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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 1 year

Note

Hello!! What about the M6 with an Mc who still sleep with stuffed animals?? I still need to lol

The Arcana HCs: When MC sleeps with plushies

~ I hope you're ready for some lighthearted, tooth-rotting fluff anon! this one's dedicated to Pooh-boo, my loyal dream guardian of 22 years, and his many friends. thanks for the lovely prompt! - brainrot ~

Julian

Hey, you do you! If it helps you with stress or sleep then he's not one to judge

Seriously though, does it actually help with sleep? What about nightmares, does it help with nightmares? It does? Good to know, good to know ...

He will ask you if they have names and personalities and then suggest you introduce them to him. He will also jokingly introduce himself to them and thank them for their service

He now refers to them as "the children"

If you have any kind of discussion or lighthearted disagreement he will bring up "the children" and tell you that they're on his side

No really, they think he should stay up a few more hours too! They're so invested in seeing how this study turns out, you wouldn't deprive the children of that, now would you MC?

You should really join him at the Rowdy Raven tonight, MC! The children will be fine for a few hours, they think it would do you good as well. Malak can babysit them!

Speaking of Malak, if you get a raven plushie at any point in time it's Julian's favorite child

He will threaten to replace Malak with it if he doesn't behave

He doesn't mind you bringing the plushies to bed as long as he's still the main thing you're snuggling with. He has been known to wake up holding one with no idea how it got there

Asra

They think it's the most adorable thing they've ever witnessed, please never stop, it'll make them so sad not to see you all cuddled up and cute like that

Will snuggle them with you if you're okay with it

Makes a habit of bringing one back from every trip, in all the colors of the rainbow. Sometimes he'll name them in advance and concoct a ridiculous backstory for when he introduces them to you

Back when you were still recovering, they would sometimes leave a dab of their perfume on one of them so you wouldn't miss them too much at night

When you realized that he missed you on his trips too, you went out and got him a small one to fit in his bag and keep him company

They cried a little after you gave it to them (without letting you see)

It really helped him cope with your memory loss to know that you still wanted to be a part of his life, even when your condition and his isolating habits made it difficult

They have a favorite of your plushies and will cuddle it in front of you before they leave so it's charged full of all their snuggles to share with you while they're gone

Faust likes hiding in the pile of them and playing peek-a-boo, popping her little head out at random intervals

She refers to all of them as comfy friend and will threaten anyone who laughs at them

Nadia

Very, very surprised when she finds out, to the point of being momentarily speechless

She's not judging you at all. She just figures that it's a specifically MC thing that you like to do, even if she doesn't understand the appeal

When you start sharing her chambers with her she's initially a little put off by having them in her space

Not because she dislikes them, but because they're seen as childish and she's spent the last thirty years at least doing her best to distance herself from any and all childishness possible

She still likes to spoil you though, so she will regularly purchase new ones for you until you have enough to bury yourself in them

You notice she tends to get owl-themed ones, especially when they're made of similar material to her comfier clothes

She does grow to like them eventually

There's even a few well-founded rumors that she was spotted talking to them when you weren't around for her to verbally process her thoughts

Looking at them becomes almost as soothing as meditating

She will never admit to any of these things

Funnily enough, she does feel the need to be in a different room from them whenever she wants to heat things up with you a little. Something about their innocent little gaze freaks her out

Muriel

He doesn't say anything the first time he sees you hunker down with one, but his face and his mind are both screaming "What."

Genuinely did not know that anyone past the age of five could do that

Assumes that it's because you don't have a familiar yet and this is your way of coping. He knows he sleeps much better with Inanna around

He suddenly decides that he likes your habit when Morga makes several negative comments about it on your trip South. He'll quietly suggest you put it between the two of you so it doesn't roll out

He knows they're important to you, so he makes sure to have a good spot for them in the hut when you move in

Ideally somewhere out of Inanna's reach. You both know she probably doesn't care that much but neither of you wants to find out how quickly she could rip one to shreds if she felt like playing

He does find that they're very soothing to hold and squeeze sometimes, especially after a taxing day

He'll come inside and carefully wash his hands before sitting by the fire with one, idly smoothing his massive fingers over it if he accidentally squeezes too hard

If you charge one full of your cuddles and hand it to him to keep him company while you're gone, he'll turn bright red and sweat

He will keep it nearby and safe until you return though

Portia

She laughs when she finds out

Not the mean kind of laugh, the friendly kind of laugh that thinks it's a little silly but in a good way and very endearing

She loves how cozy they make the cottage feel. Don't just keep them in a heap, put some on the couch! On the chairs to hold a place for unexpected guests! By the fire, but not too close!

She never sleeps with them herself, but she doesn't mind them joining you at all

She does like playing with them though

Most of the time it's just to tease you. She'll hold one in front of her face and wake you up with a silly voice

Other times, if she's bored and in a very specific mood, she'll go full storyteller mode and use them to act out entire epics

The last novel she read? It's being dramatically reenacted on your stomach, complete with little red ribbons for the backstabbing scene:

"Blood! Blood! Blood! And ... DEATH."

You will never be able to read Hamlet the same way again

You were worried that Pepi might try to test out her claws on them but it turns out that she likes to nap in them instead. Which makes her hard to spot, because she is also very small and fluffy and cute

Portia once used an old skirt of hers to make you one for when she took an ambassador trip without you. It's your favorite

Lucio

When he first saw you holding one as a ghost he laughed so hard it made you jump

Gave you so much grief for it at first that Asra finally snapped and threatened to shove one up his -

- you know what, that would be too cruel to the plushie in question

He didn't comment on it again, and later apologized quietly once he had more practice acknowledging his mistakes

He still secretly thinks it's babyish until you ask him to hold one for you while you're juggling your traveling pack

It's so ... soft. And oddly comforting

Tries to hide the fact that he's reluctant to give it back when you're ready to hold it again

But now he reminds you to bring it to bed every night, because you sleep better with it, right? Yeah, no other reason

Except that you keep waking up with it missing, only to find it snuggled under his chin

He claims every time that it just got there because he was cuddling you, and doesn't say anything when you start bringing at least two to bed instead

Throws a fit when you get him one of his own because he's scared that his gauntlet might tear it. He names it five minutes later and now they're inseparable

He got one each for Mercedes and Melchior so they aren't tempted to chew on any of yours. Or his

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fluff #the arcana shitpost #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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lukiechino · 3 months

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A Dream Within A Dream

| Spencer Reid x Reader |

“O God! Can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! can I not save,

One from the pitiless wave?”

— “A Dream Within A Dream”, Edgar Allen Poe

Y/n laid awake in bed, staring at the slip of paper in her hand. She tried to let her roommate’s earth-shaking snoring lure her into a merciful sleep, but with the paper and the thought of the delightful stranger she had met that night fresh in her mind, it was impossible.

Her mind overflowed with thoughts of the date she asked him on and what she would wear. But even more so, the thought that she held the coupon that he had quickly scribbled his number onto in her hand filled her mind with thoughts of late night talks and good morning calls that she always dreamt of having.

Y/n looked at the cardigan that was draped over the chair in front of her desk, remembering the moment he gave it too her. They were standing at the door of his apartment building, and Y/n awkwardly held the coupon he gave to her. She a short, sleeveless, sequence dress that her friend lent her had left her wrapping her arms around her for warmth. She awkwardly waved at him, but he hesitated at the entrance of the building. He quickly tugged off his cardigan and awkwardly slipped it over Y/n’s shoulder.

Neither of them knew what to say or do next, but Y/n managed to ask him out to coffee. Then, just before he entered his building, Y/n remembered neither of them had introduced themselves, even though they talked at the bar for what felt like an hour.

“Dr. Spencer Reid,” Y/n whispered, staring at the paper. She grabbed her phone off her nightstand, turning it on. She quickly made the number into a new contact and stuffed the coupon into her nightstand’s drawer.

In a decision fueled by the confidence from lack of sleep, Y/n clicked call. She shot up as her phone rang loudly, and she hurried to turn it down.

Y/n hurried out of her and her roommates shared room, and into the living room. She placed the phone against her ear, listening as her phone rang. There was the click of the other end picking up, and Y/n broke out into a smile as she heard Spencer’s hesitant voice.

“Y/n?” He said. Then she realized that she just called this guy she barely knew at midnight, for no reason.

“Yeah, sorry, I don’t know why I called,” she rambled out quickly, pacing the length of her dining room table. “I…sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” Y/n said, prepared to hang up.

“It’s alright, I couldn’t sleep anyway,” he said, making Y/n’s finger pause on the hang-up button. She sat on the couch staring up at the ceiling as she held the phone to her ear. “Remember what we were talking about at the bar?” He asked. Of course she remembered, how could she forget?

The night turned sour for Y/n after her group of friends ditched her at a bar, with plans to go to a party nearby. But as she settled in at the bar, she found the guy next to her was reading a compilation of Edgar Allen Poe writings. Y/n excitedly struck up a conversation, which continued until a group of rowdy college kids infiltrated the bar.

“I finished reading Annabelle Lee,” he said.

“Ooo, how was it?” Y/n asked. It was one of her favorites—and it was actually the first poem of Poe’s she ever read.

“Still like the Raven more,” he said with a chuckle, and Y/n groaned dramatically.

“C’mon, the longing, the romance, the despair…” Y/n sighed. “Y’know what, the angels did not send a cold gust of wind to chill and kill Annabelle Lee for you to compare them to a talking Raven,” she said, getting Spencer to chuckle on the other end. “How about A Dream within a Dream, read that one yet?”

“I did, and it might actually be my favorite.”

“Phew, I don’t think I could handle any more disrespect to far superior stories,” Y/n said with a grin. Y/n closed her eyes to take in a breath. “The ending, it’s too beautifully written. The despair in every word reminds me of the empty feeling I get when I finish some eye-opening movie.” The doorbell rang as she finished talking. Y/n stared at the door upside down, praying it wasn’t family. But just in case she ended the call with, “Let me call you right back.”

The next morning, Gabby, Y/n’s roommate, woke up to an empty house. She looked around for Y/n, but found no signs she had been there at all since the night before. Nothing, except, for a crumbled up coupon with a phone number, and thin red cardigan that was thrown over her chair.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid cm #x reader #wip #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds wip #if I get bored i might make this into a multi chapter thing #dunno tho #tasteful edgar allen poe references #edgar allan poe #dream within a dream #annabelle lee #the raven

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xaharadesert · 2 years

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MC Stood Up on a Date - Headcanon

Arcana Characters (Main 6) x MC

A/N: this one is for @baddrawingsandsadness! Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes :) requests are closed while I catch up, but if you wanna send in memes or pics of cats, or literally anything that is not a request, go for it!

Note: MC is stood up by an ✨unknown citizen✨, and the LI is comforting them

❤️Julian❤️

He genuinely seems more upset than you are— scandalized, if you will

He makes this very apparent to you, as he decides he needs to lecture you about how amazing you are for a solid half hour

(He kind of looks like he’s going to cry)

Makes a joke about how if even someone as awesome as you gets stood up, then there’s no hope for someone like him

The self-deprecation is not appreciated, as you let him know

That helps him get back on track, and he vows to hunt down the person who stood you up

So you point out that he’s still not back on track

In the end, the two of you go out to The Rowdy Raven to have some fun of your own

By the end of the night, you’ve completely forgotten the worst part of your day

🧡Portia🧡

She looks exactly like the surprised pikachu meme when you tell her

It’s quickly followed up by the assertion that whoever dared to stand you up must be either an idiot, or dead in a ditch somewhere, because no sane person would ever do something like that to someone as wonderful as you

She’s pretty quick to move on from the topic though; she’s an optimistic woman, and believes that even the worst days can be made better with some fun

The two of you go out for the day, exploring the nooks and crannies of Vesuvia that you overlooked before

You find all kinds of fun and whimsical shops, and your pockets quickly fill with trinkets as your stomachs fill with exotic foods

The day is a whirlwind of chaos and fun, and by the end you’ll have realized that it was infinitely better than anything a traditional date could offer

You finish off the day laughing on Portia’s cottage floor with Pepi curled up on your lap while you tell stories

💛Lucio💛

Well now that’s just illegal

Immediately offers to have his guards tracks them down

You decline, much to his disappointment

Honestly, his entire response to this event is just to complain and insult whoever dared stand you up

In his opinion, this is one of the worst atrocities ever committed

You’re one of his favourite people (next to himself, obviously), so if someone insults you, they insult him as well

And we all know what happens when Lucio is insulted

You’ll probably just try to get on with your day, but now you’ll be followed around by a whiny Lucio who just can’t let this go

Well, at least you know someone adores you

💚Muriel💚

He doesn’t really know how to comfort you about this

I mean, on one hand, he knows he would be absolutely devastated if something like that happened to him, but on the other, you’ve clearly just avoided getting into what would have surely been a toxic relationship

So in the end, he just sits there and lets you vent to him for as long as you need to

Of course, at some point he does have to go do chores and such, so he just kind of edges his way out of the room

This doesn’t seem to discourage you, as you just follow him around while he does what he has to

Well, he supposes that’s fine

He’s not really listening, but whenever you seem to be getting really upset, he offers you an awkward pat on the back

He’s really not cut out for this

💙Asra💙

He sympathizes, he really does, but at the same time a small part of him is relieved that you’re not going on a date with someone he had been getting bad vibes from since the beginning

Don’t get him wrong— if you’re happy, he’s happy

But he also wants you to be safe

Of course, he’ll never voice his relief aloud; he makes you tea and listens quietly while you get your feelings out into the open

And when you’re done, he asks if you’d like to join him in gathering some spell ingredients in the forest

It’s a simple and peaceful task; it doesn’t force you to repress your emotions, but it lets you process them in a comfortable environment

If you want to vent while the two of you pick mushrooms, he listens; if you want to be distracted, he tells you all about whatever book he’s been reading; and if you want to take a break to bask in the sun together, then of course, he’d love that too

At the end of the day, things are pretty much back to normal

Even if it’s still just the two of you, you’re both comfortable and content with that

💜Nadia💜

She’s genuinely astounded that anyone would actually stand you up

It just doesn’t make sense to her

Obviously she hasn’t been on a lot of traditional dates herself, but that just seems like something one should never do

She decides that, even though it wasn’t her fault, she was going to take you on a date herself (platonic or romantic, you decide)

She wants to show you what you deserve from a relationship, so she goes all out

From your outfit, to the entertainment, to the feast comprised of your favourite foods; every detail is taken care of

And at the end of the date, she takes you out to the garden to ask you how you feel; do you feel any better, having been shown how much you mean to her?

