#i stayed up trying to figure out whether or not i should have forgiven them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cookinguptales · 9 months

Text

So... Dante's Inferno. I promised my second post would be a deep dive into the parallels and allusions being made to Dante in s2 of Malevolent. In other words, I'm going to finally make my case for you.

I think it's a pretty good one! But I guess whether you agree with me is up to you.

I'll preface this by saying that the last time I read the Inferno cover-to-cover was about fifteen years ago. I did some skimming to reacquaint myself while relistening to this season, but I didn't do a deep dive. So let's just call this an inexhaustive list, okay? I'm sure there are more examples than I'm going to throw out in this post, but I figured that I'm writing a tumblr meta not a dissertation, so it would be okay if I didn't have every single potential allusion.

I'll also say that any quotes I make are from the Mandelbaum translation just because it's by far the easiest to understand. I'm not going to be doing citations or anything (again, not a dissertation) but if you want to know any of my sources, just drop me a line and I'll be happy to drop the canto.

(cw: discussions of suicide, violence, and general Christianity)

As I said before, I believe that the Dreamlands, as Arthur Lester experienced them, were a manifestation of Dante's Dis that The King in Yellow used specifically to give Arthur a path towards penitence and salvation, hoping that he would eventually allow himself some sort of "divine forgiveness."

In other words, the KIY forced Arthur to face the punishments of the last four circles of Dante's Inferno in the hopes that it would cause Arthur to let go of his guilt, and therefore his attachment, to Faroe. And then, of course, he could make his move.

(In plainer English, sometimes a person who is dreaming wishes that they were dreaming, not knowing that they already are. Like that, Dante wanted to be forgiven for his actions not realizing that he already was. Dreamlands, penitence, guilt, etc. It's a whole thing.)

I'm going to try to stay on track in this post because there's a lot to cover. I'm going to talk about some of these concepts and themes a lot more in-depth later, but for now I just wanna lay out some very surface-level observations.

Dis is a gated section of Dante's Hell that includes circles 6-9 -- in other words, the circles dedicated to punishing the heretics, the violent, the fraudulent, and the traitors.

We should probably technically start with 6 and make our way down, but the ordering gets a little fuzzy as we go, so I'm going to structure this a little differently.

This is my meta so frankly I'm going to do what I like here. I'm just going to talk about these in the order I find them most compelling.

The first part of s2 that really made me sit up and take notice was the living forest that Arthur and John pass through near the beginning of the Dreamlands. Dante's forest of souls in the seventh circle is one of the most famous and lingering images of the entire poem, so it immediately caught my attention.

I'm going to be dedicating an entire post just to this forest, so I won't go into too much detail here, but there is a forest in the seventh circle where the trees are black and gnarled, like the ones in the Dreamlands, and like the ones in the Dreamlands, they were watered with blood.

These are the bodies of souls who committed suicide, and Dante is told that when the end times come and Hell is emptied out, when all of the other souls are reunited with their bodies, these souls, in punishment for taking their physical bodies for granted, will be forced to carry their own corpses hanging from their branches.

These trees can speak and bleed, and -- I mean, there's a lot to say about themes of suicide and self-sacrifice in s2. There's even more to say about this concept of protecting your physical body, not giving it up, and not allowing yourself to be separated from it. And then what does it mean when John and Arthur sacrifice a piece of themselves to this living wood in the end...?

Those are questions for a later post. But the parallels between the Dreamlands forest and that in the Inferno seem clear -- and that's before the winged monsters come. Yes, that happens in the Inferno, too, and they're Harpies.

(*looks into the camera like Kermit the Frog*)

There is also depiction of dismemberment in this section of Inferno, which is another pretty crucial similarity to Malevolent.

Ugh, I did get bogged down in some details. Let's be brief with the rest of 7.

Other key punishments found in the seventh circle of Hell and also the Dreamlands: a sea of red sand in a desert that is so hot that it constantly burns you, a vast ravine, an incredibly painful storm, and various red bodies of water surrounded by black rocks. Different water does different things, but none of it's really good. It's probably good that John and Arthur didn't go in the red or purple lakes.

(Perhaps more of a stretch, when Dante and Virgil are taken to the next circle of Hell, it's via a huge serpentine creature that can sting people. It's not exactly the same as the snake in the boat... but well. It is a serpent and a boat is a method of conveyance.)

Circle 8 -- fraud. Circle 8 is comprised of these things called "malebolge", and I've seen a lot of different translations of that word. The male- part is easy -- it's the same one that we see in "malevolent". Evil. The -bolge part I've seen translated as pouches, ditches, trenches, and... well, pits.

There is this really, really, really long part of the poem where they go around to all the pits to see all the different kinds of punishment for fraud. I'm not going to be exhaustive here, nor do I think that all of it lines up quite as 1:1 as it did in circle 7. Some of these things I'm about to point out I think are stretches but others I think are pretty clear.

The two main parallels to circle 8 that I see in Malevolent are the giant pit that they fall into (where they encounter the creature that's being fed) and the smaller prison pits that they're later trapped in by the KIY.

Let's talk about the cave system first. When Dante and Virgil first enter Dis (and in other parts going forward) they struggle with a lot of uneven, gravelly terrain that Dante occasionally falls on. (Created by earthquakes that happened because of Jesus, but that's not important.) That does seem to correspond to the gravelly ground that gave way beneath Arthur and John to send them into the vast blackness that has quite a bit in common with a few of the malebolge. One malebolge is an endless black void that Dante eventually realizes is filled with black pitch. (See: the endless darkness of the pit.) Another is filled with stench and refuse, like the rotting remnants of the creature's dinners. Another involves heads being wrenched from their place and turned around in their sockets, reminiscent of Arthur's dislocated arm.

Other malebolge seem to align with later experiences, like when they are in the ritual halls and in the prison pits themselves. There are two malebolge that seem to speak to Arthur's concern that John will either be separated from him or take over his body: one pit contains dragon-like snakes that bite the punished sinners, then slowly transform into the sinner as the sinner becomes the snake; the other pit involves people being quite literally cleaved in two.

(From the part where the dragons become one with the sinners, then take their bodies. Sounds familiar!)

A third malebolge contains sinners who are being tortured with incessant thirst, like Lorick the cana.

So I do think that the actual contents of these evil pits come up fairly often throughout Arthur's travails, but I think the much bigger issue, and the one that maps more clearly onto Arthur's time in the Dreamlands, is the concept of pits designed to punish prisoners in the first place. The description of the malebolge (circular pits surrounded by a huge wall that encircles all of them) is similar to that of the prison pits (many circular pits that are encircled by a huge wall) and, like the sinners bound to their malebolge, John and Arthur are being tortured in their prison pit as well.

Even more interesting, I think, is a particular sinner that can be found later in the 9th circle. (Forgive me for jumping ahead a bit, but you'll see in a moment why I'm doing it.) There's a man named Ugolino that Dante encounters in the lake of ice who is frozen to another man -- and Ugolino is eating that man's head. Why? Because in life, that man held Ugolino and his children prisoner and purposefully starved them.

Now -- this next part is argued over by both translators and scholars (one of the translators I consulted for this had a whole diatribe about this in the middle of his translation, lmao) but what I'm about to say does seem to be an accepted interpretation of the text. I even checked Sparknotes and it's the only interpretation they give, so I assume that regardless of what Dante intended, this is a common modern understanding of the scene.

Ugolino, after his children had died (arguably due to his own actions), was forced to consume their flesh.

(Some scholars say he just starved to death, but again, even Sparknotes is a big proponent of the cannibalism theory. lmao)

So... we have a story about a prisoner being denied food specifically to demoralize him and force him to feed on the flesh of his fellow prisoners. That sounds familiar. :')

(And "Faust", of course, is an allusion to another literary figure who dealt with the devil...)

I think that regardless of how well the specific punishments of the pits fit Arthur's journey (I'd say... so-so, depending on the punishment), the concept of punishment pits in general is strongly associated with the Dreamlands, and what happened to Arthur in those pits is uh. Let's just say that Dante did it first.

Now... before I go onto the ninth circle, one of the clearest, most obvious, and in some ways most fascinating allusions to Dante, I'll quickly backtrack to the sixth circle of Hell, heresy.

Heresy is a complicated thing in a universe that contains both Christianity and a lot of other gods, and I think it's certainly dealt with in s2, but maybe in not quite the same ways...

The description of the sixth circle of Hell is pretty quick and pretty sparse. Essentially, it's a vast plain of open tombs that are surrounded by fire. They're made of stone and the people inside them are supposed to be dead, but they are unable to rest, instead being roasted alive inside of their tombs.

I puzzled over this one for a while, and I think it's still entirely possible that it was meant to be skipped altogether in Malevolent. But. There is a part at the very beginning of s2 that never quite seemed to tie into the rest of the narrative, and I wonder if, in a way, it was meant to be one of these stone tombs.

A stone building, like the stone tombs indicated by Dante. Roofs of red iron, like the stone heated to "glowing heat" that Dante likened to hot iron...

A large hole in the ground. Perhaps a stack of firewood...

Inhabitants thought to be "departed" but clearly still very much still here...

I don't know. Could be an allusion to the fiery tombs of the living dead. Hard to say.

It's hard to know where he was going with this portion, honestly. I get the impression that something might have been headed off by an audience decision here, so idk where it would have gone if it had found its logical conclusion. The souls in the sixth circle can see the future (but not the present), so it could have been something pretty cool.

Ah, well. Hard to know.

I'll get back to more solid ground. The ninth circle.

The ninth circle of Hell, home of traitors (including Satan himself), is one of the most well-known parts of the poem. At the bottom of Hell is, quite infamously, a frozen lake of ice.

I mentioned poor Ugolino before, but there are other prisoners of the ice who are also very interesting.

One in particular, Branca d’Oria, seems thematically important. This was kind of a weird addition to Dante's Hell. See, Branca d’Oria was a real-live person who was still alive when this was written. How is a living person in Hell? Well, Dante asked him that in the poem, too.

According to The Inferno, Branca d’Oria's crime (the murder of his father-in-law) was so terrible that his soul was taken down to Hell while he was still alive, and his soul was replaced with a devil who took control of his body.

(If you think that a simple murder doesn't seem worse than all the other stuff in Hell, I guess... this is kind of Dante being a true crime girlie...?)

Regardless of Dante's writing choices, I think you can see why this one caught my eye. Once Arthur and John get to the lake of ice, their imminent confrontation with the KIY has them both wondering if just that will happen to Arthur. Will a devil (John) take control of his body and cast his soul out?

There are a lot of passages of Dante that are concerned with the attachment of the soul to the body, so I'll probably do an entire post on that. Lot of stuff about whether souls can be severed from their mortal form, whether they can be replaced by other spirits, etc.

Kayne specifically brings up this question (as does the KIY) in the lake of ice, which brings me to the other really fascinating part of the ninth circle.

Caina.

(Yes, named for that Cain.)

Caina is the portion of the lake of ice that is reserved specifically for people who have killed family members. It's part of the realm of traitors, not murderers, and is considered particularly heinous. Dante finds two brothers who are being punished by being quite literally frozen together.

(Again, two souls, one body, one whole, there's a vibe here.)

I talked a little bit about Kayne before... I don't think he's bound to this part of the Inferno, or even an organic part of it, but I do think that he's consciously playing along with it. After all, he chose to meet Arthur and John in the frozen lake. He chose to call himself Kayne. It's not his real name. That seems pretty clear. But it's what he chose to call himself.

He lured Arthur in with the music box symbolizing his dead daughter. He dirtied it with blood. He purposefully leaned into Arthur's guilt about "murdering" his daughter. And he called himself Kayne.

Feels pointed to me.

And I do think Kayne very certainly belongs in the ring reserved for traitors. lmao. I cannot imagine that he's not fucking the two of them over somehow.

Side note, I'd also say that the description of amphitheater-like rooms feels like an allusion to the Inferno right there. Its circles are shaped like an amphitheater with the lake of ice right in the center!

And just to be clear, it points both up and down. When they get to Satan and fly past him, the same shape is going out the other way. (Through the earth's core.)

The final really big allusion to Dante is not an allusion to the Inferno at all, but to Purgatorio/Paradiso. I am speaking, of course, of the garden.

A garden that his followers can't enter... A garden where things are presumably safe... A garden where Arthur finally comes to true understanding...

I mean. It's Eden, right? Of course it's Eden.

And Arthur, in his own way, is partaking of the fruit.

Eden is actually where Purgatorio ends and Paradiso begins, in Dante's travels. There's... a lot to be said here, about "Earthly Paradise", as it's called in Dante, and how it's a symbol of regaining innocence, its connections with Beatrice, etc. But I'll leave that for another post.

The reason why it's important here, though, is that it symbolizes an escape from Hell. It's what Dante found after going through all the punishments of Hell, after meeting Satan, after regaining his metaphorical innocence. It's what the KIY was dangling in front of Arthur as escape, both from the Dreamlands and his own guilt.

The fact that it was used to manipulate, to hurt, to fake Arthur out, is actually such an interesting twist on the source material. I kind of love it.

(I'll also just say real quick that I believe that the selenine (while existing as a cure-all in other Lovecraft literature) is actually a parallel to the waters of Lethe, which can also be found in Dante's Earthly Paradise. This is water that makes you forget your past and all past sins so you can become purified and continue on to heaven! Or get your ass snatched by the King in Yellow! I'll talk about this more later!)

And then... y'know, there's Daniel.

I have a lot to say about Daniel in the future, but for now... I think this is what it all kind of boils down to.

Like yes... on a surface level, there are a lot of Dantean punishments in this book. Yes, Arthur starts rambling about the Minotaur, who guards the seventh circle of Hell. Yes, there are tons of little asides and allusions to the cosmology of this universe.

But I think this here is the key. This whole dream is about judgment from a god that Arthur no longer believes in and absolution that will never come.

Arthur is, quite frankly, out of options. He's been clinging to this guilt and shame for a very long time now, and he sees no real possibility for forgiveness from God or anyone. Only punishment.

So... the KIY gives him God's punishment. But do the tortures of the Inferno really make Arthur come to terms with his own guilt? Not in the way the KIY wants, obviously, but... I mean, I do think there is some growth there. I just don't think it came from the torture.

Arthur wanted to be tortured. He thinks he deserves to be tortured. To be punished. That comes up... many times throughout the podcast. But it isn't punishment that helps him come to terms with his own actions, that help him come to live quietly with his guilt.

It's love.

And Dante's Inferno, at its heart, is about love. According to Dante, the deepest depths of Hell are frozen because ice is the lack of warmth, and a lack of warmth is the lack of love.

Because here's what Dante's Commedia is about, from beginning to end. Dante is having a crisis of faith and his lost love, his dear deceased Beatrice, orchestrates this journey (and eventually becomes his guide) from her place in heaven and saves his soul on earth -- through her love.

I'll talk about this more later, I swear I will, but for now... The KIY gave Arthur the Hell he thought he deserved because he wanted Arthur to find grace through penitence. The King wanted Arthur to give up his past so he could steal his future.

But what Arthur actually gleaned from this awful experience is perhaps closer to what Dante actually intended his message to be. That closing yourself off from others, that hurting others, that betraying others, these are all the worst sins. In the end, it's a violation of human connection that will damn you.

And the only real way to salvation is through love.

I feel like in some ways this is the largest allusion of all, opaque as it is. This is what the entire poem is about. Not just gawking at punishments but finding growth through love.

It's about learning that shame can't fix you, y'know? Love and support are an awful lot more effective if you truly wish to change.

And that, my friends, is Dante's Divine Comedy. :')

#literary analysis like this is the equivalent of giving me a kong toy full of peanut butter jsyk #malevolent podcast #long post #really really long post

18 notes · View notes

jamesthedigidestined · 11 months

Text

TaiKouvember Day 4B: Healing

Koushirou didn’t want to dump water all over his best friend, but he couldn’t bear seeing Taichi in such a state. Not his strong, dependable friend.

Once Taichi has bolted awake and locked eyes with Koushirou, he knows he made the right choice. Wet bloodshot eyes return his gaze, quickly looking away once their confusion dissipates.

“…How much did you figure out…” Taichi was the first to speak. It was less of a question and more of a statement, and whether Kou was even meant to hear the quiet words was anyone’s guess.

Koushirou, having planned his course of action swiftly, throws a towel at the drenched boy in front of him.

“I’m sorry Taichi-san, I didn’t want to throw water on you. You looked to be in so much pain, I couldn’t bear to see it.” Koushirou says in an empathetic tone. He too knew all too well the nightmares the Digital World had inflicted upon them.

“It’s fine Kou, I’m sorry you had to see that. No more kimchi before bed, right?” Taichi tries to smile, hiding his pain behind a joke. Koushirou returns the smile but still pushes forward.

“I don’t think kimchi is the only problem here. Would you like to talk about what happened?” Koushirou says this a bit slowly, sitting beside his friend’s bed on the floor. He looks up earnestly at his friend, fully willing to listen.

As much as Taichi wishes he could keep quiet, wishes he could forget this whole thing, wishes he could ignore the redhead in front if him, he simply can’t. Taking a slow, gentle breath, he begins to recount the dream.

Koushirou, for his part, never stops listening. A focused look slowly appears on his face, his mind moving to connect every bit of information in the hopes of helping his aching friend.

By the time Taichi finishes, Koushirou already has him in a hug. Taichi slowly returns it, but still protests.

“I’m still wet Kou, you’re going to-“

“Taichi-san, Agumon is safe.”

“I know, but-“

“He forgave you, right?”

“That hardly-“

“Then why can’t you forgive yourself?”

“Why should I be forgiven?”

Taichi will never forget that stern pained look in Koushirou’s eyes.

“Would Agumon want to hear you say that? What about Sora? Or Hikari? Would any of our friends want to hear that from our leader? I understand this feeling Taichi, of feeling like you’ve hurt your partner in indescribable ways, but you cannot let it control you. Agumon is safe and happy. He is away, but we can still communicate. And he would tell you the same thing as I am right now. You have to forgive yourself. You have to move forward and heal. You have to focus on the *whole* story. Yes he may have Dark Digivolved, but you were carrying the burden of being the only Crest-bearer at a time when we were facing Etemon head on. It was only natural you would make a mistake. A mistake you learned from when you properly Digivolved to save Sora from Datamon!”

“But SkullGreymon could have killed us!”

“And so could have Etemon, but you saved us Taichi-san. And you’ve saved Agumon too. Our Digimon were made for us, but that doesn’t mean the love we have for them or them for us is any less real.”

That last line left Taichi quiet, closing his eyes as his breathing softened. He really did love Agumon, he was like the little brother he never had. He had mistreated Agumon, pushed him into something he wasn’t ready for, and that will always stay with him. That doesn’t mean he has to let it control him either. They were alive and well today after all, all because they could achieve a bond even stronger than it took to achieve MetalGreymon.

“Thank you Koushirou, I’ll try to forgive myself.”

“Good, I’m glad Taichi-san. Now change into a new pair of pajamas, you’re going to catch a cold.”

Taichi could only laugh before throwing his damp nightshirt at the one who made him wet and cold go begin with.

#taikouvember2023 #taikouvember #taichi yagami #koushirou izumi #healing #fanfiction #fanfic #digimon #digific #taishirou

22 notes · View notes

troubatrain · 4 years

Text

want you to want me - m. tkachuk

a/n: i’m awful at intros but this fic is my whole ass child. i started it months ago and i picked it up back and then i just couldn’t stop writing. now we’re at a whopping 10k words and i’m really happy with the way this one came out. i hope you guys like it as much as i loved writing it.

big thanks to @hookingminor @igor-shestyorkin & @tkafuckit for reading this as i wrote it and gassing me up ily all sm

warnings: smut

You were Matthew’s dream girl, and you didn’t have a fucking clue. You were leaning against the cold metal bleachers of your former high school, chatting with whatever teacher probably wanted to hear all about that shiny NWSL contract you signed right out of college with the Chicago Red Stars. It was well deserved, a few national titles in college put you in the position in the first place, and Matthew respected the hell out of you. You wouldn’t know, by the way he never seems like he actually wants to speak to you and the few snide remarks about your sport in general. That started forever ago, when Matthew royally fucked up any chance he had with you later in life because he was a competitive asshole.

It started when you were twelve, and middle school was nothing short of a mess. Matthew was growing into his own, adding a near foot to his height over one summer while his father and coaches doted on the fact that he was getting bigger. Getting bigger meant getting better, and for a few years winning was the most important thing in the world. But, becoming a hormonal preteen came with something else, feelings about the girl who sat three rows behind him in almost all of his classes.

Then third period gym class came around, and Matthew was a competitive monster. The kind of kid who took that way too seriously, and you accidentally became public enemy number one. You were the only person in his class who could even come close to beating him at anything, because you were just as much of an athlete as he was. Soccer had become your craft, and much like Matthew, you declared you’d go pro one day. So, Matthew did what any other insecure twelve year old boy would, he teased you relentlessly. It was awful, but by the time Matthew had gone off to play for the National team you had forgotten about his bullshit.

