddy back immediately. He still had his mommy days and you said that was enough.
You were always supportive, never angry or jealous. You’d share the moments with him while he enjoyed them with you.
It was all what he’d never had, so he’d make sure River, Judith, and RJ never went without it.
His eyes were slow to open, squinting at the traitorous window that dared let the morning rays creep across the bed and to his pillow. It took a few sluggish blinks to remember what day it was and that he was free to go back to sleep until River required either you or him. With a deep breath, he stretched his arms above his head and looked at you, still wrapped around him with your head on his chest. Naked. Still so very, very naked.
He was barely in the bedroom door before you were pushing him against it, almost catching his fingers when he attempted to mute the sound of it closing at his back. You had his shirt unbuttoned and your mouth on his before he could even take a breath. “I told you,” you panted against his lips, “we’re playing chess tonight.” Daryl grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you easily, spinning you to press you against the door. “Goddamn right, we are.” The first round was a frenzied bout of moaning and skin slapping skin, hands covering mouths to keep the noise down. Your nails had left gouges on Daryl’s ass and back, clawing at him for more. You weren’t unscathed. A bruise was blooming on the curve of your right breast, a perfect black and purple bite he had inflicted at some point. It ended with you lying across Daryl’s torso while he was flat on his back with the pillow halfway over his face. Panting and sweating while the sheet covered neither of you where it mattered. Why it was anywhere near either of you was anyone’s guess. The second time was slower, every second savored. Your fingertips memorizing his face while his hips rolled into you, back arching to push himself deeper. His lips were on your forehead, your eyelids, your cheeks and mouth. His fingers danced down your ribcage and back up to your breasts, gentle caresses while he pressed his lips over the mark he’d left earlier. You didn’t have to try hard to roll him over. He went willingly, his hands going straight for your hips. You let your fingers roam his chest and stomach. His scars were yours to explore, he’d given that power over to you long ago. The marks no longer held him prisoner after you’d shown him how to be free. You were incredibly attracted to the way his body had softened with age and he worshiped each wrinkle and stretch mark that time and pregnancy had gifted you. You loved each other wholly, without condition.
And you laid where you had collapsed, goosebumps on your skin from the cool morning air. Daryl didn’t want to go back to sleep, so he laid there, watching you and just enjoying the silence with the knowledge that his family was safe. That you had survived together and built something so precious.
When River began to fuss, it was Daryl that slipped out of bed and left you to rest a bit longer. He had no qualms with being the one to get up earlier to take care of the baby.
The weekend went by fast, as it often did. Sunday night, he found himself sitting on the couch after the kids were all asleep. He had helped clean up after dinner and was contently watching you pick up toys and fold laundry. He didn’t step in to help because he had no intention of allowing you to continue for long.
“What?” You finally inquired, obviously catching him staring.
“Nothin’.” He smirked, huffing a laugh that came out as an exhale through his nose. You were still regarding him when he stood and beckoned you with a finger. “C’mere.” Your pretty eyes narrowed but you placed the unfolded towel on the top of the pile in the basket and stepped into his space. Daryl wasn’t romantic, truly believed he didn’t have it in him to be anything near it. Still, when he guided your arms to his shoulders and lowered his hands to your hips, he watched you melt.
“There’s no music, Daryl.”
“Don’t need it.” He shrugged, just swaying back and forth with you, pulling you closer until you rested your head against his chest.
“The formidable Daryl Dixon is dancing with me when there’s no music playing. This’ll make the papers. It’ll be the headline.”
“Stop.” He chuckled, pressing a kiss into your hair. He was smiling when you sighed, somehow pressing yourself closer to him. You didn’t react at first when he started to hum, whether you were in shock or just relishing the moment. Maybe both. You let him continue.
It was an old tune, one from a favorite album released more than a decade before the first walker rose from the dead. The tune was slow and deep, his chest vibrating with every drone. Finally, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, the corners of your mouth perked.
“What is that?”
“How dare ya! S’Ozzy, woman.” He feigned offense but was tenderly tucking your hair behind your ears.
“I’ve never heard it.”
Daryl scowled playfully before scrunching his nose. “Remind me why I married ya?” You wrapped yourself around him and with the fondest smile he had ever let cross his face, he held you tighter.
“Because you love me.”
“Yeah.” He breathed. “Yeah, I do.”
#murda writes#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#the walking dead#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl x female reader#dad!daryl#daryl fluff#domestic!daryl#Spotify
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young player x devils are so cute🥺🥺
okay maybe she’s sick and jack becomes mother hen and nico is just a very worried captain
Sick Day
It was a rare day off for the New Jersey Devils, but instead of relishing the free time, Jack Hughes found himself fidgeting as he checked his phone for the hundredth time. Yn—his teammate, and someone the boys had practically adopted as a little sister—had been under the weather for the last couple of days, and Jack wasn’t having it.
Jack, ever the mother hen, had texted her first thing in the morning: "How are you feeling? Need anything?"
The response, though, wasn’t immediate. Jack frowned, and Nico Hischier, the ever-worried captain, noticed his unease. “She hasn’t answered yet?”
“No, and that’s not like her. She usually replies right away,” Jack muttered.
“She’s probably just resting,” Nico said, though the furrow in his brow gave away his own concern.
Luke Hughes, Jack’s younger brother, and Dawson Mercer were sprawled out on the couch nearby, equally aware of the situation. They had grown protective of her too. She was the youngest player on the team, and from the moment she joined the Devils, they’d all taken her under their wing.
“She’s tough, Jack,” Dawson said, trying to reassure him. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. Probably just tired.”
“But what if she’s too sick to take care of herself?” Jack shot back, pacing around the room. “I should just go check on her.”
“You’re overreacting, man. Just give her some time,” Luke said, though he was starting to glance at his own phone more frequently now.
Nico sighed, pulling out his car keys. “I’m driving. Let’s go check on her, just in case.”
Jack’s face lit up, while Luke and Dawson exchanged glances, knowing they couldn’t just sit back now either. So, all four of them piled into Nico’s car, with Jack already texting her, "We're coming over."
When they arrived at her apartment, Jack was the first one out of the car, practically sprinting to the door. He knocked, a little too urgently, and the door creaked open after a few moments.
She appeared, looking pale and wrapped in a blanket, but she gave them a small smile. “You guys didn’t need to come over.”
“You didn’t answer, we got worried,” Jack said, his voice gentle but his eyes scanning her face for any signs of distress. “Have you eaten? Drank water? What’s going on?”
Nico gave her a look that could only be described as 'captain mode,' his protective instincts kicking in. “You should’ve told us if you were feeling this bad. Have you seen a doctor?”
She waved them off with a weak laugh. “I’m fine, really. Just a cold. I didn’t want to bother you guys.”
“Bother us?” Luke chimed in, crossing his arms. “You’re part of the team, you can always tell us.”
Dawson shot her a warm grin. “Yeah, we’d rather you bother us than sit here alone feeling like this.”
Jack, already moving around her kitchen, started rifling through cabinets. “Alright, you need tea, something warm to eat, and rest. I’ll make some soup or something.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you know how to cook?”
“Since right now,” Jack said, determined, and Nico let out a small chuckle as he sat down next to her, still watching her carefully.
“You’ll be back on the ice in no time, but until then, we’re here,” Nico said firmly. “No arguments.”
She looked around at the four of them—Jack, hovering around like an overprotective mom, Nico with his captain’s watchful eye, and Luke and Dawson looking just as concerned. It was overwhelming, but in a way that made her feel like she truly belonged.
“Thanks, guys. Really.”
“No thanks needed,” Jack called out from the kitchen. “Just promise me you’ll tell us next time. Now, who wants some terrible soup?”
The room filled with light laughter, and for a moment, she forgot she was even sick, surrounded by her boys—her team, her family.
#° braindead writes#nico hischier x reader#nico hischier fanfic#nico hischier imagines#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes imagines#luke hughes fanfic#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes imagines#jack hughes fanfic#dawson mercer x reader#dawson mercer imagines#dawson mercer fanfic#new jersey devils x reader#matt rempe x reader#matt rempe fanfic#matt rempe imagines#trevor zegras x reader#trevor zegras fanfic#trevor zegras imagines#matthew knies x reader#matthew knies imagines#matthew knies fanfic#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes imagines#quinn hughes fanfic
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"Are You Two Together?"
summary: Short pieces of how I think various Skyrim men would react to this question (they're all definitely together) gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Brynjolf, Vilkas, Farkas, Arnbjorn, Cicero, Erandur, Balimund, Mercer warnings: slightly suggestive (Brynjolf, Erandur)
You can feel Brynjolf’s confidence skyrocket at the question. One hand sneaks to your lower back to draw you even closer. It’s absolutely the last thing you need - if anyone in the Guild knew about you two it would ruin their opinion of you. Barely getting your footing and already sleeping with your mentor? Ignoring Brynjolf’s cocky grin you clear your throat, trying to banish the heat in your cheeks. “Of course not.” Your words aren’t exactly convincing when you consider the messy state of your armor and the clear bite marks on his exposed skin. Mercer’s eyes dart between the obvious clues, offering nothing but an unimpressed grunt before turning away. “Right. That would be unprofessional.”
“Absolutely not.” Vilkas answers despite the hand clasped in yours. You fight to stifle a laugh at his staunch refusal to share his personal life with others. “We’re clearly coworkers. Why would you ask such a question?” “Well, you’re -” the poor recruit stammers into silence when Vilkas' glare turns to them. You’ll chastise him after the lad returns to his group of whelps across the hall but you know how much he delights in someone thinking he’s frightening. “The Harbinger’s relationship status is none of your business.” His tone is curt, a contrast to the delicate way his thumb traces over the back of your hand. “Now leave us.”
“Yeah, I’m courting them.” Farkas snorts at the question. He thought it was fairly obvious - the two of you were practically joined at the hip. On the rare occasion one of you left Jorrvaskr without the other he swept you into his arms upon returning. He sat dutifully at your side while you sorted through the mess of being a Harbinger, planning out training routines or sharpening his sword. “Hear that, love? I’m courting you.” Turning that dazzling grin on you, Farkas places an exaggerated kiss on your hand. “Many apologies for skipping a few steps.”
“Why?” Neither confirming nor denying Arnbjorn continues with his work, fully ignoring the conversation. As you’ve spent many days before you’re perched on his workbench, parchments spread around you entirely in his way. He’s grumbled about the mess a few times but hushes when you retort that he is far more interesting. “Why would you think Arnbjorn and I are together?” Sharpening your tone, you needle the young trainee with the question. You see uncertainty in the way he glances between you and Arnbjorn’s tense back. “Well, some of the others were talking.” “What do you think about that?” Arnbjorn pauses at your teasing tone, a gruff hand on your thigh as he reaches for the correct tool. The poor recruit looks ready to bolt. “Sounds like a ridiculous rumor.”
Cicero is absolutely overjoyed at the question. The mere thought of others knowing he is with his Listener, of being associated with the one he loves! He’s practically bouncing at your side, hand grasping yours to his chest while you await whatever he’s got to say. “Is it so obvious?” He sighs dramatically, a softness in his voice usually reserved just for you. “Oh, truly Cicero is quite the lovesick fool. It appears everyone has learned that the Listener owns his silly heart.”
“As a Priest of Mara, I love all of her lady’s subjects.” Erandur’s practiced words do nothing to hide the telltale marks you’d left on his throat. The skin’s a tender reminder of the night before - you sneaking through the temple into his chambers, his words like prayers promising whatever you wish as long as you keep touching him. Clearing his throat Erandur forces himself to refocus on the acolyte standing before him. “I would never allow them special privileges due to any personal feelings.”
“Never would’ve thought to put a label on it.” Balimund would surely get a kick out of the question. You don’t mind the interest - after the amount of time you’ve dedicated to him during your increasing visits to Riften it’s hardly a secret. You never intended on sharing your relationship with strangers but Balimund’s reliable hand on your shoulder or the way you lean into his chest in the market must’ve drawn some eyes. You’d never discussed your relationship, simply aware of shared feelings. “I guess we are.” He answers and that soft smile is enough to warm your heart.