Even if the answer is no, that’ll only motivate her to do more the next time

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fox-daddy · 2 months

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20 for all three!

Question 20: Reversed endings

Due to how the reversed/upright endings work in the game. My plan was to give the Mc's a route for each version. Due to it taking 12 endings into 24, some are more worked out than others.

Also, mild to major spoilers for all the endings.

Kyle;

Nadia reversed, Kyle reversed; due to Nadia's plan and being tied to Nadia, Kyle started getting pestered by the Fool. In his reversed ending, he neither tries to counter Nadia's plan despite his position nor ask for help from his friends and allies. Leading to him having to kill the Fool, returning Asra, their half-hearted, and fully becoming the Fool. Nadia's plan leads to a full-on arcana war, causing more damage as the minor arcana suffer the most from this. Lacking the power and security the Major naturally has.

Nadia upright, Kyle revered; similar to how Nadia's reversed ending starts with her killing her ex, Kyle's, start with him killing his sister. To feed into the places law. Kyle is the only one left of a four member group, something he signed up to when he was a child. Thus, unless he passes the title on, which would only be possible once Kyle isn't able to do his job anymore so around 30-50 years. He isn't allowed to date or have romantic relations. Since he's bound to this place with nobody able to take the job, he can't say no. Being on the other side of the world, a war with Vesuvia would be a complete loss for Vesuvia, who can't afford it.

Asra reversed, Kyle reversed;

With the world in chaos, humans are dying left rigor and center as the major arcana are fighting each other for what little power remains. A chunk of the minor arcana is already gone (formless and realmless but not dead), and even some of the major arcana are struggling. With this, the Fool is pestering Kyle again since theirs still time to fix things if they hurry. In the reversed ending, similar to Nadia's reversed ending, Kyle fully becomes the Fool as his domain becomes the new human realm as their unable to gather enough power. Leaving Asra with a full heart again. It takes hundreds of years for Kyle to rebuild the human realm. I'm that time everyone he knows dies of old age as I the end Kyle is left alone as a major arcana, the Fool.

Asra, upright, Kyle reversed; similar to Nadia, it starts with Kyle killing his sister. Instead of staying to face the consequences, he runs away with Asra back to Vesuvia. Due to having the magic to cut the bound and run. Leaving Kyle with a loss to his sense of self. Slowly over years, he becomes consumed by the fool as nobody is not even a major arcana like death, or the magician can do anything to help him. Eventually, Kyle becomes the fool returning Asra's half hear and becoming trapped in the realms unable to truly feel anything but a ghost of his previous human emotions.

Hunter;

Julian's reversed, Hunter's reversed; two words, ✨️alcoholism✨️ and furries. Basically, even with Hunter their unable to find their friends or fix anything. Eventually, much later than Julian, Hunter gives up, and they stay at the always shocked Rowdy Raven. As a ravenman and mained-wolfperson.

(For the rest of Hunter's, I haven't thought much about it)

Julian's upright, Hunter's reversed; basically, Hunter gets killed for their old crimes. Remember how Julian was all for getting hanged because he thought he killed Lucio? Hunter's body count is around 91 people. While they can argue for 32 of them, they were 1. A child and 2. Forced to the other 59 are on the air.

(I haven't played Muriel or Portia'a route in a while)

Muriel reversed, Hunter reversed; while trying to find a way to force Lucio back into the magic realms Hunter ends up making a deal where they trick Lucio into agreeing to go without a fight as long as they become his new pet as the Fool. As of course, when he realizes he's been tricked, he doesn't take it lightly. While Hunter makes sure nobody, not even Asra can enter Lucio's domain (the new devil).

Muriel upright, Hunter reversed; remember that kill count? Hunter is found out to be in Vesuvia and forced to stand trial. After losing horribly, they end up actually having to go into hiding with Muriel. Sinking deeper into the woods and cutting almost all their connections forced to live in basically solitude until their either forgotten or found and killed by those seeking revenge.

Portia reversed, Hunter reversed; with magic gone, an old deal is solidified, so only 59 of the kill count counts. Along with the diplomatic mission failing due to Hunter having to focus on that and not make things more muddled. Vesuvia is in war, another group outside the war wants Hunter's head as compensation for the 12 people they killed, and if they don't, they'll team up against Vesuvia. So Hunter abandons Portia and hands themselves in Julian style to save Vesuvia and in their eyes Portia.

Portia upright, Hunter reversed; basically the same, but three different groups want Hunter's head. Two cities and an entire gang organization. So Hunter gives themselves up to save Vesuvia and, in turn, Portia and give a big fat middle finger to the gang by not letting them torture them before they were killed humanely by being hanged.

Bluebell;

Lucio reversed, Bluebell reversed; after countless attempts from others and the major arcana to change their plan, Bluebell goes full force into murdering most of the human population. Leaving Lucio in control of everyone else as they make sure those remaining are safe to feast and drink as much as they want on a large island while animals and nature take over everything else.

(Another one I haven't really thought of)

Lucio upright, Bluebell reversed; during bounty hunting life, they both get too injured to continue as their forced to retire after having to be saved by other people. It doesn't sound too bad for a reversed, except during their time, Bluebell had their wings and tail chopped off, their ears clipped, and Lucio had his metal arm destroyed, his other arm broken if not cut off, one of his familiars killed the other got saved but was in B.A.D condition when found. Their both traumatized to the Devils realm and back. By the end, their back in the magic shop with the banishment revoked due to Bluebell needing to be close to friends for emotional support despite Bluebell actually spending 99% of their time in the woods in solitude outside Lucio.

#the arcana spoilers #the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana mc #oc ask games #ask my mc's #mc kyle #mc hunter #mc bluebell

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blizzardrush · 5 months

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( Hey everyone! Since Sons of Theseus is basically a fic, I wanted to make an author's notes sort of post explaining some of the things going on in it.

Directly under the cut will be a TL;DR so you can get up to speed with my muses' current main verses without reading SoT, though I'd appreciate if you did. Spoiler alert!

Anyway, let's get to it! )

Too Long; Didn't Read:

Bryan: After being trapped in a false reality for over a year, Fury had difficulty grasping if he was actually free of his perfect dream or still stuck. He found Dragunov during the eighth King of Iron Fist Tournament. Due to their shared history, Fury made him his basis of what was real or not. Sergei died during Azazel's rebirth, causing Bryan to rampage across continental Europe, Dragunov's corpse in tow, to the HQ of the Gold Raptors. He witnessed Sergei's resurrection and went with him to the Battle of Yakushima (after all, who was gonna stop him?). He panicked when he perceived Sergei on the brink of death again and intervened in Dragunov's fight with Victor. Sergei was only enacting a ruse, however, and attacked Bryan instead. Their tussle was interrupted by Devil Kazuya. When the dust settled, Bryan realized Dragunov is just as strong as he ever was, and thus knows now for certain that he is in the real world, and it is his for the taking.

Sergei: An attempt to give a graduation gift to his younger sister was hideously misinterpreted, causing him to lose his temper and have a painful coughing fit. He was dispatched to the King of Iron Fist Tournament to represent Russia and defeated Shaheen. Part of the Coliseum collapsed during Azazel's appearance. He was crushed under rubble and killed. At the instant of his death, the Gold Raptors captured a snapshot of his being down to the quantum level and reconstructed him, minus the cancer in his lungs and throat he did not know he had. The Major, leader of the Raptors, sent him to the Battle of Yakushima, where he fought with Victor. He feigned an injury to catch the Raven off-guard, but Bryan "rescued" him before he could follow through. Outraged at the lost opportunity, Dragunov attacked Bryan instead, stabbing him in the thigh. Devil Kazuya brought the entire battle to a fiery halt. Initially despairing over what he thought was a complete failure of his mission, Sergei realized that he had almost killed Fury without much effort. If he could do that fresh from the grave, then his future potential is limitless.

𓆚 | 𓅓

Stuff I Want to Mention:

The thread's title, Sons of Theseus, refers to the Ship of Theseus thought experiment: "is something still the same thing if it has all of its original parts replaced?" Both Bryan and Dragunov go through some hefty changes through the story. Fury gets his entire perception of reality rocked, deeply disturbing him for possibly the first time in his life. Sergei gets it worse -- he is literally rebuilt from the ground up.

There are two songs embedded in SoT: Dead Man's Party by Oingo Boingo, and Silent Running by Gorillaz. Both have lyrics relevant to the story.

Dead Man's Party:

I was hit by something last night in my sleep It's a dead man's party, who could ask for more? Everybody's comin', leave your body at the door Leave your body and soul at the door

Though I mostly used this song to go with the jovial atmosphere of Bryan's dream of Hollywood stardom, in his first post, he is hit by something in his sleep: Dragunov talking. The sheer shock of this is enough to snap him out of it!

Silent Running:

Stop, 'cause you're killing me You brought me back and made me feel free Rowdy waves and your energy You pulled me fragile from the wreckage Well, I got so lost here Machine assisted, I disappear To a dream, you don't wanna hear How I got caught up in nowhere again

This song was a HUGE inspiration for SoT as a whole. These lyrics practically happen. Why?

Because Sons of Theseus is fix-it fic. imo Bryan and Dragunov have a lot of potential. Yeah, I know, I get it, T8 isn't about them. But blizzardrush and unbrydledfury are! With any luck, I gave them a compelling narrative to go along with the canon story.

Speaking of which, the entire thing, like most of my fics, was the result of brainworms. I didn't get T8 right out of the gate, and though I tried to avoid spoilers, I heard that the losers of the KoIF tournament would be killed. Since Bryan and Dragunov are villains, I assumed they would likely be goners. How was I supposed to write them if they were canonically dead? This wasn't the case, of course, but I liked the idea of actually killing one of my muses. Sergei drew the short straw because I was having trouble deciding how his character was developing. Now he has a blank slate! What a lucky guy!

I didn't want his resurrection to be an ass-pull handwaved by oh the Foundation Raptors are ~*~spooOOooky~*~ military mad science, but then I remembered there is precedent for them doing shit like this :^)

Bryan being stuck in a lotus-eater machine was the result of much brainstorming about how to keep a nearly-invincible cyborg subdued for over a year. Turns out it's easy -- you just target the ego. Fun fact: the duration his black box reports was the length of time between that post and the last post I made on unbrydled :')

Finally, there's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it reference Bryan makes to a "thing in Vegas". He's talking about the three-way thread between him, Dragunov, and icecoldwilliams' Nina, in which they're chasing down a lost nuclear bomb before someone sets it off. I love continuity in my RP blogs; I feel like it gives them more weight.

So there you go! That wraps up SoT. Bryan and Dragunov are officially updated and back to regular programming.

Thank you for reading! <3 )

#( ooc )

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nvvermore · 2 years

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Slowly Sinking Deeper

Amaryllis is once again assisting Julian in finding the truth. Unwillingly, of course.

[part ten of Come What May]

words: 3k

cw: drunkenness, memory loss, lucio, the girls are still fighting

accompaniment

-☽☼☾-

“Portia, I have no interest in helping Julian.”

Portia—literally— puts her foot down. “Bullshit, Amaryllis. Not even forty-eight hours ago you two couldn’t stop making googly eyes at each other. You told me you knew he was innocent, that we were on the same side. What changed?”

“You can thank your fool of a brother for the change.”

“Let me guess. He pushed you away, pulled some martyr crap?” She rolls her eyes.

Amaryllis’s silence is all the answer she needs.

“Yea, you aren't special, that's just Ilya. He's been that way ever since we were kids. Always insisting on taking the load all on his own while lamenting how heavy it is. That doesn't mean we can’t help him anyways.”

“I understand your desire to help your brother, I do. I know I've helped mine out far more than I should. But I'd rather not.” Amaryllis pauses, glancing down to meet Portia’s pleading eyes. “But I’ll help you. And I’d like to know the truth, whether it clears his name or not.”

-☽☼☾-

Of course, Amaryllis and Portia find Julian at the Rowdy Raven, drinking away his sorrows of the night as if he wasn't the one to cause them in the first place. They grow furious, at the sight of him sitting there, drunk off of his ass, surrounded by empty pints of ale. If anyone, it should be them drinking away their sorrows, not him.

Amaryllis and Portia approach, Portia giving them the go-ahead to knock him out of his stupor.

“Up. Now, you fool.” they order, standing tall before his hunched over form.