Apparently, you’d done something in a past life to warrant dealing with Matthew for longer than you ever anticipated. Jamie was your little sister, and Taryn’s best friend. Best friend was probably understatement, the pair were inseparable on and off the field. They trained together, they played on the same teams and that meant way too much time with the rest of the Tkachuk’s. You learned quickly, that the rest of their family was wonderful and Matthew seemed to be too thick headed to fall in line.

You tolerated Matthew, brushing his silly remarks off just like you did when you were younger. The thing was, Matthew didn’t want you to just tolerate him, but he didn’t know how to get you to stop hating him. You make your way over to Matthew who’d been standing next to his brother since the start of your sister’s game.

“Hi Brady,” You greet, tapping Brady on the shoulder who pulled you into a bone crushing hug. That annoyed Matthew the most, the way you seemed to love his siblings and despise him. In your defense, nobody was more supportive of your professional career than Brady, who’d made a promise to catch a game the second he could, “Hi Matthew.”

You were waiting for something from Matthew, an acknowledgement for finally achieving a dream of yours. You’d gotten the congratulations from the rest of his family, a massive celebration because Keith thought you deserved it. Matthew probably didn’t think you did. You could practically hear his smug little voice about how much his recently inked contract was compared to yours, because you’d heard it since you were kids. He used to rip on your athletic abilities every chance he could, something about how it didn’t matter how hard you could kick a ball you couldn’t hold a hockey stick so he was just better.

“You’re here!” You hear the chipper voice of your little sister approach, Jamie’s sweaty postgame arms wrapped around your waist. You’d been in Chicago, signing some paperwork and looking into finding a place to stay when you had to go for camp. You promised you’d make it back in time, and your flight landed less than five hours ago but you made it.

Matthew bit the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself, watching his own sister push past him to see you. Taryn loved you, because sometimes she just needed a big sister and her brothers were in another country most

of the time. It was the part that killed him the most, seeing you with his family. You fit right in, a fierce athlete with drive that rivaled his own. Brady side-eyed his own brother, watching him instead of the scene unfolding in front of him. He was frustrated with his own brother for not just telling you the truth, that he teased you because he was an idiot who didn’t know how to handle having a crush on you.

But Brady was going to do it himself if his brother didn’t.

***

Matt, you don’t have a girlfriend right?

Matthew knew damn well he should not have answered his sister’s question, but when he realized her best friend had been sitting right next to her in the kitchen, his curiosity got the best of him. So he did, telling his sister he was single and sparing her details of any of the girls he’d gone on dates with the past year. That was his life is Calgary, a constant revolving door so no one would see what was underneath layers of sarcasm and angst. But every summer, he’d come home and wonder when he’d start to build a life for himself, and if he’d ever find that person to do it with. That was when his brain would start to wander, fantasies of a future that always seemed to involve you. He loved to imagine it, the years that you’d both spend supporting the other’s dream. Matthew would do anything to make sure you achieved yours, and he thought you’d do the same. Then you’d both settle down, the big house with the white picket fence and a shiny ring on your finger Matthew put there himself and years of arguing about what sport your future children would play - he’d even consider letting you have just one.

Unfortunately, none of that could be real until he figured out how to get you to hate him less. Taryn apparently had the same idea, and had been scheming with your sister for months. The two girls were looking at Matthew with devilish grins on their faces, like whatever they came up with would totally work.

“Y/N doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Your sister hums, sipping the smoothie they forced Matthew to drive them to go get, “It’s sad actually-”

“We think you should date,” Taryn explains, Matthew’s eyes went wide. His sister didn’t know the whole story, or just how far back this stupid fued went. Taryn always loved you, so Matthew just kept his remarks to himself.

“I know you know Y/N doesn’t like me very much,” Matthew explains, “So tell me how that’s going to work.”

“Apologize to her, if she can forgive me for anything she’ll forgive you,” Jamie sighs, thinking of all the times you’d shown her mercy when she didn’t deserve it.

“You’ve got to be sorry,” Brady interrupts, mouth full of food while he goes to go look for more in the fridge. He turns around, Matthew’s eyes giving him daggers, “What? You were a dick to her for years, you’ve got to fix that first.”

It didn’t take much convincing after that, Taryn had already planned out what Matthew should say to you. Matthew wasn’t going to repeat those words, because he knew exactly what he’d say to you if he ever got the chance. He was trying to fix his past, because the way he acted towards you was the one thing he regrets.

So with the help of your little sister and the Find my Friends app, Matthew was pulling up to a soccer field he’d been to plenty of times. He used to run through the park nearby, catching a glimpse of your practices when you were in high school and Matthew was an afterthought. He hops out of his car, smiling when he could see you running drills alone. You were dribbling the ball, counting to yourself while you were weaving through cones you set up.

“I’ve never been good at those,” Matthew calls out, walking over to you while you stopped and caught your breath, “I kick the cones with my skate every single time.”

“Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are,” You tease, grabbing your water and guzzling it down, “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, I came to apologize?” Matthew admits, knowing his face was probably bright red. He was nervous, the good kind like he got before a big game, “I was just an insecure kid then, and you didn’t deserve what I did just because I was afraid you’d beat in something.”

Matthew left out the part where he felt like he was still that kid all the time. All of those insecurities about himself seemed to be picked up by every reporter in Canada when he was there. You bit your lip, pretending like you were trying to debate whether or not you should forgive Matthew at all. In reality, you would have forgiven him ages ago if he’d just apologized sooner. It was so long ago, and sometimes you thought Matthew’s constant taunting made you better. He was pleading, baby blue eyes staring at you sadly while he waited for your answer. He looked like he didn’t think he deserved to be forgiven, shoulders slumped while he tried to read your body language. It was something you noticed about Matthew forever ago, he could have everything in the world but when he looked at you he seemed almost sad.

“I mean I could forgive you, but only if you beat me,” You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow at Matthew, “If I win, I don’t have to and if you win all is forgiven.”

“Really? Isn’t that why we were in this situation to begin with?” Matthew points out, crossing his arms at you.

“I thought you weren’t that kid anymore,” You remind of his own words, testing him to see if he’d put his money where his mouth was. Matthew smirks, chuckling to himself, “C’mon Tkachuk let’s see what you got.”

Matthew shook his head, laughing and lining up next to you. You both counted to three, sprinting down the field at full force. Matthew knew his height was the only thing working to his advantage while he tried to keep up with you. You were nearing your finish line, and Matthew didn’t think he was going to win. You were going to forgive him regardless, but Matthew didn’t know that. His arms stretched out, grabbing your waist and pulling you into his chest. Matthew turned his body around, stepping over the line before you did.

“God, you’re such a fucking cheater Matthew,” You hit his chest, Matthew’s hands still firmly placed on your hips.

“I didn’t want to lose,” Matthew admits, all of his smug attitude diminishing immediately, “Just want you to forgive me.”

“I’ll forgive you if you never pull that shit on me again,” You poke his chest, slipping out of his grip and running to your stuff before he could notice how nervous he was making you.

No. Absolutely not. You told yourself while you checked your phone, rolling your eyes at the warning text from Jamie that Matthew was on his way, you couldn’t have anything but indifference to Matthew Tkachuk. It got harder everytime you saw him, the past few years had been nothing short of kind to him, he was growing from a dumb immature boy to a man more and more every summer. You turn around, peeking at Matthew who was sitting down and catching his breath, a winning smile on his face, the same kind he had the very first time he schooled everyone at floor hockey in middle school.

Maybe you could be friends.

***

Matthew liked having you as a friend, mostly because as of right now that was all he was going to get. You definitely didn’t trust him, which was valid considering Matthew had been a dick to you for years, but he was working on it. He had to, that uncontrollable feeling that he cared about you was getting harder to shove back down with every year that passed.

“You’re friends now, you don’t need to stare at her like a creep anymore,” Brady scoffs, watching his brother gawk at you from afar. Matthew couldn’t help it, you just had a glow about you, you always did, but somehow in the summer you were golden. Tonight you looked even better, maybe it’s because you smiled at him when he walked instead of scowling like you usually did.

“He’s in love with you,” Steph giggles, sipping her drink and giving Matthew a side eye, “He’s been staring at you all night.”

“He apologized to me,” You confess, holding in that little secret about Matthew’s visit to the field even from your best friend. You had the same friends, the same group of people who’d been pushing the two of you to work it out for years. It wasn’t that you didn’t want them to know that they no longer had to worry about one of you blowing up because the other was there, you just wanted everyone to let it go too. Matthew deserved a little forgiveness, you could only imagine the pressure he felt on himself back then, and while he didn’t totally deserve your protection - you were going to give it to him, “Don’t-”

“Oh wonder why, I know it’s because he looooves you,” Steph teases, “Did you forgive him?”

“Yeah I mean we’re both older and I’d like to think he’s wiser, and besides our parents are way too close,” You knew this was going to be your excuse for a while. It was better for everyone that you forgave him, Jamie and Taryn spent more time together than you’d spend with anyone and you're just as close with the rest of their family. It wasn’t untrue that it was in fact for the best, but that didn’t mean Matthew’s stupid dimples didn’t persuade you before you could think about anyone else, “Can we stop talking about this?”

Matthew’s eyes didn’t leave you once that night, especially after the way Steph downed tequila shots and convinced you to join her. You deserved to celebrate, you’d accomplished something Matthew knew was your biggest dream because it was the same as his. He was proud of you, not that he’d gotten a chance to show it.

“If you’re going to go pro Y/N, you’ve got to start keeping up,” Brady chirps, watching you stumble over your own feet to walk over to him and Matthew. Matthew had seen this once before, a level of drunkenness where you turned into bambi but that was so long ago he never thought he’d see it again.

“I’ll go pro in beating your ass Brady,” You snap back, shooting daggers over Brady who was already cracking up, “Hi Matthew.”

“Hi,” Matthew’s voice was small, a weird sound considering he was usually the loudest in the room. Brady scoffs, walking away from the two of you before he snaps at how hopelessly in love his brother was. You turn your head in confusion, your mind far too hazy to realize why Brady was so annoyed in the first place, causing Matthew to chuckle, “Want to play? Might be best if we’re on the same team.”

Matthew’s thumb shot over to the beer pong set up on the other side of the room, a mischievous smirk on face, “I mean if it’s for the best.”

Matthew’s arm wrapped around your shoulders holding you close to his chest while you both played pong was definitely not for the best, and it wasn’t helping that stupid crush you had on him. You could feel Steph’s stare from the corner of the room, and you look at her to mouth a don’t at her. It was nice having Matthew on your team, finally a moment where instead of arguing with each other about who’s elbow was clearly over the table - you got to do the same thing to Brady.

“Brady you’re cheating,” You call out, Matthew’s head thrown back in laughter at your seriousness.

“You heard her Brady, elbows over the table,” Matthew breathes out, his body still rumbling with laughter at his little brother’s expense.

“Oh look at you two, you’re just gonna raise some winners one day aren’t you?” Brady chirps back, both happy to see you getting along and annoyed once he realizes that means he was going to get roasted by both of you now. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, tucking your face into Matthew’s arm in hopes no one saw the way you shrunk at that stupid joke.

“We’re winners right now,” Matthew calls out, his last ball landing in the cup and sealing the game for the two of you. Matthew would raise winners with you, it was something he thought about from time to time, but those thoughts were never going to see the light of day, “Alright drunky I think it’s time to get you home.”

“You can stay, I’ll just catch a ride with someone,” You waive Matthew off, who shook his head no at you before you even started speaking.

“One, my dad would kick my ass if he knew I left you,” Matthew starts with, holding up one finger with another on the way, “Two, we’re friends now and I’d like to make sure you don’t die before you see a pro game.”

Matthew had seen you this drunk before, but what he didn’t know was that getting you home would be more difficult than he thought. You started in the direction of your house, but apparently you were a runner and a speedy one at that. Now you were barely two blocks away from Matthew’s parents place and if he could at least get you there he’d be able to call it a night - which wasn’t fucking easy.

“Alright I’ve had enough,” Matthew huffs, jogging to catch up with you and scooping you into his arms. You were hanging over his shoulder, Matthew making his way down the street with the house in his sightline. You could have cared less, laughing your ass off while Matthew walked up the stairs and finally placed you back down on your feet, “Be quiet, go up to my room and get some clothes and go sleep in the guest room.”

You weren’t quiet, not at all and Matthew was amazed not one of his parents came down to see what all the chaos was about. After Matthew had to walk you up the stairs, running back down for some water and hoping you weren’t a disaster by the time he got back - he found you in his bed. You were curled up right in the middle, an old London Knights shirt on your body, Matthew’s favorite. Matthew grabs his comforter, throwing it over your body. He sighs, leaning against his door frame and smiling to himself at how comfortable you looked, flicking off the light and retreating to the guest room.

Matthew hated the guest room. He hated how hard the mattress was and after a few hours of no sleep and tossing and turning - he gave up. Matthew hoped no one else was up, but not to his surprise his mother was already in the kitchen, and judging by the look on her face, she knew who was upstairs.

“Care to explain?” Chantal smirks, raising her eyebrows at her son. Matthew’s face got red, his landing on the back of his neck to cover the blush.

“She fell asleep before I could even get her to the guest room,” Matthew shrugs, hoping his mom wouldn’t push it any further, “I, uh, apologized the other day.”

“Good,” Chantal hums, a knowing look on her face. She didn’t like to push Matthew, her one kid who seemed to be a little rougher around the edges than the others, but that silly feud never sat right with her, “Here, bring her a coffee, I’m sure she needs it.”

Matthew nods, grabbing the mug his mother was holding out and starting to make his way up the stairs. He heard the tell her you made it from his mother and shook his head. He knew what she was thinking, especially with the way Chantal seemed to talk about you. His mother thought you were nothing short of perfect, and Matthew would be a liar if he didn’t think the same thing.

“Did I fall asleep here?” You’d woken up confused, your question only answered by the jerseys hanging on the walls, you were in Matthew’s room. You rub your eyes, the door creaking open way too loudly for how dead you felt.

“Only after you almost fell down the stairs and ran three blocks in the wrong direction,” Matthew chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing you the mug, “You know you’re fast right?”

“Yeah,” You muse, smirking to yourself and taking a sip of coffee, “I’m sorry I did that to you, and stole your bed - I can go.”

Matthew stopped you, telling to finish your coffee and relax and he’d drive you home after. You fell into a comfortable conversation, something Matthew never thought would happen.

And watching you walk up to your steps in his shirt still wasn’t something he thought he’d see, but it was better than he imagined.

***

“Hey it’s Jamie, can’t get to the phone right now…”

You groan, tossing your phone onto your bed and continuing your pace around the room. It was well after midnight, and your sister had been out all night, and past her curfew. Usually you’d cover for her, definitely taking the prize home for the cool older sister who picks her siblings and their friends up from parties. That’s what had you so worried. Sure, Jamie was a teenager and she snuck in a few little white lies with your parents just like you’d done, but Jamie always told you the truth. She’d check in with you more than her parents, letting you know that she’s going to be out late but she’s safe and if she needed anything she knew who to call. You texted sometime around ten, just checking in since it was Saturday and you were sure she had a more riveting social life than yourself. No answer. Then eleven rolled around and you didn’t hear anything, so naturally you double texted and now it’s twelve thirty and you still haven’t heard anything. You cross your arms, looking at your phone as if you could will an answer into existence. You grab it, dialing a number you weren’t even sure would work.

“Hello?” Matthew’s voice appeared on the other side of the line, clear confusion in his voice. You let out a sigh of relief, hoping Matthew would have the answer you wanted to hear so desperately.

“Is my sister at your house?” You ask, biting your lip and throwing on a pair of sweats so you could pick her up and murder her for scaring you like that. You were sure it was innocent, Jamie slept over at Taryn’s all the time, staying up way too late watching movies or when Jamie would hide going to a party from your much stricter parents.

Matthew tells you to give him a minute, and you can hear him walking through the house. By the time you heard a door open and a small fuck under his breath, your stomach dropped, “She was supposed to be home by midnight.”

“Alright, thanks anyways,” You sigh, “Do you know where they might have gone? It’s just, Jamie hasn’t answered me in hours and she usually does even if she’s out past curfew and I’m just-”

“I’ll be at your house in ten,” Matthew says, his keys alright in his hand and his foot halfway out the door. He was more mad than worried, sure his sister was out a party past curfew. Matthew was her biggest brother, and he was far more protective over her than Brady ever could be. He hated when she did this, and Matthew was pissed. You waited on your steps, Matthew car coming into view while you sprung up and practically sprinted into his car.

“You look mad,” You observe, as if it wasn’t completely obvious. You knew why, trying countless times to remind Taryn that her brother loves her and that’s why he’s like that. You thought he could go a little easier on her, but you wouldn’t dare get in the middle of that.

“I am mad,” Matthew grits out, knuckles white on his steering wheel while he drives slowly down the street. You just drove, in hopes you’d find what was obviously a house party and hopes your sisters were inside. You squint, hoping your eyes weren’t fooling you.

“Wait, pull over I think I see my neighbor,” You yell, Matthew’s foot flying on the break and you hop out. You were right, the bright orange tuft of hair you saw was like a miracle, “Hey Henry have you seen my sister?”

“Oh yeah I think she’s still inside,” Henry points to the house behind him, music blasting and a party in full swing, “I think she’s with Taryn.”

Matthew hops out of the car, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the house with him. Matthew’s fingers were laced with yours with every step he took, weaving through the crowd in hopes you’d see them. It took three bedrooms and a laundry room until you finally saw Taryn standing in the doorway. Her eyes went wide, and you pushed past them both to see Jamie with her head in the toilet. She was fine, well she was definitely in deep shit, but it wasn’t the worst thing to stumble upon. You throw her hair up, your attention moving to Matthew yelling at his sister in the hallway.

“Why didn’t you call someone,” Matthew yells, trying so damn hard to not completely snap on his baby sister. Taryn yells that her phone had died and then Jamie got sick and she didn’t know what to do. Of course they didn’t. You were probably more sympathetic, and you knew just how pissed off Matthew could get. You get up, pushing Taryn back into the bathroom and telling her to watch your sister.

“Calm down before you talk to her, please,” You plead, grabbing Matthew’s shoulders, “Besides, I sort of need some help right now.”

There it was. The very moment Matthew realized all along you could’ve been helping him. Your hands were wrapped around his biceps, a finger gently rubbing the skin right under the sleeve of his shirt. Every bit of anger disappeared from his body, a calm feeling replacing it. He knew you were right, and he’d be thankful for it later. Matthew knew he had to do the right thing by you, and he nodded, willing to follow any directions you gave him.

Matthew carried Jamie out of the house, getting both of your sisters in the car and finally heading back to your house. You knew he was still pissed off, a present frown on his face so you just took the chance. Just like he’d done before for you, you grabbed one of his hands from his steering wheel, lacing your fingers together. You caught the smile on his face, your thumb rubbing over his hand while his shoulders seemed to just relax. Once

Matthew finally helped you get Jamie inside, a night of laying on her floor to make sure she was okay ahead of you stood in the doorway with Matthew across from you.

“Thank you, I know we’re working on this friendship thing but you really didn’t have to do that,” You were eternally grateful, wrapping your arms around Matthew’s waist and tucking your head into his chest.

“You’d do the same thing for Taryn,” Matthew hums, knowing full well he definitely owed you for being Taryn’s replacement sibling with him and Brady in Canada for most of the year, “Get some rest okay?”

“Wait,” You stop Matthew, grabbing his hand one more time, “Don’t kill your sister, please she’s just a kid-”

“You’re way too easy on them,” Matthew chuckles, shaking his head at you. He knew Taryn was probably scared, and after he calmed a bit he understood where you were coming from. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tell her that if she ever pulls that shit again - he was going to rat her out to their parents.

And when Matthew finally got back in the car, he could see his sister’s grin in the backseat, “Don’t say it.”

She held your hand, are you sure you’re not going to malfunction now?

***

Maybe you were spiraling.

You’d been waiting for this moment your entire life, now you had a few more weeks until camp started and you were afraid. You knew you were good enough, you had to be. But what if you weren’t? You could feel the anxiety settling in, a feeling you hadn’t felt since Matthew told you soccer wasn’t a real sport in fourth grace. It’d been eating at you for weeks, deteriorating any confidence you had left in yourself. So you started pushing yourself even harder. The harder you worked the less like you were to fuck it all up. Your muscles were sore, your body was tired and it was just all becoming too much.

And Matthew noticed.

You were pushing yourself too hard, even the time you were supposed to relax with your families before your seasons started was being spent training. He understood it, the term first round exit lived rent free in his head every single time his skate hit the ice over the summer, but that didn’t make it okay. You looked tired, sluggish while you moved because you were running twice a day and training in between. And he was pissed everyone seemed to be fine with it. You should start working harder then Matthew. If it bothers you so much maybe you could join her. It wasn’t that he was jealous of your work ethic, he was worried. Matthew’s eyes followed you as you ran past his house again. The third time in one day, he’d finally decided he had enough.