“No,” Mercer lies through his teeth. You’d likely act no different if asked such a question - there’s too much at stake. If one lie unravels the others will surely follow. If anyone begins to speculate about your romantic entanglement with the Guild Master there’s no telling what else they could uncover. Ignoring the little twinge of hurt in your chest you return to your practice dummy, sure that you’ll say the same if they aren’t convinced. “I hardly know their name.” He scoffs, kicking a foot up on his desk. “No special treatment around here.”
#skyrim#skyrim fanfic#x reader fanfic#writing#skyrim x reader#brynjolf#vilkas#farkas#arnbjorn#cicero#erandur#balimund#mercer frey
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The Accountant
A Caption Tale
Ruth walked to her office after exiting the elevator. She sat down and took a sip of her coffee. She was excited as a major new client was meeting her today. This could be the break she needed to take her career to the next level. She had been preparing for weeks. The office was quiet except for the occasional sound of the air conditioner kicking in and the distant murmur of colleagues in the hallway.
She straightened out her desk as she readjusted her jacket. She checked her reflection in her desktop computer screen as she fixed her hair. The digital clock read 8:50 AM, and she had ten minutes before the meeting was set to begin. The anticipation grew within her like a tightly coiled spring, ready to unravel at any moment.
The quiet was suddenly pierced by the sound of approaching footsteps. The door to her office swung open, revealing a sharply dressed man with a briefcase in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. "Good morning, Ms. Taylor," he said with a firm handshake and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm Alex Mercer, from Mercer Industries. I hope I'm not too early."
Ruth's heart skipped a beat. This was it. The moment she had been waiting for. She returned the smile, trying to hide the nerves that danced in her stomach. "Not at all, Mr. Mercer. Please, have a seat." She gestured to the chair across from her desk.
Ruth took a deep breath as her heart continued to beat rapidly. Ruth gathered her thoughts as she couldn’t help but be attracted to the successful businessman. She hoped she could impress him with her presentation.
Alex sat down and placed his briefcase on the floor. He took a sip from his coffee, eyeing the room with a critical gaze. The silence grew thicker as he took in the neatly arranged documents and the diplomas hanging on the wall. He looked back at her, his gaze unreadable. "I've been looking forward to this," he said, setting his cup down. "Your company has quite the reputation, and I have high expectations."
Ruth felt a surge of confidence. She had worked hard to make sure everything was perfect for this moment. She opened her file and began her presentation, her voice steady and professional. The room was filled with the soft glow of the screen, displaying graphs and figures that painted a picture of growth and potential. Alex nodded occasionally, his eyes never leaving the screen.
“Wow you really did your homework Ms. Taylor. I am impressed but I do have one question.” Alex leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk, his eyes now fully focused on her. Ruth smiled at the compliment of her work and responded. “Please call me Ruth and I would be glad to answer your questions.”
“Well I’m primarily here for your other services.” Alex’s voice was measured, hinting at something beyond the usual business dealings. “You see, I have been facing some... challenges with self-control. I’ve heard your firm has a knack for... handling such situations discreetly and effectively. Is that true?”
Ruth squinted as she was confused by Alex’s question. She was an accountant and financial planner not a therapist. “I’m not sure I understand the question Alex do you mean you spend company funds frivolously?” She asked carefully trying not to misconstrue his words.
“No… well I do that too but I’m talking about the special service you perform for top clients.” Alex leaned back in his chair, his gaze unwavering. “The kind that ensures their dirty laundry stays out of the public eye and doesn’t affect their bottom line. I need your help with that, Ruth.”
“I still don’t think I get what you mean…” Ruth replied, feeling a chill creep down her spine. Alex’s smile grew wider, but it no longer looked friendly. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a folder, tossing it onto the desk. Ruth opened it to find Alex’s prenup. She wasn’t a legal expert but the financial language was very clear.
“That’s right Ruth if I get caught cheating then I lose my company. However, being a handsome, rich, public man makes it extremely hard to resist temptation.” Ruth looked at Alex still confused as to how she could assist with this problem. “I’m sorry Alex… I still don’t understand how I can help you with this…” she replied tentatively.
“Wow, you really don’t know?” Alex leaned back in his chair, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. “Your firm is the perfect cover for releasing tension. So I’m here for a session… my frigid wife is purposefully resisting me. She also hired a lingerie model as my assistant. I need a release.”
“Mr. Mercer I’m sure a good porn video can do the job. I can help you with your financial portfolio. Not that.” The words came out before she could stop them. Alex’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes turned icy. “So you have no idea that your company is really a brothel for high end businessman?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.
Ruth felt the blood drain from her face. This was not what she signed up for. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was an accomplished educated woman and this powerful man was treating her like an object to be used. She couldn’t hold back her frustration and anger. “Brothel! How dare you! I understand that you are rich and powerful but I do not need your business you Neanderthal!!! I graduated from Yale you bastard. I’m sure I can find other clients.”
Alex kept his smile during Ruth’s tirade. “Are you finished?” he asked calmly, taking a sip of his coffee. His composure was unshaken. “Yes get out !” she retorted, pointing at the door. Alex stood up, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He took a moment to look her over before speaking again. “Your firm’s reputation precedes it, but I admit I had my doubts but consider them gone now.” He stared at Ruth deeply into her eyes. He then whispered “reformo”
Ruth fell back into her seat as if she was struck by lightning. She felt as if her skin was on fire. “Uhh what … what did you do to me?” she stuttered. She felt as if her skin was stretching all over her body. She grasped the handles to her desk chair as her body stiffened. She arched her back as her breasts exploded from her chest doubling in size. She moaned as they felt so sensitive against her clothes. Alex sat back down enjoying the show.
Ruth continued to moan as her body continued to shift. The room became heavy as magical energy permeated inside. Ruth’s fingernails grew longer and more feminine as they gained a beautiful French manicure. Her lips puffed out and became soft like pillows.She felt her skirt recede until it became a tight pencil skirt. Her hips and ass grew larger making the skirt hug her flesh. Pantyhose covered her smooth legs making them even more irresistible.
The clothes morphed as her shirt lowered to expose her amazing cleavage. She felt her panties become a g string. The sleeves of her jacket shrunk exposing her toned arms. The heels of her stilettos grew longer as her feet became more delicate and comfortable in the arch position. A pearl necklace formed on her neck with a matching bracelet on her wrist.
Her mind became cloudy as math and numbers erased like it was on a whiteboard. Ruth continued to moan as her lips curled into a smile. The wall of diplomas also changed as they became pictures of her with celebrities and businessmen. Ruth began to giggle as she felt her pussy become wet. She was a professional all right. She was a professional bimbo slut for her clients.
“Mmm fuck that felt so good! Ah Mr. Mercer! Pleasure to have you here in the office. How can I serve you?” The words slipped out of Ruth’s lips without thought, her mind now a haze of pleasure and obedience. She pulled her hair into a ponytail. She was no longer the sharp-witted financial planner she had been moments ago. Instead, she was a bimbo, eager to please the man before her.
“Ah well um … Ruth. I needed a release.” Alex leaned back in his chair watching her transformation with a twisted smile. His eyes scanned her new body with hunger. He adjusted himself in his seat feeling his cock press against his slacks.
“Why of course Mr. Mercer! I’m going to make that hard cock spew so much yummy cum. And it’s Roxy sir not Ruth.”
Roxy smiled as she stood up from her chair and kneeled in front of her client. She unbuckled his pants and grasped onto his engorged member. Alex sighed in relief.
“You’re in good hands now sir.”
#beautification#transformation#f2f transformation#breast expansion#bimboification#ass expansion#beauty is power#slutification#personality change#office
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you are the river of light, that i cling to in the empty night
a/n: im back whores
You thumbed the copper pendant daintily hanging from your neck, a little bronze sun - a testament to how much Daryl loved you before you even knew. You were Daryl's sun, the light that sustained all life, all good. Though he wouldn't say it, this was his way of telling you. Years later, your shared apartment in the commonwealth, however dreary, was the home that you had been longing for ever since the fall. Decorated with antique lamps and watercolours and soft music pouring out of the vintage record player in the corner of the room, time seemed to slow and warp when you spent your evenings with the man you loved so. Perched on the kitchen counter, you eagerly waited for him to return home.
Daryl's new job as a commonwealth soldier felt taxing to him - though he never complained in fear of boring or scaring you. Home was his sacred place; cooking, laughing, drinking, loving, a place where he could escape the past and present. The future was you, and however tempestuous and unstable life proved to be these days, you were his constant. In fear of seeming poetic, he kept his thoughts about you to himself, however badly he wanted to tell the world. Your touch was medicine, your love was rejuvenating.
As he entered, you whistled at his arrival and jumped to greet your man.
"Hey baby," he said, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in closer with a fistful of your hair. "Missed ya'," he moved a hand up to your cheek, adjusting your head so he could gaze into your sweet, loving eyes for a moment before moving in to kiss you with the passion of a starved man.
"And I waited for ya'," you flirted once pulling away. "Tell me 'bout your day, cause mine was boring as hell," you withdrew the embrace yet he pursued you towards the living room still holding your hand.
"Handled some rotters down the south fence, ya' know they can climb now?" you shivered, imagining Daryl surrounded by hungry walkers, all day, every day thanks to Pamela Milton and Michael Mercer, the ones that decided he needed to be here. Of course it was admriable, putting his life on the line every day, but for a government that doesn't even know his name? If you could convince him to stay in bed each morning, away from the danger, you could be ever satisfied knowing he would only exist in your arms. "Wha's wrong?" you must have frowned without answering, because he now pulled you over his thighs and held you firmly, not wanting to let you go.
You only hummed, afraid to meet his eyes covered by those chocolate bangs. "I want you... here. If somethin' happened to you out there-"
"Baby, ya' know it won't. 'M sorry," he spoke softly into your neck, gently rubbing your thighs with tenderness much unlike the stoic soldier known to you and your friends. "I love ya', I ain't givin' that up,"
"Don't try to be heroic. Don't be the person that's gotta save the day. If somethin' goes wrong, just run. Please.. promise for me," you held eye contact, stroking your fingers through his tangled tresses.
"Promise."
#brandy writes#daryl dixon x reader#the walking dead#daryl dixon#daryl dixon fluff#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl x reader#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl x you#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon smut#daryl dixon twd#daryl imagines#daryl twd#daryl dixion imagine#daryl dixion x reader#daryl dixon angst#daryl dixon drabbles#daryl dixon fic#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon the walking dead#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl drabbles#daryl fanfiction#daryl fucking dixon#daryl the walking dead#daryl x y/n#the walking dead daryl#twd daryl
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IF THIS WAS A MOVIE — DAWSON MERCER
dawson mercer x fem!reader
part of the Speak Now Fic List
summary: in which y/n and Dawson fought before he left for New Jersey and now y/n has regrets.
notes: this takes place in March of 2023. i cried writing this, but that could just be me because i’m a sensitive and emotional baby. (4.6k words)
i was pathetic.
utterly pathetic.
i knew so, my friends said so, even my family said so.
it’s been six months and i still can’t bring myself to do anything besides regret everything that went down last September.
*** September 12th, 2022 ***
“why are you waiting until the day before i’m supposed to leave, to tell me this?” he fumes, glancing at me with glaring eyes as i sink back onto the mattress.
���i wasn’t sure how to tell you, Daws.” i reply meekly. my fingers fumble together, an anxious tick that’s plagued me since grade school.
“how are you just gonna leave me like this?” Dawson huffs, halting his packing in order to stare me down, and i know that no answer i give him will be good enough right now.
“i’m not leaving you, Dawson. i’m just-” i pause, mulling over the right words for a moment. “deferring the move for a couple of months.”
“right.” he nods. “and then you’ll defer it for a few more months, right? until finally i get back and you never had to move at all?”
“thats not what’s happening!”
i scare myself with my unnaturally raised voice. i’m not usually one to lose my temper, but the fact that he’s not understanding my reasoning and seeing where i’m coming from, instead accusing me of things i would never do, has me frustrated.