It takes a moment for him to finally look up at them. “Amaryllis! Amie… You're here, in front of me.”

It’s Portia’s turn to have a go at her brother, and while the siblings bicker over his state Amaryllis zones out, wishing they were anywhere else. Or maybe that they had a drink themself.

There's talks of smuggling Julian back out of the city, to which he refuses despite Portia’s insistence.

“Amaryllis?” Portia interrupts their internal monologue. “A plan?”

“A plan? The plan should be Julian laying low, until I've had enough time to prove he wasn't responsible for Lucio’s death.”

Julian shakes his head, and with the state he’s in they're surprised it isn't nauseating. “But I remember nothing! You have no other witnesses, no one to prove otherwise.”

“I don't know that yet. I think Asra knows something, I just need to press harder. If only I could use my magic on him…”

“No no no, I need to figure out what happened for myself.” Julian goes to take another sip of his drink, but Amaryllis snatches it from his grasp and slams it on the table.

“Would you knock it off with the self-suffering?”

“Okay, what if we went back to the scene of the crime? Ilya, would that jog your memory?” Portia suggests.

“Portia, chérie, how do you suggest we get Ilya, the wanted murderer, into the palace?”

“I know my way in and around the palace just fine. But once we're in, he’ll need to lay low.”

“Me? Lay low? Impossible.” In a moment, they’re going to to be the one convicted of murder. His murder.

“I can disguise him if needed. I have a penchant for glamour spells of all strengths. You'll just need to keep Nadia occupied.”

-☽☼☾-

Portia gets the two of them into the palace with ease, Amaryllis only casting a glamour on Julian to smuggle him through the Palace’s employee entrance. After that, she shows the two to a door that leads to a network of hidden hallways. She explains that they haven't been in use since Lucio’s death— Nadia much prefers the palace’s main halls to be filled with liveliness, and before that there wasn't anyone to hide from. She gives them directions from there to Lucio’s wing, and goes off to find Nadia.

Amaryllis leads the way through the dark, hidden halls, summoning a flame in the palm of their hand to light the way. When they focus, they realize they don't need Portia’s direction to find their way to Lucio.

“I… I can't believe you're here… helping me, even after I hurt you last night.” Julian murmurs. Amaryllis imagines he's likely wringing his hands together, the way he does when he's anxious. They can't believe they know that about him.

“I’m not here to help you. If anyone, I’m helping Portia, and myself. I’m in too deep at this point to ignore all the coincidences of that night.” they retort.

Julian has nothing to say to that, and Amaryllis doesn't bother looking back at him.

It isn't long before they reach the door that connects to Lucio’s wing.

“Stay put. I’ll scout ahead. I doubt anyone is here, but last I checked there were two pups patrolling the place.”

Julian seems to obey, for the first time in what feels like ages, while Amaryllis exits into the main hall, right before the doors of Lucio’s bedroom. There are no Mercedes or Melchior to be seen, and no sounds coming from behind the gilded doors before them. Just the suffocating feeling of dread, similar to the last time they visited here.

They give Julian the okay to come out, not without a veiled threat to stay quiet. He doesn't— he can't— not when he notices the portrait of them on the wall.

“Amie… that’s—”

They shush him.

The two slip inside the bedroom, Julian shutting the heavy doors behind him with a muted thump.

It’s just as chilling as it was before.

Amaryllis wastes no time arming themself, pulling their second dagger from the holster at their thigh.

“You aren’t planning to use that on me, are you?” Julian whispers, and they know he can't help but try to break the silence.

“Quiet.”

They step silently across the dingy maroon carpeting, approaching the center of the room, where the phantom of Lucio assaulted them before. Their boot kicks something, and when they look down, it's the blade they abandoned before. The veil they'd left, on the other hand, is nowhere to be seen. When they lean down to grab the dagger, that's when they hear him.

“You're back.”

Amaryllis spins around to face Julian. “Well, we're here. Memory jogged yet?”

“Uh, no. Unless you count memories of dealing with all of Lucio’s antics in this room, I don't think so.”

“You brought Jules this time? For me? Amie, you really shouldn't have.”

“Don't—“ they shout, “Call him that. Don't call me that.”

“Amaryllis?” Julian questions, concerned, approaching them cautiously, hands raised. It’s clear he isn’t hearing what they are.

“Julian, please, think. Alleged witnesses put you in this room that night. Why did you come here? Where did you come from?”

“I've told you, I can't remember anything!”

“You think Jules here killed me? As if he'd have the guts. You, on the other hand…”

Amaryllis feels a fleeting touch at their neck, and they dash across the room, approaching the mirror where Lucio had shown himself before. The sheet over it had been replaced since then, and they pull it off, tossing it to the side.

They wait, weapons raised, even though in the back of their mind they know blades are useless against an apparition. Julian remains in his place, as they ignore his questioning pleas.

“It'd be a dream come true to discover I was the one to bring you to an end.” Amaryllis speaks into the mirror, eyes darting across the surface, waiting to catch even the slightest glimpse of white fur. The thought of Lucio makes them feel ill, and it’s not just because of the last time they were here or the portrait in the hall. They know there’s so much more to this that they can't recall.

The room grows silent, even Julian stops speaking, and for a stretch of time all they can hear is the pounding of their blood in their ears.

And then Lucio is there, a clawed hand taking them by the throat, the other around their middle.

“And in a way, you did…”

There's a flash of a bright, white light, and when Amaryllis’s vision clears, Lucio is staring back at them in the mirror, as is their reflection, and so is a brand upon their chest— identical to the one Julian bears— directly over their heart.

Julian must be able to see what's happening then, because he rushes over, scooping up one of the discarded daggers from the floor below them before he plunges it into the mirror, cracking it even further.

The hold Lucio has on them vanishes along with any sign of their newly discovered mark.

“Amaryllis?” Julian questions again, his voice pleading. They can see the way he longs to approach them in the shattered reflection of the mirror.

“We need to leave. Now.” Amaryllis grabs him by the arm, dragging Julian through the room before making it to relative safety in the hallway, and then back into the hidden passageway.

Once inside, Amaryllis collapses against the wall, sliding to sit on the ground. Their head is pounding, and there's a pain in their chest they don't recall experiencing before.

Julian takes a seat next to them. “That was… Lucio?”

“His ghost,” they correct.

“You've dealt with him before, I take it.”

“When Nadia first brought me here. I was wandering, his room was calling to me. Turned out to just be him.”

“He was speaking to you, just now?”

“He told me you didn't kill him. But implied I was involved in his death.”

“You?”

“You saw the portrait. You really think I would have willingly debased myself that way? Slung over his lap like I’m nothing more than a pet? I don't even know what truly happened, and the implication is enough for me to want to tear him to shreds.”

Silence stretches over the two for a long while.

“The mark… it matches mine. Did you know?” Julian finally asks.

“I had no idea. I'd never seen that sigil before I came across the notes at your desk.”

“My desk… I had a desk here. In the library.”

“Yes… and?” He and Amaryllis just learned that they might have been Lucio’s murderer, and he's worried about his desk?

“The scene of the crime may have held more answers than we bargained for, but the desk is calling to me. I think we’ll find something there.”

“I've already searched it. I found nothing other than what I brought to you the other night.”

“Humor me.”

Amaryllis can't help but oblige him.

-☽☼☾-

It takes some trial and error for them to find the library, with Julian leading the way, but eventually he finds the hidden door that takes them there. When they enter, it’s empty, and Amaryllis hopes it stays that way.

Julian leads the way to the desk too, muttering all the while. Amaryllis can't catch everything he says, but it sounds as if he's verbally retracing his steps. When he gets there, he starts rapidly digging through the folders, rummaging through the drawers, every so often stopping to glance over a paper.

“Julian, there’s nothing else here.”

“No no no, I swear it, there's something here—“ He knocks at the bottom of a now-emptied drawer, and then pulls out a false panel. “Ah ha! This is it, this is what was calling to me!”

From it, he raises up an old, weathered skeleton key, adorned with red gems in the eyes, in victory. “Don't ask me how I know, but I know. It's not any of these old scrawlings. it's this!” He straightens himself out, tossing the key in the air and catching it before pocketing it. The smile on his face is absolutely beaming.

Amaryllis doesn't see it coming, when all of a sudden he's wrapping his arms around their waist, spinning around with them in his embrace.

“Julian—“

“I’m one step closer, if it wasn't for you, dear Amaryllis, I'd still be two behind!” he exclaims.

He sets them down gently, hands lingering on their shoulders, chest just barely brushing up against theirs.

“About everything. I'm sorry.” he confesses, head dropping. “I don't know what I was thinking, rejecting you like I did—“

Amaryllis places a hand against his chest, pushing him back. “It was for the best, I believe.” They're glad his head is down, because they couldn't possibly bear whatever look it is he has on his face right now.

The sound of the locks on the Library door save them from finding out.

They're dragging Julian away again, and thankfully he follows with just as much haste as them. Back into the hidden hallway, they get the door shut just in time to hear Nadia and Portia’s voices entering the library.

“Well, where do we go from here?” Julian asks, his voice uncharacteristically timid.

“I’ll take you to my quarters. Portia can sneak you back out from there.”

-☽☼☾-

“This is… quite the guest room.” Julian glances around the extravagant room, arms crossed and shoulders slumped.

“It’s not. Apparently Nadia had it picked just for me. But I think I lived here, before.”

Amaryllis finally dares a look at him, his eye hollow as he stares blankly at the bookshelf.

“There's… something here. Calling to me. Like the key.” Julian murmurs, in a daze.

They watch as he paces around the room, seeming to follow whatever special sense he seems to have, searching for the unknown. He stops before a blank panel of wall.

“It’s here.”

“Julian, that's just a wall.”

“No, there's more to it. I know.”

Amaryllis realizes he's standing right before the wall with the hidden panel. They approach, shooing him out of the way before popping it open, pulling out the book that’s been hidden inside. They try to open it again, to no avail, before handing it over to him.

“It’s sealed with magic, so I doubt youll learn anything from—“ they look over to find he already has the cover open. “Oh.”

“It’s… filled with music,” he comments, in awe, as his eye scans the pages.

“Then the spell was cast to only allow you to open it.” It doesn't take much more to piece together that they themself must have done it, long ago. Just another anecdote to add to the ever growing list of evidence linking them to him.

“Why me?” He flips through the pages, until he gets to the middle and an envelope falls, fluttering to the ground. Amaryllis ducks down to grab it, but as soon as their fingers make contact with the parchment, a headache strikes them.

Amaryllis stumbles backwards holding their head, landing on the ground.

Julian crouches down next to them. “Amaryllis, what is it?”

“I'm fine. The letter, what does it say?”

He gets up and steps away, hesitantly, picking up the letter, carefully examining the envelope.

“It’s addressed to me.” He flips it open, pulling out a piece of parchment, eye scanning the page rapidly.

“Well? Who wrote it?”

“You can't see this.”

“Excuse me?” They rise, head still pounding.

“I can’t, in good conscience, show this to you.”

“Oh come on, Julian. I don't need a protector, or a savior. Show it to me, now.”

“This isn't like last night.” He glances up at them, and Amaryllis sees tears falling from his eye. He looks at them in shock, turning away only to wipe at his eye under the patch.

“Please, tell me.”

“No.” He straightens up, clearing his throat and gently folding the letter back up. He places it back within between the pages of the book, shutting it with a gentle thump. “I need to go.”

“Go where? Frolicking around the palace? No, you need to wait for Portia.”

Julian throws his arms up. “No! I need to go think!”

“What was in that letter that’s got you so shaken up? Who wrote it?”

“I won't tell you.” His tone is resolute, more so than they've ever heard him before.

Amaryllis has nothing to say to that. They rise, head feeling better than it did a moment ago, retreating to the other side of the room.

“Julian.” they start, “I won’t say this again. But I wish to help you. However I can. Not because of whatever I believe of your guilt. But because I believe there should be someone on your side, despite the message you've sent me. Guilt is subjective— whatever you may feel you have done that deserves ostracization, might be a righteous belief in another. And besides, Lucio himself said I might be at fault for his death. So it seems you have some competition.”

“Amaryllis… you couldn't have…” Julian mutters.

“And you could? Now you can look at it from my angle. Someone you can look at and see the stars— accused of the apparent worst crime this city has seen in decades.”

“Is that what you see? When you look at me?”

“Against my better judgment,” they admit.

He approaches them, slowly. Amaryllis isn't looking, but they hear the soft thud of him setting down the book, the quiet steps of his boots against the rug. They feel the heat of him at their back. His breath against their neck.

“Amaryllis, I—”

“Don’t,” they spin around, pulling away from the window to face him. “You made your decision. And I've made mine. I'm a fool, for feeling like you broke my heart, after only a few days. But I won't let you do it to me again.”

Julian just stares down at them, his eye tearing up again. He’s just about to speak when the door to their chambers bursts open.

Portia really knows how to time her entrances.

“I had hoped the two of you would be here! I've been looking all over!” she announces, shutting the door behind her. “The Countess is busy with dinner, as is most of the staff. Ilya, I should get you home now.”

“Pasha!” Julian takes a moment to pull himself away from them. “What timing! I was just thinking about how starved I was!”

“If you pick up the pace, I'll bring you to my place for dinner.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“Amaryllis, I’d invite you but…” Portia clasps her hands together. “Not only do I need you to make sure milady stays occupied, but you have some guests.”

Amaryllis finally turns to look at Portia. “Guests?”

“It seems the magician Asra and his assistant, Vesper, have come to ‘assist’ in your investigation.”