Matthew took the walk to your house, charming the pants off your mother for her to tell him you were upstairs because you just got back in. He knocks twice, hearing a come in from the other side.

“What are you doing here?” You question, rolling one of your ankles that just seemed to be getting more swollen every time you started to practice. Matthew noticed it, your hands freezing one you caught his gaze.

“You’re overworking yourself,” Matthew stands his ground, he knew you could have told him to fuck off because no one hates advice they didn’t ask for quite like him, “Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s rich coming from the kid who’s played with more broken bones than anyone I know,” You remind him of a few mistakes Matthew’s made playing through injuries he really shouldn’t, “I’m not fucking frail.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Matthew scoffs, it never once crossed his mind that he thought he was tough enough to play through injuries but you weren’t, “It’s about taking a break so you don’t get hurt.”

“I’m fine,” You huff, getting up and trying your best to hide the pain in your ankle when you stood on it. You fell forward, Matthew catching you in his arms and putting you back down the edge of your bed.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” Matthew asks with soft eyes, he bent down to take your ankle in his hand and inspect it the best he could. It was swelling, probably from the amount of pressure you’d been putting on your body with no breaks.

“What if I never score a goal?” You whisper, teary eyes finally meeting Matthew’s. His brows shot up, alarmed at how one of the best athletes he’s ever seen could feel the same way he felt right before his first NHL game. Matthew sits down next to you, hand on your thigh while you let out a cry, “What if I’m just a bust? Like I get there and nothing works and I suck.”

“You’ll score eventually,” Matthew scoffs, understanding how ridiculous you sounded but just how you felt at the same time, “Everyone does.”

“You scored like four games into your fucking career Matt,” You remind him, Matthew smiling a bit that you knew that to begin with. It would have been impossible not to know, or pretend like you didn’t keep a few tabs on his career. Matthew Tkachuk was a legend in the making, and whether or not you could feel butterflies in your stomach every time he dropped the gloves was a secret you’d take to the grave.

“I got suspended my first season too,” Matthew jokes, a teary eyed laugh escaping your lips, “I’d put down money you score in your first game.”

“Well good thing you have money to lose,” You sigh dramatically, the fear of fucking up still on your mind.

“You’ll find your groove, all legends do,” Matthew promises, throwing his arm around your shoulders. You snuggled into his side, a realization that he was becoming a comforting presence in your life with each passing day, “And if you don’t, you can always hide out in Canada with me.”

“Matty!” The same silly nickname Matthew introduced himself to you on your very first day of kindergarten slipped through your lips without realizing it. Matthew hadn’t been called that in ages, but it was welcome from you. You push his chest, “That’s not making me feel any better.”

“What if I told you the only reason I was so mean to you was because I was intimidated by how talented you were?” Matthew confesses, scratching your head with his fingers, “If I win a cup one day I think I owe you one.”

Matthew didn’t mention that in his wildest fantasies of raising that cup over his head, you were there. He’d owe you one and he hoped it was because you were there for him until he got there. Matthew saw it the same way every time, you’d tell him to go see his parents first but he’d fly right past them to get to you - the person who accidentally pushed him to be his best. He had plenty of daydreams about you winning too, remembering times you used to brag you’d go to the Olympics one day, and he hoped you were right. He wanted to see you succeed, more than anything, and he thought it would work.

“Legally you have to let me drink out of it,” You muse, shutting your eyes and letting yourself just rest against Matthew.

“It has to be Bud Light,” Matthew teases while watching you fake a gag. You grab his outstretched hand, letting him pull you up. His hands rested on the side of your face, eyes flickering to your lips for just a second. He wanted to kiss you, but he knew he had to wait. Wait for you to be ready. Wait for you to settle down. Or even just wait until he thought he had a real shot at forever.

Forever with you.

***

Matthew was kind of pissed off.

The press didn’t bother him, none of that mattered and at the end of the day Matthew was able to sleep at night knowing he was a good teammate and a decent person most of the time. This one got him though, some writer criticizing the A on his jersey, and how someone who plays like he does didn’t deserve a letter.

A letter he earned.

You could tell something was off, the way Matthew had been running alongside you was aggressive to say the least. He insisted he came with you, something about forcing you to take breaks. He was being your friend, even though your sisters seemed to disagree. Taryn’s words were replaying in your head, Matt doesn’t even care if I get hurt. That didn’t mean anything, those two had no idea what love was and Matthew caring about you a little bit didn’t mean he loved you. Besides, the way he was acting right now told a completely different story.

“Are you mad at me?” You finally slow down, sitting on a rock that was next to the hiking trail you were on.

“No?” Matthew stops dead in his tracks, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach that he fucked this up too, “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“No, tell me what’s wrong,” You push, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes at Matthew. You could tell he was pressed about something, his neck covered in a red flush the same way it used to.

“Some stupid article about my letter, don’t worry about it,” Matthew grits, repeating his words again. His defense was up, even after you confessed to him that you were scared of not being enough.

“Get the fuck out of here with the tough guy act Matthew,” You challenge him, poking him right in the chest, “If we’re going to be friends you need to cut that shit out.”

“You really want to hear it?” Matthew barks back, fully yelling at you, “I’m tired of people thinking I don’t deserve things because I threw a few bad hits. Do you know how it feels to have everyone think you’re shitty? No you don’t, because you’re so fucking perfect that my own parents like you more than me.”

You stood there, silent while you tried to figure out how to tell him that simply wasn’t true. His entire body was shaking, the anger coursing through his veins like you’d seen many times before that. Matthew looked like he did the first time you hit a homerun in gym class, except this time it was because that same pressure never got released. You couldn’t come close to understanding the way he probably felt. You didn’t have the comparables in your own family, the constant reminders of Brady’s points tally compared to his, let alone the career his father had.

“Matty,” You whisper, grabbing his hand and running your fingers over the scars on his knuckles, “Why is this bothering you so much?”

You were sure this wasn’t the first time someone’s said he was a pest, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the last. Matthew sighed, the better part of his brain screaming at him to stop before he lost you too.

“I’ve felt like this forever,” Matthew whispers, eyes fixated on your hand in his, “From the moment I started getting bigger, there’s just been this pressure to play a certain way and act a certain way. I was a fucking kid, and while all of my friends got to go wherever they wanted all I ever did was practice. Then I finally get to where I wanted and I’m still getting shit on.”

“Except no one thinks you don’t deserve to be where you are,” You whisper, quiet words as if you were going to startle him, “And I know it doesn’t make up for things people say, but the people who love you think you deserve it.”

Matthew nods, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his waist, his words mumbled against your forehead, “I needed that.”

“I know,” You nod, smiling wide up at him, “And we need to practice more because you’re too slow, soooo catch me if you can!”

You slipped out of his arms, running away with a giggle and a smile. Matthew stopped for a second, his Neanderthal brain checking out your ass while you jogged away and his more logical one trying to process what just happened.

But what mattered most was that whatever you did worked and that meant something to Matthew.

***

Just admit you think he’s hot.

You wanted to kill your sister for making this weekend harder than it had to be. You were doing a good job at just friends with Matthew until Jamie was curled up in your bed while you packed for a lake trip with your friends. She pushed it for hours, rambling on about Matthew is actually your type and Taryn swears he’d be a good boyfriend if someone just understood him. The problem was, you were starting to see her point. Matthew had a glow up a few years ago, like one summer he’d gotten home and you were infatuated with him. It used to annoy you, because he’d been such an ass to you that you hated how attractive he was. Then things changed, and now looking at him was just frustrating you. You were terrified about the way he made you feel, like everything would be okay with one look of those blue eyes and a smirk. You felt like he had your back, a vast change from how you used to feel and it was just getting hard to hide it anymore.

Especially when Matthew looked like he did right now. He was holding himself up on the dock, shoulders broad and glistening in the moonlight above you. All your friends were inside, moving their party away from the water as the night lingered on. You wanted to run your fingers through his wet curls, the temptation was almost too much.

“I’ll be in Chicago a few times you know,” Matthew hums, enjoying the time alone he was getting with you. Anytime without Brady teasing him about what the Tkachuk’s had been referring to as the hand holding incident. He didn’t want them to think he didn’t want you, because he did, but he just needed to move at his own pace.

“You want to come see me play?” You ask, leaning back on the palms of your hands. You were surprised by the kind of man Matthew had become, it was a completely different person that he used to be. He cared so much about his loved ones, and you were starting to feel like maybe you had a place there.

“Actually thinking you could come see me play,” Matthew teases, sarcasm dripping from his words. You lifted your foot up, kicking some of the water below you to splash him, but he’d caught your ankle before you could. He stopped for a moment, running a thumb over your skin, “This looks better.”

“Don’t make you admit you were right,” You whine, Matthew swiftly pulling you into the water with him. You yelp, the water way too cold for any normal person, “It’s freezing.”

“C’mere then,” Matthew grabs your waist, pulling your body against his. His hands were splayed across your back, heat radiating off of them. One of your hands was on his shoulder, your other on his chest. You could feel his heart beating quickly, his eyes locked on yours, “Middle school Matthew would be so jealous of me right now.”

“Why’s that?” You hum, running your fingers along Matthew to play connect the dots with the beauty marks on his skin.

“Because he had the biggest crush on you,” Matthew confesses, his grip on you a little tighter, as if he was afraid you’d slip right through his fingers again, “But he was too thick headed to do anything about it.”

“What about grown up Matthew?” You ask, biting your lip. Matthew was practically holding you both up in the water, pressed so close together you could hear the hitch in his breath at your question, “Is he too thick headed to do something too?”

You wrapped your legs around Matthew’s waist, pressing your lips to his and tugging on the curls at the base of his neck. He pushed you up against the dock, helping you back up and pulling himself up next to you. You grabbed the back of his neck, latching your lips back on his. His hand was on your back, fingers toying with the back of your bathing suit, “Think we can get upstairs without anyone noticing?”

Matthew was cool most of the time. He never faltered under the pressure from his career, most of the time, and he definitely didn’t fold when it came to a pretty girl. You had him in the palm of your hand, every part of his brain malfunctioning in response to your words. You bit your lip, wondering if you’d read this entire situation. Matthew rubs a thumb along your lip, “When are you going to realize I’d do whatever you asked me to?”

The two of you snuck up the stairs, giggles and stolen kisses left in your wake. You open the door, Matthew’s hands still toying your bathing suit top, “Just take it off already Matty.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Matthew breathes, his lips pressed against your neck while the garment falls to the floor, “So fucking beautiful.”

You back hit the mattress, Matthew’s hands running up your body slowly. Slow wasn’t in Matthew’s vocabulary, but he was taking his time just in case he never got this opportunity again. His fingers hooked under your bathing suit bottoms, sliding the wet fabric down your legs. You looked so beautiful, spread out just for Matthew like he’d dreamed about numerous times. His lips moved down to your breasts, teeth grazing against your skin while his tongue swirled against your nipple. You let out a breathy moan, Matthew’s ego boosting from the sound. You plucked at his curls while his mouth moved down to where you were craving him most, a gentle kiss to your clit, “Matty, please.”

“I didn’t peg you for the type to beg,” Matthew hums, pressing feather light kisses around your core. He stopped, gripping your thighs and looking up at you, “You sure about this?”

“Yes, please,” You whine, pussy dripping from Matthew’s hot breath fanning over it. Matthew chuckles darkly, fingers digging into your thighs when he flicked his tongue over your clit. You moan, completely unbothered by the blaring music a floor below you. Matthew didn’t seem to be bothered either, his tongue teasing your entrance while his nose rubbed against your clit, living for the way you were whimpering above him, “Matty-”

“Close baby?” Matthew groans, slipping a finger inside of you and curling it. You back arched, his name falling through your lips was enough to answer his question. Your legs shook, pleasure washing over your body from Matthew and all of it just felt so right. Matthew’s lips were latched to your skin until he finally met your eyes again. He smiles softly, nudging his nose with yours while you caught your breath, “So good for me.”

“Should’ve known you were that good with your mouth with the way you run it,” You tease smiling against his lips.

“Not with you, not anymore,” Matthew promises, soft blue eyes looking into yours, he meant it. He didn’t know how else to make it clearer, he wanted you. You kissed him slowly, hands trailing down his abs and stopping where his shorts hit his waist. Matthew kicks off his swim trunks, cock springing free. You grab the back of his neck, pulling your lips to his and rolling over top of him and straddling his waist. It was criminal how good you looked on top of him, “Gonna ride me babe?”

You nod, lining his dick up your core and lowering yourself on top of him. You let out a whine, Matthew’s smug smile on full display once he realized it was because of how big he was, “We don’t have to if my dick’s too big.”

“Oh shut up,” You roll your hips, watching the way Matthew’s head fell back, smirking because he really thought he had control here. Matthew’s hands gripped your waist, moving your hips faster. His finger flicked over your clit, causing you to lunge forward on top of him. Matthew flipped you over, wrapping a leg around his waist so he could hit your g-spot. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails leaving scratches Matthew was going to wear pride later. You were seeing stars, noises leaving your throat you’d never even heard yourself make, “Fuck, Matty, I’m gonna cum again.”

“Look at me,” Matthew grabs your chin, pressing his forehead against yours and watching while your eyes roll back with pleasure. Your pussy clenched around him, his own cum spilling into you from the sensation, a loud groan following. Matthew pressed a kiss to your forehead, his cock still buried inside of you, “I wasn’t bullshitting you, I mean every word Y/N.”

“Matthew,” You whisper, running a finger along his back, “The distance…”

You didn’t mention everything, the way that if this was real it meant it would end up ripping you both apart. You were set to live in a different city, Matthew all the way in another country. The way your dreams included a spot on the U.S. National team, and the idea that wanting to be with Matthew would hold you back was terrifying. The way his dreams probably meant staying in Calgary forever, a C on his jersey and a cup over his head. It wasn’t going to be easy, you weren’t ever going to be the doting girlfriend he probably needed. There would be years of travel schedules and games that overlapped, and a part of you thought that maybe Matthew wouldn’t be able to do it. You’d get a year in and he’d find someone who would be there more and finally you’d end it.

“We can make it work, baby I want you, I always have and I probably always will,” Matthew starts, baring his soul to another person for the first time in his goddamn life, “I want to support your dreams and have you be there for mine. I’m all in here, I don’t know how else to tell you.”

“Can I have some time?” You plead, holding onto Matthew’s shoulders because you knew he could leave and tell you to never speak to him again. Matthew sighs, understanding the way you were shitting yourself about starting your own professional career, remembering the way rookie Matthew would have died before he considered settling down that first year, “Please don’t leave me-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Matthew promises, rolling over and letting your rest on his chest, “I’ll wait for you.”

You smile, snuggling closer to him. Matthew didn’t sleep a minute that night, running every single scenario that could possibly happen with the two of you. Matthew was sure it would work out, it had to, because if it didn’t he wasn’t sure he’d be able to recover.

So now all he could was wait.

***

You know this is creepy right?

Matthew stares at Sam, punching his teammate in the arm lightly and telling him to shut up. He had a night off in Chicago, and after four straight hours of staring at your contact in his phone, Matthew finally just bought the tickets. He’d been good at keeping his distance, you needed space and he respected you enough to try and give it to you. He wasn’t doing so hot, Matthew consuming more soccer games than hockey games at this point. It started with your first game, because how was he supposed to just pretend like it wasn’t happening? You scored too, and it took everything in his power not to call you to tell you that not only was he right, he was insanely proud of you.

And he’d been hearing it from everyone. Your sister thought it was bullshit, Taryn and Jamie almost had Matthew on a flight to Chicago ready to show up like a terrible Lifetime movie. Brady thought it was hilarious the way Matthew was simping like this for one girl. Now, his teammates were on him, wondering why on Earth their friend who historically ran through women faster than he did mouthguards could be this hung up on someone he had a crush on in middle school.

“What number is she?” Sam asks, sipping the beer he forced Matthew to buy after making him go along with this.

“Nineteen,” Matthew smiles, pointing down at you on the field. You looked so happy, warming up with one of your teammates and a bright smile on your face. It seemed like a good fit, your team and your new city, and it made Matthew’s heart grow four sizes.

“Did she choose your number?” Sam jokes and Matthew mumbles something under his breath, “What?”

“It was her number first,” Matthew admits, not wanting to ever confess to another soul that you crossed his mind when he kept that camp number. Sam howled next to him, leaning over his seat and cracking up at his teammate.

You looked out in the crowd about halfway through the game, rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren’t seeing things. That tuft of curls was hard to miss, not to mention you knew just how big Matthew was. He was far too into the game to realize you caught him, up in arms about a call against your team that was valid but he’d argue it wasn’t. You asked for space, and it was getting harder to stick to your guns. Especially when he was making it so clear that he wanted this.

And whether or not you went to his game the next night, was a secret you’d take to the grave.

***

You were so close you could have tasted it.

While the final seconds of your season came to a close, all you could do was hold your head in your hands and hope no one caught the tears. A semi-final loss was devastating, but a semi-final loss where there wasn’t anything you could have done differently was even worse. Every athlete had off nights, a point Keith pushed right before you left to start your season, and he was right. Unfortunately, that was this game. Your biggest fear had come true and there was nothing you could do about it now. The game was over and you weren’t moving on.

And Matthew watched it.

Matthew promised you space, and he swore he’d give you the time you needed to settle down. But, this was something he couldn’t ignore. He could tell you were off, your entire rookie season was almost perfect and watching the way you folded during this game was gut wrenching. Matthew knew better than anyone, losing sucked. So he took the chance, grabbing his phone and shooting you a text he’d been waiting to send.

Doors open in Calgary.

and I’m so fucking proud of you.

It was the very last text you saw before you went to bed that night, tossing and turning for a few hours thinking about that loss. You couldn’t stop, every bone in your body was aching and you didn’t know what to do. So you bought a flight, packed your shit and was walking down the hallway to Matthew’s apartment without a second thought. You’d left him on read, calling Brady in the middle of the night and asking for his address, who gave it to you reluctantly with a reminder that if you needed to see him this badly you should rethink the needing time thing.

Matthew let out a groan when he had a bang at his door at three in the morning. Noah definitely was trying to walk into the wrong apartment again, and Matthew was grouchy when he whipped his door open. Except it wasn’t Noah after he’d had too many. It was you, teary eyed with your shit in a suitcase and a broken heart.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” You admit, whispering something you never thought you’d say to anyone, “I just didn’t do enough-”

Matthew didn’t say a word, pulling you into a bone crushing hug and holding you as tightly as he could. You didn’t need to hear it from him, about how things were out of your control and you did your best. You didn’t want that right now, you wanted him, “Baby…”

“Everything hurts,” You whimper, finally just letting it all out. You were bruised and battered from the season, the physical pain alone was enough to upset you, let alone the loss you just took. Matthew carded his fingers through your hair, letting you soak his bare chest with your tears because he wouldn’t have it any other way. You came back to him. You came back to him when things got too tough because you trusted him to bring you some peace, and he was happy about it.

You passed out sometime after that, your tears finally running dry and the exchaustion taking over your body. Matthew woke up early the next day, grateful for the optional morning skate so he could stay with you for just a little bit longer. The sun was just starting to peek through the curtains in his room, a calm snowy morning in Calgary so the city was just a bit quieter.

Matthew settled on breakfast, working away in his kitchen with the only thing he knew how to make. Tell her you made it, his mom’s words from just a few months prior in his head while he cooked. You padded out his bedroom, one of Matthew’s god awful beer shirts hanging from your frame while you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed a kiss into his back, “It’s cold here.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Matthew hums, internally pumping his fist when he felt your lips form a smile against his skin. You turned your head, pressing your cheek against his against and letting out a laugh, “What’s so funny?”

“You framed my jersey?” You ask, your eye catching a jersey that was way too familiar. It was hung up beside Matthew’s from his first all star game, both number nineteens staring back at you.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my favorite player,” Matthew hums, a blush covering his cheeks, “I’m so proud of you.”

“You keep saying that,” Matthew finally turns around, pressing a quick peck to your lips.

“I’ll keep saying it long after we both retire,” Matthew speaks, words clear and sure because he’s had plenty of time to practice this one, “I’ll say it when you win a World Cup gold, I’ll say it when we have kids, I’ll say when you play at the Olympics. I’m going to say it over and over again.”

“But…” You trail off, all of those same demons you’d been fighting when it came to your whatever this was with Matthew, “What I’m not around enough for you?”

Matthew knew what you were thinking about, he’d thought about it plenty too. There were countless sleepless nights where all he did was wonder if you’d find someone in Chicago who could support you better than he could. He’d do his best, he swore he would, but in order for you to be happy, your passion came first. There was always going to be times when he couldn’t be there and it killed him.