“when have i ever given you the impression that i wasn’t gonna move at all? there are just a few loose ends i have to tie up here before i can move to another country for you!”
“for me?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “this is for us!”
“it’s your dream Dawson, not mine. but i’m willing to make the sacrifice of leaving home, if you just give me the time!”
he lets out a hollow laugh, sending chills down my spine at the empty sound.
“how much time do you need? we already did long distance for my rookie year. the plan was always for you to join me this season! it’s not my fault that you didn’t time things out accordingly!”
“i never said it was your fault! you’re putting words in my mouth!” i shout, rising from the end of the bed in order to seem more confident. “i’m just saying that i have some things to do, and i’ll drive down, with all my stuff, in a couple months!”
“it’s not that easy! i can’t help you move in once the season is going!” he reminds me, as if i haven’t already thought about that.
“i know, and that’s fine! i can do it on my own!” i tell him. “i just can’t up and leave right now! i’ll move down in November!”
“that’s what you say now.” he rolls his eyes, zipping up the duffel bag that holds some of the clothes and gear that he keeps here in my apartment.
“why do you keep saying that?” i screech. i don’t understand these assumptions he’s making, that i’ll never join him in New Jersey.
“because that’s what’s gonna happen! you don’t love me enough to move, just say it! instead of putting the move off until we’ve grown apart and you don’t have to make it!”
“get out.” the words slip past my lips before i even have the time to think them through. his eyes widen in surprise, but i refuse to keep fighting with him about this. “if you think that lowly of me, then just leave. if we’re just gonna fight, then i don’t wanna talk to you.”
i stomp through the hallways, trailing behind him, and i watch him leave my first floor apartment, heading straight for his car. i slam the door shut behind him, twisting the lock and letting my forehead fall against the door with a thud.
i turn, pressing my back against the door and allowing my body to slide down until my butt rests against the floor. thinking over the entire fight, tears fill my eyes now that i’m alone.
what just happened?
he’ll come back. he has to.
right?
*** PRESENT ***
he never came back.
in fact he hasn’t contacted me since that fight. completely ghosting me. shunning me out of his bright new life.
i still wake up most mornings, reaching out towards the cold sheets of the right side of the bed, expecting him to be there. his bright smile and his infectious body temperature, like my own personal space heater. but i know he’s not there, and i’m not sure he’ll ever occupy that space again.
and now i lay confined to the left side of the bed, my body still unconsciously trained not to sprawl out.
the thin white sheet that covers my body doesn’t do much to protect me from the cold Newfoundland air that seeps in through my broken bedroom window, but i make no move to get up.
it’s long past noon on my day off, but i only woke an hour ago; having been up late into the night, thinking back what felt like a thousand memories of Dawson and i, trying to distract myself of the deafening silence that resulted to my own heartbeat in my ears.
back when we were together and happy.
in high school, when we met.
when i attended his QMJHL games, and when we would go out to eat afterwards, him listening to whatever mindless gossip i had learned through my friends, and me nodding along to his hockey talk and the stories of what stupid things his teammates did before that days game.
when he met my parents for the first time, and when i met his.
when he would get annoyed that we were persuaded to bring his siblings with us places, and i would lace our hands together while he drove, encouraging him to tune out his brother and sister arguing in the back seat over who got to control the music.
back when we had the kind of love that i only ever thought existed in movies.
i reach over to my nightstand, retrieving my phone. and despite knowing this would only hurt me more, i click into my camera roll, entering the still open photo album of our relationship.
i restart at the beginning, the very first photo we ever took together. when we were only fourteen and didn’t know where life would take us. we were strictly friends at the time, meeting through our other friends, who thought we would be cute together.
then i get to the photos when we were fifteen. when Dawson asked me to the 2017 valentine’s dance at school. when we finally started dating. when we were in that awkward stage of finding what our relationship was like now that we had taken the next step.
getting to the pictures of us when we were sixteen was like watching a romantic movie. most were taken after his games, some taken by friends while i kissed him in congratulations of a win or hugged him after a loss. the honeymoon year.
then came the videos. seventeen year old us thought we were the cutest. two years together meant we were a lot more comfortable around each other. videos of him doing face masks with me. of us dancing around his kitchen at two in the morning, nothing providing light besides the open refrigerator.
year three of our relationship was a little trickier. eighteen and we were graduating high school, with plenty of pictures in our caps and gowns to prove it. the year he got drafted by the Devils. that was the year that it really sunk in that he would eventually be leaving. that year, i spent most nights wrapped in his arms, no matter where we were. pictures of me on his lap, his arms holding me to him tight, our friends laughing around us, but we were only paying attention to each other. that was the same year that he held me as i cried and whispered promises in my ear that the future distance would do nothing to us. ‘nothing’s gonna change. not for me and you. we’re invincible. we love each other too much to let anything come between us.’ he had whispered, and i believed him.
year four, we spent every waking moment we could together, because we knew the inevitable would happen and he would have to leave in the fall for his NHL debut. photos of him fishing, with me by his side and reading a book. videos of us singing in the car, our hands gripped tightly together, as though we thought the tighter we held on, the more likely it would be that we get through the eventual distance. videos his sister took of me at his debut game, screaming and bursting with pride after he recorded his first NHL point. lots of facetime screenshots and photos from my trips down to visit him in New Jersey.
and finally, i reach year five. a multitude of pictures from when i visited him for our five year anniversary in Jersey. more facetime screenshots as we endured the last few months of long distance until he finally came home for the off-season. those are quickly followed up by early morning pictures i took of him asleep in my bed. i longed for the nights that he would sleepover, and whenever he did choose to stay the night rather than driving back home, my heart would burst with contentment.
the trip down memory lane ends there. we never reached year six, just shy of five months away from it when we had our final fight. it was a month ago now that we would’ve reached that milestone, and i guess that’s when it became all too real for me. when i fell back into the tight hold of regret and i started thinking about him more often than i didn’t. thinking about him being out there somewhere, possibly moving on from me; from us; it feels like a kick to the gut.
we may have had the kind of love from movies, but if this was a movie he would’ve come back by now.
why didn’t he come back?
the thought rattles in my brain as i finally get up from my bed, deeming four in the afternoon an acceptable time to finally start my day.
i run my hands down my face, slightly surprised to pull them away with tears coating my palms. i hadn’t even realized i was crying.
i run through my usual routine lazily; brush my teeth, wash my face, brush my hair, get changed, make something to eat.
i spend most of the next few hours lounged on the couch, binge watching netflix, and another hour eating a snack and mindlessly scrolling through tiktok. and when the clock strikes nine, i do the same thing i’ve been doing for the past six months. the exact thing that my friends and family have told me is probably the reason i can’t move on; i turn on the Devils game.
they play against Carolina tonight, and i’m eager to watch Dawson continue his point streak. last night he officially hit twelve games, with twenty points within those twelve, and i fully believe that he could beat Taylor Hall’s record of nineteen straight games with a point.
however, as the game stretches on, Dawson doesn’t make a point. in fact, his entire demeanor seems off tonight and i flood with worry.
is he feeling okay?
is he feeling burnt out?
what can i do to help?
nothing. i remember. i can’t do anything to help, because he’s not mine to help anymore.
not since six months ago today.
when the game ends —with Dawson’s point streak officially ended— i make myself a quick dinner before popping some sleeping pills, forcing myself to sleep in order to avoid any more thoughts of my ex; and in my sleep drug induced haze, i vaguely remember opening my camera roll before i fall asleep, phone still in hand.
i thought he’d come back by now.
**
the next two weeks go by uneventfully. my days dragging on, consisting only of work, family dinners, watching Dawson’s games, and lounging in my apartment.
it’s on the fifteenth day, that my friends are able to drag me out of my bubble. coaxing me out of my apartment with the promise of free drinks and taking my mind off of my ex-boyfriend.
but despite their well meant intentions, i’m still checking my phone for the Devils vs Islanders score every few minutes.
“y/n,” Taylor starts, holding out her hand and leveling me with a disappointed glare. “give me your phone.”
“what?” i stare at her in shock, my lips resting in a parted position. “no.”
“no?” she blinks, clearly surprised by the refusal. “babes, you gotta stop checking that score. give it here.”
i hesitate, my gaze fluttering between her outstretched hand and my iphone.
“gimme,” she urges. “i’ll keep it safe. promise.”
she crosses her finger over her heart before holding her hand out again, and this time, i finally hand over the prized possession.
“i want it back when you drop me off.” i remind her, just as Kenzie comes back with a tray of shots.
“and i will totally do that, i swear.” Taylor nods.
“what are we talking about?” Kenzie chimes, sliding a shot to each of us.
“she took my phone.”
“oh good!” she grins. “i thought i was gonna have to be the bad guy and do it.”
Taylor shakes her head before raising her shot glass, Kenzie and i following suit.
“to the first time in history that we’ve all been single at the same time.” Taylor chants, and technically she’s not wrong.
since our friendship started, at the age of thirteen, at least one of us has always had a boyfriend. and for five straight years, that someone was me. but the reminder doesn’t help cheer me up, nor does it distract me from the fact that he left.
Kenzie grimaces at our friends words, shaking her head.
“what? bad toast?” Taylor asks, her nose scrunching. “sorry, hun. my bad.”
i shrug, feigning nonchalance, and we all down our shots. the burn of the liquor provides a nice distraction, taking my mind away for a moment as i focus solely on taking a sip of soda to rid myself of the taste.
“oh god, tequila?” i shudder, my face contorting in disgust, but Kenzie just laughs.
“hey! i shelled out the money for the good shit! this is no in-the-trash tequila!” she defends.
‘in-the-trash’ being a term we’ve used since we could even start drinking at nineteen, just meaning an alcohol that makes us end the night with our head in a trash can.
“all tequila is in-the-trash tequila, Kenz.” i chuckle as she hands me another shot.
“c’mon, drink up.” she grins. “we have a whole night of wild debauchery ahead of us.”
“i’m gonna be nursing a wicked hangover tomorrow, aren’t i?”
*
it’s hours later, nearly two in the morning, when i’m dropped off at home by an uber. i’m heavily inebriated, my head spinning and my sense of judgment completely gone.
i slump against my front door, digging through my purse to retrieve my keys, before i let myself in. i’m barely into the apartment when i strip myself of my shoes, my keys being thrown on the entryway table along with my purse, which topples over on its side.
from the sideways purse slides my phone and my brows thread together in confusion.
when was the last time i had seen that?
did Taylor put that in there when i wasn’t looking?
or had she given it back to me and i just forgot?
at the sight of the device, the entire reason it got taken from me in the first place comes rushing back. i grab the phone from the table, turning it back on as i clumsily make my way to my bedroom, slumping onto my bed.
i squint, blinking a few times at the brightness that emerges from the screen within the pitch black room. clicking into the espn app, the heart plummets as i see the final score.
Devils lose, 1-5. and maybe it’s the alcohol in my system, heightening my emotions, but my heart breaks for my ex and his team and i want nothing more than to comfort him like i used to.
so with the confidence i could only have when drunk, and no one around to stop me, i pull up his contact, clicking the call button.
it rings, on and on until it finally chimes with his voicemail, and the sound of his voice makes my heart leap in my chest.
oh how i’ve missed his voice.
it beeps again, letting me know i can leave message, and instead of hanging up, like i would with anyone else, the words spill out of my mouth.
“hi, Daws. i’m so sorry about your loss tonight. and i’m sorry about your point streak too. i really thought you could beat the record.”
tears gather at my waterline, my voice beginning to shake as my throat grows thick. this is the first time i’ve called him since that night.
“but i’m- god i’m really so mad at you. you left me, and you didn’t come back. no calls, no texts. did five years mean nothing? i know people change, and these things happen; and i know i said i didn’t wanna talk to you but- this is me officially taking it all back now, okay?”
a sob wracks my chest, and i let my tears flow freely in the comfort of my darkened bedroom.