#amieilya divorced arc #the arcana #amaryllis leroux #julian devorak #portia devorak #amieilya #apprentice amaryllis #fan apprentice #my fic #amie fic

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lethargical-lily · 2 years

Note

hello, i was wondering if you could do a male lizzie hearts reader ?. like the raven queen reader one (also if you write for chenya could you add him, if not you can ignore it).

TWST Dorm leader x Male!EAH!Lizzie Hearts

🌹Riddle Rosehearts🌹

Marriage

Immediately

But seriously he is so down bad for you without fully realizing

Everyone may think that you two are basically the same person but that's not necessarily true

While you do have all of your mother's rules memorized by heart you don't get onto people for not following them nearly as much as he does

You love him and your mother, but you are very aware that the rules are kind of wacky especially outside of your hometown of wonderland

He would be even more actively obsessed with you when he finds out your mother is THE queen of hearts (sound familiar)

He needs to know EVERYTHING

What is she like? are the stories true? how was it being raised in wonderland? are the rules accurate? does he truly resemble her regality?

It may seem like he likes your mother more than you but he's just excited

Over time when you both get to know each other better he'll get to understand that you're less about following the rules and more about embracing your heritage, hence you often saying the infamous (and dreaded) "Off With Your Head!" line

Heartslaybul students slowly get acclimated to hearing double the voices when that line is spoken

You're actually a very sweet person when getting to know people, it's just hard because of your reputation which is something he relates to as well, but you both encourage each other to go out and make friends

Heartslaybul is like a big family filled with rowdy kids and a very strict parent and a very nice parent who makes the strict one chill

You're not the vice-dorm leader but people will go to you often when they need to get Riddle to cool down a bit since you do it the best

You play croquet together :)

It gets very competitive very fast

Bonus: Please bring him home for the holidays he'll faint (in a good way)

Extra Bonus: If your mom catches a whiff of his home conditions it is off with her head

🦁Leona Kingscholar🦁

At first, he's not your biggest fan

On the surface you're pretty much a Riddle copycat and at best he can tolerate Riddle

It's not until his overblot incident that he gets to experience your true kindness

He doesn't have a crush on you (yet), but he does hang around you when you have the chance

After all, how could he miss a chance to watch your face puff up a little when you yell your famous line

At first, he was annoyed but now he's more amused when you direct your phrase at him

You visit the botanical garden often due to your botany hobby and he likes to bother you while you're tending to plants or taking notes for fun

He doesn't understand how you do it for fun, but your notes are very organized and nice and seeing you chew your pen in focus always makes him blush

(If you help him with alchemy, he'll love you forever)

You don't cuddle with him unless it's in private

You may be cool, but you still have an image to uphold as the heir to the Kingdom of Hearts

Speaking of royalty, he's not thrilled with your mother being the queen of hearts

He loves seeing you be proud of your heritage, but he's convinced that eventually you'll have to leave him behind to be something he never had the chance to be

Once he inevitably shares this insecurity, you'd look at him in confusion and say "I thought we were on the same page of getting married and being kings of wonderland🥲"

He'll just look at you with wide eyes, but you can tell he's unspeakably happy and wants it very much

He would also be scared shitless if he ever had to meet your mother since her approval is important to you and he feels there's no way he'd pass

He secretly has meetings with Riddle where he can practice on him to see if he would be good enough for the actual queen

It's a lot of effort but he'll do what he needs if it means being with you

🐙Azul Ashengrotto🐙

You met through the board game club since you're a fan of card games

This was the singular thing he couldn't beat you at and he was FLOORED

He did everything he could to practice the many different card games you knew in an effort to beat you in them, but he just couldn't

The many games he challenged you to were kind of a bunch of dates that neither of you were aware were even dates

This to say he got to know you pretty well through these games

You are very good at catching onto his choice of words to avoid his scams

Not that he'd want to actively scam you now, but before he did find your power intriguing

This whole card thing would have him turning the lounge into somewhat of a casino

Think kakegurui but less death

You bring in a lot of money due to your phenomenal skills and something about that is just SO ATTRACTIVE TO HIM

Two businessmen in love, his dream❤️

When you learn of his past you somewhat can relate

You weren't isolated and bullied as much as him, but you didn't have many close friends which is why you were so happy when you were allowed to make the octotrio a quadruple

Floyd likes to bother you but in a nice way

The tweels find you very entertaining and Azul is dating you so people are very wary of messing with you

He'll often have specials in the lounge that are based off of your wonderland heritage which you appreciate very much (this is also how he expresses his love so be prepared for many hearts and inside jokes in the titles/descriptions)

if he had to meet your mother his insecurity would poke out a bit but he's been able to grow a good amount of confidence since then, but the intimidation is still there

🥳Kalim Al-Asim🥳

He thinks you're such a sweetheart he loves you so much

He loves how you much you embrace your wonderland heritage; it makes him want to make you his king even more

You both like to learn about each other's cultures and homelands

For any reader who didn't know, Lizzie Hearts is a character who is skilled in playing the dulcimer

Taking this into consideration, Kalim will either beg you to teach him or just beg to hear you play

He loves helping you embrace your interests which is why he always gets you rare plants from different parts of the world to study

He thinks your background as a prince is SO COOL

He's rich but he's not exactly royalty, that won't stop him from treating you like so

He likes to do your heart themed makeup on you or let you do his

He also likes when you kiss his face with lipstick on

It's a physical reminder of you at all times

He would definitely show it off to others too

You guys probably have fancy picnics and/or practice your own musical practices together

He wouldn't be worried about anything of his personal self if he met your mother, he's more worried that he won't be able to give you everything you would ever want or need in the relationship

After a bit of reassurance his confidence will come back

🦚Vil Schoenheit🦚

Another person with fashion sense thanks the great seven!

If he catches a glimpse of your wonderland dress he'll faint

He will constantly request you design his clothing so he can bring it to a seamstress

He trusts your fashion sense more than Rook

Sometimes he will try to pay homage to the queen of hearts to embrace your heritage along with you, which you obviously help him with

Since your friends with Epel he'll ask you to subtly glam him up from time to time

You both play card games from time-to-time which Vil is surprisingly good at

You're the only person besides him posted frequently on his Magicam account

His fans would get to know you through his post and kind of fanboy over you too

(Maybe even more than him in some cases)

He gets jealous but more in a playful way, never anything too serious

He truly thinks you deserve recognition for your talent

If fashion is something you would want to pursue professionally he will help you with it

He's your biggest fan

👾Idia Shroud👾

You're more used to card games than online games

He's the one to introduce you to the world of online Solitare

You're addicted and that's an excuse for him to bond with you over something you both like

You never fail to be very impressed by both his internet savvy and his superior knowledge in technology

This will make his hair go bright pink as well as his face

If you told him your mother was a literal QUEEN he would feel super intimidated and inferior

After all you are a prince and he definitely wants to treat you like one

This means giving you flowers and diamonds in your shared Minecraft world

He may not know much about your hobbies but he's always happy to hear you talk about them

He would buy you anything you want or need for said hobbies like extra journals for notes/designs, or get you your specially designed dulcimer with hearts all over

He'll be at all of your croquet tournaments and cheer you on in the stands

He's slowly learning to cope with his anxiety seeing you making friends despite people's views of you

🐉Malleus Draconia🐉

You're like Riddle in that you're not greatly intimidated by him but also nice enough to actually acknowledge his existence and never forget to invite him

Especially to tea parties

He's aware of your proud heritage and will give you pretty red crystals or ones that look heart shaped to him

Crystals and little artifacts are his love language if you could not tell

You're the co-parent to his Tamagotchi and he is so appreciative of your dedication to the full-time job of parenting

As a fellow royal he feels he can relate to you that much more

You were kind of isolated from your friends in Wonderland because of your mother's paranoia and being royal also meant you had a lot of your own responsibilities and pressure

You both relate to embracing your individual backgrounds but also wanting to be able to talk to and befriend others in a regular way

I don't think you're intimidated by his magic or the fact he's a dragon fae

This prompts you to tell him about the Dragon Games EAH had and that you actually have a dragon of your own

He thinks it's super cool your school was willing to not only embrace dragons and other types of fae but also integrate them into your school

He wishes he attended your school, but you make him feel so special when you spend time with him

If you say you're comfortable with it he'll show you his dragon form

Dragon cuddles make him happy :)

🐱Che'nya🐱

There isn't much on his character, but I'll do my best

Since you have kitty as a roommate back in EAH you are very accustomed to a purple disappearing cat bothering you 24/7

But this one is a lot nicer and entertaining and didn't try to destroy your home world, so you like him a lot more

You really like his fashion style and fun piercings

He'll probably lend you some of his jewelry and you lend him yours so you guys always have a piece of each other with you both

He visits NRC a lot more to hang out with you

You, Che'nya, Riddle, and Trey are a newly formed friend group

Lots of pranks geared towards you but never anything too mean, mostly just appearing out of nowhere and spooking you

You two challenge each other to making card towers all the time

He wouldn't even be slightly scared for meeting your mother

in fact he'd probably be cracking jokes and playing pranks the entire time

Your mother doesn't trust him in the beginning until he proves that he can protect you from danger

If that happens, she'll be a little less judgmental but still cautious

That's all I got for now, sorry!

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beanswrites · 3 years

Text

"A Second Chance I Didn't Want" Asra x MC, from "The Arcana"

You know how I usually say that whatever I'm posting here is a cute fluffy one-shot? Yeah, this is not it. This is probably the angstiest, sourest, saddest one-shot I've written in a LONG time. But hey, this anon right here did request for it to be angsty as heck! (And I took that personally)

My readers, after reading this one-shot: Have you ever considered... Therapy?

I'm warning you now, this is really triggering and might not be for some people. I cried while writing, if it matters. Yet, you can always check out my masterlist for loads of fluff!

Requests are open! Check out my rules for requesting (pinned post) before placing your request, or pick something from my prompts list!

Also available on AO3!!!

masterlist | rules for requesting | prompts list

Word count: 1300 words

Trope: Angst, Angst with an unhappy ending

Pairing: Asra Alnazar x gn! MC

AU: none

Warnings: depression, suicidal thoughts, suicide

Picture from Pinterest!

Another day passed, feeling like it lasted years. Sure, the saying was true: "Time flies when you are having fun" But each saying has its other side. Time also feels never-ending when you are miserable.

To be fair, MC wasn't miserable, yet they weren't happy either. The apprentice was very familiar with this feeling, the feeling of numbness. Lately, it's all they've been feeling. Nothing fazed and nothing bothered, nothing managed to bring a single tear or even a laugh. Oh, but how they tried.

Portia made MC's favorite dish every day. Every time she would see them, she'd always bring them a hot plate of the delicious food they liked so much in hopes of getting them to smile, even once. Just to get them to eat one little bite.

Nadia was the one who'd always invite them over for tea, or even for a quick stroll around Vesuvia. They did reply and went a couple of times, trying not to hurt the countess' feelings. But, lately, the pile of Nadia's lavender-scented invites was only getting bigger and bigger, as it was left untouched. For several weeks.

Julian took them out to the Rowdy Raven a couple of times, buying them beer and requesting their favorite songs to play. They used to love hanging out with everyone in the pub! Memories of the time MC was snorting with laughter would always overflow Ilya's mind whenever he returned to their favorite tavern. It was clear that those times were long gone.

And Asra.. Poor Asra! He's probably gone through most for MC. The way they were suffering was unbearable for him. The magician loved his apprentice with everything he had, and he wanted to make sure that the other half of his heart beating in their chest will never have to suffer an ounce of pain again. He noticed right away that something was off. That with each day, MC was getting greyer, losing that warm, happy aura they used to have.

He went through so many sleepless nights worrying that it was him. That he had done something wrong. Maybe he wasn't good enough of a partner? Good enough of a master for MC?

Soon, he realized it was far more complicated than that. It wasn't a particular person or a thing that did this to them. It wasn't even their fault! They tried their hardest every day, and Asra appreciated that. He was always there for them, talking, kissing, and cuddling the pain away. But it was never enough.

MC first changed once their memories were retrieved. Everybody knew they weren't doing fine even before that, but the change in their behavior was a lot more visible after that. They became quieter, more distant. It was obvious that something about their past haunted them.

Now, MC was sweeping the floor of their oh-so-quiet shop. They knew that Asra will be home soon. After he noticed they were hanging by a thread, he didn't dare to leave them alone for more than a day. Of course, that meant that his regular trips were cancelled since he had to get home to his MC.

All kinds of thoughts were pooling up in MC's mind. That's what being alone did to them - not having anybody to talk to, not having any quick repairs to cope. The scariest place in the world is your own mind. And their mind? Their mind was full of all sorts of dark places.

They didn't want this. MC didn't ask for this! The first chance, the first shot at this crazy little thing called life was enough, and they didn't need more. They fucked up that first chance, didn't they? For as long as they could remember, the never-ending sadness was there, swirling deep in their chest.

Some people understood. Their friends, their closest ones, completely understood the ache and the tears, and never judged the poor apprentice. But some people didn't understand. The people who'd say: "You have no right to be unhappy! You have everything, your life is great! You have a home, you have friends and a wonderful partner, why are you so miserable?!"

And unfortunately, MC listened. They did think they were crazy for a while. The people were right. They had everything anyone could ever ask for and more. Yet, the voices in their mind kept whispering: "They'd be better off without you.."