“You’re more than enough,” Matthew promises, his lips ghosting over yours, “I want you to seize every opportunity in the world, I just want to be there to tell you that I love you and use the goat emoji on Instagram when you do.”

You let out a laugh, Matthew’s smile wide enough to see his dimples you loved so much, “I think I want to stay a little while.”

“I think you should,” Matthew agrees, capturing your lips in his, “Besides I’m playing tonight and I think I need to show off now.”

“You’re a cocky asshole.”

“But now I’m your cocky asshole.”

***

One year Later

You had a good reason to be late.

You swore Matthew couldn’t possibly be mad at you for this one. You’d missed your flight to Calgary, a few days post a second loss in the semi finals that you’d been taking much better this time around. Mainly because Matthew wasn’t there, but his stupid smile and words of encouragement where there on facetime hours later. That wasn’t the reason you were late, the reason you were late was because you’d received the most insane news of your life and it was an important phone or that flight. You’d caught the next one, legs shaking not to just call him and share the news, but you needed to tell him in person.

You’d finally gotten by the doors to the locker room entrance, out of breath from spriting there from your cab. There was Matthew, tapping his phone and staring at the clock on his phone with furrowed eyebrows. He was still in his suit, tie pulled a little looser, a nervous habit you realized he had some time ago, “Matty-”

“Don’t call me that just because you know you’re late,” Matthew huffs, already ready for the pout that would have followed so he’d forget all about the fact that you promised you’d make it on time. He holds his hand out, waiting for the handshake he made up in the car on the way to the first game you went to after he finally locked it down. You laugh, slapping your hand against his and letting him pull you closer for a kiss.

“They want me on the National Team,” You mumble against his lips, the words spilling out of your mouth when you pull away with an excited smile. Matthew stood there stunned, while you shuffled your feet in the little dance you did when you were really happy. He grabs your cheeks, pressing kisses to your lips again and again.

“We’re celebrating after this, holy shit,” Matthew cheers, still stunned by your news, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, now go score a few goals so we have even more to celebrate,” You kiss him one more time, pushing him before the door before he was late.

“Anything I do seems unimportant now!” Matthew calls out, a light laugh to his voice as he watched you walk away to go sit in the stands.

And that’s how Matthew thought it should be.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

969 notes · View notes

astaroth1357 · 4 years

Text

The (Un)Dateables Catch the MC Dancing/Singing By Themselves

Full disclosure, couldn't think of anything for Luke... Sorry.

Diavolo

There are some human rituals that Diavolo finds just fascinating… One of them being the act of filming yourself dancing to a short clip of music then posting said film to the internet. He hears it's a surprisingly popular human world activity!

So maybe the MC shouldn’t have been AS surprised by his reaction when he walked in on them doing the latest internet dance craze alone in the RAD Student Council room. They have figured that he would scold them for doing something so silly in such an important place… but he actually seemed intrigued!

Actually, scratch that. He was delighted!

Maybe it’s his human world fascination or because Barbatos never lets him have any fun - or maybe he just wanted the chance to be a part of something with the little human - but he insisted that the MC teach him the steps to whatever they were doing so he could join in!

A couple hours later, Levi and Asmo are running around to all their brothers and thrusting a viral video of the MC and the Prince of Hell dancing together on whatever the Devildom version of TikTok is...

And somewhere parallel to that, Lucifer is trying desperately not to choke on his own coffee as Diavolo sends him that same video over chat with the message:

Diavolo: Lucifer! Lucifer!

Diavolo: I think I’ve become a meme! :D

And lo, a new TikTok duo was born.

Barbatos

Afternoon tea at the Castle is both a very extravagant and yet casual affair. Barbatos always provides the best service and the grandiose setting of the palace give everything an air of splendor, but getting to actually sit and chat with the butler is anything but stiff and formal.

It’s usually calming more than anything. The kind of activity that shouldn’t feel as relaxed as it is but always somehow turns into a tranquil, dare say familiar, experience.

So it really should have been expected that the MC would feel comfortable enough to sing a little om--in the garden’s gazebo while they waited for Barbs to brew their tea. They must have thought they were alone… but not really.

Very few things that happen in the castle without Barbs knowing about it. He was bound to walk in on them eventually. 🤷‍♀️

And of course Barbs, being Barbs, left no hint that he was listening until they were pretty much done with the song. All he did was quietly clear his throat from where he had been standing, leaving the MC to wonder if he had been standing there the whole time... (Seriously, this man could be a ninja. He’s so hard to notice sometimes…)

When he brought their cup over to them, he just smiled at their embarrassment and caught their chin between his fingers...

“While I had intended to prepare oolong tea for us tonight, perhaps I should have brought you chamomile instead? I would hate for such a lovely voice to get strained... Should I go fetch us some now?”

Barbatos used Charm! It was Super Effective!... MC fainted…. 😔

Simeon

Libraries are usually quiet places and the RAD library is no exception. Unless a natural loudmouth like Mammon or Asmo passes through, most of the time it’s dead silent in there.

Now, the RAD library is also HUGE. If you were to walk from on end to the other, you’d pass by hundreds of shelves of old tomes, spellbooks, novels, scrolls, songbooks… just almost every kind of print in the world. Someone can go in with a friend and, if they weren’t paying attention, lose track of them for an hour at least.

So the MC could honestly be forgiven for thinking that they could sing to themselves without anyone noticing. What were the chances that a demon student would want to go by the Christian fiction section???

Well, though it was true a demon may not want anything to do with the overly Jesus-y stuff, an angel may enjoy poking some lighthearted fun at it. Or at least one angel in particular, anyway.

Poor MC could have gone from singing to screaming when Simeon came up behind them and popped out one of their earbuds! Though he wasn’t particularly sneaky or anything, they just had their back to him and he thought it’d be cute to see them jump… 🙄

That still didn’t stop him from smiling inches from their face like he totally didn’t know exactly what he was doing right then.

“I’m sorry, MC, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Whether or not the MC wanted to complain, they get cut off by a warm, gloved finger pressed against their lips.

“You really shouldn’t be singing in libraries, MC… They’re meant to be quiet places. But if you’d like to sing somewhere else, I’d love to come along! I think your voice is just stunning, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Translation: Someone’s looking for a private show... The sly bastard... 😖

Solomon

The MC's first mistake was rummaging through Solomon's things and assuming everything would be fine.

They weren’t doing anything nefarious, they were just looking for a particular spellbook of his, but Solomon keeps his laboratory bedroom at a near constant state of clutter.

They can't really remember how it happened… Maybe their hand brushed a bottle that knocked over a test tube then rolled across a table to hit something else and so on - but as they were searching they found themselves struck with a sudden uncontrollable urge to… dance.

Dance with all their might! Dance like the world was ending!! Dance until they could no longer stand!!! DANCE DAMMIT DANCE!!!

And that's how Solomon found them. Moving and shaking like their life depended on it in the middle of his bedroom… It didn't take him long to work out what happened.

You know that French Dancing Plague? The one that caused a town to dance until they dropped? … Would you believe that he may know a thing or two about how that started? Not ALL of his experiments are successful you know.

The merciful man would have cured the MC of their affliction on the spot. … But the clever man sees an opportunity. 😏

What's the harm in doing a little dancing when he can have such a lovely partner all to himself, yeah? 😌

And so, he let the plague consume him and danced the night away with the MC in his arms (with the spell needed to the cure the “plague” still totally in his memory, of course).

Meanwhile, it had already begun to spread to Luke and Simeon… then got carried to the House and Demon Lord's Castle… and then to the rest of Devildom as all of Hell's denizens danced for hours utterly mystified by their own actions.

The event would later be known as "The Festival of Madness," Devildom historians to this day still don't know what caused it… (and he's not itching to explain either. Let's let that just stay a little secret between him and MC, cool?)

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #this was only written for the dia idea #and i can't write solomon in a way that's not chaotic...#obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me undateables #obey me datables #obey me date those guys now

863 notes · View notes

dialovers-translations · 3 years

Text

Diabolik Lovers DARK FATE ー Kanato Dark [Prologue]

ー The scene starts in the Demon World

Yui: Haah, haah, haah...

( Just look at how red the moon is...The lunar eclipse is really still ongoing here in Demon World. )

( It still doesn’t quite click with me how the door in the manor’s basement connects to another world but... )

( For now, I’m just glad I made it here safely. )

ー The scene shifts to the forest

Yui: ( Now I just need to make it to the manor where everyone is. )

( But...Which way should I go? )

( I assumed I would just figure things out as I go but... )

...

???: This way, Yui-san.

Yui: Kanato-kun...!?

Kanato: Haah...I told you to wait...So why are you here?

Yui: ...W-Well...I got scared after all...I’m sorry...

Kanato: No need to apologize, really.

I was just on my way to return to your side myself.

Yui: Eh...?

Kanato: While I did tell you to wait for me...

It would be foolish to assume a clumsy, slowpoke such as yourself can actually survive by themselves.

Therefore I was just about to be so kind to come and pick you up.

Yui: Kanato-kun...

Kanato: For one...You belong to me, so it only makes sense for you to be by my side.

You understand, don’t you?

Yui: Yeah...

( To think he was on his way to me as well... )

( It might be strange to feel happy at a time like this but...I truly am. )

Kanato: ...Fufu.

You look rather joyful now, considering you had a nearly lifeless expression on your face before I called out to you.

Did you miss me that much?

Yui: T-That’s, well...Yeah. I missed you, Kanato-kun.

Kanato: You are quite the handful. (1) ...Oh well, I guess it’s fine.

ー He steps back

Kanato: More importantly, let’s get going.

Yui: Yeah!

( I should be able to safely make it to the castle together with Kanato-kun. Aah...Thank god... )

Say, Kanato-kun. Is the castle far from here?

Kanato: Well, it’s decently far. I’m sure it’d feel like quite the trip with those weak, human feet of yours.

However, that doesn’t matter. We won’t be returning to the castle after all.

Yui: Eh...?

Kanato: The place shouldn’t matter to you as long as the two of us are together, right?

Besides, the castle is crawling with people who will only get in our way. Hence why we won’t go back there.

Right, how about we hold a picnic together? Yes, let’s do that.

Yui: ( I guess I should have expected this much from Kanato-kun... )

Sure, Kanato-kun. Let’s have a picnic together.

Kanato: Yes. Although that was already settled the moment I decided it, regardless of whether you’d agree or not.

Right, there’s lunar eclipse flowers blooming just ahead ofーー

???: ...Hehe...A leisurely picnic at a time like this...

ー Shin shows up

Shin: Guess you guys really have no idea what kind of situation you’re in, do you?

Yui: ( Ah, that transfer student...!? Shin-kun, was it...? Why is he here...? )

Shin: Kanato...was it? In what kind of way did Karlheinz raise you?

Kanato: ...Shut up...

Hmph...I thought you were suspicious from the first time I laid my eyes upon you...

So you are one of us ーー A creature from the Demon World after all, aren’t you?

Shin: Yeah, exactly. Or rather, I thought you figured that one out ages ago, but maybe I was wrong?

But you know...I’d rather not have you mistakenly believe we’re the same as you guys.

Yui: W-What do you mean...?

Shin: We are Founders. Those who stand above the Vampire race...No, above all other species in the Demon World.

ーー If I put it clearly like that, I’m sure even you two will be able to comprehend, right?

Kanato: ...Ugh.

Yui: ( Founders...? The ones Reiji-san mentioned...!? )

Kanato: I will admit...You smell different from us Vampires.

Let’s say I give you the benefit of the doubt and take your word for it...

So? What does that mean exactly then?

Shin: ...

...Hehe...Ahaha!

Kanato: What’s so funny?

Shin: What do you mean? ...Haha...Seems like you’re still a kid both on the inside and the outside.

Kanato: Wha...!?

Shin: Whatever, they say that when dealing with children, you have to explain it to them in a way even they can understandーー

ー Wolves start surrounding them

*GROOOOWL*

Yui: ( T-There’s so many of them...! )

( Then the ones who attacked Ayato-kun must have been Shin-kun’s as well... )

Shin: Kanato. If you hand over that woman without putting up a fight, I don’t mind letting you go unscathed?

Yui: ( M-Me...!? )

Shin: What will you do?

Kanato: ーー No. I don’t know what your plans are, but she belongs to me.

Shin: Nnー ...That means you’ll meet your end here, but I guess you’re okay with that?

Kanato: Hah? Of course not.

I’ve heard enough. Let’s go already.

ー Kanato grabs hold of Yui’s hand

Yui: Ah...!

ー The two of them run off

Shin: Oh...? I guess you want me to play hide-and-seek with you?

Sure! Go ahead and show me your best hiding attempt!

I’ll make sure to find you before you get lonely and start crying! Ahahaha...!

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to a cave

Yui: Haah, haah, haah...

I guess we should be okay after coming this far...?

Kanato: ...Yes...I can no longer sense those Wolves’ presence.

What was his problem...? He kept on talking as if he knows it all...

Yui: ( Kanato-kun’s upset... )

Say, Kanato-kun? You shouldn’t take his words to heaーー

( Ah, my foot...hurts...Seems like I badly twisted it somewhere. The second I eased up, the pain suddenly hit... )

Kanato: What’s the matter? Why did you suddenly go quiet?

Yui: Well...

( Kanato-kun seems really agitated right now, so I should probably keep quiet about my foot. )

It’s nothing. Don’t worry.

Kanato: ...Really? Your complexion seems rather pale though.

Yui: That’s...Um, I guess it’s from running so much. It’s fine, so don’t woーー Uu...

Kanato: ...You really are hiding something from me, aren’t you?

Yui: I-I’m no...Ow...

( I can’t...The pain keeps on getting worse... )

Kanato: ...Your foot...? Your foot hurts, doesn’t it? I’m sure it does. If you won’t tell me the truth, I’ll get mad.

Yui: ...Yeah...Seems like I twisted it at some point...

Kanato: I knew it...

Why didn’t you tell me it hurts?

Yui: I didn’t want to bother you with trivial matters...

Kanato: Trivial?

The fact you can barely move because your foot hurts is ‘trivial’?

For one, I’m long aware that you’re a hopeless, slow-witted klutz.

Yet I’m willing to keep you by my side like this...

...Or maybe...

You look down on me as well?

Yui: Eh...?

Kanato: Do you think of me as an unreliable child!? Just like Shin does!

Yui: I-I don’t...

Kanato: Then why didn’t you tell me!?

Yui: Kanato-kun...

Kanato: Whatever...It’s fine. I don’t want to hear another word from you.

You are forbidden from speaking until I give you permission to talk again.

Yui: ( I guess right now, I have no other choice but to obey rather than to try and reason with him... )

Okaーー

Kanato: I said not another word, didn’t I!?

Yui: ( R-Right...I’ll just quietly nod instead... )

*Rustle*

Kanato: Hmph...

*HOOOOOWL*

Yui: ( Ah...! A wolf’s howling...They’re already this close...!? )

( O-Oh no...We have to make a run for it... )

Kanato: ...Those pests...Just how annoying are they?

If I recall correctly...Wolves are afraid of flames. If only we could light a fire somehow...

Yui: ( Can we even do that without the right tools...? )

( I was told not to speak but... )

Y-You know, Kanato-kun. We should probably think about making our escape insteaーー

Kanato: Why do you keep on opening that mouth of yours?

Yui: ...Ugh.

Kanato: For one...I’m well aware.

However...In your current condition, even just walking would be difficult, no?

Are you telling me to run away by myself? Don’t make fun of me.

Yui: ( Right. Kanato-kun’s trying to look out for me... )

( Yet I went and ran my mouth again. )

*HOOOOWL*

Kanato: ...Ugh.

Listen.

ー He steps closer

Kanato: If we stay here, they’ll find us.

So we’ll run as I carry you in my arms. Now, come here.

Yui: ( K-Kanato-kun will? But... )

Kanato: ...What’s the matter? Do you think of me as an unreliable weakling?

ーー Come here already. I shall give you permission to say ‘okay’ at least.

Yui: ( Kanato-kun... )

...Okay.

I’ll be counting on you, Kanato-kun...Ah, sorry, I just ran my mouth again...

Kanato: ...Well, I suppose it’s fine. You’ve been forgiven.

All you need to do is rely on and depend on me, without ever leaving my side.

*HOOOOWL*

Kanato: ...Oh.

Let’s go.

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ( Wah...! )

ー The scene shifts to the forest

Shin: Fufu...Look at them frantically running away...Two lovers eloping together? Bullshit.

Good grief...But you know, Nii-san. Are you sure we should leave things like this?

Wouldn’t it be much easier to just capture them right here, right now?

Carla: ...It is fine. We can leave them be for now.

Shin: Hm...I mean, I’ll listen.

It’s kinda hilarious to see a little kid trying his best to be big and strong. (2)

Kanato, you better put your best foot forward for her sake. Fufu...!

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the living room in the Sakamaki manor

Yui: ( We’ve made it back to the manor in the human world, but it’s a complete mess... )

Kanato: Phew...Now that we’ve made it this far, we should be fine for a bit.

Yui: Yeah...

Kanato: What’s the matter? You look rather glum. Does your foot still hurt perhaps?

Yui: T-That’s not it. It has gotten a lot better already. It’s just, well...

Kanato: What? Speak up already.

Yui: ...I was just wondering if it’s fine for just us to return to the manor like this...

Kanato: Oh, so that’s it...

ーー There’s no issue.

For one...Everyone is way too cautious. I would never mess up the same way Ayato did.

Above all, we can enjoy some private time together here, can’t we?

You’ve got complaints regardless?

Yui: N-No. I’m not complaining.

Kanato: I thought so.

In that case, let us treat your injury at once.

Yui: Yeah...

( It’ll be okay. I’ll be fine as long as we’re together like this... )

( I’m sure everything will be just fine...Right? )

...

Kanato: ...

...Why do you make that face...?

Yui: Eh...?

Kanato: ...It’s nothing.

...Ugh.

Yui: ( Kanato-kun...? )

( I wonder what’s wrong...? )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) More specifically, he calls her his ‘belonging’ or ‘possession’ right now, using the term 所有物 or ‘shoyuubutsu’.

(2) Literally he says that it’s funny to see a kid stand on their toes and stretch to make themselves taller.

→ LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

<- [ Sakamaki Prologue ] [ Dark 01 ] ->

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #kanato sakamaki #dark fate #diabolik lovers translation #dfkanatodarkprolog

53 notes · View notes

anntoldst0ries · 4 years

Text

None shall sleep (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart 3, post Chapter 5 Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count/Rating: ~1.8k, T Summary: In the privacy of the diagnostic's office, Ethan & Noelle reflect on recent changes around them. Category/Warnings: Fluff, None Trope: And there was a bit of Hurt/Comfort

A/N: This chapter reminded me of things that have never been addressed... so this is a story of how things left unsaid all collided in my head. Hope you enjoy.

Also - yes, Ethan Ramsey can sing arias. Is anyone still truly surprised by the fact that this guy can do anything?

There is something mesmerizing about watching the lights of day go out, overpowered by darkness, ablaze with colours - from the depths of blue, through indigo, navy and all the way to pitch-black.

About how, in a sense, it washes away all the bothers and allows you to start anew with the next rise of the almighty sun.

Ethan Ramsey was hoping for this exactly, maybe more than ever, but all the signs showed it wasn’t in the cards for him.

Or at least not today.

He stared into the void, interwoven by occasional human figures passing by through the front lobby. No voices of the day were able to reach him on the 7th floor of his kingdom. Behind the glass wall, he was almost in a different world.

It had been yet another day that brought him more gritted teeth, holding himself back and resigned sighs, than actual satisfaction from helping those who counted on him. All these ‘activities’ were not only annoying but also highly energy-consuming.

Bringing the index and middle fingertips to his pulsating temples, he started to compress and massage them in small circles, trying to soothe the pounding inside his skull. He could hear the blood rushing through the highways of his veins, the sound almost drowning out all external stimuli.

But there were certain sounds his expert ear was trained on, the ones he would’ve recognized even in his sleep.

Like the one reaching his ears right now, the sound of the door handle being pressed.

With his back facing the door, he couldn’t see who was trying to impose on his much-needed solitude. But since the unexpected guest did not precede their ministrations by knocking, the possibilities narrowed down significantly. There were only two people on the premises of Edenbrook who could invade his personal space without a modicum of manners.

“Can I help you?” He modulated his voice to ensure the tone was expressing two things: annoyance and irony in the otherwise polite question.

“I’m sorry.” From all the voices, this one he did not expect to hear now. A melodic tone was joined by a scuffle of retreating steps. “Do you want me to go?”

Ethan curled his lips in a tiny smile. They both knew she wasn’t apologetic and that he wanted anything but her to leave.

“No, it’s just that there are only two people in this hospital that wouldn’t bother knocking and I thought it was one of them paying me a visit.”

“Let me guess… Zaid and Baz?”

“No, but in terms of concept, you were actually close…just another type of evil ‘twins’."