“i just— i love you so much. and i miss you. i thought you’d come back. you can still come back, if you’d just say you’re sorry. please, come back.”
my thumb smacks down on the red button, ending the call, and i power my phone down, chucking it beside me on the bed.
my cries grow louder and i feel as though i could drown in my own tears. rolling onto my side, my body curls into the fetal position and i wrap my arms around my legs. it feels like i lay like that forever until i’m cried out, my eyelids growing heavier and heavier until i can hold them open no longer, letting myself fall asleep.
i’m woken in the morning to the sun peeking through the curtains that i seemingly forgot to close last night in my drunken stupor.
when did i get home last night?
how many drinks did i have?
stretching out my body, i sit up in my bed, reaching over to my nightstand to retrieve my phone to check the time, but it’s not there. my hands pat through the sheets, finally discovering the device on the other side of the bed, and i power it on.
my head pounds, the room spinning and light nausea flooding over me from my hangover.
i’m never drinking again.
the time on my phone reads noon, and i’m not shocked by how long i slept. considering i can barely remember anything that happened after my seventh shot last night, i’m surprised i’m not still dead to the world.
i notice some notifications, but refuse to scroll through them, not ready to face the ‘how dead are we all feeling?’ texts from my friends yet. so rather than staying on my phone, i leave it on my bed as i get up and run through my routine.
i brush my teeth before hopping in for a quick shower, hoping that it’ll help rid me of my hangover, before i get dressed and go to the kitchen to retrieve a gatorade and make myself breakfast.
i stand in front of my living room window as i drink my gatorade, peering through the glass at the gray sky. it seems that the weather is matching my gloomy mood, as it begins to pour rain from the dark clouds.
sighing, i return to my couch, turning on the tv and flipping through the channels until i get distracted by the NHL Network, which replays last nights Devils game, and i can’t convince myself to change it.
the camera pans to Dawson’s face and he looks entirely disappointed by the low score of his team.
if only i could cheer him up.
how i would love to be able to hug him again.
how i would love to see him at my front door again, like i would’ve a few years ago after a QMJHL game. when he would show up after a lost game that i couldn’t attend, and my mother would just shake her head at his appearance but ultimately smile at the way he wrapped his arms around me.
but that was then, and this is now. in an alternate reality, maybe i’m in Jersey with him right now, his head on my chest as i talk him through the loss, but in this reality, we’re broken up, and that doesn’t seem to be changing any time soon. eventually, i’ll have to accept that our lives weren’t meant to intertwine forever. time wasn’t in our favor, and fate wasn’t in our cards.
it’s four in the afternoon when a knock sounds at my door, loud and obnoxious as i try to focus on the movie that now plays on my television. grumbling to myself as i stand up, i assume it’ll be Taylor or Kenzie stopping by to check in on me after i’ve avoided their texts.
but when i open the door, time seems to freeze, and i decide my eyes must be deceiving themselves. i slam the door shut again, blinking a few times before i open it once more, but my eyes are working fine.
standing in the rain, outside of my apartment door, is Dawson.
“i— what—” i stutter, unsure of what to do or say. my heart races in my chest and i can’t decide whether i’m more nervous or excited to see him. “what are you doing here? why aren’t you in Jersey?”
“you asked me to come back.” his voice is like melted butter, just as smooth as i remembered it. his eyes accentuated by dark circles from apparent lack of sleep, but they’re still that soft brown that i’ve always loved so much, his gaze soft as he stares back at me.
“what?” confusion drips from the single word, but then the memory comes flooding back to me. getting home last night, checking the game score, calling him. “you came back… because i asked you to?”
he steps forward, and with the light from inside reflecting against his eyes and lighting up his face amongst the gray clouded skies, my heart drops. i’ve missed him so much, and now that he’s back here in front of me, i’m questioning it?
“i would do anything if you asked me to.” he speaks hesitantly. “i’m sorry, y/n.
“i’m sorry i accused you of not wanting to move with me— of not loving me enough. i let my insecurities and my fears that you would get tired of barely seeing me and leave me, get the best of me. i’m sorry i left that night without fighting to stay. fighting for us. i’m sorry that i didn’t talk to you, i thought it was what you wanted, but i see how stupid i was for that now. i’m sorry that i made you wait so long for me to come back, but i’m here now. to apologize and to get you back, because i still love you so much and i don’t know if i can take another day of not having you anymore.”
tears roll slowly down my cheeks at his words and i open the door farther, ushering him inside before i speak. my hands come up to hold his face, my eyes gazing into his.
“i’ve been waiting for you every day since you’ve been gone.” i whisper, my voice shaky. “i thought you were gone forever, and i was still waiting. because deep down i’ve always known that you are it for me, Dawson Mercer. if i didn’t have you, i didn’t want anyone else.
“i didn’t think you wanted me anymore. and some part of me accepted that, but a larger part of me just kept hoping and praying that you would come back. Daws, i would much rather spend nine months only having some of you, than forever having none of you.”
his head dips down, lips meeting mine, not even minding the salty tears that have run over my lips. kissing him again is like breathing for the first time in six months. like a natural instinct that i finally gained access to again, and when he pulls away, i pull him back down, not ready to give it up again.
finally, i pull back just enough to breath in deep, replacing the lack of oxygen in my lungs.
“i love you.” he whispers, his lips still brushing against mine, and a smile breaks out upon my face, pecking a kiss on his own small smile.
“i love you too.” i tell him, retreating to look in his eyes. “i do have a question, though.”
“anything.” he nods, prepared to answer anything i throw at him.
“are you stupid?!” i lightly smack his arm and his brows furrow in confusion. “shouldn’t you be in Jersey, practicing so you can beat the Rangers on thursday?”
he laughs, pulling my body in closer against his.
“i should.” he nods. “but i took a maintenance day, so i could win back my biggest fan. i do have to be back for practice tomorrow, but, i was hoping maybe you’d come with me.”
my heartbeat picks up at his confession and the nervous expression painted across his face after he says it, but i nod and his face lights up.
“really?” he questions, and i’m overwhelmed with excitement, nodding again.
“yeah, Daws, i’ll go anywhere with you.”
“in that case, our flight leaves in a few hours…” he grimaces and my eyes widen as i step back.
“i gotta pack. i gotta go online and put in to use my paid time off.” i freeze, dread filling my senses. “i have to tell Taylor and Kenzie i won’t make girls night for a month.”
Dawson’s head drops back in laughter before he looks back at me again, sporting a smirk. “a bit longer than that, i think you’re forgetting, we’re going to the playoffs.”
“oh my god, two months.” i stare back at him in joking horror. “oh they’re gonna hate you.”
“me? you’re the one skipping out on girls night!” he calls out, following me into my bedroom as i begin throwing clothes into a suitcase.
“yeah, but they could never hate me. you? they’ve already disliked for six months.” he shrugs, nodding at my words.
“fair enough.” he replies, helping me grab shirts off of hangers and pack them away into my suitcase. “you think they’ll ever like me again?”
i hum in thought, “i don’t know, maybe once they hear about how you flew back for only a mere few hours to apologize to me in the rain.”
“and i’d do it again.” he grins, pulling my body to his, my back against his chest. he buries his face in my neck, nipping at my skin and making me laugh.
maybe our love is like the movies, we just had to suffer through the ‘third act breakup’ in order to get to our happy ending.
#speak now fic list#dawson mercer x reader#dawson mercer imagine#dawson mercer fic#dawson mercer blurb#dawson mercer#nj devils#nhl fic#nhl imagine#faithlynn’s writings <3
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Hello hello! Anon here. First of all, congratulations on getting accepted for your courses! Don't worry about trying to balance work and the blog, we will always be here waiting for you. Second of all, your whole Yutu AU has been really fascinating to look through. (Though that may be because of my bias toward Fire Emblem Awakening, as it was what got me into the series) Sorry for the incoming wall of text, but it's been giving me THOUGHTS.
So imagine this: whoever Yutu's dad is (I'll pick Azul for this example because I headcannon his English voice somewhere between Matt Mercer's Chrom and Olivert from The Legend of Heroes games) finds out who Yutu really is. You remember that cutscene after Chapter 13 in Awakening, with the Lucina reveal and Chrom has this: "You deserved better than a sword and a world full of troubles. I'm sorry."? Imagine Yutu hearing something like that: the acknowledgement of everything he's gone through, the pain of knowing his dad couldn't do anything and can't do anything more than offer words, and the reality that it might now be really possible to change the future? I imagine Azul breaking down after hearing all that because the last thing he wants to do is hurt Yuu or his son after everything he's been through. Oh goodness, the two of them both need hugs.
Second: did Crowley tip off the Magic Marshalls (because I think he would) and force Yuu to take the blame for his negligence (because he absolutely would)? Now imagine Yutu finding this out and telling his dad. Now his dad knows Crowley is a cheapskate who fobs his work onto everyone else without a second thought. And now he's responsible for having Yuu taken away and starting all this? Knowing the boys and how far they would go for Yuu I'd imagine they don't take that well. In other words, to slightly alter a quote from Regina in Once Upon A Time: "I guess killing a crow suddenly made the top of my to-do list."
Sorry for the wall of text but that's been rattling around in my head for a few days (so make of it all what you will). Hope you're doing well and looking forward to what's next!
-The anon who loves Riddle & Azul
AHHHHH (i feel like I always take forever to answer your asks I am sosososososososososo sorry, this one just drove me crazy in a good good way)
Listen fire emblem awakening was my entire personality for like all of middle school. The only thing i wanted to talk about was chrobin. I celebrated Morgan and Lucina's birthdays by drawing them. I think I still have a Cherche x Libra fan art thing I drew on some sheet of paper somewhere in my things because I was SO MAD that no one shipped them and I couldn't find fan art of them anywhere and I just oooooooooooh. THE WAY CHROM GETS A NEW CRIT LINE ABOUT HOW ANYTHING CAN CHANGE AFTER THE REVEAL???? BECAUSE OF HOW DETERMINED HE IS TO KEEP THAT PROMISE AND GIVE LUCINA A BETTER WORLD???? i just cant be normal about them i am so sorry. R+A annon I love you, I love you so much for this you made my entire month and possibly my year. Awakening is also what got me into the series and made me so many friends I just love her so much. She's an icon and I hope she gets remastered with Sumia either deleted or with a fucking personality.
I should probably sit down and actually write a timeline for myself of events, but since I am free to lean in to the fire emblem pacing, I want to say that monsters from Yutu's timeline start showing up (similar to how the Risen do in Awakening) in the past and stirring up trouble, which leads to an event where Yutu panics and forgets himself in his desperation to protect his dad. The main way the future kids always proved themselves was by showing their mother's wedding ring, but Yutu doesn't have that so really it's just up to his dad to see someone who looks like him and Yuu blended together, supposedly from Yuu's world using magic and above all else crying out and driving up his own blot levels to protect him calling him dad. For Azul! Yutu it's especially painful, he feels like he already knows what his dad is going to say. That he's disappointed in him. That he has no idea how they could possibly be related. That he hopes in this future he turns out to be different. But that's not what happens.
Before Azul overblotted he was quiet. There's a similar quiet over him now, a similar look of tense surprise, but Yutu- no- his child doesn't know that. His child is looking at him in fear, in worry for his reaction or his safety he doesn't know but he knows the way those tears start to form. Azul knows the quiver of the lip and the shriek, of all the things he could have passed on to such a treasure.
"You deserved better from me." Because it's true. He might think of himself as a work in progress but he still thinks he has quality; he would have done research, read every book he could get his hands on, taken classes, anything he would need to do to be a good father, a worthy partner. Anything. "You deserved to have the world within your grasp, not whatever shadow of a future and a father I left you with. I am so sorry." He does not expect Yutu to grab him and hold him like he's still somehow worthy of his love, but Azul can't fight the urge to grab back, to stroke his son's hair and let the tears fall on his suit without any care at all. I'm here. It's ok, daddy's here, daddy's got you, he won't let anything happen to you.
As for your second question, I did not really write Crowley like that no. It was more like he was the first person mysteriously arrested after the Magical Marshall's decided to finally do their job. I was writing it like they wanted to ship Yuu away to cover up for their own incompetence in preventing seven overblots instead of properly investigating what might have caused that. He's not completely innocent though, so yes. The boys do not take it well at all. And please do not apologize for sending in your thoughts, I am so so slow but I love hearing from you.