MC remembers how angry, how mad they've gotten at Asra for what he did. As if he did anything wrong! He just wanted to save the love of his life, he wanted a chance to reverse their horrible faith. But they didn't want to be saved. Instead of kissing and hugging him as the prize for what a hero he was, MC started crying about how he reversed the cards.

It wasn't as if MC wasn't grateful for everything Asra did. That gesture meant everything, it meant more than a thousand "I love you's" He's given them something many people can't even hope to have: A second chance. A second chance they didn't want.

Now, the worst guilt imaginable flew through their veins. A person they love gave up half of his heart for them, and they didn't even want it! They didn't want to have a heartbeat anymore! How does one tell that to their lover? That it would have been better if he kept his heart complete?

Maybe, they could still give the heart back. Maybe it wouldn't hurt as much anymore if it came back to its original place in Asra's chest, if it reunited with its other half. And it would be so easy, so easy to just take it - to rip it from their chest and give it back to him.

They've dropped the broom from their shaky palms. Just like the ancient magic of The Arcana, something was pulling them - chanting their name like a mantra.

"Do it, do it, do it" The whisper was getting louder each time.

Asra trained MC for situations like this. He warned them not to listen, not to ever listen if they heard voices like those, especially after what happened with Lucio. No, they had to ignore them. Ignore them!

But this time, the pull was stronger than ever. Almost as if it was unbearable, as if the voices became stronger than ever before. The mysterious pull of what seemed to be their mind led them to the kitchen of their home, towards one of the drawers.

They knew what was in the drawer. It was the place of Asra's special, magical dagger they weren't allowed to touch. Apparently, it could either provide the most painful or the most peaceful of deaths, depending on what the user wanted. The magician prohibited the sharp dagger from ever leaving its place, just because he was afraid that MC would get hurt.

The handle of the dagger was cool under their hands. The razor-sharp metal was so shiny, that MC could see the reflection of their scared but eager eyes in it. This was what they waited for. Finally, there wouldn't be any regret, there wouldn't be any wishes that things played out differently.

A sharp sound echoed through the small room as the dagger sunk into their skin. The last thing MC saw was the person they loved, Asra, and the terrified look on his face as he walked through the door. His loud cry, followed by waterfalls of tears, became blurry, as everything seemed to ring in MC's ears.

"MC, NO, PLEASE!"

At last, they will be at peace. They know they've hurt Asra with their decision, but he'd be better off without them anyway. To ease his pain after what they did, they collected their last few breaths, and shakily whispered:

"Goodbye, Asra.."

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jas-the-shrimp · 3 years

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Could we maybe have some dancing headcanons with the main 6?

Do they make it a whole grand event with ballgowns and an orchestra or is it just dancing in the kitchen in pyjamas at 3am? What do they whisper into your neck at such close proximity? How long does the dance last and how does it come to an end?

(Lmao, I have danced alone, in the dark kitchen, at night, imagining the love of my life in my arms, before, and that makes me sad.)

Alright so I hope I don't mess up on this bUuUt

This is my first time so I hope you don't minddd

And same tbh I also dance alone :') I ended up crying anyways

Main 6 dancing with Mc

Noww I'll start with

♥️ julian

- You're in rowdy raven and everyone is cheering for both of you while dancing in charisma

- You two are full of pride after all those dedication and work and now celebrating for the success

- He's Soo happy to have you here and he wants you to know it

- while the place is full of muffled conversations and laughter with music , he gets even closer while dancing

- You two locked eyes to eachother as he looked at you in awe

- He's gets close to your ear and he lowers his voice "I'm glad to have you here mc..."

- And ofc you two head back to your place and cuddle and boi his legs are over the bed cause he's tall af-

- He's such a gorgeous person

💙 asra

- you and him at your shop dancing peacefully

- they're very glad that you've made it this far

(Side note that all the m6 is going to be happy for you thoooo)

- Faust obviously looks very happy watching you two dance

- The smell of incense in the room makes you feel very comfortable as asra's hands holding with yours

- You look at him and he's smiling..abit of a smirk but a genuine smile

- well that turns into a big grin and his dimples made you adore them even more

- "You're everything I could ask for mc"

- well shit your face is red now and you can already feel the heat in your neck as he's laughing at your reaction

- literally asra looks so ethereal when the the moonlight shines over him

- but ur eyes are dying rn because it's BuRnInGgG

💜 Nadia

- Our queen Nadia us protective asf

- She'd definetly dance together with you at the masquerade

- Her simply treating you as her precious person to keep

- You blush Everytime she holds your hand and gets her free hand around your waist

- holy fuck- this -

- well that made you blush like sh!t

- while you're trying your best to look calm…your mind is already going nuts seeing her smirk at you

- you're squealing inside , literally LOOK AT HER-

- After the dance you two would be reading a book either together or separate

- Either way you might catch her looking at you sometimes

- She's looking at you in a loving way and you didn't even realize it until she says

- "I want you to be safe mc,I love you"

- And you fainted

- (Tht was just a joke but you can add in if you wanna :P)

🧡 Portia

- You two are in the ✨ kitchen ✨

- She's baking some stuff while singing and using a spoon as a mic

- You join in too cause why the hell not amirite?

- God you're loving this moment

- pepi is singing too!!

- it feels Soo warm and loving you know..like home

- you didn't even realize she was that close to you when you took a look at her

- and you k i t h

- cuddles!! It's Soo good when you two cuddle together (and pepi to ofc)

- her hair is everywhere

- and we're not complaining here ;)

- you two would be doing some little stuff like reading orrr discussing about something in a story maybe flirting too

- while you two are talking about things like that, she stops mid-way

- she's looking at you with loving eyes..and take your hand,and says

- "thank you so much for everything mc, we've been through all of this together"

-now...K I T H

- no just kidding , unless?

- when the two of you sleep she do be snoring tho..but dw it's kinda silent but heyyy it's cuteee

💚 Muriel

- You probably had to ask him first for a dance because he's pretty shy about it

- he agrees tho!!

- inanna is just sitting next to the fire place chilling and just having a great time while you two dance peacefully

- you kinda stepped on his foot but he didn't even notice that happendd-

- he's blushing alot and you are too but he's blushing alot

- he quietly murmurs "I like doing this" whole you two are dancing

- of course you two do I together for sometime now!

- it's Soo peaceful tbh

- cuddles are always amazing!

- he's rlly warm when you two cuddle,

Maybe too warm

- but it's still good tho!

💛 Lucio

N o.

- You were just chilling in your place reading a book and ALL OF A SUDDEN HE BURST INTO THE ROOM and says

"Mc!,let's do a masquerade party,right now"

Before you could even respond to it he picks you up and goes to his place dramatically and let's you put on the best clothing he chose for you and bam

You're there , he's there

And ffing ballroom with music and everyone dancing

People seem to be enjoying it tbh and I mean youre loving it too

"Compared to all these golds are diamonds,I must say darling" he gets closer to your ear and lowers his voice to a flirty tone "you are more precious and beautiful than those"

Ahahaha thts what I wrote woke procrastinating and I'm reaaaaly sorry that took long btw and this is my first time so if there's errors or anything feel free to tell me!!

#portia devorak #the arcana mc #the arcana x reader #portia the arcana #countess nadia #muriel the arcana #count lucio #arcana portia headcanons #arcana Muriel headcanons #arcana julian headcanons #arcana lucio headcanons #arcana asra headcanons #that was alot of tags i know #aaaaaa first ever headcanon!!

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yandere-sins · 3 years

Note

How would yandere!Julian react to MC getting close to redeemed!Lucio?

Thanks for requesting! ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

♡ With someone as clingy and needy as Julian, it’s not surprising that any affection shown towards someone other than him is a big no-no. Julian is even warier than ever, since his darling has slowly been getting closer with Lucio - Lucio, of all people! - and the jealousy that yearns for his darling more than anything is seething deep inside of him when he notices they are becoming way too fond of the Count.

♡ Julian thinks it’s unfair that they haven’t been giving him the same chance as they are giving Lucio, especially since he’s been around so much longer. Has devoted himself to them before they even knew the Count and was the one to cling to them before Lucio even had put one of his filthy hands on them. Julian completely ignores the fact his darling feels much freer with Lucio, who isn’t as clingy and restricting as Julian is. The things that drew them to Julian before - how much fun he was, his affection, and his tenderness - have long changed to bad vibes even if they haven’t realized it yet. Instead, Lucio is giving them exactly what they wanted and sought after, and Julian can’t do much other than to stalk them through their dates and manipulate what he can to put Lucio back into a bad light before his redemption.

♡ However, Julian can feel his darling getting further and further away from him regardless of his interferences. They start being able to see through all the bad things, perhaps a little blinded by their newfound feelings for Lucio. Julian is growing more desperate by the day, getting closer and closer to his breaking point. In the end, he effectively begs his darling to meet with him alone, based on it being very important, and they, even if they are reluctant, can’t abandon an old friend.

♡ It’s his last chance to act, as their relationship is hanging on a thin thread, and Julian knows it. He’s nice enough to ask about them first, though they quickly push the conversation back to his emergency, the reason they came in the first place. His darling makes it clear that they didn’t come for any other reason, already having a bad feeling in their stomach just by meeting him. But being the nice person they are - which Julian always loved about them - they couldn’t reject him either, even if it’s the last time they will meet with him like that. It’s also weird that he’d invite them to a back alley late at night. Usually, he’d take them to the Rowdy Raven or his home, so it must have been really urgent. Even though it’s hard to form the words he wants to say, Julian begins to play all his cards, lays out all his feelings for them, hoping to make them realize how much they mean to him. But with every new hasty string of words, his sentences jumbled, their expression turns into more of a frown, until his throat clogs up and Julian can’t form one more word. It’s over. He knows it, and they know it especially.

♡ Of course, it’s not him; it’s them. They fell in love; they found new passions away from him. They like him, but not in the way Julian feels for his darling. And he knows. Oh, he knows the true reasons behind the pain he has to endure now. The one and only mission he ever failed turned out to be his biggest regret in the form of a blond bastard being alive and stealing his darling. “I understand,” he whispers, hanging his head, and his darling takes a deep breath, unhappy to see him this way but knowing it had to be. They are about to turn away when he looks up again, watching as they take step by step out of the darkness and into the light of the main street. But they don’t come that far, his arms wrapping around them, pulling them back into the dark with him, a sweet smelling fabric covering their airways. Even if he has already lost them, Lucio cannot have them either. Julian is ready to be hated, but he won’t let his darling be taken from him.

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empressapprentice · 3 years

Text

Arcana Headcanons: M3 + MC Who Beats Everyone at Chess

Hello friends! The lovely @firefly-child posted about a fun game called Request Roulette. They post a prompt, and anyone who wants to is free to fill it. The first prompt is: “How would the main 6 react to MC beating like every person that’s goes against them in chess but at the end they whisper to the LI that they actually have no idea how to play chess and just kept moving pieces till they won” and also includes the lovely line “hehe move pieces around make brain go brrrrrrrr.” I just had to do this. I’m going for a bastard version of The Queen’s Gambit here.

Housekeeping stuff: This is just the main 3, although I have some ideas for the other characters and will be posting soon. I also wanted to break the posts up because despite this being incredibly silly, it still managed to be super long (oh well!). Also warning for some horniness in Julian’s, but nothing worse than what you see in game (couldn’t resist hehe). The good stuff is under the cut :)

Asra:

You and Asra don’t tend to play board games together, favoring card games that utilize his Tarot deck. So despite him knowing you so well, he doesn’t realize you have absolutely no clue how to play chess.

Asra learned to play during one of his many trips and it became one of his favorite ways to distract himself. Playing chess didn’t require the friendly camaraderie that other games do (something he couldn’t muster while mourning you or during your recovery) and gave him something to focus on other than you. He got surprisingly good over time. Though he never put any real time into studying strategies, he has an uncanny ability to figure out his opponent’s plan, always countering it perfectly.

So when the two of you join an informal tournament and you start doing really well (like, really well), Asra just can’t take it. He can hardly believe that you were hiding this skill from him for all these years. He’s looking at you with so much love in his heart and a goofy grin on his face.

When you take a break before the final game and beckon Asra over, he assumes you’re nervous. He peppers your face with kisses and leans over to give you words of encouragement, but you stop him. You instead whisper in his ear, telling him you’ve been just pushing pieces around randomly. He pulls back, a look of shock on his face. Then, he breaks out into peals of laughter.

Knowing your secret does not diminish Asra’s enjoyment of watching the final game at all. For a moment, he considers resting Faust on your shoulders and using her to communicate possible moves, but he decides to take a step back and let you work. He truly doesn’t care that you’re faking it, he’s in awe of you. His eyes even get a little misty when he thinks about how far you’ve come since the resurrection, the picture of cool confidence in front of the crowd.

When you win, he picks you up in his arms and spins you around. Sure, you may not be a secret chess genius, but it is just like the person he loves to manage to pull this off.

Nadia:

Nadia has been trained in a wide variety of strategy games and genuinely enjoys playing them. She occasionally studies chess strategies to keep her skills sharp. There’s nothing she enjoys more than the challenge of cracking a puzzle. It’s just like when she tinkers with mechanical projects: there’s always a “right” answer to each move her opponent makes, and she loves to figure it out.

She’s hosting a friendly competition with some fellow politicians and dignitaries in the salon. She encourages you to play a game, since it’ll look good for the Countess’ partner to be an active participant in the games.