“Oh, you mean his majesty King Bloom & his annoyance Dr Carrick?”

“Even as a joke, it sounds creepy and horrible.”

“Well, count me as a third now. Heads up though, I will only stop knocking after twilight.”

It was clear as crystal Ethan’s already specific sense of humor had less than ever space for amusement.

“I brought you this.” She put a brown paper bag on his desk, which immediately revealed the aroma of something delicious. “I figured you’re probably gonna stay here all night, so I thought I’ll pop over and check on you.”

He didn’t say anything, staring into the darkness. Not because he didn’t want to - he simply didn’t know what. This simple gesture was very touching and filled him with gratitude. But he was lacking the right words.

Then, for the first time since she’s interrupted his train of thought, he turned around to look at her. Tired and with puffy eyes, she’d still put everyone else to shame. Even on the worst of days, the light radiating from her turned heads and made the room brighter.

She extended a hand and when their fingers touched, he felt this weird, tingly feeling that has traveled from his palm, through his arm and neck, and then straight to his core.

Pressing him gently against the edge of the desk, she took his glasses off. Then loosened his tie and nonchalantly disheveled his hair. Ethan wouldn’t let anyone else in the world touch them, let alone put them in a state of such disarray.

With her, all the rules existed only to be broken.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on in this big brain of yours?”

“Smart move, Valentine. You’ve pacified me so that now I will have no choice but to tell you whatever you want to know.”

“You always have a choice, let’s just hope you’re gonna make the right one.”

Ethan nodded, no sound escaping his lips. She knew she’d have to take it upon herself to get any information out of her stubborn converser.

“So, how are you holding up? I want an honest answer."

“I’ve been better.”

“I thought so.”

“It’s just that… Tobias is driving me crazy. His presence really tests my patience… I don’t know if I would’ve stopped myself from punching him had it not been for you.”

“Why thank you, I didn’t know my therapeutic services were that good.”

“They are.” Ethan cleared his throat. “But it’s… not just that.”

Dead silence lingered between them and he knew he had no other choice but to continue.

“The only reason why I haven’t wiped this ridiculous smirk off his face yet is that whenever I look at him, I… I see you in that room with Travis. I’m trying to remind myself that, as much as I hate to admit it, he was crucial to finding the cure on such short notice.”

“Ethan…”

“I already told you” - he interrupted her as if not to stop the words from flowing, afraid they may be trapped forever otherwise - “that there was so much more at stake last time Tobias set foot in Edenbrook.”

She took a deep breath, her eyes going slightly wider.

“The truth is, for me… everything was at stake. I would’ve done anything he’d asked me to, I’d have forgiven him if it meant saving you.”

Elle turned still, all her body movements, her breathing and even her blinking ceased.

It was one of those moments that mean so much but leave you with so little to say.

Using the power of non-verbal communication and their deep affinity, she bestowed on him the most gentle, loving and grateful expression her face could muster after yet another exhausting shift.

Ethan extended his arm and before she realized it, her back was gently pressed to the older doctor’s chest. Having wrapped her slender frame with his broad shoulders, Elle inhaled his familiar aroma. He smelled of comfort and felt like a safe harbor. He nudged her hair with his nose and placed a featherlight kiss on the crook of her neck. She smelled of calmness and felt like coming back home from a long journey.

“So,” - he murmured directly into her ear - “whether you like it or not, I am using you to soften the blow every time I look at Tobias’ face.”

“I think I can live with that.”

“But I can’t guarantee it will always be enough, he is a cocky son of a bitch.”

“Let's make a deal then. I see how much it costs you and I’m not telling you to trust Leland or forgive Tobias, I still believe you should be cautious. Let’s just wait and see where this goes, I think we’ll know sooner rather than later. In the meantime, we should focus on what matters the most, our patients.”

“Where is the deal part?”

“If it turns out you were right, I will hold Tobias and you will punch him. Deal?”

“I believe it should be the other way round. Declan Nash’s face told me your right hook is exquisite, Rookie.”

They both laughed at the memory which seemed so distant now, almost as if it's happened in another lifetime.

But Ethan went quiet again and she felt his body tense up, his arms tightening gently around her. It wasn’t very obvious, but she knew. It still came as a shock how well she actually knew him.

“Ethan? What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Ethan.”

“I’m sorry, I am not the most cheery companion today. You’re probably better off not spending too much time with me before you turn into a cynic.”

“Dr Ramsey, what a pathetic attempt of trying to get rid of me. You’ve never been the most cheerful type and I’ve survived your gloomy companionship, hell, I think it grew on me over time. So I should be ok today, too.”

It looked like silence was very much their third companion today.

“I’m thinking about Francis.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I’m thinking about how hard it would be not to see. So many beautiful things, colors, all turning into nothingness.”

“I take it you mean the opera?”

“That too, but let’s just say I’ve learned to appreciate things that are right in front of my nose… literally and figuratively.”

The butterflies started somersaulting in her stomach.

“I didn’t want to add more to your plate at the time, but I’ve already felt this way… when we diagnosed Caroline and Leland.”

It was funny that, despite his obvious animosity towards Bloom, whenever his wife was in the picture, he spoke about both in an almost affectionate way. His doctor’s instincts were kicking in, because first and foremost he was a doctor who had his patients’ best interest at heart.

“The thought of not being able to touch you…it reminded me of touching you through the layer of hazmat suit. And now with everything Francis has been through, I just can’t be bothered to think about anything else but you. This is my true personal connection to this case.”

It was her turn to be speechless.

Ethan tightened his grip over her once again, this time protectively rather than out of stress. Slow hum started filling the air, the melody soon joined by lyrics, which he sang in fluent Italian; a private concert, performed for her and her only.

Tu pure, oh Principessa

Nella tua fredda stanza

Guardi le stelle

Che tremano d'amore

E di speranza**

She remembered their patient’s face, which seemed calmer once Ethan started singing the aria before the depths of illness contorted it with pain.

Francis' husband's words echoed throughout her head.

Even though the man holding her in his arms didn’t say it, there was no need.

She knew.

He will always be here.

And she will always be here, too.

-----

** Lyrics - aria "Nessun Dorma" (‘None shall sleep’) from the opera "Turandot".

Translation:

Even you, oh Princess,

In your cold room,

Watch the stars,

That tremble with love

And with hope.

Tag 🔖 list: @starrystarrytrouble @genevievemd @sophxwithers @maurine07 @lovingramsey @iemcpbchoices @oldminniemcg @schnitzelbutterfingers @archxxronrookie @jamespotterthefirst @the-pale-goddess @queencarb @fireycookie @qrkowna @coffeeheartaddict @utterlyinevitable @gryffindordaughterofathena @xxsugarplumfluffsxx @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @mrs-ramsey @tsrookie @fayeswiftie @mercury84choices @lisha1valecha @lucy-268 @stateofgracious @danijimenezv @alina-yol-ramsey

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

#ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #playchoices #ethan x noelle

132 notes · View notes

innocentbi-stander · 4 years

Note

Can you do demigod jaskier? But this time he is the son of Hecate?

@localhalfvampire I need to preface this by saying you’re an absolute GENIUS

Demigod jaskier, but son of Hecate has so much untapped potential and I’m LIVING for it

A jaskier who has magic, who hides himself from detection by using his abilities to manipulate the Mist that shields demigods from discovery from the rest of the world (he shivers to think of what sorcerers like that bastard Stregobor would do if they realized that demigods, sources of pure godly power and ability were walking about the Continent, free to manipulate)

Obviously children of Hecate possess an innate talent for magic, each level of magical ability depending on the child, but nobody, not even Hecate herself, had been prepared for the unintentional powerhouse that is jaskier

And how fitting is it that the person who would care about ability levels the least ends up the most powerful child of Hecate to walk the Continent since Circe herself?

Jaskier was brought to camp at a young age, his noble father unwilling to deal with the baby of his one night stand with a goddess

He is raised amongst demigods and taught to defend himself and defend others from the monsters that plague the children of the gods

A sword is placed in his hand as soon as he is strong enough to grasp it, he learns to throw daggers with deadly accuracy, to shoot arrows at a target blindfolded

For all that jaskier is taught to be fierce, and witty, to speak gracefully with a silver tongue, there is nothing he picks up faster than magic

Magic to jaskier is like breathing, for he was born from the goddess of magic herself, it is woven into every piece of his being

Hecate is a tough parent, and she believes in challenging her children and their abilities, and so it is no wonder when jaskier leaves camp to explore the world on his own, though he visits often

And then jaskier meets geralt and the rest is history

He spends twenty years chasing after the witcher (and though twenty years is not really a blink in the eye of an immortal demigod such as jaskier, that still matters) , there’s many hunts and contracts, aftermaths of jaskier stitching up geralt and lying about where he learned to sew skin so neatly

There’s evenings spent by the campfire, playing his lute and trying to ignore the way the firelight dances in geralt’s amber eyes

There’s laughs in taverns after a bit too much to drink, there’s lute strings tucked into his bag and no word of where they came from (though he knows), apples for Roach amongst complaints of destroying her diet, doublets ruined by days in the wilderness, and geralt’s barely there smile when jaskier produces honey cakes ‘given’ to him by the local baker

There’s inns, and shared rooms, then shared beds, and shared baths closer than close, and then there’s the djinn, and yennefer, and growing apart bit by bit

Jaskier possesses some of the greatest magic in the world, and there’s nothing he can do except watch the love of his life pick someone else over and over again and pretend not to be slowly falling apart

And then the mountain

Jaskier is alone for a little bit after that, wandering aimlessly

He travels across the Continent, killing monsters that the rest of the world can’t even see, wiping yellow sulphur dust from his hands and wishing he was somewhere else

Jaskier visits camp and stays there for a while, but no matter how many times he comes back jaskier is a traveler at heart and never stays for long

Not far past the borders of camp, at a nearby village, jaskier learns that nilfgaard has been looking for him

He can’t bring himself to be even remotely surprised then when he’s ambushed on the path a day later

The first few parties of soldiers are easily dispatched with the use of his sword and daggers, but then at some point nilfgaard realizes that the ‘harmless’ bard has teeth and sends a small army

Jaskier really should have laid low and hid himself amongst the Mist ages ago, but he’s never been one for hiding (and frankly he’s a little bit insulted that nilfgaard seems to have thought him so easy to defeat and resolves to knock them down a few pegs)

Unbeknownst to the demigod/bard/whatever the hell else he is right now, there’s been a rather frantic witcher accompanied by a witch and a princess that have been searching for him for ages, following the trail of bloody groups of soldiers

Geralt hears of the army sent after his bard and reacts first with confusion on why an army is needed to take down one human man, and then feels blind panic. Rather hysterically, as he’s shoving his, yennefer, and ciri’s things into roach’s saddlebags, is the thought, he’s going to tear them apart

Which really makes no sense given that jaskier is fucking human, but geralt has always felt something off about him, something bigger, and regardless of that he’s seen jaskier’s more feral side and is comforted slightly by the thought that jaskier is hardly the type to go down without a wicked fight

Yennefer is less reassured by this information (your bard is going to get torn apart, not the other way around!) and ushers them off immediately

When they reach the clearing where whispers of nilfgaardian soldiers has lead them, there is an entire small army present, at at the other side in the most bizarre looking fashion, is jaskier

He stands alone, but he does not look afraid

Jaskier faces the army of nilfgaardian soldiers, his doublet a shade of midnight blue, sword in hand, and a fierce look in his eyes that for some reason sends chills down geralt’s spine

He assesses the army, silent and calculating, finding something that nobody else can see

The captain of the army shouts an order and the men charge forward, a smirk reaches jaskier’s lips

The army’s movement sparks geralt into action, what is he doing just fucking standing there, and he unsheathes his sword to somehow help his bard

But then there is a well manicured hand on his arm and a spell stopping his feet from moving farther, and geralt looks to yennefer to ask her what the hell she thinks she’s doing and pauses at the curious look in her eye

“Wait” she mumbles to him, brow furrowed, “Something isn’t right”

And geralt turns back to the battlefield and jaskier’s eyes are glowing

Jaskier sees the army charging forward and it takes everything in him not to laugh. They are fools, every single one of them

Jaskier whispers a quick prayer to the gods for luck (even though he doesn’t need it), and lets his magic explode

When the screams fade and there is nothing in the clearing but ash and blood drying in the dirt, jaskier wills his magic to return to his body

He scrubs at a little spot of blood that had managed to stain his sleeve, a new doublet at that, and considers maybe it is time to hide amongst the Mist, if not to save his poor beautiful clothing

The snap of a twig interrupts his musings and brings jaskier to alert, the hum of his magic singing through his veins, hands at the ready

Jaskier goes deadly still when across the clearing he spies two ghosts from his past, one of them with a rather unflattering look of shock across his face, and the other looking way too pleased with herself

When they both start to make their way to him, jaskier debates on whether he still has enough energy in him to shadow travel, anything to make a speedy getaway and the fuck away from this horrible confrontation

He raises his hands , willing the shadows to lengthen and warp, ignoring the persistence dizziness and figuring there’s no better way to find out than to try, only to be stopped by a sharp, “don’t even think about it bard”

His response is instant and without hesitation, “who the fuck made you the boss of me? If I want to get the hell away from here I’m very well going to, I don’t give fuck all what you’ve got to say about it”

Yennefer’s eyes narrowed and she snatched one of his hands, still shaking with overexertion. “I think your hands tell a different story, you’re exhausted.”

“Yes, well defeating armies will do that to anyone I suppose”, Jaskier reclaimed his hand and tried to ignore the fact that geralt had yet to do anything but stare

Purple eyes examined him carefully, “You never told me you had magic”

Jaskier laughed, a hollow sound even to his own ears, “I don’t really, not your kind. It’s a long story”

“Then you’ll have plenty of time to tell us when we get to Kaer Morhen”, at last, the White wolf had spoken and unsurprisingly jaskier liked absolutely none of what he had to say

He sputtered, and he was sure his cheeks were turning that infuriating shade of red they always assumed when he was particularly pissed off, “I’m not going with you anywhere!”

Geralt turned to the bard, focusing on him with an intensity that jaskier before the mountain would have killed to receive “Nilfgaard isn’t going to stop. They want Ciri. The armies will keep getting bigger and bigger, until whatever fucking powers you have aren’t enough”

Jaskier scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest “I can handle myself”

Something in Geralt’s eyes softened “I know you can. But you don’t, shouldn’t, have to. Come with us. Just for the winter. Then you can go wherever you want. Please”

There was a long moment between them, amber and blue staring into each other’s depths. Jaskier didn’t know what to think. It had been made clear on the mountain that the witcher didn’t give a damn about jaskier, and jaskier wasn’t big on wasting his time in places he wasn’t wanted. His heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

But geralt had never pleaded with him like that, never said please. There was a desperation in his eyes that jaskier had never seen before and without his permission he felt his heart melt a little. What was one winter?

“Fine.” jaskier spoke carefully, trying to ignore the small smile that formed on geralt’s face. “I’ll come for the winter. But after that I’m leaving and I’ll be out of your life for good”

Jaskier hadn’t forgiven Geralt. He was owed an apology, and a thousand other things. Yennefer was still a bitch, and he had no idea how geralt’s brothers and mentor would react to a demigod in their midst. But jaskier was lonely, and tired of being on his own, and as much as he hated it there was a part of him that had desperately missed his witcher, no matter how much he had hurt him.

It was just one winter, right?

He’d figure it out….. somehow

_______________

That went in an entirely different direction than I was originally intending, but the story just got away from me... I hope you enjoyed!

What do you think folks, worthy of a part 2?

378 notes · View notes

vidalinav · 4 years

Text

Sister’s Day

Summary: Sometimes when you’re sick, you’re not actually sick; or Nesta doesn’t want to go out with the Inner Circle and instead of being left on her own Feyre, Elain, and Cassian opt to stay with her...

Read on AO3 and fanfic; General Masterlist

Her sisters keep looking at her. She can see their not-so-subtle glances as they casually reach for the shelf next to her or explain that they need to grab a book somewhere behind. The light is dim, you’ll hurt your eyes if you read in the dark. It’s been a few hours, try a snack.

They’re ruminating, she decides as Feyre stares deeply at where she sits on the armchair and minds her own business. Yet there comes Elain with a plate full of cookies and the gaggle of the rest of them entering the large foyer.

Feyre does this on purpose, she thinks, making the estate’s library in the center of the living room. Perhaps, Feyre knows that if she wants her older sister out in public, she must entice her with solitude.

Truthfully, they’ve been this way since her and Cassian’s inevitable return.

She supposes it’s her own fault, for giving them the cold shoulder, for being oddly quiet about her life in Illyria. Cassian doesn’t tell them anything, which doesn’t help, and Nesta likes watching them squirm enough that she simply stares ahead, a curious gleam in her eyes as they ask her a question she will not respond to. All of them try to ask, even Amren who outright questions whether she’s back to her old self.

Nesta scoffs, old self. She has not changed. All she’s learned is to hide herself better or reap the consequences.

But something must be different about her, because Feyre and Elain will not leave her alone.

She sighs, pursing her lips as the bedraggled gang set themselves into the chairs nearest her. Cassian taking up the whole loveseat, Mor hiking herself onto the desk as Azriel goes to the window, his shadows following. Amren sets herself up on the coffee table, puzzles already strewn about in pieces and Rhysand… he goes to Feyre as he always does. Nesta resists rolling her eyes as they do that thing they often do where they talk into each other’s minds. Do they actually think they’re being inconspicuous?

Cassian looks to her casually, but she does not meet his gaze, opting for sinking further into her seat and hiking her book up to her knees.

“Well, I think we should celebrate your return with a night out at Rita’s,” Mor offers brightly.

“That seems more like a celebration for you,” Azriel admits, his tone light even in the deep, sardonic notes.

“Maybe it is. I quite frankly am glad your back,” She points to Azriel and Amren, “these two were no fun while you were away. And those two—” Mor points to Feyre and Rhys who both turn at the same time, “well, they were the same.”

Cassian laughs, and Nesta sinks further in her chair as they talk around her. Talk as if she’s not there as if she doesn’t really exist. Just another book on the shelf, another window to peer out of. As nameless as one of the puzzle pieces that bedeck mahogany lines.

“You are coming with right? No excuses this time?” Mor asks, her eyes pleading. The sound makes Nesta want to cover her ears, and she has to clench the pages of her book to keep from sighing out right.

Cassian shrugs, his lips upturned and Nesta thinks he just... fits somehow. In the way that Nesta can’t.

And why wouldn’t he when this is his family?

She has her books, her grimaces, her words, but she doesn’t have… that. These are not her friends, and her sisters only sort of like her. Obligation at the very least, pity at the best of times. Nesta squeezes the hard cover until she feels the bindings start to tear.

What is with their fascination with Rita’s and going out?

But Elain tugs on her sister’s sleeve, and Nesta blinks up at her slowly, lost as much in the words of her feelings as the sentences in the book. Her spine goes straight without her knowledge, her chin lifting until she peers into warm brown and Elain swallows.

Nesta feels guilty for the look.

“You haven’t been out with us in some time…” She starts, “I’ve missed you.”

It wasn’t my fault, she wants to say, but the strangers in the room are staring at her. She can feel their eyes move like a match of wits and daffodils. Which one will win—the lovely fawn or the wily serpent that bites before she’s fed?

Feyre interjects, “Come to Rita’s with us!”

She claps once as if it is a fantastic idea, and Cassian tilts his head perhaps knowing better after all these months. His eyes glaze over hers, and she can read that look. Nesta turns away in answer.

She hopes the chair will engulf her as she sits back, her book open and waiting for her to join back into the world that she can’t not belong to. Even Amren waits for a nod of her head, and Nesta is tired of them. Go away, she wants to yell. Leave me alone!

“I doubt you’ll run into any of those males you slept with,” Amren sniffs, because she’s never really forgiven her for that argument on the sidra.

She can feel the static as the room dulls into a harsh hum and the others go oddly quiet. Stiff and straight, Feyre whips to the tiny ancient one. “Quiet,” she demands.

My, my, what a loving family you have, Nesta thinks. But she doesn’t back away from the challenge, not when they seem to agree with their sweet, dear friend.

“If I don’t,” she smiles, her eyes burning, “I’m sure I can find one before the night is over.”

Wrong answer, because Elain jumps and hugs her side, her cheek squishing into the chiffon. Nesta stiffens at the affection. “Oh! We’ll have such a good time. Won’t we Feyre?”

Her youngest sister nods but doesn’t look convinced. Still, Feyre smiles strangely at her and Nesta sighs, a headache forming behind her eyelids at her seemingly professed agreement. Elain noticing that Nesta’s tea has gone cold, goes to refill her cup, and before she can say she doesn’t need another cup, Elain is gone. Leaving her to a pack of wolves.

Nesta lifts the book to her face, ignoring the not-so-subtle glances her way, and begins reading once more.