#<3 asks#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#future kid au#azul ashengrotto x yuu#azul ashengrotto x reader#riddle and azul anon
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I don’t need you~Dawson Mercer
Request? No
Pairings: Dawson Mercer x reader, Hughes brothers x sister!reader, platonic!Trevor Zegras x platonic!reader
Summary: Dawson realizes that you don’t need him as much as he thought
A/n: This is based off good graces by Sabrina Carpenter!
Requests are open!
Warnings: arguing, suspecting cheating(neither actually cheat)
°.✩┈┈∘*┈˃̶୨୧˂̶┈*∘┈┈✩.°
When I love you, I’m sweet like an angel. Drawin’ hearts ‘round our names. And dreamin’ of writing vows, rockin’ cradles. Don’t mistake my nice for naive.
You were in yours and Dawsons shared apartment just doodling on a notepad waiting for him to get home from practice.
You had written both yours and Dawsons names down drawing hearts around them. “You having fun there?” You heard the voice of your boyfriend coming up hugging you from behind wrapping his arms around your waist.
He pressed a light kiss to your neck then rested his chin on your shoulder, head leaning against yours.
“Yeah.” You chuckled loving the affection he was showing.
Sometimes even the smallest bit of affection could get you wondering about your future and what it would be like together. You wanted one with Dawson but you absolutely didn’t need it.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Dawson asked moving to the seat beside you.
“Thinking about our future together.” You admitted tucking the strand of hair in front of your face behind your ear.
“About marriage and kids possibly.” You said quietly thinking about it. A little you or Dawson would be cute to have around.
“One day.” Dawson said with a smile causing you to return it.
°.✩┈┈∘*┈˃̶୨୧˂̶┈*∘┈┈✩.°
I don’t waste a second, I know lots of guys. You do somethin’ suspect, this cute ass bye-bye. Like, ooh. Baby you say you really like being mine? So let me give you some advice.
You woke up one morning to Dawson’s phone going off but he was still asleep so you decided to check it. Not actually going through his phone but just looking at what it was on the lockscreen.
Looking over you saw it was a text from someone named Olivia? You didn’t know Dawson knew someone with that name. ‘That’s going to be fun! Bet you can’t wait.’ The text read.
You layed back down in your spot in the bed not bothering to wake up Dawson to confront him. You were more so disappointed in him than anything but you’d live.
You then got up going to the kitchen grabbing your phone while you were at it. Dawson would end up sleeping in today due to him having an off day.
You sighed as you got to the kitchen deciding to call you and your brother Jack’s mutual best friend Trevor Zegras. It rang about three times before he finally answered.
“What’s up Y/n?” He asked you in his usually cheerful voice.
“I think Dawson is cheating on me.” You told him in a monotone voice. “Well that was instant. Why do you think that?” He asked sounding slightly confused and surprised.
“He got some text from some Olivia girl saying ‘That’s going to be so fun! I bet you can’t wait.’” You told him as you started to cook yourself some breakfast.
“Well that does seem suspicious. Are you okay?” He asked now fully sounding concerned. “Trevor you should know by now that I’ll be fine. He might have cheated but I don’t need him.” You said not knowing that Dawson had woken up and was standing in the hallway hearing only the last bit of what you told Trevor.
Dawson was shocked you’d think he would cheat on him but a little hurt when you said you didn’t need him.
Eventually you hung up with Trevor so you could eat your food.
°.✩┈┈∘*┈˃̶୨୧˂̶┈*∘┈┈✩.°
Want you every second, don't need other guys. You do somethin' sus, kiss my cute ass bye.
About a day after seeing that text you had finally confronted Dawson with the encouragement of your three brothers Jack, Luke, and Quinn.
You and Dawson were currently arguing over it. “For the millionth time I did not cheat on you!” Dawson told throwing his arms up in the air out of frustration.
“Then why did I see that text from that Olivia girl?” You asked calmly sitting on the couch in the living room. Dawson seemed to freeze up when you asked that.
“It’s not like that.” He said quickly. “Really?” I asked not believing him.
“Well then why did you call Trevor saying you didn’t need me?” Dawson asked you sitting down in the couch beside you hurt flashing across his eyes.
“Dawson I love you with all my heart but I infact do not need you to live.” You say to him now feeling like he thinks you need him to live your life.
You could get on with your life pretty fine without him. You had before you met him so it wouldn’t be that hard.
“Why won’t you tell me what that was about and who that is?” You countered still trying to get the answer out of him but he wouldn’t budge.
“Okay then.” You said getting up and walking to your shared room while packing an overnight bag.
You’d end up going to Jack and Luke’s until Dawson decided to fess up.
°.✩┈┈∘*┈˃̶୨୧˂̶┈*∘┈┈✩.°
Boy, it's not that complicated. You should stay in my good graces. Or I'll switch it up like that so fast. 'Cause no one's more amazin'. At turnin' lovin' into hatred.
You had been at your brothers for a few days since Dawson continued to refuse to tell you who that Olivia girl was.
“He’s been a mess at practice you know. He misses you.” Luke told you getting his gear bag for practice. Jack had already left. He was concerned for you as your younger brother but also concerned for Dawson as his teammate.
“Well if he wants me to come back he can start explaining that Olivia girl.” You told him not breaking from your decision.
“I’ll give the message.” Luke said walking out the door to get to practice.
Finally when they weren’t surrounded by all of the other guys in the locker room with only Jack in there with them after practice ended Luke finally decided to tell Dawson what you told him.
“She said that if you want her to come back you can start explaining that Olivia girl.” Luke told him not making eye contact with him.
Luke was more concerned than anything and Jack was mad that his sister could’ve possibly gotten cheated on. Dawson better of been glad Quinn wasn’t here because he was the most mad of all the brothers.
“I can’t tell her.” Dawson said to him causing Jacks head to shoot up from untying his laces on his skates.
“Why is that?” Jack asked trying to not get mad.
“Because, it was about a surprise for her.” Dawson admitted finally. “I had a promise ring custom made for her.” He admitted finally pulling out the ring.
“You better tell her or you’ll lose her.” Luke said to him. “No one is better than our sister at turning loving into hatred.” Jack told him then sighed.
“She will love that ring though.” He said to Dawson.
All three of the guys went back to Jack and Luke’s apartment so Dawson could apologize to you and admit everything.
You hummed quietly doing your work on your computer when the door opened then closed. You looked up to see your brothers and Dawson.
“Good luck bud.” Jack said as he and Luke walked to their bedrooms.
“Baby, I’m sorry.” Dawson said instantly sitting down next to you.
You closed your computer putting it off to the side to listen to him explain himself.
“I wasn’t cheating on you I swear. I had gotten a custom promise ring made for you and didn’t want to tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise on your birthday.” Dawson rambled on and your expression went soft with guilt.
You hugged him now feeling a bit bad. “I’m sorry.” You said to him.
“No, no. You had every right to think I was cheating on you and I know you don’t need me to live but I want you in my life forever.” Dawson admitted hugging you back then pulling back from the hug taking the promise ring out and putting it on your finger.
“I love it.” You admitted yourself. You gave him a short kiss on the lips and smiled. You’d both be okay in the end.
#hockey men#hockey#nhl hockey#new jersey devils#newjerseydevils#hockey imagine#dawson mercer#dawson mercer x reader#fanfiction#fanfic#nhl imagine#jackhughes#lukehughes#quinnhughes#trevorzegras
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Hi can you write a HC with Astarion and Blood Hunter Tav/Durge? I love your HC and look forward to it every time I read a new one
Blood Hunters are the monster to fight monsters. They use the profane blood magic to fight the most unspeakable creatures of the dark. Basically, the chance to play the edgiest character possible to freak out other D&D players.
Far from the judging eyes of society, blood hunters have mastered the secretive techniques of hemocraft, finding blood magic’s esoteric nature effective against evils that resist divine rebuke or arcane bindings. Through careful study and practice, blood hunters hone the rites of hemocraft into unique combat techniques, forfeiting a portion of their own health to call blood curses down upon their enemies or summon the elements to aid their strikes. Willing to suffer whatever it takes to achieve victory, these adept warriors have forged themselves into a potent force dedicated to protecting the innocent.
MORE INFO
Blood Hunter isn't an official D&D class and was created by Matt Mercer for Critical Role
TW: very angsty
Astarion x Blood Hunter!Tav
Masterlist
Headcanons
It's not like you aren't fond of the undead.
You hate them.
Ghosts, monsters, demons, name it yourself.
You are edgy as fuck and people usually assume you need psychological intervention because you cut your wrists to perform the rites.
You love being in pain and inflicting pain on others.
Many years ago you were sold to your Brothers and put through the Hunter's Bane.
Few survive the ritual, but you were one of them.
It changed you forever - your facial features, your eyes, your hair color, your body.
You don't admit it but you still mourn the life you could have lived if only your own parents hadn't given you to the brotherhood.
You draw your own blood to create curses. You cut your hands to create a Blood Dagger and kill your enemies with it.
To be able to use your cursed magic, you have to drink the most disgusting potions that ever existed.
And you hate monsters.
Period.
And let's say you aren't really fond of someone drinking your blood.
Besides, vampires are monsters, and everyone knows what to do with them.
But you are a practical person. You better have a vampire of your own.
Together you form a deadly couple. Your blood gives Astarion unique abilities.
But with time your alliance becomes something else.
You see him as a victim. A monster against his will.
There is a thought in your mind but you don't give it too much attention.
You ask Astarion to kill the spawns and let the siblings live.
You are the Blood Hunter. You know too well what it means to release 7000 deranged souls into the wild.
And you warn the siblings to keep a low profile. Or you will come after them.
Cruel? Yes. But who said Blood Hunters are good people?
You definitely aren't good.
Post-game, you know you have to return home. There are too many monsters to fight.
But there is one more thing you need to take care of.
Blood is always the answer. Blood is what makes this world exist.
You can ressurect Astarion. You can make him mortal.
You find the way but there is a price.
If Astarion becomes mortal, he has to join the brotherhood.
It means getting through the Hunter's Bane, which can kill him.
And which will change his appearance - not anything awful but he will look a bit different.
It's not a price you would like him to pay but it's up for Astarion to decide.
He refuses.
"I don't want to become anything else" He says.
You try to persuade him. You beg him. You use all the arguments.
Including the most painful one - if he refuses, you won't stay together.
But you know he won't change his mind.
Astarion cherishes his freedom. He won't lose it again. And he doesn't want to be in debt.
Maybe it's you who should forsake the hemocrafting? And abandon the Brotherhood?
And change your views on the world.
No, it won't work. You are too different.
Astarion leaves once the sun sets.
Now you have one more thing to mourn.
The love you could have got.
--
Tag list
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#astarion#baldur's gate 3#bg3 astarion#astarion romance#bg3#astarion bg3#astarion headcanon#baldurs gate 3#astarion headcanons#astarion x tav#astarion x f!tav#tav x astarion#spacebarbarian headcanon#astarion x reader#dnd#baldurs gate astarion#astarion ancunin#astarion baldurs gate#astarion brainrot#astarion fanfic#astarion fanfiction#astarion fluff#astarion imagine#astarion x female reader#baldur's gate tav#dnd bloodhunter#critical role#blood hunter tav
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While I do agree with Matt Mercer’s sentiment that this specific moment is pretty big for Leon, with this admission that he needs a break, I don’t think that necessarily means that Leon’s this 100% recovered individual talking about taking a healthy, normal vacation. I think that this was his very roundabout way of saying 'This is bullshit. I'm definitely going to get shitfaced when this is done.'
He could be talking about just needing a break from everything and taking a genuine vacation, but drinking is very much a knee-jerk coping mechanism for Leon, so I wouldn't put it past him to resort to it once this mission's through given the high intensity and stress of it. It's great to see how much better he's doing in Death Island given that he's made some semblance of peace with the way his life has turned out, but old habits die hard, and it’s only human to backpedal every now and then.