She’s pleased to see you win your first game and continue to work your way up through the ranks. There’s pleasant chatter in the room while everyone compliments the Countess’ choice in partner. She’s proud of you, but her competitive edge is seeping in. She can’t believe that you hid your talent from her--she’s impressed, a little turned on by your chess prowess, and determined to take. you. down.

Soon, it becomes clear that you will need to go against Nadia. You’re shaking in your boots. You got this far against your other opponents, but you genuinely didn’t care about the outcomes of those games. All you wanted was to help Nadia host a good afternoon of friendly games. But now you’re in too deep. You need to put up a good display of strength against your wife, and ideally you would lose so Nadia can save face, but at this point you don’t even know how to move the pieces to get a certain outcome.

You and Nadia are seated across from each other and you are both trying to keep things friendly, but there’s a distinct undercurrent of tension in the room. You get first move as the reigning champion. Nadia takes a long moment, makes a deliberate move, then leans back and smirks at you. Uh oh, she’s feeling really competitive.

You go round for round, while you just move pieces based on your general whims. You can tell that Nadia is becoming slightly flustered, struggling to figure out your strategy. Finally, mercifully, Nadia pulls out a winning move. By now, the dignitaries have lost interest and the event naturally winds down after the game ends.

When you and Nadia are alone after the game, you know you have to tell her your secret. She detects the change in your mood and assumes you’re upset about losing. You turn to her, and the story spills out of you. You finish telling your story, breathless, and the two of you stare into each other’s eyes for a long moment before breaking out into laughter.

Julian:

Who brought a chess set to the Rowdy Raven? It looks so out of place in the tavern, where drunkards usually stick to playing cards and other simple games. The goal is usually to play as many rounds as quickly as possible to shuffle a few coins back and forth among the gamblers.

When Julian spots it, his eyes light up. He asks if you’d be willing to play a round against him, before a mysterious stranger walks up and claims the chessboard. They say that you’ll have to fight to use the chessboard. Julian’s already rolling up his sleeves, but you quickly realize that the stranger wants one of you to play them--if you win, you can borrow the board.

Emboldened by your drink, you push Julian away and sit across from the stranger. You know you’ve never played chess before, but how hard could it be? Turns out, not that hard. You just push a bunch of pieces around and soon, the stranger declares you the winner.

Julian swaggers up to the chessboard and sits across from you. Julian, the love of your life, who is so smart in so many ways, has also come to the same realization that you came to just moments ago. He has no idea how to play chess.

“Hey, MC, how about the winner gets to ask a favor, ~any~ favor of the loser?” He’s waggling his eyebrows at you just like he always does. He’s calculated his odds of winning, and they’re not good. But he figures that if he wins, he’ll ask you for a kiss, and if he loses, he’s sure that your creative mind will find some use for him.

You play against each other, each making more and more questionable moves. You don’t know much about chess, but you think he’s moving some of the pieces in the wrong configurations. But you worry that if you call him out, you’ll expose your utter lack of chess knowledge. He also thinks you’re doing some weird things with the pieces, but he has the exact same concern.

Neither of you are willing to back down and admit you don’t know what’s going on. You also don’t know how to end the game. It’s something with the Queen piece, but which one is even the Queen?

The two of you play against each other, getting progressively drunker as you sip on Salty Bitters. A tankard or two later, you crack. You tell Julian all about your stroke of luck against the stranger and his grin just gets wider and wider. He tries to play it off like he’s an actual chess genius and he knew what he was doing the whole time, but you call his bluff. Better get him home, because soon he’ll be begging to be punished for lying.

#the arcana #The Arcana Game #the arcana headcanons #the arcana main 3 #asra alnazar #nadia satrinava #julian devorak #nic arcana headcanons

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spiltscribbles · 3 years

Note

Oooo it’s my birthday today and I neeeeeed my sweet boys, is it too greedy if I ask for you to write something absolutely adores like you always do. I can wait there’s no rush. It would really make my day a whole lot better

~Notes: HI HI BABY!!! I’m so so fucking sorry this is like two days late 😭😭😭 I am a piece of shit and I had an idea and then I scrapped it and then I came up with this crack shit! But I included singling like you wanted!! And ILU endlessly!!! I hope your birthday was at least filled with sunlight and friends and all the adoration you deserve🎉🎉🎂🥳🎈🎈🎈🎊🎊🥳🎁. And I hope this isn’t a shitty gift!😭😭

Send Me A Prompt<3 | A Reblog is like a hug!!!!

The 4 Times People Suspected About Remus and Sirius, and The One Time They Called It By Name

~I~

Peter notices it first.

He doesn’t know quite what it is, or what it means— Peter doesn’t understand what it entails when he’s watching the way Sirius gently thumbs at a high patch on Remus’s cheek while he’s sleeping on the hospital bed after the first full moon of fourth year, a fraught look in his stormy eyes. Or how Remus’s gaze always search Sirius out first after he’s made a wry comment in the expense of the Slytherins, going alight with the other boy’s laughter. Peter doesn’t comprehend the way it sometimes seems like he’s caught in some sort of static— a negative space that makes him feel out of bounds— when he’s alone with only the pair of them. When they’re all huddled around the common area or their dormitory while James is probably skulking in search of Lily Evans or cajoling the other chasers to have another lap around the court. With Remus lounging on his fourposter, or the sofa, reading one of the infinite books he’s got tucked away in his trunk, and Sirius is quietly sat by his feet, toying with a non-magical contraption he’s found in Muggle London after sneaking out from his ancestral home while his folks were having a row. And Peter is ordinarily just fiddling with a scroll he has to finish for one of the tougher courses from a bit away, intermittently glancing at them side long, just waiting for an excuse to leave the suffocating ambiance that feels like it’s been fitted for just the pair of them and not another soul.

But the most peculiar part about all of this is that Peter is accustomed to feeling like the spare, the cast off who’s clinging to the glimmering forms that are James and Sirius, and their ravenous appetite for any and all attention that’s given over because that’s the sort of boys they are— affluent and prominent and radiating with a sort of spark that’s all there own— the sort of boys that others find doubtless that they are something miraculous. But when Peter’s around just the pair of them, in the corner of the galaxy that the marauders have carved for them to rule like kings— It never feels quite so stilted, so weighty. Sirius and James have a gift of making everyone in the room feel like they’re in on the joke, that they could be showered with that same granger just as long as they play in the tableau. Remus and Sirius together feels the contrary of that, like there’s something pregnant lying between them, waiting to pounce. Like there’s an understanding that no one else gets to glimpse at, and no one else should try. An understanding that’s personal and private and crackling with an energy that is far beyond anything between mere friends, beyond anything Peter could fathom with all his fifteen years.

Idly, over supper after an entire two hours being stuck between that strange tension simmering beneath the surface of Remus and Sirius, Peter wonders for the umpteenth time on whether he should ask James about this development in their small brotherhood, should ask him if he’s detected the difference there. And if he has, Peter will listen to James’s plan to ensure this doesn’t ruin anything. How whatever is brewing under the surface won’t absolutely ruin them.

But then, from the corner of his eye, Peter sees Sirius— none to gently— piling Remus’s plate with an abundance of the potatoes that Moony likes best, dipping down to whisper something in his ear— something surely lecherous— before tousling his curls in that brash, bombastic way of his that he does with Peter and James too, even if he ends it by gingerly cupping the nape of Remus’s neck with a surreptitious squeeze that ends just as quickly as it began, falling back into conversation with James and Marlene about the Wasps’s chances against the Harpies this Friday night as if it was just an innate action, even if it’s one Peter’s only ever witnessed him doing to Remus.

And even though there’s another full in two days, and even though Remus looks like a walking inferi— pale faced and exhausted posture and circles the color of midnight smudged beneath his eyes— Peter watches the ends of his lips quirk up into the best approximation of a smile Peter’s ever seen on him so close to the wolf breaking through the surface of his body that’s all skin and bones, and he isn’t sure if it’s a trick of the light or not, but Remus actually looks like he might be glowing over the strange attention that Sirius’s only ever paid to him.

So no… No, Peter doesn’t think he’ll ask James quite yet, reckons that if anything can help his moon plagued friend, that it must be something good, something that shouldn’t be tempered with.

They can figure out how the strange string pulling Remus and Sirius together will alter their brotherhood later on, there’s still time. There’ still a possibility that it won’t devastate everything.

~II~

Lily’s suspected for a while.

The thing is that she’s known about Remus since the end of third year, when he rebuffed the advances of an eager Heleen Abed, and Lily found him on the ledge of the largest window in the vacant common room— the same one that they regularly commandeer with Mary McDonald to discuss the finer points of Muggle politics and current events, separate from the melting pot of their Gryffindor class that’s composed of either pure bloods or those with their closest Muggle relative being a long dead grandparent. And it was definitely a dangerous, knife’s edge she was playing at, but Lily had sat besides the boy who she’s cultivated a real and true friendship with— one beyond pleasant platitudes and fodder about their course work— and she told him about her cousin Joey with green spiked hair and a mischievous smile adorned with a sparkling stud and how she and Petunia had caught him holding hands with one of his friends from sixth-form in the garden of her Aunt’s cottage, and how even the sneer on her older sisters lips hadn’t deterred Lily from thinking anything but mild indifference about the situation. Only wanting her cousin to always live in that easy effervescence she’s always known when it came to him.

And nothing else was exchanged between them, but Remus had grinned in that barely perceptible way of his, and Lily had nudged his shoulder with her own and then fished out her final handful of chocolate frogs for them to share while they revise their notes for the transfiguration exam coming up.

Two summers have past since then—they’re in the midst of their final term of fifth year now— and she thinks that they’ve become even closer, that the frequent late nights in the library for their impending OWLs and their countless prefect rounds has helped forge a real and true bond— especially that whole snag earlier in the year when they had realized they were both snogging Leon Bennett on alternating nights behind greenhouse three. But all of that withstanding, Lily knows that there are still secrets Remus keeps tight to his chest, ones that Lily’s analytical mind— the mind of a potions expert and future healer— has suspected to do with the thin, silvery scars running down his strong hands that are all tapered fingers and slender wrists, and another across his right bicep that she saw when he had changed his robes for a jumper in front of her, and the one cutting down from the bottom of his ear and nearly across the entire length of his neck, ending at the corner of his sharp collarbone. But Lily suspects he’ll tell her about that soon enough, what she isn’t so confident about is him admitting that particularly dazed look he gets when around Black, of all people. The way he stammers his words occasionally and the way he worries on his bottom lip while averting his glance when Sirius is chatting up a very pleased looking girl, and the way he flushes when Lily is ribbing about him in particular. And Lily knows that the foursome of Gryffindor boys had a falling out of sorts before winter hols, that there’s a hairline fracture between them and Remus now— one that she’s sure no one else can pick up on after the way they had seemingly come back together in late January, right before her birthday funnily enough. But Lily’s always been the analytical sort— the sort to absorb the barebones of a situation so she could conjure a hypothesis that she could prove after careful study.

So Lily knows that it’s something deeper, and she can see how Remus is reticent around them in ways she’s actually worried won’t be shaken off anytime soon— which is all levels of bazaar considering she’s been telling Remus for years that he needs to shrug off his rowdy mates like a snake shedding an old coat. But before, when she’d barb as much he’d only stick out his tongue and tell her what happens to busybodies, and how she doesn’t really know them at all. But now days, he just looks particularly hurt, and more than a bit put out, and Lily catches him flickering over to wherever Sirius was holding court, longing in a way she couldn’t possibly articulate out loud.

Honestly Lily thinks it’s really quite gracious of her to have dropped the subject completely, rather, she takes up the mantel of his friend that can distract him from all those sorts of woes, biting her tongue over his lingering feelings for Sirius that are more than likely far beyond a passing fancy. And she thinks that maybe that’s a good call, maybe it’s good for Remus to beat down those sorts of emotions that he’s harboring for the wanker. She knows Remus, and she knows he wouldn’t hold a grudge— even such a quiet one— for no reason at all. Besides, she doesn’t really think it’s her place to tell him how when he’s glancing away, Sirius is holding vigil to him with that same sort of fervor. That Sirius is the one who collects the notes for all his classes on those conspicuous absences of his when Remus is feeling poorly in the infirmary. That Sirius occasionally looks so very gutted when Remus is wilting away from them, when he seeks Lily’s company instead.

She has a heavy suspicion that Remus might already know all of those things— that maybe they’ve already discussed it at length, that maybe the falling out in December has caused a full stop of anything that could’ve potentially blossomed between them. And she just wishes she knew the entire story so she could decide on whether she should be jinxing Black’s face to a putrid orange color, or pushing Remus to actually give him a chance.

Lily just wishes she could read Black as easily as she can Remus, maybe that would help in this experiment she’s testing, because for now she’s just confused as all hell over what exactly Black feels towards him. Well that is until it’s a fortnight before Remus’s birthday, and she’s being bodily dragged into a closet on her way to charms.

“Oi— What the bloody—“

“Language, Evans,” the annoyingly familiar baritone of Sirius Black tsks, lighting up the cupboard with his wand and smirking in that jagged way she’s heard countless girls tittering over, and the one that makes her want to pop him one right against his ridiculously smug face.

“Black,” she says, caustic as all get out with her fists clenched against her sides and her brows making a really resilient effort to meet in the middle. “You’ve got thirty seconds before I hex your bollocks off.”

“Pff, and Jamie thinks you’re some sort of saint.”

“Twenty-eight. Twenty-seven. Twenty-six.”