He grabbed the sides of her face, his palms warm against her skin. He trailed his hands down her neck until they stopped at the ties of her bodice. She could see the blush already blooming at her breasts…

Cassian coughs. She looks up to see him smirking. That teasing grin that usually makes her hands clench and her temper flare red with blood.

Nesta quickly looks back down.

Her blush already blooming down her neck.

“It would be good for you to get out girl, show your face around here. Mother knows the city must have forgotten what you looked like.

Then maybe you all shouldn’t have sent me away; she thinks as she looks at herself in her midnight blue gown. The fabric shimmers as she moves, and stars seem to be imprinted where the fabric drips and drums. It is the most… scandalous dress Nesta’s ever worn.

It isn’t her own, and she’s surprised she even fits in one of Feyre’s dresses. Though she’s gained weight, it is not nearly enough to fill out her previous figure and she’s always been smaller than her little sister… except at the bust, where Nesta feels she’ll spill out if she trips even slightly.

Elain remarks that she looks beautiful as Nesta stares into the large mirror on the living room wall, but all she thinks is liar. Liar. Liar. Oh great pretender, you can’t pretend well enough.

Mor sweeps down the stairs with Feyre, her revealing dress a putrid red that looks so bright it hurts her eyes. Feyre is dressed in no more than cobwebs, but Nesta shakes the feeling away that women must be protected in fabric, because lace is armor and men are beasts out to prowl.

The Illyrians understand this as traditional as they are. The females are always dressed in sleeves and gowns to the ankle, but furs also adorn their skin… Because the furs are harvested by them, she remembers. Cut by them, woven by them as if to remind the males that they wear animal pelts because they are ferocious themselves. Regardless of whether they captured the beasts that stomp in the woods.

Starve then, she heard one female say. Starve then, to that husband who refused her. What were men in a world where women supported the living?

But this is a power, too, Nesta learns. These gowns, the skin that is bright and burning, the legs that go on for miles. Just like sex. Just like money… Choice and freedom hidden where skin is revealed and skirts part softly.

Oh, great pretender, pretend just a little longer.

Feyre pauses in front of Nesta, looking her over with a pleased expression and Nesta wants to claw that image off her face, but Elain sets her hands on Nesta’s shoulders, her own gown pink and pretty and light. The embodiment of spring in Nesta’s endless winter.

I am not myself tonight, she wants to yell. Who am I?

“I knew that dress would look good on you.” Feyre smiles, “I know it’s not what you usually wear, but I’m glad to see you in it.”

Nesta smiles, gritting her teeth.

“Are you all going to just stand there or are we actually leaving sometime soon?” Amren asks, leaning at the edge of the doorway.

Mor and Feyre give each other knowing glances, and Elain grins sweetly as they all walk ahead of her out onto the porch where the males are waiting, laughing, and huffing that they took forever to get ready. “Not all of us can just roll out of bed and throw on a clean shirt.”

“Rhys took longer than any of us combined. Be honest.”

Nesta swallows the apprehension as she steps out to the porch and immediately she wishes she had a jacket. She refuses to go back in and get one, because she knows if she goes back in she will not come back out.

But Cassian, takes off his own jacket, the fabric warm and soft, and sets it around her shoulders before she can say one word. The others pretend not to look, but they look… the curious, cautious stare that alight in questions that neither Nesta nor Cassian will answer.

Mor taps her heeled foot and crosses her arms. “We ready to go?” She asks, raising a brow.

Cassian gestures forward and they all move as a herd through Velaris nights.

Nesta marks every landmark she passes as if she is leaving behind a clue as to how to get back. She can hear the others laughing and joking, but she doesn’t comprehend any of the words. She looks to the cosmos. The sky swirls with purples, blues, and milky white and Nesta… feels small.

A dot on a map. A fleck of dust in the air. She grasps the edge of Cassian’s jacket, pulling it closer to herself and it smells like him. Pine and wood burning.

“I wish all nights were like this,” Feyre says breathlessly, looking to the stars.

“They are,” Rhysand jests. Feyre elbows him in the stomach, and Rhys jumps away, only to reel back in. A tether connecting the two.

“That’s not what I meant, smartass. I mean that it feels nice we’re all together again.”

At the words, Nesta stops. Her feet pause and the others keep going. She watches them go and go and go and her eyes start to burn. Her fists clenching, her teeth gritting, her eyes blinking over again.

And yet, they walk. They don’t even notice her gone…

She’s a tiny fleck of dust.

Nesta turns back towards the estate, sniffling as she quickly wipes her eyes. Angry that she is crying without a reason to cry.

The dress is suffocating, and her hair is tight around her head. Her eyes burn but not her heart, not her soul. It seems that the wind has snuffed the flame out and only whispers are left.

Pretend no longer, it says.

It’s Elain that rushes after her after the storm has settled. She pulls her by the shoulder and stops as she sees her face, probably red and blotchy. The others are miles away, but at least Elain is here…

“Go,” Nesta commands softly, for she can never be truly mean to her sister.

“Nesta—” She starts, moving her hand from her shoulder down her arm.

“I don’t feel very good.” She replies and Nesta looks to her sister. At the warm brown that looks comforting…understanding, and she wonders if Elain would ever truly understand the back and forth like waves coming and going in Nesta’s head. That make her feel as if she’s downing. Alone. Unafraid, perhaps accepting that this is her life. But always drowning. “Please just go.” She repeats, and at last gives her a small smile for reassurance. “I have a headache that’s all.”

As an afterthought, Nesta takes off the coat, crossing her arms as the cold seeps into her skin. “Give this to Cassian for me?”

Elain nods as concern is written all over her face, but she heeds her older sister’s instructions. And with one more glance behind, Nesta joins the darkness and Elain joins her group of friends.

~ “Where’s Nesta going?” Feyre asks loudly, panic in her voice without realizing that she is nearly breathless.

Cassian takes a step closer to her. Practically his own younger sister who’s in need of comfort, but… there’s someone else who needs comfort. He can feel it. He can see it as Elain comes back with his jacket in her hands.

Elain doesn’t look at them as she answers, settling for staring out into the sidra where the colorful faelights reflect across the water. “She says she doesn’t feel good so she’s going home.”

Cassian watches as she hands him his jacket, still warm from her skin and Elain looks defeated. All of a sudden tired and far away. “She told me to give this back to you,”

He grips the leather in his hand until he can count all of the folds that form in its fabric. Twelve.

Twelve folds. Twelve minutes she’s been gone.

He swallows down the worry, the fear that makes him want to rip the jacket apart, and the plain…sorrow that starts blooming like moonflowers decorating the sidewalk.

“Maybe I should try—” Feyre starts, but Elain shakes her head solemnly.

“She says she has a headache.”

The sisters look at each other as if the statement puts an end to their trying. Mor lays an arm around the girls and sighs, speaking softly—comforting. “Come on you two,” She frowns slightly, “Nothing a night of dancing can’t solve.”

“And a huge bottle of liquor,” Amren adds, “Maybe two.” Though she is equally reserved, as if the night has suddenly gotten darker and they can longer see as many stars.

Cassian wants her to see this. He wants Nesta to know this.

When she is missing, they miss her. Her sisters miss her. Amren misses her. He doesn’t want to leave without her, and… Cassian for the first time, since being back, understands. Because when she is missing, he suddenly feels very alone.

He closes his eyes, his wings rising to catch the breeze, and when he blinks awake his friends surround him. Azriel giving him a look that’s almost apologetic for the stoic shadowsinger. He can hear their laughter begin again, the lights getting brighter with every step, and Rhysand cracks a joke that Amren groans at, but makes Feyre laugh.

They are alive.

He is not back in the war. Not in Illyria. Not in any nightmare. But he’s alone… because she’s alone, and he can’t leave her. He can’t.

“Come on, Cassian, keep up!” Mor calls after him, but Cassian steps back, looking behind, practically seeing Nesta’s figure in the shadows.

“Nesta’s sick,” he responds matter-of-factly and the rest stop in front of him, a few feet ahead. Mor’s brows crease, her lips tilting down.

“You heard them; she has a headache.”

“She’s doesn’t feel good,” Cassian reiterates. “I have to go take care of her.”

“You don’t have to…” Rhys mutters under his breath.

“I want to,” He proclaims, sternly.

Feyre steps forward, her hand dropping from Rhys’s grasp. “Are you sure? Once Nesta gets a headache, it doesn’t go away very fast. She usually doesn’t want to see anyone.”

Cassian huffs a laugh, counting all the bullshit lies that Nesta must have told all these years. Headaches, my ass. She’s probably already back sequestered in some chair with a book in her hand. “You see Feyre, I too am like a headache—”

“By the Mother,” Amren complains.

He can see the look Azriel gives Mor, Mor’s smile straining as she says nothing. Rhys grasps Feyre’s hand as if he can’t stand one moment without touching her, and he leans his head back, sighing as he waits for the implication of a fight in the air.

Cassian won’t give them one. Nothing they can say will convince him to continue on to Rita’s and leave Nesta behind.

But, Elain steps forward, walking towards him.

“I’ll go with you,” She gasps.

Cassian doesn’t know how Nesta will feel about that given her silence towards her sisters, but if Nesta will not go with them, they will go to Nesta.

Elain breathes deeply, her eyes glancing to the midnight blanket set atop them. “It’ll be a sister’s day. Like old times,” she answers softly, laughing as she adds, “Except of course with you, Cassian.”

He can feel more than see Feyre stand straight, her grip tightening on Rhys’s hand. The air turns stale in the wake of their decisions, and he can see all of the doubts already forming in her head. Cassian understands these thoughts, too, for he was once inadequate to the rest of the world.

Yes, that was still a sore spot for them wasn’t it?

But Elain gestures to Feyre, her head tilting towards her baby sister. “Unless you’d rather go to Rita’s...” She adds.

Feyre’s raises her brows, but the look of shock passes quickly, and she reaches out her hand as Elain extends her own. She gives Rhysand a small, satisfied smile at having been included, before nodding to Elain. Rhys lifts the side of his mouth, but the happiness doesn’t reach his eyes.

It does not go unnoticed by any of them.

~ Nesta is dressed in pretty silk pajamas, the only pants he’s ever seen her wear. Her hair is loose and golden brown as it falls down her back, a casual, alone type of look. In which, he means that she would not look this casual if she wasn’t alone.

She hangs by the door, her eyes glazing over one, two, three of them in disbelief and something akin to irritation burns in those pale blues. At the look, Cassian wants to kiss her head in fondness, combing her soft hair with his fingers until her face is red with a feeling she’ll play off as stubborn anger.

Cassian sighs inwardly. He misses Illyria.

She crosses her arms. “Why the hell are all of you here?”

Cassian pushes past her, ignoring her question and surveying the living room as if the answer is obvious. “We’re here to take care of you. Since you’re sick.” He pronounced.

He eyes the bright lamp in the corner, the glow lighting the armchair, where a book lays flat on the seat.

Tsk. Told you so, he tells himself.

Cassian whirls to face her as Nesta stands next to her sisters, her hands on her hips. That Who do you think you are? look permanently painted on her perfect face. “Have you checked your temperature by the way? Taken any medicine? I’m positive I saw some in the main bathroom down the hall.”

“What?” Nesta demands, shaking her head.

He places his hand on her forehead and she shakes him off, her mouth dipping to a frown. “You must be sick if you can’t follow what I’m saying.”

“You must be a lunatic if you can’t understand I don’t want you here.”

“People who don’t feel good,” He offered slowly, “need to be taken care of.”

“In the murder kind of way?”

“In the ‘Nesta, there’s medicine in the main bathroom’ kind of way,” He answers haughtily. Cassian can feel Elain and Feyre’s eyes on them, the back and forth of their gaze as if their conversation is a battle and they aren’t sure who is winning. If he was a betting male, his bets would probably be on Nesta... but more so because she’d appreciate the gesture and less because he was losing.

She frowns, perhaps concluding that he in no way will back down from this. Nesta should know after all these months that Cassian cares too much for his own good and plus... he quite likes the look Nesta gives him when she gets pissy.

“Okay, but how come there’s three of you?”

Feyre opens her mouth to answer, but Cassian beats her to it.

“Why? Did you miss us? We were only gone for a few moments.”

“That in no way equates to what I just said--”

“We’d be happy to start following you around. We wouldn’t want you missing us too badly.”

Nesta reaches her hands up as if she’d wring his neck. Her eyes point daggers, and Cassian isn’t ashamed to admit shivers run down his spine, but it is certainly not from fear.

“I swear Cassian, if you bother me one more time—”

“You’ll what? Tell me, sweetheart, what you can possibly do that will make me leave when you so graciously left us all out in the cold, wondering where you went?” His eyes widen, waiting for her answer. Cassian cups his ear, tilting his head towards her as he starts to hear the tapping of her foot.

“I didn’t feel good,” She explains, crossing her arms once more.

“And as we’ve established, we’re here to take care of you.”

She gives him a bland look. “Fuck. Off.”

Instead, Cassian turns towards her sisters. Elain and Feyre standing dutifully behind the eldest, most beautiful Archeron. “Your sister’s words warm my heart,” he teases.

“Now Feyre if you could go get the medicine that Madja left,” Cassian orders brightly, “And Elain if you could heat up some water for tea. Nesta prefers peppermint.”

The two nod, but Nesta scoffs, “And, what exactly are you going to do?”

Cassian smiles, his grin wide as Nesta glares. “I’m going to make french toast.”

Feyre looks at him confused, and Elain tilts her head waiting for an explanation, but Nesta… Nesta’s eyes light up in the way that he knows she’s pleased and is trying her best to hide it.

Nesta raises her chin, sniffing at his words, as if they don’t mean too much to her, but he knows. Sweets are Nesta’s favorite food group, and french toast is her favorite food. He’s made it more times than he can count in that little cabin between the mountaintops and nothing can convince him that she’s not secretly rejoicing.

“Fine,” She answers in that dismissive way of hers, moving to her reading corner in a flourish and sitting on the chair as if it’s her throne. She picks up the book, her eyes widening as she reads the first sentence.

Nesta looks back up to him sheepishly... nonchalant and all too familiar.

Cassian smirks, wondering if he perhaps is the luckiest bastard alive.

When Nesta’s upset, he learns, she will make up stories.

It makes sense to him since she reads so many books.

Cassian can’t recount exactly when he’d heard her lie the first time, somewhere in between the glaring insults and the wine drunk days. In Illyria, he could count them all from I left my jacket at Emerie’s to it clearly wasn’t me when your wings knock everything off the shelves when you move!

He smiles as he remembers, flipping the bread on the hot griddle. The smell of vanilla and cinnamon reminding him of cold winter days and harsh moonless nights. As much as he misses Illyria, not much has changed since those months in the mountains.

Briefly, Cassian hears the sharp tone of Nesta’s grumpy antics.

“At least take a couple drops,” Feyre demands, aggravated.

“I don’t know what child you’re speaking to but point that spoon somewhere else.”

“Elain!” Feyre calls, as he can hear Nesta huff.

“You can’t just call Elain and expect me to--”

Nesta goes silent, and in a second Cassian can hear the clink of a spoon and the sound of Nesta gagging.

When Feyre speaks, she seems oddly satisfied. “It looks like I didn’t need Elain’s help after all,” she sings, laughter in her voice.

He looks at Elain who surveys the living room. She wears a soft smile and when she looks over to him her eyes are alight with mischief. “I think she’s mad,” Elain mouths.

Cassian can only smile, looking slightly to the living room and imagining her face, her ire.

He wonders, then, what it must have been like growing up as Nesta, being a part of a group of sisters who so obviously care for each other. Never to forget that they love one another. Never to be completely forgotten, and always, always unconditionally loved.

Not for the first time does the guilt settle in the pit of his stomach. He once wonders how anyone could love Nesta... Like a gods-damned idiot, he’d said that to her. Not because he truly believed it, but because it hurt to be denied by her.

Realistically, Cassian knows that he doesn’t have to worry about it anymore, when they’ve squashed this topic months ago, but still… He feels guilty hearing Feyre’s laughter, seeing Elain’s bright eyes, knowing that he too denies his friends in favor of spending time with her.

He would do it again... In a heartbeat. In one breathless moment.

How does she not see it? He questions. How does she not know how much they care for her? Because he knows. He can see it plain on their faces.

But when Cassian takes the sweet bread off the griddle, and onto a large plate for the four of them, he can tell she doesn’t suspect a thing. She sits with her book on the lone chair, while her sisters gather at the table, and he can almost see the distance between them. As if Nesta has set her book high in front of her nose to make a barrier between her and the rest of the world.

Cassian leans against the table, raising a brow.

“Are you going to sit there all day, or should we eat these ourselves?”

Nesta lowers her shield in favor of the offense, “If you touch mine, I’ll castrate you,”

Cassian shrugs, frowning for a moment contemplating the threat, tilting his head back and forth as if he is actually weighing his odds. She does know where he sleeps.

“Fair enough,” He responds in answer.

They eat until the whole platter is gone, but not before Cassian tries to steal a bite from Nesta’s plate, just to piss her off even more. She raises her fork as if she’ll stab him with it, and Cassian secretly wants her to try. If Nesta will not train with him and grant him the ability to see her skills with a sword, he will assess them elsewhere.

“Are you two always like this?” Feyre asks, abruptly. She looks to Elain as they both turn to her and Feyre looks shocked she’d spoken the words allowed.

Cassian opens his mouth to reply.

Nesta drops her fork.

The chair shrieks as she gets up from her chair, and she makes her way back to her podium where Cassian thinks she will sit there like a living statue, perfectly safe in her stony façade. He almost feels offended that she dismisses them so quickly.

Sighing under his breath, Cassian begins clearing the plates. Feyre and Elain help, whispering to each other something Cassian chooses not to listen in on, because he’s staring at her. Always her.

By the time, he’s out of the kitchen, blankets and pillows lie in the center of the room, the plush carpet underneath it all.

Elain and Feyre jumble in the kitchen in what smells of chocolate and cinnamon, and Nesta is left to her own devices in this strange, decorative landscape.

She doesn’t really fit in, he notes.

Not because she doesn’t look the part, but because she doesn’t act the part. There’s something odd about her movements, her looks, the way she carries herself. This room is casual… colorful… homely, and Nesta is rigid, straight, and her eyes, the bright grey, reach out to him.

“You’re staying?”

Cassian nods his head, that grin back on his lips. “Yes, I’ve just been informed it’s sister’s day, and as an honorary sister myself, I feel I’m allowed. Do you want me to leave?”

She looks up at him and at her perusal he lifts his wings higher. Primping, he thinks, like a gods damned fool.

She shrugs one nonchalant shoulder, looking away and back to her book. Almost too casually. Cassian can’t help the giddy feeling that erupts inside of him, that says Nesta wants him here. Nesta wants him to stay. Even if the words never come out of her lips. He has learned to read her beyond spoken language.

But Elain and Feyre come back in the room, and he notices how she tenses up. Her eyes turning molten and hard. Her lips tightening into a subdued scowl she tries to hide behind pages.

It makes his heart ache in ways he doesn’t know how to fully explain.

Nesta knows he’s pretending to sleep. He lays on the couch, his large form draped over the heavy blue, his wings not sparing any of them as she pushes them away where they fall at the top of their heads.

He snores occasionally for good measure. Loudly and offkey. She thinks she’ll tell him that later and let him remark how she’s judgmental even amongst sleeping patterns. Well, Nesta does warn him early on that she wouldn’t be any nicer.

She shifts on the hard floor, bumping her shoulders into her sisters. The heat of them making her want to throw the blankets away. She lies in the middle. Feyre to her left, fiddling with a string on the woven cloth. Elain to her right, scooping her arm into her own, until she cuddles close, tucking her head in. Nesta doesn’t know how they convinced her of this.

At first, she’s too engrossed into her book to notice, lost in seas and a sea captain that is reminiscent to Cassian and his ample physique. But also, by the way his hair is cut at the shoulders and how the wildness exudes from his smile. She will never tell him this of course lest he tease her more than he often does already.

Nesta thinks it must have been her fault, though, because the next thing she knows she’s being pulled to the carpet, being offered hot coco, and they’re all in pajamas. Feyre owns a large enough house, she wants to remark. They don’t have to sleep in the living room, together like they still live in that washed out cabin.

But then they’re asking about her book, and Illyria… and if she made any friends. Poking and prodding and… they look interested enough. So, Nesta tells them. Stubbornly at first, and then in more detail as they ask more questions, answers them until she’s sure she has never talked this much in all of her short life.

All good things must come to an end, though, and they lie complacent and quiet while Nesta looks to the ceiling. She counts every color in the painted swirls. Golds and blues and—Cassian snores.

Nesta lifts her head, ready to smack him with a pillow, but Elain giggles softly.

At the sound, Nesta turns to her sister, but Elain is looking at Feyre, a fond look on her face. Her baby sister smirks slightly, holding her grin tightly in her cheeks.

She gazes at them both, suspicious.

It’s Elain who treads carefully, “Cassian is… awfully sweet.”