I like to think of Death Island as a movie that displays him taking steps in the right direction. He's not where he needs to be, not yet — at this point, he's still a character actively in transformation — but we're seeing the result of him beginning to walk down a better path than the one he was headed down in Vendetta.
I hesitate to say happiness, but Leon’s contentment in Death Island is extremely evident. There’s such a stark contrast between his demeanor in Damnation and Vendetta and his demeanor in Death Island. He’s still dealing with the same internal struggles, which is most apparent during the callout scene in two places.
After Dylan calls him out specifically and he only sarcastically answers with “yeah, well, it’s a livin’.”
And, I think more prominently, when Dylan says that so long as there are people like him/Chris/Claire/Jill who fight for those in power and uphold the status quo that “the innocent will continue to suffer as long as you do.”
You can literally see the fear in his eyes when he hears this, because every single thing Dylan is saying to them, what he’s saying about him, are things he already fully believes. The exact reasons that led him to hit the bottle so hard are being reiterated to him by someone who isn’t even involved in his life, and that hurts.
However, instead of having another existential crisis and ruminating on what Dylan said, he chooses to hold onto hope. He believes in Jill, which means he believes in what they’re doing — that they can make a difference by doing the best they can given their circumstances. As long as he hangs onto that, I'd like to think we can have hope for him. He just needs more time.
#but then who knows with capcom#maybe they'll have him go through such a devastating tragedy that he backpedals massively for the sake of the narrative#who's to say lmao#leon kennedy#resident evil: death island#mine
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Merciless, part 3
Part 1, Part 2, AO3 link (incomplete)
Fireworks fizzed and soared inside Mercer’s chest as he put the phone down. He had not expected that, especially so soon after Ardmore’s reassurances that Quaritch would need to be pacified. He tried to calm his thumping heartbeat, but it was no mean feat. The boy…. The boy, all to himself! Finally, a chance to prove himself after the catastrophic embarrassment that was TAP’s ending.
No more mindless overseeing of drilling operations. He’d be heading back to the base in the Western Frontier in two days, taking the kid with him. Thoughts about preparing the base and the medical team swirled around him as he anxiously bounced his pen against the file he was reading. It would be more difficult this time, having only one subject and without his second in command. He pushed away the thoughts of Alma Cortez before he could start to dwell on them.
“Do you think he wants to know you like, at all?” Fike asked, ever sensitive.
“Hell if I know Fike.”
“As if he was with Sully’s kids,” interjected Zdinarsk, who was leaning casually against a wooden pillar. The squad was supposed to be enjoying their downtime, but instead felt it necessary to congregate around the Colonel and air all their questions that unfortunately Quaritch couldn’t answer. “What are the goddamn chances of that?”
“D’you think Sully like… adopted him?”
“Shut up Fike!” Brown grunted.
“They definitely got their claws in deep,” Z-dog mused, shaking her head.
“Yeah, well,” Quaritch felt his voice darken. “We’ll see if there ain’t anything we can do about that.”
“What are you gonna do with him?” asked Ja.
“It’s not up to me. We can probably help each other out, but Ardmore’s calling the shots.”
“Do you think he’ll open up to you?” questioned Lyle, who was resting his elbows on his knees, a look of great concentration on his face.
Quaritch let out a long sigh. “Maybe. Given time.”
They both knew that time wasn’t something they had endless amounts of.
“I better go check on him,” Quaritch said suddenly. Ardmore had had him in that machine again today. The kid obviously hadn’t revealed anything new because there was no way the squad would be sitting around on their asses if he had. Something deep down was starting to worry Quaritch though. If yesterday’s efforts were anything to go by, the boy - Spider - wasn’t giving up soon. Quaritch had to hand it to Spider, he admired the shit out of him for that. But he knew they were entering dangerous territory with Ardmore. There was only so much crap she’d take before cutting her losses with the kid, and now that Mercer was snooping around, an uncomfortable feeling was starting to settle in his bones.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Lyle offered.
Quaritch waved him off, heaving himself to his feet and making the journey across the city’s vast compound.
Fifteen minutes later, his heavy boots were thudding down the familiar row of cells, approaching the one his boy was in. His heart was starting to thunder in his chest; he didn’t know why the kid had such an effect on him, and he didn’t like it one bit. As he got to the right cell, the first thing that struck him was that Spider’s name was missing from the electronic display. Quaritch frowned, stepping forward to see inside.
What he saw made his heart stop for a second.
It was empty.
The cell was empty; vacant and unoccupied.
Something was wrong, he knew it. If Spider was still being interrogated then his name would still be on the door. In fact, there was nothing left of Spider’s presence here at all. The fucking cleaners had been in and all.
Where was Spider?
Without wasting a second, he barged into the adjacent observation room, only to find it empty as well. His heart in his mouth, he sprinted back down the long corridor and made it to the command centre in record time.
“Colonel-“ one of the clerks stuttered upon seeing him.
He was quickly silenced by Quaritch’s glare of fury and no one else dared say a thing as he found the door to Ardmore’s office and flung it open without so much as a knock.
“Where is he?” he demanded, upon seeing the General sat calmly at her desk, glasses on and reading a file.
“Colonel,” she said, looking completely unsurprised to see him.
“Don’t play with me Ardmore. Where’s Spider?”
Lesser men that Ardmore would have cowered under the glare Quaritch cast at her.
“He was becoming… a distraction. He’s been removed from Bridgehead while you focus on your mission.”
Quaritch was ready to pick her up by the front of her uniform and slam her so hard down on the desk that she’d be forced to answer. His fingers twitched. His lip curled up into the beginning of an animalistic snarl.
“Once your mission is completed, the boy will be returned to base. Your mission last week cost us dearly. Four recombinants dead in less than twenty minutes. Billions of dollars down the drain.” She rose to her feet, and although she didn’t nearly compare to Quaritch in height, he could feel her power. She stepped around the desk, silently letting him know that she wasn’t afraid of him. “You want that boy? Bring me Jake Sully.”
Quaritch’s mind was racing at a hundred miles an hour. He could attack her right now. He could kill her, even. Force her to give the kid back. But what would that do? Get him court-martialed and risk the RDA taking it out on Spider. He dominated her physically - he was so ready to use his strength - but logistically, she had him by the balls. If he attacked her now, he’d probably never see Spider again.
She was asking him to catch Jake Sully. He could do that. He was capable. This is what he wanted. His chest heaved with the effort of not reacting.
The seconds ticked by, and eventually he levelled his voice enough to reply. “Where. Is. The boy?”
Ardmore raised her chin, eyes narrowing slightly. Still, she showed no signs of fear.
“He’s being taken to a separate base. One of our facilities close to the Western Frontier.”
The next word felt like poison on his lips. “Mercer?”
She nodded, sending Quaritch’s heart plummeting a hundred miles into the floor.
He had to reason with her. “The kid knows where Sully is. How can I find him without the boy?”
“The boy won’t talk. You and I have both seen it. You’ll have to think of other means. I have two samsons with pilots at your disposal, ready and waiting. I suggest you get out to Sully's last known location, and track him back from there. I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”
Fury and fear were coursing through Quaritch’s veins in equal measure. He was frozen, trying to work out what to do. What was the best thing for Spider? What was the best thing for himself and his squad?
Ardmore smiled up at him, before sighing and moving back around the desk to take her seat. “I’m sorry it’s come to this, Colonel. But rest assured that as soon as Jake Sully is off the playing field we can talk about the boy.”
“You know what Mercer will do to him?”
She registered the tone of his voice, and levelled him with a flat look. “That is no longer your concern.”
*********
Spider hissed as he was shoved into a new, whiter cell. “How long you gonna leave me in this one for then?” he jeered as the two soldiers who’d marched him in retreated. He was putting on a show, but inside he was scared. He thought he’d had the worst of the RDA’s treatment when they strapped him into that demon machine for the third time. Now, he’d been flown leagues across Pandora with no explanation of where they were going or why. They had touched down in the forest, which explained why Spider was now nursing a sprained wrist from attempting to run, but he’d been wrestled inside a much stranger, more clinical appearing base than anywhere he’d seen at Bridgehead. He supposed he should be thankful they hadn’t taken him out here to shoot him. Everyone they passed inside wore labcoats and carried holotablets around their necks, pressing themselves back against the walls in alarm when Spider and his entourage passed. In some of the rooms there looked like machines Spider had just been strapped to. In others, tanks and botanicals. He recognised the deadly Txumtsä’wll plant growing in a sealed terrarium and wondered what the hell the RDA was doing with a plant so toxic it could take out any Na’vi with just a single drop of poison.
“Don’t touch me, asshole!” he hissed at the soldier who pushed him on.
The whole place felt different to Bridgehead in a very non-reassuring way. He leaned his head back against the confines of his latest prison, closing his eyes and trying to lock out the harshness of the overhead lights.
Even the brightest optimist could tell this little outing wasn’t for a release party. And where was Quaritch in all this? Spider hadn’t seen him since he’d thrown Mercer out of the holding cells. For whatever reason, his father’s clone had been furious and refused to explain why. Spider thought back over his conversation with the strange Mercer figure. He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time - plenty of sky people had oggled him since he arrived - but now he wondered if that conversation didn’t have anything to do with his current predicament.
If you’re not going to talk, then you’re useless to him and them. They won’t keep you around for long.
The crisp-shirted RDA schmuck had also been keen to impress upon Spider that unless he gave them what they wanted, Quaritch would have no choice but to ‘terminate’ him. Was he here under Quaritch’s orders?
After a short while of waiting anxiously, the sound of footsteps outside the glass door alerted Spider to another’s presence. He jumped to his feet immediately. There, just as he had suspected, was the well dressed, oily haired RDA leader who’d visited him yesterday.
“Hello Miles.”
“Why are we here? Where is this?” He took a step closer to the glass, his body pumping with adrenaline.
John Mercer smiled in that ugly way of his. In all of Spider's life, he had never seen a smile as chilling as Mercer’s.
“We are in a facility to the West of Bridgehead. Fifty clicks away from the city.”
Spider blanched - he couldn’t help himself. Fifty clicks? That was over a week away on foot.
“I’m waiting for the why,” Spider stressed.
“Welcome to Kinglor Base, Miles. This is a specialist facility built purely for scientific research. You may have seen some of our tech on the way in.”
“Research on what?” Spider hissed. A sinking feeling was making its way through his stomach, clenching his intestines in a tight, cold fist.
Mercer looked at him like he couldn’t wait to answer. Like he was feeding off Spider’s fear. “On you.”
#miles spider socorro#recom quaritch#atwow#john mercer#avatar frontiers of pandora#atwow fanfic#avatar the way of water#frances ardmore#my stuff: merciless#avatar 2#spider socorro#miles quaritch#james cameron avatar#avatar fanfiction
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Ashes in her wake | C3
Kìoetey sat quietly, staring into the dark corner of the cave but she felt… troubled and conflicted. Her heart ached for the pain and the loss but the new string of betrayal felt bigger and lingered in her chest as she churned the revelation over in her mind again and again.
Cortez had told Mercer where to find them. She had been there and seen the horrors… and then became passive in their lives rather than fighting for them in any capacity in TAP. Lied to them and pretended otherwise.
It made her angry but even now, that anger was hollow from the pain. The real anger had yet to rise but for now, she needed to comprehend her new reality. She was glad for one that Cortez wasn’t here and... she could sense So’lek hovering close. Hovering which was unlike him.
“You can come in.” She said, her voice quiet but carried with a soft echo.
“I have brought you food,” So’lek said, crouching down beside her and handing over a wrap; hot and freshly made but she had no appetite.
She left it on her thigh for now. “How’s Ri’nela?”
“Angry, which is to be expected.” So’lek answered, “You, Sarentu?”
“Hurt… betrayed… I’m not ready for anger just yet.” She admitted. “I… I understand she may not have known that they were going to kill my people… and that she had literally no power to stop them but the rest? The lies, the passivity of the abuse we were raised in, the sixteen years of not checking in on us and the pretending that she was innocent of all that…”
“That is not an easy quandary but you can still ask Alma when she returns to the base with these wonders. Anufi will not let her leave until she is certain her spirit will not detach from the Dreamwalker. Walking through her mind may keep her another day.” So’lek reasoned.