Sirius pulls a face at her, but must understand the credence in the words, because it’s not another moment more before he pulls out a bedraggled looking slip of paper from his robe’s pocket, and thrusts it at her face. So with an indignant huff, Lily opens it up and begins scanning the words— becoming all the more confused when she sees measurements and things like coco powder and melted butter, instead of whatever the hell else she was preparing herself to read.

“I’m being pranked, aren’t I? You’re trying to distract me so you and Potter can do something horrid to the Slytherin’s common room.”

“We’ve actually already done that today,” Sirius jeers, raising up his hands in concession with a cluck of the tongue at her scowling face. “’s from Moony’s mum, all right. I asked her to send me the recipe of this chocolate cake she use to make him for his birthdays before Hogwarts— I just thought… It might be nice is all, and you can sod right off if you look at me like that, Evans, with the soft eyes and all that rot. Are you going to help me or not?”

Lily resolutely ignores the pang to her heart, because God, this really is such a sweet gesture. “And what? you thought I could help you because I’m a bird?” She asks in the most scolding inflection she could muster in the face of this incredibly soppy gift he wants to give Remus.

“None of that, blimey, Evans.” Sirius snarls, obviously diffident, and combined with the faint flush to his cheeks, Lily suddenly realizes why he’s considered one of the best looking blokes in the entirety of their school. “There’s a whole load of Muggle mumbo jumbo, so it was between asking you, or McDonald, and I adore Mary and all, but she has got such a mouth on her.”

“You should know,” Lily counters with a leer. “She couldn’t stop going on about your date back in October.”

Sirius’s brows hike, and he actually smiles at her— one that’s vacant from all his bravado from his upbringing in his pretentious, pure blood home, and one that isn’t trying to show off. And Lily can’t help but favoringly liken him to an excited pug. “Oh you’re wicked, Evans!” He shrills delightedly. “Oh this is great, you’re just as depraved as Remus, are all prefects like this?”

Lily snorts, shaking her head at him, indulgent. “Never mind that, Black. Most of this stuff can be found in the kitchens below, I’m sure the house elves won’t mind us borrowing anything.”

“And the ingredients that won’t be down their?” He asks worriedly.

“Well, good on you planning this so far ahead of time, we’ll just have to experiment.”

Sirius groans in retort, muttering things about Muggle potions and James thinking he’s getting off with his future wife and other ridiculous things that Lily doesn’t bother to stay and listen to. Though, when Remus’s birthday does roll around, and she sees his countenance go a thousand shades brighter as he bites into the pudding, and Sirius’s grin stretch just that much more across his face in response— their eyes meeting across the room and past the crowds— Well Lily suspects Sirius never really minded any of the things he was whinging on about, not at all, not as long as the result was a beaming Remus.

~III~

Regulus hears about it in the halls.

He’s not much for gossip or that sort of dribble, doesn’t have much patience for anyone outside his house if he’s being at all frank— and even then, it’s not as if he doesn’t frequently find himself escaping to his fourposter for a moment’s quiet. It seems that everyone in this bloody castle are just dimwitted, daft idiots, and Regulus’s never been the sort to offer allowances for that kind of behavior. He’s been raised in the home of a family as close to royalty as Wizards permit, a prince among men. And he was told that he should have patience for the dull folks beneath him, just as long as they have the correct ideals, but sometimes he can’t help but wish they would all just let him be, sometimes feels like he’s being carted around Hogwarts as the perfect pure blood, like he was nine years old again and being shown off in the parlor of his home when guests came to call, watching from the sidelines while his mother rave about how splendid of an heir Sirius is turning out to be. How his tutor calls him a genius for any age, and how darling he looks in Slytherin green, and how he’s already mastered three romance languages to help in his spell work.

And Regulus can’t help but scoff at those contemplations now, thinking of the past summer when his dramatic and brash brother had made a whole production of leaving behind the values that gave him everything he has. How he escaped to that Potter git’s home the way he’s been doing for nearly every holiday since his second year, how he offered Regulus to come along as if he’s a trader just like him. What a risible excuse for an heir.

But Regulus won’t commit such follies, he’ll make his parents proud— even if his father is nearly never paying much mind and his mother goes from raving to sickly in a blink of an eye. It doesn’t matter, because he’ll carry on the Black legacy, something that his oh so perfect brother never could’ve done. Regulus is only a fifth year, will be turning sixteen in only two months after Sirius’s coming of age, and sure, this might mean he’s still young enough that the Death Eaters don’t find him adequate to fight on the line of fire, but he’ll do it eventually, feels the weight of the letter from Bellatrix praising him for as much resting heavy in his pocket. And if Regulus finds them all a bit too vicious or a bit too excitable and completely lacking a deft hand to make the changes they’re searching for, he shrugs it off. He knows what he must do, and as he stares at his brother from across the valley cusping the lake, he’s only that much more steadfast in the conviction of the fact.

Sirius is sitting and laughing with a group of his Gryffindor mates, the mudbloods, and blood traders that had warped him from the brother he knew to the stranger he is now. And there’s a dark skinned Ravenclaw bird— Meadowes if he remembers correctly from his prefect meetings— and she’s telling some sort of long winded tail with hand gestures and loud cackling coming from the group as she goes on. And Sirius is tossing around a quaffle with Potter— the glint of a handsome, silver watch on his wrist catching in the dying sunlight. And Regulus wonders who had gifted him such a personal passage to adulthood, but is soon distracted by spotting the way Sirius nearly gets smacked in the face with the ball because he was too busy gawking over at Lupin in such a stripped down, cautious way that it makes Regulus squirm.

He doesn’t know much about the elder Prefect, only that his name had come up nearly as much as Potters during that first year when Sirius would send him correspondence on a frequent basis because he knew how lonely Regulus would get while stuck in Grimmauld all by himself. And then when he began attending Hogwarts, Regulus never could get a good reading on him. He knew Potter because of how his family is infamous for their liberal views and nouveau riche attitudes, and Pettigrews family owns a hokey herb shop in Diagon. All he’s found out about the Lupins is that his father is the son of half-bloods and his mother is a Muggle, and that this mudblood is a reserved, carefully aloof bugger, and that somehow he’s seemingly captured all of Sirius’s attentions that he’s not giving Potter or the clinger ons who follow him around like mindless fools. Beyond that, Lupin and Regulus have only traded a hand full of words whenever their roles of prefects would force them to intermingle, and it’s always been punctuated by Lupin giving Regulus a witheringly cold look anytime they were in close proximity, which is admittedly impressive considering that half the time the sickly bastard looks like he’s about ready to keel over.

So no, Regulus doesn’t know much about him, but he’s heard the rumors. He knows that it’s basically an open secret between the Gryffindor class and selected friends. The fact that his brother is probably shagging the mudblood, convincing Regulus that Sirius really has never given a toss about the decorum and standards befalling them as the only two Black males of their generation. And he hates his brother so scathingly right then, hates his little munblood lover probably even more.

And when he watches Lupin straying his gaze from the novel he was reading while that red haired Muggle born was resting her head in his lap, and Regulus saw the way both of their expressions went a peculiar sort of tender— well that’s the last straw, so he stands up in a huff— so unlike himself— and he cuts the story Mulciber was crowing on about, and he tells them he needs to complete a scroll for Slughorn.

And while he prowls away from the sight of his brother continuing to ruin everything, Regulus plunges a hand into his pocket, and crunches Bellatrix’s letter in his grasp, promises himself to write her back soon, and ignores the ache in his chest that’s only been growing larger since Sirius had left permanently.

~IV~

James’s always known.

Perhaps that’s an over reach, but it’s true enough. He’s known for years, on some level, that the thing between Sirius and Remus is something completely foreign to him. Something completely separate from how Sirius licks his face when James is over sleeping and he wants to be a general nuisance. Separate from how he and Remus have begun discussing anything and everything in the wee hours of the morning, with a spot of tea between them and a blanket on their legs, because Remus can’t sleep from the moon and James has never been able to sleep through the whole night without feeling guilty over it. He thinks it stemmed from when he was younger, when his parents were feeling sickly, and before they were gifted a house elf by a family friend who recognized that the elderly Potters needed just a bit more assistance.

James never knew whether it was obvious to him because he’s always considered Sirius as his bastard brother since Christmas of first year, and that he’s always trying to make sure that Remus is all right after finding out just how impressively the bloke can keep secrets once Sirius figured out his furry little problem. So he’s not sure what others know, or even what Remus and Sirius know of what’s happening between them, honestly, there have been so many almosts that James has picked up on over the years. And he still shutters thinking about the near total break that happened with the prank, still isn’t quite sure what had past between them to get Sirius and Remus speaking with each other once more, but he does know that Remus staying with James, Sirius, and Peter the past summer after Sirius escaping the twisted place he was suppose to call a home, is what helped indefinitely. And now, a year separate from the prank, things finally feel normal between them.

Well— Erm, not normal per se. Those idiots are still blustering and bumbling and bashfully avoiding one another when anything close to romantic comes up in a discussion or when their hands touch over the Great Hall table or whenever James makes a pointed remark when he catches one of them staring a bit too slack jawed at the other in the midst of something totally bloody innocuous in the eyes of a normal person— EG: Sirius gathering his hair— that’s nearly to the bottom of his neck now a days— into a small knot on the back of his head, or Remus sucking idly on a sugar quill while he’s revising. And sure, James has to deal with the kicks at his ankles, or a spare jinx if one of them is especially pissy, but Lily’s come to join him in the ribbing, so it kind of makes everything all right. Especially when she levels her beautiful, forrest green eyes with his own brown ones, and she actually looks sort of endeared.

Yeah— that’s a fucking amazing feeling all right, and it’s probably the memory of that happening only a few hours ago that has got James all jittery now, far past midnight. So with a tired sigh, he slides open the drapes of his fourposter, is ready to go downstairs for a kitchen raid if Remus isn’t awake— Though once he sets his glasses on, and blinks a few times over to get acclimated with the dark, he’s only a bit stunned to find the shapes of Remus and Sirius crowded on the former’s bed— and they’re really not much more than suggestions beneath the shadows, but it’s enough for James to see Sirius’s head bent low, resting it against the crook of Moony’s neck and shoulder, while the shorter boy has got his arms wrapped around Sirius’s torso. And it’s nothing obscene, not really— it’s not like they’re nude or anything— but Sirius is shirtless, and Remus does have this blissed out expression painted over his features, that James would bet good money is the same one Sirius has got on if most of his face wasn’t covered by his hair.

And in another breath, Remus’s honey colored eyes flap open, widening exponentially when he catches sight of James, and wiggling around as if he wants to move away from Sirius completely, which is of course stunted when Sirius makes a low noise under his breath, and presses closer so that his mouth is quite literally right against Remus’s neck, and his arms tug him closer.

And James is definitely convinced that he’s the best mate any bloke could ask for when instead of chuckling at the obvious show of territorialism, he just shakes his head indulgently at them, mouthing an “About time plonker,” to Remus, who replies in kind with a hefty, two fingered salute.

This time James has to bite down to prevent his chuckle from spilling out.

“And here I was, about to offer you a snack from our dear house elves.” He whispers, hopefully quiet enough so that only Remus could hear.

“Oh, just bugger off,” Remus retorts, smiling with such mirth that James can’t even feign to be affronted over it, only follows the playful command and tries figuring out just how to give the ‘If you hurt him I’ll hurt you’ talk to the pair of them without it coming across insincerely.

~+I~

Millie was bored until she saw them.

The only reason why Millie got this boring job in this beyond posh restaurant is because her folks reckon that she needs to learn some form of responsibility before university, and she hates it. The pay is absolute shite, and most of her coworkers are all levels of boring, and the patrons are not nearly entertaining enough to try and make up some secret back story of tumultuous affairs or secret agents from the MI6, or a royal from some country on the continent meeting their star-crossed lover.

It’s all just painfully ordinary, and she’s cursing her parents while she chomps on her gum, reading some stupid note by an ugly old fart who left her his number on the receipt.

Scoffing while she bins it, Millie glances over to the newly occupied table in her section, heart immediately leaping once she gets a good look at the pair of blokes sitting down.

The sandy haired one is definitely cute in that reserved way her best friend Claire would definitely be mad over— the guy who could read you poetry in French or Italian and then gently kisses the back of your hand. And that’s all and well, but Millie’s every attention is laser focussed on his mate, the one that looks like he can be bloody James Bond with those smoldering eyes and that ink black hair, and God, those cheekbones! Definitely one of those beautiful, Public school boys who’s born and bread by the patrician. And while she takes their orders, she tosses him her most flattering of grins and slips in her giggle that an ex boyfriend compared to silver bells, and is sure to flip her long, chestnut hair enough times so he’d notice, even if she’s pretty sure he’s either pissed or probably more than a bit stoned. (Truly, where the bloody hell would he come up with pumpkin juice? How horrid must that taste).

Millie may or may not spend an unreasonable amount of time spying at them from where the cooks drop off the completed plates to be sent away. He’s just so bloody good looking, and she can’t believe this awful job has finally brought her such an amazing distraction, and the arse doesn’t even pay her much mind, leaving the ordering and the conversing to his fair haired friend.

Maybe he’s sensitive, she thinks to herself. Maybe he’s just a shy soul. And yes, that must be it! The poor, beautiful sod. She’s sure to make her intentions clear next time she thinks it’s appropriate to top off their waters, because she’s so very gracious like that.

“Enjoying yourselves?” Millie asks in her most light hearted of cadences, filling up the shorter one’s glass but smiling fully and exclusively to the boy who looks like he should be starring in some sort of Brook’s Brothers advert.