Oh, gods.

Nesta sighs, rolling her eyes. His head is only going get bigger.

Feyre shifts to her side, laying her head on her hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like anyone.”

Before Nesta can look appalled and answer back that she’s never said she “liked” Cassian, Elain replies.

“She liked Tomas.”

Nesta doesn’t say a word, but even unconsciously she knows Cassian tenses. He knows all about him, can probably pinpoint exactly when the pin drops. She can feel her fists clench between the fabric. Would it rip like her dress that day, she questions.

Feyre scowls, disapprovingly. “Tomas was a—He was a—”

“Poor excuse for a human,” Nesta says, her voice drawing from her throat like music.

Nesta refuses to say anymore, and her sisters seem to take her sudden silence as a plea to drop the subject.

“Oh,” Elain finishes, but perks back up, “But Cassian is--”

“Nothing like Tomas, thankfully,” She answers forcefully. “And that’s all I’ll say about either of them.”

Nesta sees Feyre give Elain a look. Pitiful Nesta, they probably think. Shutting everyone away, can’t bother to hold a conversation.

She lays on her side, wishing she was on the outskirts of them both so she can turn her back on both of them. But the floor is hard and it hurts her shoulder, and she is forced to turn back and begin her venture with the ceiling anew.

“I’m glad your home,” Feyre whispers after some time, as Elain squeezes her arm in what feels like an agreement.

You wouldn’t be if you hadn’t sent me away, she thinks. But instead of answering, Nesta closes her eyes, and pretends to sleep.

“How was my performance? Ten out of ten?”

Elain continues to comb Nesta’s hair as she sleeps. But instead of commenting on his question, she smiles up at him, far more teasing than he’s ever seen her.

"You like her,” She says, not a question at all. Feyre whips towards Elain, giving her a look that seems baffled that she outright says what they’re both thinking. “You get on each other's nerves. You argue incessantly. You have an act for pissing her off that’s rather impressive. But you like her.”

“Is that your seer skills?” Cassian drawls.

“That’s my sister skills,” She answers brightly. Elain shrugs a shoulder, “Well and anyone with eyes can tell.”

“It’s true,” Feyre interjects. “Nesta may deny it, but… something is going on between you two.”

“You are both too nosy for your own good.”

“But then again, I’m not hearing a denial. Am I Elain?”

Elain laughs, shaking her head. “I haven’t heard one yet. It seems he might have really fallen for our big sister. What do you think? Should we allow her hand?”

“I think Nesta has more of a say in that than us. Maybe we should wake her so she can decide? What do you think, summer wedding?”

Cassian huffs, sitting up on the couch and crossing his arms. “You two think you’re really funny.”

“I think your antics make us laugh,” Feyre replies, smiling wide. “Why don’t you just tell her? Assuming you haven’t.” Feyre back tracks, looking to Elain in fear. “You haven’t right? Did she reject you?”

Cassian groans, taking a throw pillow from the couch and throwing it at Feyre. It hits her square in the face. Feyre scoffs, reaching for the pillow, ready to throw it like a javelin, but Elain lifts her hands.

“Stop!” She shushes, checking on Nesta who tosses the blanket in her sleep. The medicine Madja left had left Nesta drowsy and she had quickly fallen asleep after the sister’s kept her talking. Cassian doubts she’ll wake anytime soon.

But Feyre drops the pillow, pointing viciously. “You got lucky.”

Cassian grins victorious. Feyre lifts a brow.

“Why?” She prods, as if the question is her payback. “Why not stop this charade?”

Cassian doesn’t know how to answer. He’s almost afraid Nesta will wake and scold him herself, but she rests peacefully where she’s tucked in tightly once more.

He can’t help the fondness that appears on his face, he can’t help most of what he feels for her. She was a surprise, after all. A happy one. But he wasn’t looking for her, the female of his dreams. He didn’t think she even existed.

But then… Here she is.

She gets under his skin, warms his blood in ways that are both invigorating and infuriating. But Nesta… they understand each other. In ways that no one else could or dared to try. They see each other, accept each other. The ugly in spite of the good. The good in spite of the ugly. Every single part.

So, when Feyre look at him expectedly, Cassian asks himself truly what is he waiting for?

They’ve slept together, though he will not tell them that. He’s sure she’d maim him if he did. They live together… sort of now. Her stuff is still in his house in Windhaven. There’s bookshelves and wallpaper and tiny glasses that Nesta says she likes. And, he is always near her. They spend nearly everyday together, and when he’s not near her, he thinks of when he’s going to see her, what he’s going to say. He enjoys hearing her rant about her stories and he wants to know all of her thoughts. What does she think of Illyria, the conflict, the treaties, but also about the new bakery down the street?

Truly, they’re together. Aren’t they?

But… not really.

It’s different in Illyria. It’s different in Velaris. It’s easier in Windhaven. It’s infinitely harder surrounded by them, when Nesta doesn’t like his family and he’s not all too sure they like her.

“I’m waiting for… the right time.”

Feyre blinks and Elain frowns and Cassian is sure he looks baffled at his own words… Right time? Didn’t he want more of it?

Wasn’t he losing it every time he didn’t make a move?

Huh?

“But aren’t you just wasting time?” Feyre concludes, “Wouldn’t it make more sense to just tell her how you feel and damn the consequences?”

Elain tilts her head, her gaze squinting at him. “Haven’t you waited this long?”

“You sister does have a say in this you know. She could very well take the lead and confess. I certainly wouldn’t stop her.”

Cassian watches as they give each other a bland look, something that calls Cassian an idiot without saying it aloud.

“Nesta reads romance novels,” Feyre offers obviously, as if that is answer enough.

At his confused gaze, sweet Elain rolls her eyes. “Nesta is… hopelessly romantic. Even if she doesn’t seem like it. She always has been since she was young. And she’s very traditional, if you haven’t noticed. Won’t dare to wear pants, not that I do either, but I’ll try new things, new foods. It took Nesta three months to even try a bit of jam on her toast when I first started cooking.”

“It took her three years to stop putting her hair up in those braids. Two seasons for Nesta to go into restaurant down the street, three to go shopping for new clothes that weren’t corsets and long gowns.” Feyre argues. “She needs to be very comfortable to do things that are unfamiliar to her… But she’s comfortable with you.”

“We can tell,” Elain smiles, lifting a shoulder. “She seeks you out when you enter a room, her eyes follow you. She won’t talk to anyone, but she’ll argue with you easily. Even seems to enjoy it. Nesta makes sure that I make blueberry muffins on Monday’s, the same day that you come back early from training… I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you that but here we are.”

Cassian looks down at Nesta, her nose red and her lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. Gods, he loves her doesn’t he? And… she loves him?

Negative. Impossible.

But not impossible…

Because she… cares for him? He thinks. Maybe. He’s not certain.

But what he is certain of is her sister’s knowledge of all things pertaining to her.

“You pay a lot of attention to Nesta’s actions.”

Elain looks to Feyre, “Is that surprising? She’s our sister.”

“I just thought… I don’t know.”

“No, what?” Feyre pleads, “That we didn’t care about her. Did Nesta say that?”

Feyre sighs. “She’s never going to forgive me for sending her to Illyria.”

Cassian grimaces, but shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t know about that, but she’s—Nesta’s trying her best. Perhaps, it’s not the right time,” he repeats back to them, a smug look on his face.

Feyre does hit him with a pillow this time.

Elain frowns, staring at Nesta’s pale skin. “How do we help her?”

Cassian and Feyre pause their antics, and stare at Elain in her yellow cotton dress.

“I think only Nesta can tell you that. Maybe ask, first?”

“And if she says nothing?”

“Then be there for her and… try again.” He answers, softly. “Nesta reads romance novels, yes, because she’s a romantic at heart, but she also reads because the books are there. They are always there, when she’s alone, when she’s upset, when she needs to escape there’s another world. More characters, more stories to rely on because sometimes this world and the people in it aren’t very reliable.”

Cassian gets up from the sofa, as the Archerons look to him where he stretches, striding to the lamp. He looks to them both and then to Nesta.

He’d be someone she could rely on, Cassian promises himself. All of them could rely on him. He’d take care of this little family he now belongs to—wants desperately to belong to…

“Make a world she doesn’t have to escape from,” He calls out softly.

“Now get some sleep.”

He reaches to turn off the lamp, as Elain lays down content with the answer. Feyre gazes up at him, her lips titling upwards, raising a hand in goodnight. And he watches them both, cuddle up to Nesta, tucking her in to their embrace as if they’ll protect her from the world.

Cassian hopes they know Nesta, without a doubt, would travel to the ends of the world for both of them.

Tagged: @cassianscool @fatimafares123 @rotstamp @nestalytical @my-fan-side @pizzaneverdisappoints @courtofjurdan @nahthanks @nestable @soitsgorgeous @arin1030

This is way longer than I thought, but it was really easy to write surprisingly. I think either I have more skill or I make things way too complicated on a regular basis.

I really, really loved writing this in-between stage of Nesta and Cassian being officially together. Having some sort of connection that they haven’t worked out fully yet. I absolutely loved writing Cassian hopelessly devoted to Nesta, but I wanted it to be subtle, a quiet sort of devotion.

I have a fascination with writing Nesta done with everyone, because well she has a right to be, but also because she reminds me so much of a Darcy character from 2005 Pride and Prejudice where she’s just a hopeless, awkward bean whose so inherently introverted that she can’t stand to have people around her and then ends up being rude for no reason, but also has that complexity about her where she secretly does want people around her but she doesn’t know how to ask for it or create the boundaries that she’s comfortable with. It’s always so interesting writing Nesta. I’m going to miss it when the book comes out. SOON! But hopefully, I get more content to write and not less. I’m still thinking of finishing “Queen of Monsters” regardless of the book, since I’ve written so much of that. I just haven’t posted it and I need something to hold me over for the next one.

The next one-shot (provided I write it) will be actually about the Inner Circle trying to get closer with Nesta, because they figure that they’re kind of making a line between all of them if they don’t start including her. But Nesta absolutely does not like being around them and is almost grumpy the whole time. I think it’s funny. But you know, maybe it does helps… you never know.

Anyways happy reading! And it’s almost the release date woohooo!!!

Reblog, like, comment, let me know if you want to be tagged on the next one.

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #feyre archeron #elain archeron #acosf #acofas #nessian fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #acotar #vidalinav

183 notes · View notes

noctilucid · 3 years

Text

DannyMay Day 15: Nature

**References my Day 4 (Stars) drabble, but stands alone.**

"Circle up everybody!" Ms. Teslaff barked, rapping her walking stick on a boulder embedded in the trail. "This camping trip is required by the state to be educational. Therefore, you will be given a group assignment designed to meet municipal standards." Mr. Lancer opened his messenger bag and started passing around packets and paper bags. A ripple of complaints and muttered curses spread out through the group. "You will be assigned a partner, and together you will search for and identify these plants. Bring back a leaf for each plant in the packet to receive full credit."

Paulina grimaced and looked down at her shoes for the tenth time that day. She had thought they'd stay close to the cabins for this trip, and her usual cute flats would have served her just fine on the broad, packed paths cut by hundreds of students' feet in the years before. But here she was, hiking in them. The mud was bad enough, but all the uneven terrain was putting creases in the material every time she had to put her weight on the balls of her feet. And now she was expected to go on a scavenger hunt? What was she, five?

"Paulina," Mr. Lancer said with a tired drawl as he read the names written on the brown paper bag on the top of his stack, "you will be partnered with Sam Manson." He handed her the bag and a packet before moving on to the next group.

Uhg, perfecto. I'm with Creepy Manson. They did this on purpose, didn't they? Paulina cut her eyes at Sam as she stomped over in her combat boots, looking equally thrilled.

"How many plants do we have to find?" Sam sighed, taking the packet from her. She flipped through the pages. "Well, at least these are all pretty distinctive."

"I'm sure you're disappointed none of them can lay eggs in my face," Paulina returned with an edge. She still hadn't forgiven Sam for that incident at the aquarium all those years ago.

Sam narrowed her eyes, not looking up from the paper. "Spores."

"What?"

"Plants don't lay eggs. Some of them have spores." She folded back a few pages and held up a picture of a fern they were supposed to locate. "This one can lay spores in your face."

Paulina raised her hand and waved at the teachers. "Miss Teslaff, I want a different partner! I don't want Sam to murder me and bury my body in the woods. I'm too pretty to die."

"No changing groups!"

Paulina huffed and crossed her arms. "Tough break," Dash said to her as he and Valarie headed off on one of the forks in the path.

"Good luck!" Kwan chimed in, who was paired with Tucker. "Hey, you got a plant identifying app on that thing…?"

"Do I ever!"

Danny put a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder as he followed Mikey uphill. "Try not to be too hard on her?"

"No promises," Sam grumbled.

Soon the path had cleared out except for the two of them and two pairs of band nerds peering over their packets together.

"Come on, let's get this over with," Sam said at length, grabbing Paulina by the wrist and hauling her off in a random direction.

"Ow! Hey, get off of me!"

Sam did let go, and then scuffled up a tumble of boulders to a trail on higher ground. Paulina let out a dramatic and frustrated groan before following her up much more slowly. By the time she caught back up, Sam was standing in the shade of a tree growing out of a split in the rock, studying the packet again.

"Oriental Thuja?" she said, forehead creased. "Why would they even put that on here? It's not native to this area."

"So we won't be able to find it?" How much is this stupid assignment worth anyway?

"No, it could be here, but it's invasive."

Paulina rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you're going to be sacrimonious about plants now too."

"Oh, of course," Sam returned. "Because you only like nature if it's pretty and flatters you. You can't be bothered to learn about something complicated like an ecosystem." She headed down the trail at a brisk walk, grabbing a sapling and using it as a hand-hold as she swung herself down another steep portion.

"Would you stop doing that?" Paulina yelled after her, but Sam didn't slow down. "¡Joder!" she swore under her breath. Somehow, she was going to make Sam regret this by the end of the day. She just had to figure out how.

***

A brooding 45 minutes later, and Sam had found five of the plants they were looking for with little help from Paulina.

"Next is the purple coned larch…" Sam said, more to the paper held in front of her face than to Paulina. "We should probably go uphill to look for it…" Paulina died a little more inside. No more climbing hills!

"Oh, is that one of the ones that's going to lay spores in my face?" Paulina sniped as Sam strode on ahead for the hundredth time. "I guess you would end up with some weird kinks after being possessed by an ugly plant ghost."

"You're the one who brought up the face eggs," Sam said, nonchalant, and notably not slowing down. "I think that says more about you than about me."

Paulina clenched her fists. "Ugh! You're such a freak, you know that?"

"Aaaand personal attacks mean you have no convincing arguments left in your arsenal! Looks like it's Sam two, Paulina zero for the day so far." Sam was steadily moving out of range, and Paulina was forced to follow if she wanted to continue the argument. She was busy trying to think of a better jab while watching where she put her feet, but Sam beat her to the punch. "It's kind of sad that you're still hung up on this actually. Move on already."

Paulina gritted her teeth as the angle of the slope forced her to grab a muddy point of rock to haul herself up with. "Would it kill you to apologize? ¡Dios mío!”

"For what?"

"For harassing me with a starfish, Miss Don't-Be-Cruel-To-Animals!" She stood up and tried to wipe her hand clean on a tree trunk. "And I mean a real apology, not that stupid letter the teacher made you write."

"Oh, yeah, to be clear, I didn't mean that apology letter."

"It was clear," Paulina said, quiet and venomous.

"I hope you shredded it or something. I'm kind of embarrassed to have my name on the bottom of it."

"I threw it in the fireplace as soon as I got home that day."

"Well, that's a relief," Sam said with a performative grin. "And no, after what you did to Danny, you'd better believe I'd eat a hot dog before I'd apologize to you."

"I only went out with Danny to get under your skin!"

"Exactly."

Paulina's hands spasmed between gestures as she tried to collect herself. "Did you ever think that maybe, if you weren't such a self-absorbed piece of shit, maybe your friends wouldn't get hurt as much?"

Sam's face went blank for a telling second before she focused back on the paper. Paulina was a little surprised that jab had worked, actually, but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She couldn't think of anything to follow up with, so she decided to allow the silence to be her victory.

And she's back to climbing again. Someone kill me…

They had almost reached the summit of the hill they were on— Paulina was debating to herself whether it was tall enough to be considered a mountain— when Sam finally found what she was looking for. The tree she was examining was scrawny and gnarled, squeezing its roots into the veins of available soil, and it was barely taller than they were.

"I think this is it. The needles look the same," Sam said, holding up the page for comparison. "It would help if the picture wasn't in black and white, though."

Paulina cast a glance over the diagram and the plant in front of them. "No, it doesn't have the little cones," she grumbled. I swear to god, if we have to climb any higher…

"This one's pretty young. I don't think it's old enough to have fruited before. They take a couple of years to get established."

"Well how can you tell if this is the right one? There's a thousand different Christmas trees on this hill, and they all look the same." Paulina shook her head. "You know, whatever. Let's just take a branch and go—" She sputtered to a stop as Sam pushed the packet and paper bag full of samples into her hands. Paulina adjusted the materials in her hands and watched as Sam stooped down, fished in her combat boot with two fingers, and pulled out something long and thin. She pulled off the makeshift cap, revealing the stubby tip of a well-used oil pencil.

Kneeling in front of the tree, Sam drew some intricate shape on the trunk with the dark blue pigment, then murmured something Paulina didn't catch. In the shadow of the trees branches, Paulina saw the symbol glow faintly green, and the same light snaked up the tree along the ridges in the bark until it reached the closest branch. With a quiver, the end of the branch put out fresh needles and then a tiny purple cone.

"See?" Sam said, breaking off the end of the branch. "Perfect match."

Paulina gaped like a fish. "You— Holy shit, you—" Magic. That was honest to god magic! Paulina felt lightheaded. She had been… dabbling. Combing the internet and old bookstores. At first, she had hoped to find a spell that could summon a ghost, or anything else she could use to get Phantom's attention. But as the weeks had stretched into months, she had become desperate to find any scrap of genuine magic. And here it was.

"Are you— is that Wicca?" she finally managed.

Sam shook her head. "Semitic Neopaganism. There's a difference."

Paulina paused to think on it. Could I learn Jewish magic if I'm not Jewish? Would it even work for me? She chewed on her lip. What am I saying? There's no way Manson would teach me anything in the first place. Then Sam started speaking softly, and Paulina had to shake out of her thoughts to catch it.

"I did think about apologizing," Sam said. "Properly. I was… kind of a mess in fifth grade. Um. And sixth and seventh too, actually." Her eyes remained focused on the pine sprig in her hand as she spoke, slowly rotating it between her fingers. "I've never liked you. But that didn't make it right for me to pick on you." She stood up and took back their paper bag, tucking the sample inside. "But then you pulled Danny into it. So, I'll never apologize." She finally looked up and met Paulina's gaze. "And neither will you." Paulina opened her mouth to retort, only to realize that Sam was an image of perfect calm. It was not an accusation, not a barb, just a statement. And Paulina had no idea how to respond. "We're both petty bitches," Sam continued. "It's in our natures. So… let's just move on." She extended a hand to Paulina. "Deal?"

The offered hand was stiff and formal, as if this were a business meeting rather than two sweaty girls talking on a hiking trail, but Paulina saw an earnestness in it. Slowly, she reached out and slid her own palm into Sam's.

"Deal." She watched Sam for a moment, her unwavering gaze, the ridiculous purple contacts, the stillness which had come over her, like a stone come to rest. Not sophisticated or refined, as Paulina sought to be, but… very Sam. Very self-assured, in a way Paulina pretended not to admire. "We don't like each other."

"Naturally." Sam released her hand and turned to head back down the slope.

"But we… don't hate each other either. We just... are. Now."

Paulina saw the little quirk of a smile enter Sam's lips. "Yeah."

"And maybe… we can talk about magic sometimes?" She shook her head, slightly embarrassed. "Like, over text, so nobody gets the wrong idea?"

Sam chuckled. "Yeah. That sounds fun."

A smile crept over Paulina's face in spite of her attempt to hide it. Oh, what does it matter? Sam's not looking at me anyway. She gave herself a moment to squeal silently in her head. Real magic! She'd found someone who knew real magic! She shook her head again. Of course it would be Manson. Of course.

She picked up her pace, in spite of her sore feet, in spite of the damage she was doing to her shoes, to catch up to Sam. It was easier going downhill. "What do we still have to find?"

Sam extended the packet to her, pointing to one of the plants. "Just two left, lady fern and honeysuckle. They both like to grow near water, so I saved them for last. We can head down and check the creek on our way back." Oh thank god, we're almost done. Paulina leaned in to get a better look at the fern diagram. "You know, there's a spell I've been working on that uses ferns. Maybe we should grab a couple extra?"

Paulina squealed out loud this time, and clapped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry," she mumbled through her fingers. "Solemn. Solemn goth witch." She folded her hands in front of her and tried to look composed. Sam laughed.