Kìoetey nodded once. She understood that. Anufi still had to care for her regardless; she was still hurt and healing. It was wise to keep her away from the resistance; little distraction and peace and quiet, plus, they had the space from her too which was an added bonus. She wasn’t sure what to feel or what she might do if she saw her again so soon.
“Gossip had spread through the resistance now, which you’ll be more aware of. Most, if not everyone is now aware of Alma’s actions in regards to your clan and the lies she has told since. They are unhappy.”
“I’m not surprised.” But for now, irrelevant. “Any news from Priya?”
“Not yet but she and her team are working hard swimming through the data, she has assured me she’ll get some answers within the hour,” So’lek assured. “But either way, I’ve asked the clan to prepare for the worst and to be ready. For battle, it is likely. Mercer’s base in the Kinglor forest has changed and grown and I suspect will be relevant. We have scouts from the clans checking the area around for weak points but I warned them against being seen by ground and anti-air turrets. I haven’t heard back from them yet.”
Kìoetey cocked her head interestedly. “That’s good.”
“Indeed. You may be called into action.” The note of concern laced the undertone of the statement
“I’ll be okay to do that. My… the Cortez situation, I can put on the back-burner for now and focus on the now.”
“Then eat, you will need your strength.” He nodded down to the wrap.
Kìoetey eyed it for a moment before she nodded softy. “Thank you, So’lek.”
He just nodded, offering a soft, but dutiful nod back before he took his leave.
-
Things did not get easier when the news of Mercer’s plan came to light, pulling most of the leaders to the Resistance base to discuss the Endgame. The holotable was crowded by the clan leaders, Ri’nela, Priya and So’lek by the time Kìoetey joined them.
“Mercer’s next Excavation will destroy much of this land.” Ri’nela started and was dutiful blunt on the matter.
“Then what are we waiting for?” Nesim started, eyeing the holo-image with disdain at the image of the land, the simulation of the possibility on a loop for all to see. “Thunder through their gates and drag the little man from his hiding place.”
“Mercer’s base is impenetrable,” Ri’nela stated, almost tired of the fact but there was little hiding the truth. The holo pulled down to show off Mercer’s base,
“Out Ikran can bring death from above.” Ka’nat offered.
“You see these turrets,” So’lek said, the image flicking to the pylons of turrets that stood around, “You’ll be cut out of the sky.”
“Are you saying that not even a storm of Zeswa could strike a worthy blow?” Minang questioned.
“Not head-on,” Ri’nela stated. “We need to sneak through the blind spots but we need more data to find those. We lost a lot of data in the bombing but… we found more balloons in all the clan’s territories. We know the RDA’s been scanning the surface of Pandora but now we know why. We just need access to the data to get a full picture of the underground that we can use to sneak in. Should be easy to do given they’re not encrypted—secured against us.”
“What do you need from us?” Anufi asked. “We have scouts in the area.”
“Alex has created many of the same devices Kìoetey has been using to sabotage and collect data from the balloons. SID. You need to do the same to give us all the data to best strike Mercer’s Base. There’s enough for at least one for each clan, we need to teach you how to use it but it would be easier to target the balloons all at once so they cannot protect the others or pull data out to other areas to protect it. Once the data is collected and the balloons are down, the RDA will be blind and we’ll be able to see any viable cave systems to enter the base.”
“Some of them have added protection, like metal caps over Balloon controls, they’ll need to be destroyed,” Priya spoke up, adding the new image of the balloons. “They bing information to each other first so destroy all but one; the destroyed ones will send data to the remaining one which you’ll hack. If you destroy all of them, the data gets sent to the base they’re controlled by. Using SID, you can upload the data directly to Alex to save. Now, there are five in the Kinglor forest that will need to be targeted. I will add that they’ve been trying to combat aerial attacks since you took down those three to bring back the Kinglor flowers. Almost all will have two to three ships guarding them.”
Ka’nat and Etuwa looked at each other. “They will not be a problem for us.”
“There are seven in the upper plains, two shut down altogether but three balloons are grounded in the upper plains due to Stormgliders and will have more ground protection. AMP suits with explosives will be your main concern.”
Nesim scoffed, “No problem.”
“There are three in the clouded forest. Now, the RDA facility that controls the balloons can also interfere with data gathering so we should target that last. Close to Eywa’s Regards in the south of the Clouded forest as well.” Priya said. “Once they realise the balloons are going down, they won’t be too concerned because they just assume you’re destroying them without any context but if they know you’re accessing the data then they’ll try and manually shut them down from there to prevent data loss; like a failsafe system so getting to the base last means no drawing attention to the attacks too early. Even if the data is taken back, it would be at the base.”
“I can target the RDA facility,” Kìoetey said, “I can sneak in without drawing attention that I’m there at all. I could prevent them even from trying to shut down the balloons before you’ve got all the data.”
Ri’nela considered her words and then nodded. “That’s a good idea. Even if the balloons become useless, they should still be destroyed as a precaution. Each of them carries flammable fuel which can destroy it but also anything underneath. They can be pulled away if need be then destroyed but the RDA may use them as bombs to areas of care.”
Kìoetey eyed the data then the balloons… “Wait, you said unsecured. Is it possible to shut down Mercer’s drill from here by using the balloons?”
Ri’nela’s eyes turned down to Priya. An already discussed possibility.
“That… is another possibility but it’s a much more direct and visible connection; they’d see us trying to do that and shut that connection down. We’ll lose access to all the balloons by going straight for the drill and all the ground data we need to survey the ground. They may be expecting us to go for that. It feels like bait.” Priya spoke. “Shutting the drill down is one thing, but the RDA are smart. They have a lot better equipment than we do; they’ll find a workaround quickly even if we try to shut it down because they have access to the hardware directly. The battle has to go to them to ensure they no longer have this.” She gestured to the hologram of the payload.
“What are our other options?” Anufi asked, “We must consider failure and how we survive in that. What are the damages we may face?”
“Judging from the… simulation damages, the size of the payload… the region will become unliveable within a week of the detonation, excluding the initial detonation that’ll cause fractions on the plates. What will follow are continuous quakes, gas leaks, and oil spillages. Anyone living coastal might be faced with a tsunami. The Upper plains have a lot more strength to them and would sustain the least damage but not long term. The Clouded Forest, with the rise of leaking gas, I suspect the yavä will grow and descend south once the gas lightens its density to flow again.” Ri’nela said, “The payload will fracture the Kinglor forest the most and most immediately. From what we have here from stolen RDA data from before, there are pockets of lava, liquid rock that will rise to the surface and introduce toxic air into the atmosphere and heat up the forest and may even burn it down. One such place is near your Hometree, Ka’nat. You’d all have to consider moving away North or West of here.”
The unease wasn’t missed as Priya brought up the image of the Aranahe Hometree and its underground scans; the orange of a lava tube and chamber that would be filled with the pressures if it blew.
“Nesim, would you permit the movement of some of my people to The Circle?” Ka’nat asked, despite his pride in knowing where the line was; the lives mattered more to ask for aid in the real possibility of such a loss. The Aranahe would be wiped out within the day if they lost. “Our willing elders and young? Everyone else will fight.”
“Yes.” Nesim agreed, “The Zeswa will be a shield for all of Eywa’s children, regardless of their clan. The Zakru will migrate away from danger when they sense it. They’ll lead us to safety if they have to.”
With the knowledge of what could happen, it renewed a strength within the leaders to see the mission done and Kìoetey didn’t intend to fail.
-
Alma woke to Okul putting down fresh food. Her stomach growling with hunger and her side burned and she could see it was still… so dark still. Not Earth-dark for nights but… it had to be early. Unusually early and she didn’t have to be out to feel a… weird atmosphere outside. Hushed voices mostly, and soft humming. A lot of people were awake.
“<What’s… going on?>” She groggily asked, groaning. Her hand coming to rub her face “<You’re…up early.>”
“<Much has happened, Anufi and the warriors have gone to strike the Sky people’s base with the rest of the clans to end them for good>,” Okul said, their eyes wide and anxious. “<I’ve been told to stay behind and to care for the people until Anufi arrives with good news.>”
Alma sat up, her heart once again pounding with the news, her gut churning uncomfortable which was only part of her discomfort. Her guilt remained like a rope around her heart still and her shame had set up in her gut which had been a constant companion since the two Sarentu had left yesterday. Her mind felt a little foggy but… this news brought a new sharpness. Settling her fears onto something. This was no small thing to wake up to either.
“<If she doesn’t?>”
“<Failure will… be obvious if the ground cracks and spews dark sludge. If such a thing occurs, we’re to head to the Upper Plains.>” Okul said, “<They chose the night to attack as sky people are less effective in the dark and tired. If all goes well, they should be back soon.>”
It didn’t ease her fears. Everything… everything hinged on this battle. One she knew little of. It felt so foreign to not have the connections with her people; to know and to help and… she knew which her healing, it was unlikely she’d be allowed out to help but the intent alone should have carried weight.
Perhaps her absence was purposeful, Alma considered. News of… her actions and their past may have provided too much of a distraction. The Sarentu certainly didn’t need that at such a dire time. Still, she should have been there. If all went well, she’d be able to leave today anyway.
Okul pushed her to eat again and so she complied despite the discomfort and it barely made her feel any better. Even as Okul got her into light weaving to put her thread to use on a loom but even then, they too looked to be very distracted as they settled to sorting and filling pots of herbs and making what looked like healing salves and muttering softly to themselves.
It took forever until Alma felt a very soft jolt. Subtle and easily unnoticed, but the soft ripple across Okul’s drink was obvious. Her heart thudded faster as Okul hurried from the room but there was no call to follow. Minutes trickled endlessly but no shout to start packing up or signs of distress from the clan members outside.
There was nothing.
Alma packed her loom up, securing her threads and anxiously spun what was left into a ball which burned a little time before she ventured a walk out and sat on the steps out of the way; she wasn’t the only one, many young parents with babies and children sat waiting, some doing stuff, others simply waited.
It was twenty or so minutes before anyone came.
Her breath released sharply in relief as Anufi came with a smile, behind her were the warriors, some injured, some carrying their dead but there was victory in their step. The dead were taken to the Circle of Ancestors and the injured were led inside. Okul hurried to help tend to them after a word with Anufi.
Alma waited for a while as the hustle and bustle dampened down as the clan both celebrated and mourned so she took her chance to approach Anufi.
“<How did it go?>” She asked carefully.
The Tsahìk’s head turned to her, her gaze very steady. “<We defeated the sky people in a unified fight of the clans. We all suffered some losses but we have risen stronger for it. Now there will be a time of mourning for those lost in battle before the celebration of our victory.>”
“<Does that mean I am allowed to return to the Resistance?>” Alma asked.
Anufi examined her intently, her flash hand coming to hover close to her head in careful consideration before her jaw loosened up. “<You feel more settled. With the connection to Eywa yesterday, I feared it may pull your spirit free. I’m glad to see that was not the case. You may go.>”
That relief was like chugging hot cocoa on a cold day, seeding warm in her gut before she realised one small detail; she had no radio on her to call Anqa to pick her up. Fuck. Walking back… that wasn’t going to be pleasant but she’d be home at the very least.
“<I’ll have a hunter escort you back. You’ll be easy prey without a weapon>” Anufi decided, nodding to Heykinak who nodded, a little dismayed but clearly respected Anufi’s request.
Alma spared the hunter a glance and then nodded. “<Thank you.>”
-
Her side was burning softly, her lungs heaving a little at the pace set but the sight of the resistance base was an immense relief after the long walk. It felt like it took over an hour with her pace; her side hindered her speed and she didn’t dare push herself more than that to make her side worse. The muscle around the bone felt hot and throbbed with sharp pains every breath.
Heykinak had been necessary; scaring away a few creatures that were in their path and she graciously waited until they were close enough to the base to consider it safe for her to walk the rest before she took her leave with a nod. Alma nodded back her thanks and paused to watch her disappear into the foliage before she took a steadying breath up towards the cave entry.
Her heart seemed to sing the closer she got, anxiety fuelling into her veins. The first time back since… her stabbing. That itself wasn’t the centre of her discomfort but… some gossip had probably spread and… the Sarentu were all in there. Guilt tightened itself around her heart.
But this was where she belonged still.
She had to be there for them when they wanted to speak to her. She could still be useful. She… had a lot to make up for. She could do that.
Her eyes scanned around, her bare feet felt weird on the cold metal as she went, reminding her how used she got to walking barefoot this last week, and she could see how much the base had grown in her absence. Areas had been built up, like the weapons storage and crafting stations. A small Na’vi communal area had been created around a pool of fresh water and… even a small totem had been put up onto a large stone pillar.
So’lek was there, seated behind the bowl of fire and gently crafting what looked like a bowstring from some sort of cord or animal gut. She couldn’t tell this far away but let her gaze carry on. A few Na’vi were around, still assisting with decorating and making what looked like mats to cover the floor with. There were humans around and busy with also moving stuff about; some looked a little banged up; bandaged and clearly feeling the victory. One or two were curled up asleep, masked and all. It looked like she wasn’t recognised either by them, which was an odd feeling.
Her gaze returned to So’lek as she felt his gaze, his eyes narrowing before he set his tools down and made his way towards her. Her body tensed up a little before he stopped at a respectful distance, his hands open and in sight.
“You’re back. I wasn’t expecting you to return so soon. Let alone today.” He stated, his eyes dropping down to her side briefly then returned up to her face.
Alma tilted her head softly. “Anufi returned back to the Hollows. I asked, and she agreed. I hoped Anqa would have picked me up but no one left me a radio.” She said but allowed a deep sigh to leave her more casually. “I learned of the battle this morning. Did we lose anyone? Is everyone okay?”
“A few lives were lost but everyone is now being attended to and healing. The Sarentu are also here. Teylan has returned.”
Alma’s eyes widened, her heart leaping. “Teylan?” He was back? They had found him?
“Yes, He is with the other two.” So’lek bobbed his head softly and gestured towards the airlock. “But, he’s been since informed of your…history.” The disapproval hung in the undertone of his voice. His eyes simmered with a low level of anger but he looked to be pushing past that.
She ducked her head, her graze dropping in shame. “Look, So’lek. I’m sorry that… I didn’t mention anything-”
“No.” So’lek shook his head, his hand raised up sharply to cut her off. “I am not the person you should apologise first to. We can address my displeasure later. There is a lot to discuss now that you’re back.”
Alma’s shoulder’s sunk but she nodded weakly. “Okay.”
“Be careful with them. Do not expect them to forgive you. Last night has been hard for them and they will be tired. Mentally, physically and emotionally. Do not push them to talk to you if they’re not willing to. Do not force your presence around them either.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?” So’lek cocked his brow at her and then shook his head at her. “Do not apologise to elevate your guilt or shame. Nothing will mean anything when it’s not for them. What you want is irrelevant to their needs. Any difference you have to make is not to cater to yourself. They matter more and if they choose not to accept your apologies, you must live with that. This is a long road for you but one you must walk. You will get no pity, even from your human death.”
Alma nodded once, staring down at the floor, her ears drooping sadly as her throat thickened at his lecture. “Okay.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Go to Nalin and ice your ribs first. No need to overexert yourself. Pain and suffering is no penance and carries no weight to be used.” He added then returned back to his bow-string swiftly.
Alma hovered for a moment then let out a shallow breath and headed into the airlock.
Inside, it was another story. A lot more people, some didn’t glance but a few did recognise her after a second before their eyes widened then narrowed and shuffled off quickly away from her. Her gut twisted again but made her way towards the medical bay.
Her eyes found the back of Ri’nela talking to Nalin but a short purple-haired figure stepped in her way with a gasp.
“Cortez?” Priya’s head titled. “You’re in Na’vi clothes? I almost didn’t recognise you?”
Ri’nela’s posture stiffed up considerably as her voice reached her, turning swiftly before her eyes narrowed at her angrily. Alma swallowed her fear, glad to keep a cool expression masked on as she side-stepped Priya and hesitantly made her way towards Nalin.
Her mouth felt dry and scratchy, and she felt a little too light-headed but kept her focus to the doctor who was staring up at her wide-eyed and also very pale. “D-Do you have any ice?” She asked.
Nalin stared for a moment then nodded. “Yes… one second.” She caught up with herself quickly and walked off toward one of the freezer cabinets.
Alma’s attention turned to Ri’nela who was still staring angrily. “I’m sorry.” She started first. “I—I have a lot to apologise for. I lied to you and… withheld the truth and I shouldn’t have.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” Ri’nela agreed tightly, her hands clenching. “We deserved to know. You led Mercer to us. Watched our clan get slaughtered and then did nothing to actually protect us in TAP.”
Alma flinched at her words. “I… I wanted to. But Mercer had very strict rules for me as well. If I had shown too much favor, they would have removed me from the program for good. I paid the price once when I wasn’t careful enough.” She knew the three didn’t see it, or remember much given how much of a jumble their last few days of the TAP program were before they evacuated and she put them into cryo. They woke up to her looking the same age as her previous avatar had been before its death. She never told anyone that either. “I am sorry that I put you into cryo but… there was no way I could have gotten anyone out. You would have died that day if I tried. I got out because they had no idea I turned on them. I blended in enough…. but I thought I had the time to let the dust settle before I’d retrieve you but then Mercer destroyed the building and I thought…..”
“You didn’t try to find out,” Ri’nela stated.
Nalin didn’t interrupt as she pressed the ice pack onto her side, guiding her hand to hold it in place for her.
Alma couldn’t find the words to speak. She had considered the notion back then… but that meant telling people about TAP before she was ready to find a way to explain it without incriminating herself. She knew Jake would have sent her home if he knew so… she had buried the notion quickly. Plus, she had just met Anqa and Alex, getting to know new people… she didn’t want to compromise her budding friendships with that truth. Selfish, she knew but… it was so early days back then.
“One of my many mistakes,” Alma responded faintly.
Ri’nela scoffed lightly. “That’s putting it far too lightly, Cortez.”
“Ri’nela…” but the Sarentu was already walking away.
“No.” Nalin’s voice was sharp, tugging on her tail as she made to step to follow.
“Nalin…” Alma pulled her tail free.
“Sit down. Let me look at your side; I want to see how far it’s healed.” She said, her voice oddly sharp for someone who spoke with kindness. “Doctor’s orders.”
Alma complied but her eyes remained following after Ri’nela with a new weight to her chest.
Masterlist
#avatar#avatar au#alma cortez#so'lek frontiers of pandora#frontiers of pandora#avatar frontiers of pandora#etuwa frontiers of pandora#so'lek#ri'nela#teylan#nor#avatar fop#sarentu#nesim#minang#anufi#okul#priya chen#anqa#ka'nat
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The last official updates until post season trade.
These are from this morning.
On learning to be a consistent, reliable player Alex Holtz says he really watches the way Ondrej Palat and Jesper Bratt carry themselves every day, showing up at the rink early, etc.
I have no doubt there are others too, but he pointed out those two in his answer.
Dawson Mercer: “We know we’re a talented group, we believe in ourselves. We know what (type of) guys we have in this room. We’re excited (for next season), you can’t doubt that because we know what we are capable of.”
Alexander Holtz says he wants to come back next season a different player… more reliable, quicker, better skating.
Luke said he was really thankful to have Jack to lean on this year, his rookie season, and spend every day with his brother.
Added: “I had a cook!” and reiterated that Jack is an excellent cook.
Luke Hughes will go to Worlds with Team USA
Nolan Foote had a lower-back, disc injury that had been lingering for the past four years.
That’s what kept him out this season.
Nemec said he really leaned on having Ondrej Palat and Tomas Nosek around in his first year. Being able to communicate in their language was important and he said that he, Palat and Nosek would often go for dinner together.
Nemec talked about his first real moment of feeling like he was in the NHL was when he was lining up against Connor McDavid in his fourth game.
That checks out.
Simon Nemec will be going to play at Worlds with Slovakia
Congrats to Jack on earning the King Clancy Memorial Trophy nomination!
Nate Bastian said his injury could not have come at a worse time in the season… said he probably would have been able to join the team on the ice today if #NJDevils were still playing.
Dougie Hamilton said that he was hoping to be ready to at least join the team for practice in the next little bit if the team was headed to the playoffs.
Tomas Nosek says he will go to Worlds with Czechia and it will be the first time he’s playing at Worlds. Says it means a lot to him to be able to play for the first time with the men’s National team in his home country.
#NJDevils Curtis Lazar reveals it was a shoulder injury. “Nothing too major, probably would have been cleared to play this week.”“I’m excited about the outlook of this team because we’ve been through a lot now.”
Jesper Bratt: “Obviously it wasn’t the way we wanted this season to go…there were a lot of games this year where if we played more mature we would have gotten the points.”“We have to use this as major motivation to dial it in…to come back more mature and get this team back to the playoffs.”
Jesper Bratt says he’s unsure if he’s going to Worlds, has to discuss with #NJDevils medical staff before making that decision
Jake Allen on what he’s looking forward to next year: “I think there is a lot of optimism here. We know what kind of team this can be. We all want to put our work boots on this summer and come back a little bit better.”
Dougie Hamilton on his injury: “I just fell awkwardly on my arm… I just felt something and knew something was wrong.”
On the challenges of this year: “it’s hard not being out there with the guys…definitely makes you appreciated stuff and make sure you don’t take things for granted.”
On his health: “I’ve been skating, the plan was targeting playoffs…once we realized the was no (playoff) chance, we changed back up the rehab.”
“Hard year for everyone. Hard year for me not being able to help.”
Kaapo Kahkonen on coming over at the deadline: “I’ve gone through it twice. It’s always hectic at the start…you try to focus on your game…I felt good at the start, good guys in the room.”“I want to be a number one goalie…we’ll see where everything goes.”
Kevin Bahl on his year: “Biggest takeaway was learning a lot. I was in a spot I didn’t expect to be…I think I need to work on my shot this summer big time and footspeed.”On this year’s ending: “it’s extremely motivating…being here today and not playing hockey is a weird feeling.”On playing all 82 games: “it’s extremely grueling…it’s all about taking care of your body…it’s extremely rewarding too, because you are always with the game group.”
Ondrej Palat on what to take from this year: “Learning experience..need to think about it this summer and train harder this offseason.”“There are so many games we had a chance to get points and didn’t at the end…our mentality to play defense it wasn’t good enough.”On his own game: “Not a great year, not a lot of points…I’m not judging myself on points, I’m judging myself on winning battles and setting example, I think I did OK there, not great.”On opening season in Czechia: “it’s amazing, almost unbelievable to play NHL hockey in Czech”
Nico Hischier is expecting to go to Worlds with Switzerland. Says he’s in touch with his national team coach.
So it’s been a bit of a rough year injury-wise for Timo.
Timo Meier also said he was dealing with an oblique injury later in the year as well.
Timo Meier says it's up in the air whether he will be going to Worlds with Switzerland or not.
Says he's waiting on certain things to make sure his body is good enough to play more and he hasn't made an official decision yet.
Until anymore updates on the devils it will be about the playoffs and the cup here.
In Minnesota wild news
The Giving Flower 🌸
We're proud to announce Fleury is our 2024 nominee for the @NHL's King Clancy Memorial Trophy!
He is also the recipient of the #mnwild 's Tom Kurvers Humanitarian Award!
The Wild Flower blooms like no other 🌸
We're excited to announce we've signed goaltender Marc-Andre Fleury to a one-year contract extension!
#new jersey devils#hockey imagine#nico hischier#jack hughes#luke hughes#hockey#timo meier#john marino
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will come back to answer asks later but. popping by to say. i’m now left with five to six comic ideas post finale and i’m not sure how i’ll ever spin all these plates all at once
(safe to say you’ll see some more neverafter for weeks to come….. i know there’s a mr matt mercer dm season coming in may but i can’t. i need to process.)
#and also MAY???#oh man these schedules#breakneck speed#which i’m NOT complaining about because more food for the soul but i do need to digest
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