"Nah, you don't have the wardrobe for that. Go on, be as pink as you'd like." She stepped down a bank of tree roots and held a branch back for Paulina to follow in her wake. Paulina paused in surprise before accepting the gesture.

This will take some getting used to.

#dannymay2021 #phanniemay2021 #danny phantom #Paulina Sanchez #Sam Manson #my writing

61 notes · View notes

animeyanderelover · 4 years

Note

I've looked through your "sharing a darling" post and I've been inspired. I'd love to see Tsunade with a darling, who's Orochimaru's little sister. I imagine she and Tsuna probably were friends before she deserted the village with Orochi. And when she's nowhere near as heartless as Orochi, she's a morally-gray type of person. [With romantic yandere!Tsunade + platonic!yandere Orochimaru]

I’m glad you got inspired by my post☺️.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, paranoia, violence

Darling is Orochimaru’s little sister

🐍🐌We’ve often talked about this, but Orochimaru has a weird way of showing his care, especially if it comes to persons he’s obsessed with. If you would be a test object he would most likely show genuine interest in you because you’re very useful. But how does this work when you’re his sister? It’s suspected that a part of why Orochimaru became the way he is like he is because he wanted to leave the painful memories of the past behind, including the death of his parents. So you were the only family he had left.

🐍🐌His way of caring showed himself from a very young age on with wanting you to get stronger. Orochimaru has a dislike for the fragility of life and it’s most likely that you and him shared more or less the same interest in kinjutsu. I can’t say that you had the same obsession as him with it, but you just tagged along with him.

🐍🐌Since Tsunade and Orochimaru were on the same team it was understandable that you were friends with them. Jiraiya was probably the guy who often asked you out on dates and made some less appropriate comments about you, earning a hit on the head from Tsunade and a unnerving look from Orochimaru. Tsunade was most likely friends with you because you were the only other girl from the three.

🐍🐌At the beginning it was just a friendship, a strong one. Tsunade was often a bit worried about you, knowing how twisted Orochimaru could be. You never minded, being used to all of this since you had grown up with him together.

🐍🐌Tsunade started becoming a tad more clingy and overprotective after Nawaki had died. It was somewhat of the beginning of her Yandere tendencies and it stayed that way even after she had got to know Dan. You often visited with her together Nawaki’s grave and showed him respect for his actions. But you were glad that Tsunade had found someone else who made her happy since you had suffered with her after the death of her brother. Because despite being slightly influenced from Orochimaru’s twisted personality you had always been the one who had cared more and showed it more.

🐍🐌Somehow I think after Dan died as well and you were again there to comfort Tsunade you somehow started to see things a bit more from Orochimaru’s side, understanding why he loathed the fragility of life. Because humans were so delicate that you could lose them at any moment. I would even go as far that Tsunade’s devastation over Nawaki and Dan left a huge impact on you and led you to becoming who you were.

🐍🐌Tsunade was at first most likely only a platonic Yandere for you, still seeing you as her best friend. She became incredibly clingy and overprotective and also started greatly disliking your brother. Why? Because Orochimaru gave off the feeling that you didn’t mean anything to him and he wouldn’t even be sad if you would die. He hadn’t looked affected when Nawaki had died and he hadn’t looked really affected when Dan had died. So it was no wonder that Tsunade was terrified of losing you as well and needing to see how not even you as Orochimaru’s sister would lead him to show any sorrow.

🐍🐌It was at the beginning just the genuine desire to keep you safe and alive. But with time it turned into something more intense for Tsunade. The knowledge that she could lose the person who had been always there for you made her go almost crazy. She might not even have realized when exactly it had happened. But one day you just gave her a warm smile...And Tsunade felt her heart speeding up in her chest rapidly and butterflies erupting from the pit of her stomach.

🐍🐌Orochimaru watched all of this with narrowed eyes, the way how Tsunade started clinging onto you tightly and the way she looked at you. It didn’t matter to him that Tsunade deserved happiness after everything that had happened to her. He didn’t want you to become weak by becoming too sentimental which you obviously were. It wasn’t like you had already changed a lot because of him, your view of the world having become slightly distorted because of his influence and the still fresh memory of Tsunade mourning over her brother and her lover. And I bet Orochimaru used that to control you a bit more.

🐍🐌Tsunade on the other hand worried because she noticed clearly how much you had changed in those last years and she knew too well who the culprit was. So she tried to keep you away from Orochimaru by often going out with you and asking you to spend time with him. And this didn’t suit with Orochimaru who would have preferred to continue training and experimenting with you.

🐍🐌It was most likely out of loyalty and own belief that you decided to follow Orochimaru into exile, some of his beliefs having influenced you as well. And Tsunade was once again completely devastated for losing another precious person to her, asking herself what she had done so terribly wrong in life to lose everyone she seemed to love.

🐍🐌Being Orochimaru’s sister and most likely on the same level of strength as him made you very respected and worshipped by his underlings like Kabuto and Kimimaro. And despite searching with him for a way to gain complete immortality You never agreed with his opinions all the time, disliking the way he treated others. You were somewhat of a mother figure for many people under him and were even known to forgive people different than Orochimaru. And Orochimaru didn’t really like this, fearing that your softness would be one day your death sentence. Orochimaru isn’t the type to start a fight over this, at least not in the classic sense. But he would cruelly tease your weak spots to get a reaction out of you and to try to reason with you that being so soft wouldn’t bring you anywhere.

🐍🐌I guess that Tsunade’s heart broke even more after hearing what you were doing, experimenting on people to gain immortality. She blamed herself for this, feeling like she should have ripped you away from your brother’s tight grip sooner since he had been the one who had corrupted you like this.

🐍🐌Tsunade met you most likely again whilst Naruto and Jiraiya were searching for her to convince her to become the fifth Hokage. She was already pissed enough at Orochimaru, never having forgiven him for ruining you like this. But she was also scared when seeing you again, freezing at first. She just really hoped that there was still some part of the old you left and not having become as cruel and heartless as Orochimaru had. You were also shocked to see her again, feeling a bit conflicted about how to face her after all those years again.

🐍🐌During the fight of the three you didn’t really participate, watching more from a distance. Not because you were lazy, but because you and Orochimaru knew that you might switch sides during the battle. Because you still cared. Tsunade was still your friend. So when Orochimaru wanted to kill Naruto and Tsunade kept sacrificing herself you would have lied if you would have said that you didn’t care. Instead you might have even tried to stop Orochimaru from completely killing her, that was at least until she released her jutsu and showed what she was capable off.

🐍🐌Different from Orochimaru you also never disliked Naruto and saw him as a poor excuse. You saw potential and passion in him, reminding you of Nawaki. That’s why you wanted to keep him alive. Because he had helped Tsunade out of her misery. And you were proud of her when she officially became Hokage, sending a anonymous gift and a small letter in which you congratulated her and told her how happy you were for her. And Tsunade knew too well who had sent her this.

🐍🐌I feel like after Sasuke joined Orochimaru you might have even gone as far as sometimes giving the village hints about his development without anyone finding out. And whenever such small notes received in the village, dropping hints about current whereabouts or informations about possible future plans from Orochimaru Tsunade always felt hopeful and encouraged that the old You was still there, that you weren’t completely possessed by evil like your older brother was.

🐍🐌I feel like you traveled back to the village after Sasuke killed Orichimaru. You had no reason to stay after all. And for someone who was known as an S-rated criminal you came over pretty calm when suddenly appearing in front of the gates of your old village. And best belief that when Tsunade Heard- that you were back, she completely lost it and instantly stormed towards you, not knowing whether to yell at you for doing such terrible things to her and other people or cry and suffocate you in a hug out of relief. In the end it became a mix made out of both.

🐍🐌You were taken under custody back into the village, your reputation being a bit saved because of all the small hints you had given them through the years. That and the fact that you answered all questions honestly have some ninjas troubles to judge you rightfully, not knowing whether to think of you as a good or bad person. On the one hand you had experimented on others, you had used the same jutsu as Orochimaru to reach immortality and many other things. But on the other hand there were countless tellings and rumors from many places and people that you had freed them out of Orochimaru’s grip or had even helped villages in need on your journeys. That made it somewhat troublesome whether to decide if you belonged in prison or not.

🐍🐌In the end it was decided to not send you into prison, mainly because Tsunade had insisted on it, but also because many had agreed that you had done many good things after all and had come back on your own free will, not to mention that you had told them everything they had wanted and needed answers for for so long. But you were kept under very tight custody, a few Anbu members always watching you.

🐍🐌Shizune knew from Tsunade’s love for you, having witnessed many times how Tsunade had started becoming very talkative about you after a few or many bottles of sake and knew that Tsunade had still feelings for you. And she advices to not risk anything with you, they still didn’t know whether you were on their side or not. Tsunade didn’t want to hear this, but not because she believed that Shizune was wrong, but because she knew that Shizune might be right.

🐍🐌She often came visiting you, wanting to at least talk to you and know why you had done this. Why you had left her. Why you had decided to tag along with Orochimaru. Why you had done all those terrible things and still so much good stuff at the same time. What were your motives?

🐍🐌I feel like Tsunade would be able to start a normal relationship with you after the war and after Orochimaru was reincarnated. Because the main problem before had been that people had, when looking at you, only been able to see Orochimaru. A cruel and sadistic criminal. But for whatever reason Orochimaru had been forgiven after the shinobi war and Tsunade also retired more or less since Kakashi became the sixth Hokage shortly after the war ended. There will be some tension between her and Orochimaru after that, especially since Tsunade still blames Orochimaru for corrupting you like this. Orochimaru wouldn’t be too happy either, but surprisingly he’s more okay than Tsunade with this since he doesn’t hold that much of a personal grudge against her like she does. He did become better after the war and was more accepting with it. As long as you don’t become a weakling that is, power is still a thing and will always be a thing for him.

#yandere naruto #yandere naruto shippuden #yandere orochimaru #yandere tsunade #yandere tsunade senju #platonic yandere

95 notes · View notes

adenei · 3 years

Text

Ch. 3 - How to Win a Witch in 10 Days

Thursday - Pt. 3

Just when she thinks her life can’t get any stranger, James Potter walks back into it. How was she just sitting at the bar, scouting out potential men to dupe, when a blast from the past shows up at her side and asks her to dinner? Of all the nights and all the bars, they run into each other tonight.

Lily’s completely shaken on the inside but forces herself to remain calm, cool and collected. James Potter is the one that got away. The one who fancied her at Hogwarts, had asked her on countless dates—which she turned down—and by the time Lily finally realized she had feelings for him, he’d moved on. It hurt more than she expected it to, so when he walked up to her just minutes ago, Lily wasn’t sure how to react.

She intends to say no when he asks her to dinner, but something stops her. It takes a lot to admit to herself that she’s missed him over the past few years. After all, they were friends before he started dating Bridgette, and they had to work together as Head Boy and Head Girl. The lack of James’s presence left a gaping hole in her post-Hogwarts life that she never expected, and it’s only now that he’s here with her that she realizes just how badly she misses him.

“C’mon, Evans, it’s just dinner. Catching up can’t hurt, can it? I’ve missed you.”

Missed me? Seriously? Does he even realize that he was the one who changed everything? Years of incessant invitations to go on dates, and he finally wears her down only to yank the rug from underneath her by choosing someone else.

Part of her wants to slap him for being such an arsehole, but not if he doesn’t know he played with her heart three years ago. Not to mention that a physical altercation would certainly ruin her chances of picking up another guy. The more sensible thing is to tell him it was nice seeing him, but she’s meeting someone else, but what happens if he stays and realizes that it’s a lie? No, that wouldn’t do, either. Then, an idea pops into her mind. It’s certifiably insane, but if she plays her cards right, it could be the perfect opportunity for revenge.

There’s something so devilishly captivating about James Potter, and Lily decides she does want to get dinner with him. In fact, her mind is set on spending the next ten days with him. This could be Lily’s chance to prove to herself—and James—that they were never meant to be.

She glances up at him to see that he’s waiting for an answer, although he’s not pushy. He knows better than to press for a response. It’s funny how easy a single moment can bring her right back to the Great Hall or the Gryffindor common room. Her traitorous heart begins to beat in her chest as she tries to avoid the piercing hazel eyes that are begging her to let him in.

Well, you know what, Potter? Maybe I will let you in. I’ll let you in long enough to play with your heart like you played with mine, and we’ll see how you like it.

The plan continues to build in her mind, and then some. Luring James Potter into a relationship only to drive him away seems easy enough. After the debacle in school, Lily knows they’re better off apart, and maybe she’ll even gain the closure she didn’t think she needed. Plus, she supposed a snog or two in the process wouldn’t hurt anything if it came to that.

Lily visualizes the checklist sitting on her desk at work and mentally adjusts some of her ideas to make the game she’s playing more believable. Once all is said and done, James will realize it was a mistake to ever have approached her tonight, and Lily can have a bit of fun toying with James in the process. So, the hardened look she forced herself to give earlier now softens, and Lily even chances a smile. She sets her almost empty glass on the bar and glances around to see if she can find Alice and Marlene. They’re mingling on the other side of the room.

Well, they know I’m out to snag a man, so if they see I’m gone, they’ll know why. Lily shrugs as she turns back to James.

“Well, Potter, how can I resist when you put it like that? Lead the way.”

He holds out his arm, and Lily takes it. A smirk plays at her lips as she looks back in the direction of her friends one more time. She catches Alice’s eye and gives her a wink before turning back toward the door.

Let the games begin.

“I have to say, I’m impressed,” Lily admits as she tucks into her basket of fish and chips.

James has taken her into muggle London to grab a bite to eat, and Lily’s quite shocked by his choice. It’s a small hole in the wall shop that serves the greasiest food, but it’s delicious. The walls are laden with modern art murals and the wooden tables are covered in carved names. It’s a place Lily is sure University students go for a late-night snack or on their way home from a pub crawl. Aside from Lily and James’s semi-formal attire, they fit in well with the crowd.

“Why? Am I still as irresistible as I was at Hogwarts?” James still possesses the same air of confidence as Lily rolls her eyes.

Still as cocky as ever, it seems.

“No, I meant that I’m impressed that you know your way around muggle London.”

“Sirius and I discovered this place on one of our nights out a while back. I come here at least once a week.”

Lily smiles at the mention of another old friend. “How are Sirius and Remus anyway?’

“Brilliant! We were all living together until recently. Finally decided it was time to get our own places.”

“The Marauders have finally split?” Lily feigns shock.

“Nah, not entirely. We still work together.”

“Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”

James laughs. “We work for Alastor’s Ads. I work mostly with clients from magical games and food, but I’m looking to branch out a bit more.”

“Fascinating. I always did think you could talk your way out of a paper bag,” Lily recalls.

“Come again?” James’s eyebrows crease and one side of his face scrunches in confusion.

“It’s a muggle saying.”

“Ah. What are you up to these days?”

“I write for Witch Weekly,” Lily keeps her explanation short. If he doesn’t know, then there’s no harm in keeping the How To column from him completely.

“Lily Evans, Head Girl, so much promise to do some good in the world, writes for Witch Weekly?” James says.

“It was a job. Now that I’ve got my foot in the door with a company and I’m gaining some credibility, I’ll be able to branch out and actually write what I want to write soon.”

“Soon? How long might that be?”

How does James always see right through her? It’s been three years, but he’s still as frustrating as ever.

“As long as it takes to find an opening in a position I want. I’m not looking to make a lateral move just to keep writing pieces I’m not passionate about.”

“And what are you passionate about?”

Lily fights the urge to answer him right away. She needs to keep the mystery there if she’s going to succeed in her endeavors.

“I could ask you the same question. Do you really want to be selling pitches to restaurateurs or quidditch teams for the rest of your career?”

“That’s a fair question.”

“And your answer is?”

“It depends. I’m working on branching out to different companies right now. I’ve submitted a proposal for Zabini’s Jewels and am hopeful I’ll get the pitch. Should know within the next week or so.”

“Interesting,” Lily responds.

“So, are you going to answer my question now?”

Of course, James doesn’t forget that she dodged his question, but that doesn’t stop her from feigning forgetfulness.

“What question?”

“What you’re passionate about,” James smirks at her, indicating he sees right through this act.

Lily sighs and figures she should answer him. “I want to write articles that can truly make a difference in someone’s life. I’m over the superficial bullshit.”

James leans back in his chair and smiles at Lily.

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing. It’s just been nice spending time with you again.”

She returns his smile. “You know, as much as I might regret saying this later, you’re right. I got so wrapped up in finding a job and navigating life in the magical world that I wasn’t very good about keeping in touch with my friends.”

“I suppose I can forgive you for that.”

“Ah, I can die happy now, knowing you’ve forgiven me,” Lily winks at him.

“I aim to please,” James finishes their banter as they gather their things and get up from the table to head for the door.

They walk in silence for a while, and Lily basks in the enjoyment of James's company again. She wonders what he’s thinking about and whether their night should continue or if she should wait until tomorrow. Their feet lead them down a deserted alleyway in preparation to apparate out of muggle view. James pauses behind a dumpster and Lily follows suit.

“Do you want to come over?” James blurts, taking Lily by surprise.

Internally, she’s screaming yes, but it’s late on a Thursday and she still has to work tomorrow. She bites her bottom lip as James ruffles his hair with his hand.

“I’d like that, but I’m not sure if it's a good idea with work tomorrow.”

James lets out a gruff laugh. “Right, yeah, sorry—I just thought—”

“I had a good time tonight,” Lily reassures him. “Enough that I’d like to see you again if you’re interested?” She knows it’s ballsy to make the first move like that, but time is of the essence.

James’s eyes widen at her boldness. “Really?”

“I know, shocking, right?” she keeps her voice light and airy, while adrenaline is shooting through her body.

“Well, I’ve got tickets to the quidditch playoffs tomorrow—Arrows versus Magpies at seven. Perks of signing Appleby as a client,” James shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Just as friends, you know? I don’t want you to think it’s anything—”

“I’d love to!” Lily cuts him off.

She’s surprised that he’s backpedaling so much. He was never like that in Hogwarts. Then again, he probably figured he’d have a million more chances to wear her down. If he only knew….

“Really? Brilliant!” James’s tone sounds pleased, and Lily can sense a hint of relief in his voice. “There’s a Portkey leaving from the Leaky at six if you want to meet me there?”

“Sounds great.”

They both stand there awkwardly. Lily’s wondering if maybe she should have accepted his invitation to join him at his flat. She doesn’t want to kiss him on the first night, but after his invitation to the quidditch playoffs as friends, she knows she needs to do something to show him she’s interested in something more than that.

“So, I guess I’ll see you to—”

Lily realizes she’s out of time, and needs to do something so James is aware of her intentions. This is an act, and she has to play the clingy woman that moves before the time is right. Before she can talk herself out of it, Lily’s lunging toward James, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his with purpose. Her eyes close, so she doesn’t have to be disappointed if his reaction is anything less than eager.

She always imagined that the first kiss she’d share with James Potter would be soft and slow and sweet, with him instigating, and this is anything but. Thankfully it’s not forced, but it is awkward as she feels James freeze at the contact.

Shit. Maybe he really is over me. I must have read the signs wrong.

Lily pulls away and turns her head to the side in an attempt to avoid his gaze as mortification begins to set in. She’s about to berate herself more for making a terrible decision and losing a whole day for her article when she sees a flash of black hair out of the corner of her eye as he leans in to regain the previous closeness.

His lips are on hers again, and his hands are splayed against her back. Lily’s hands find their way back to their previous position as the kiss takes her breath away.

James Potter is kissing her back, and it’s everything Lily’s dreamt about since her seventh year of Hogwarts. His breath is hot against her as his tongue grazes her lip before tentatively slipping into her mouth. She parts her lips enough to invite him in as her tongue meets his. Lily presses herself against his body as James groans in response.

Suddenly, it’s as if a switch flips in Lily’s mind, and she remembers why she kissed him in the first place. Reluctantly, she pulls away. James looks just as awestruck as Lily feels, his chest heaving up and down much like her own. Lily forces the thoughts of being back in his arms from her mind despite how much she misses the contact. Once she’s gained enough composure, she chances a glance toward James. He looks as windswept as she feels.

“So, I’ll, er, see you tomorrow?” James’s tone is more cautious than she remembers from their time at Hogwarts.

He looks completely thrown off balance. Good, Lily thinks, knowing she needs to keep him on his toes.

She shoots him a coy smile. “Absolutely. As more than friends, I hope?”

It can’t hurt to solidify her intentions.

“Y-yeah,” James stutters.

Lily doesn’t think she’s ever seen him rendered speechless before and feels rather smug that she can accomplish the feat.

“Brilliant. See you tomorrow,” she winks at him before focusing on her flat and apparating away.

#jily fic #jily fanfiction #jily au #james x lily #inspired by how to lose a guy in 10 days #james potter #lily evans

29 notes · View notes