“Ta,” the sandy haired boy says, sounding a bit amused at her dilemma, but it’s kind enough so Millie doesn’t feel brassed off over it. “Do you mind pointing me to the loo?”

“Oh of course!” She crows, suddenly ecstatic as she directs him, finally getting a chance to be alone with the model. Though when she turns her attention to him once the other one leaves to take a leak, she’s kind of confused how he’s staring after him with a glance she vividly remembers on the face of her ex whenever she’d peer back around to ensure he was watching her go— Though, if Millie’s being honest, the model somehow looks simultaneously eager to watch the back of him, but also already disheartened not to have him around in ways she doubts anyone she’s ever gone out with has ever exhibited. “He’s a nice chap,” she states, instead of marinating on the strangeness of this development.

The practical model starts, seems to have forgotten about her presence all together, but then he glances over towards her with those impossibly flattering, pale gray eyes, and he nods disinterestedly. And yeah, yikes. That is a total hit to Millie’s ego.

“Ahem,” she clears her throat, begins twisting her free hand into the material of her apron. “’S nice you guys came for dinner, you don’t see much friends considering how bloody expensive it is here, hah.”

Millie feels herself going absolutely scarlet at the impassive way he drags his gaze up and down her form before taking a swig of his Bellini. “He’s not my friend.”

“Oh,” Millie practically squeaks out, suddenly wonders if maybe he’s a tutor from his class or something? Maybe the model is just taking the cute one out to dinner as a thanks for helping him pass his A-levels? Maybe this is considered cheap in the circles that the model keeps.

“’S our one year anniversary actually,” he tells her, still in that methodical, blasé way of his. And oh. Oh wow! Suddenly everything is snapping into clarity.

The way the two boys had brushed the back of their hands before being seated, how model had trusted the other boy to order for him, how model never looked away from the cute one’s mouth or collarbones or hands as they spoke. How whenever she came around to ask if they needed anything else, it felt like she was intruding on more than just a couple of mates catching up.

Oh Jesus, she feels like such an idiot, and Millie tells the model just as much.

“I’m sorry, I’m an idiot! I didn’t even put it together.”

Remarkably, the model’s rigid posture goes a bit loose at her apology, and the corner of his thin lips quirk up into a grin. “’S fine, he didn’t want to make a fuss out of it, but yeah— Just feels good telling someone.”

Millie nods eagerly, she can’t understand exactly what he means, obviously not, but she can definitely try to, and if it feels good for him to tell a random bird about something so important, then she’s more than happy to help. “Well the point stands, yeah? He seems like a good sort, you’re lucky to have found each other.”

The model’s grin goes elastic at that, and he looks actually approachable for the first time tonight. “I’m the luckiest bloke in the world that I get to be with him.”

Millie flushes at the intensity embedded into his statement, but thankfully doesn’t have to answer when she hears the sandy haired boy walking closer now, smiling so brightly that there’s a dimple popping up on the apple of his cheek that Millie’s only just noticed— The mirth is a good color on him, she reckons. Makes him look as gorgeous as those boys on the telly dramas her Mum is always gushing about, even his eyes turn more golden than light brown. “You pestering our waitress Padfoot?”

“You know I keep my devilish tongue for you and you alone Moonbeam,” the model—Padfoot cannot be his actual name for heaven’s sake— retorts.

“Lucky me,” the sandy haired boy says wryly as he takes a seat, and while Millie walks away— intending to get them a pudding that’s on the house to celebrate the milestone of their relationship— she peers back around only once and it’s enough to see the tips of their fingers kissing across the table, and their smiles looking like a secret language not meant for anyone else to read.

My Full Wolfstar FIC Masterlist💜

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #REMUSXSIRIUS #SIRIUSXREMUS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #MARAUDERS #Spilt Ink #I'm sorry if you hate this sugarplum #Like legit #idk what I am on #JFC #I suck #flksadjgaklsgjoewiajfsg

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twst-campos13 · 4 years

Note

Could you do a Dire Crowley x Male teacher reader scenario nfsw please? I’m just in the mood now..

I dont take nsfw scenarios, only headcanons!! I’m sorry!! That’s probably my fault because I haven’t fixed the link for the rules ヾ(￣0￣;ﾉ I made this as a (kind of) general nsfw hcs but your relationship with Crowley is more of a fwb type!!

I hope this satisfies you still ٩(*•͈ ꇴ •͈*)و ̑̑❀

Warnings: NSFW UNDERCUT!! MINORS DNI Tags: semi-public, light restraints (mention), mild degradation, praise kink, male!reader

"...now, don't forget to turn in your essays on Thursday next week. Take note: it is a two-page, essay!"

You sighed at how eager your students left the classroom, knowing well that they couldn't wait for you to dismiss them anyway. Not that you mind. You're well aware that your students are tired for the day so you rewarded them with an early dismissal.

"No pushing and running out the door now! Show some respect for your subject teacher. Goodness!"

Ah, yes, the early dismissal was for another thing, too.

The Headmaster dropped by (literally) to provide "extra motivation" for students after classes. It was rather thoughtful of him to do so...if you weren't well aware of his other endeavors to have him flock to you after classes.

"What a kind sir you are, rewarding your students greatly!" Headmaster Crowley chuckled almost akin to a crow. You stacked your teaching books neatly to one side before turning around to meet the headmaster. Both of you nearly bumped noses with each other. Well, in this case, you nearly poked yourself in the eye with the beak of his mask. You smiled when Crowley composed himself but did not set a distance.

"And I suppose you would want a reward too?"

The sudden stiffness of his posture is enough of an answer.

You tilt your head at him, a smile that only Crowley can decipher. "Alright. Who am I to deny my gracious headmaster?"

➸ To make things clear between the both of you: you're more than friends but less than lovers. The students don't really know if you guys are dating or not. The juniors try to make it their business but failed to get any straight answers.

➸ The Headmaster is a switch, definitely, but leaning more towards being a power bottom. It's in his entire vibe. He may exude mysterious daddy vibes that can bend you over his office table and pound your ass but think about it--only bottoms TALK SO DAMN MUCH-

➸ Look me in the eyes and tell me this man doesn't release bratty power bottom energy.

➸ He's got a mix of praise and degrading kink. With praise, he is willing to give it as he likes receiving it. You can see imaginary feathers ruffle up when he drinks in your honey praises. He loves it when you tell him what a good boy he is while you're stroking his hair. At the same time, he loves being called a rotten, perverted man as you tightly grip his hair.

➸ You actually didn't think he would have a degrading kink. You thought he'd be so into that but you observed with your sessions together that he deserves more praises than insults. You tried to balance the two but you realized that degrading him when he starts getting bratty then easing into praises is a better way to make him more pliable.

➸ Though, when Crowley praises you, he really sings them. He becomes a bumbling fool when he's under you, taking your cock (or his cock when you wanna ride him) eagerly and stammering praises of how good you feel and how amazing you are. He can make you blush by the eloquence of his compliments.

➸ Having sex naked is for rare and more intimate moments. Most of the time (and Crowley wordlessly insists) you both get frisky with only half your clothes off. You already know why ;)

➸ "There's something sexy about neckties, yknow? So sharp and elegant." | "Dire, if you have any particular interest in light bondage you can tell me."

➸ He's not wrong is he? Impromptu and light bondage is his preference. Even though he wants it to be done to him mostly, he'd still ask you if you're fine with a bit of restraints! If you are then get ready for a lot of flirting that involves tie pulling and tie bondage LMAO

➸ Another kink of his: he likes to gift you pieces of jewelry that you graciously wear yourself. He doesn't want you to take them off especially when you fuck.

➸ Fucking....crows.....

➸ He's a raven actually but-

➸ HE ALSO MAKES USE OF YOUR TITLE AS A TEACHER. HE CALLS YOU SIR. In every!! way!! he gets to!! You know he's a brat needing your attention when his sir sounds a little more than professional.

➸ You wonder where this man's decency is because he always wants to do it with you after classes or at his office. You indulge him anyways; grinding your arousal with each other, an intense and heated make-out session against the desk, until you pull away and tell him that you both should take it elsewhere lest your students walk in with. They do not need to be traumatized.

➸ Quickies and semi-public sex with Crowley hit differently when you two take it to bed, though. When you're out doing frivolous activities at school like two rowdy teenagers, there's this almost rebellious atmosphere, the thrill of doing the act. However, in private that atmosphere completely shifts and you'd find yourself wondering if there's any meaning to your intimate dance

➸ And when aftercare happens that warm feeling just grows. He always insists on taking care of you after sex. He does the equivalent of preening (from what you noticed) which is stroking your head and nuzzling your neck. He cleans you up from your neck down to your feet then bundles you in blankets. This level of comfort doesn't happen when you fuck at school but he makes it up by fixing your uniform and buying you food.

➸ You scold him when he takes too long cleaning around your dick though.

➸ Could you be more than friends that are not less than lovers? That's a conversation for both of you to tackle next time.

#detroitsmash #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst #dire crowley #headmaster crowley #dire crowley x reader #male!reader #twisted wonderland dire crowley #i hope youre still in the mood #idk what i just wrote ajfae

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sunshineseguin · 4 years

Text

take me back to the night we met || mat barzal

pairing: mathew barzal x fem!reader

summary: months after the end of your relationship, mathew still struggles to come to terms with losing you. he sees you everywhere and in everything he does. what sticks with him the most is the night you met.

warnings: break-up angst, alcohol consumption, mentions of anxiety & a near panic attack, swearing, mentions of sex (nothing graphic), possible grammatical errors, flashbacks are in italics!!

word count: 6,371

author’s note: i wrote this fic inspired by the song ‘the night we met’ by lord huron so i definitely recommend listening while reading! i wrote this fic as a standalone and don’t plan on writing a second part. feedback is always appreciated, i read everything even if you put it in the tags.

check out my players list & prompt list if you’d like!

Mathew knew it wasn’t a good idea to go out, especially on a Sunday night with an early practice in the morning. The season was about to start and he knew he had every reason to be just as amped up about it as his teammates. He should be cheering with them and drinking beers carelessly like he wouldn’t regret it in the morning. Yet, he couldn’t. The regret that he was already carrying on his shoulders was enough to last him a lifetime. Instead, he was gulping down whiskey on the rocks like it was water and he was stranded in the Sahara Desert, wallowing in his own self pity as he had been for months.

He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and glanced up at Anthony who gave it a squeeze. The blonde smiled, but it was one of sympathy, his bright blue eyes swimming with concern for his best friend. Mathew almost scoffs.

“How ya doin’, man?” Anthony asks and glances towards Anders who’s watching them both closely.

The raven haired male simply shrugged half heartedly in response. He knew his captain was worried about him, the whole team was for that matter. He hadn’t been right for a while and nearly closed himself off completely. He didn’t join in on the playful chirps at morning skate or reply to Anthony’s invites of golf with the boys. He didn’t go to the team cookouts. He barely mustered a reply when Trotz was ripping into him for being so unfocused. The guys were starting to realize they only ever saw him on the ice or drowning himself in the hard stuff at the bar. He was a walking shell of the man he had been a year ago.

“What happened, Barzy?” Anthony sighed, moving to stand in front of his friend so that he could meet his eyes. “We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s going on.”

Mathew saw a notification pop up on his phone that his Uber was approaching, giving himself the perfect opportunity to get out of his best friend’s inevitable interrogation. He knew the team was only going to let this go on for so much longer before sitting him down and making him talk about his feelings. He was already dreading all of the things Anders had to say but hadn’t yet. He tossed back the last of the amber liquid in his glass, not even feeling it burn its way down his throat with the amount he’d already consumed that night. He stood from his stool, a bit unsteady on his feet as he pats Anthony on the shoulder leaves him with few words before heading out.

“It doesn’t matter. You can’t help me.”

The bar was definitely over what capacity should allow that night. The bar was swarmed as people shouted their drink orders at the poor bartenders who were scurrying around like mice. Patrons were spilling out onto the dance floor, packed in like sardines to the point that you could hardly move. You pushed yourself through the crowd, muttering worthless apologies to people who weren’t even listening as you desperately searched for your friends. You’d lost them over twenty minutes ago and had lost all hope in finding them.

You were starting to feel claustrophobic amidst the sweaty bodies pressed against you, chest growing tight the longer you spent in the crowd. It felt like the walls were beginning to close in on you as your head grew fuzzy. The Long Island Iced Teas you’d been consuming since you got there three hours ago certainly didn’t help. You forced your way through the crowd and to the exit of the bar, shoving people who wouldn’t move as you tried to get air into your lungs.

You stumbled out of the doors to the bar, ignoring the odd looks people heading inside sent you. Your knees felt weak as you braced yourself against the wall. Hand shaking, you pressed it to your chest to feel that your heart was rapidly pounding away. You closed your eyes and did all you could to focus on your breathing and get yourself to calm down. You hadn’t had a panic attack in some time, sophomore year of college the last you could recall, having learned what triggered them and how to keep the panic from overcoming you.

Mathew was standing farther down, away from the never ending flow of people coming and going from the bar’s entrance. He had his arms crossed over his chest as he stared out at the street with a scowl. He and Anthony were supposed to be leaving together, walking back to their shared apartment building a few blocks away. The blonde male had been busy when Mat stepped out, chatting away with some pretty redhead who’d caught his eye early in the night. He was about ready to make the walk by himself if his friend didn’t show himself in the next five minutes.

He saw you out of the corner of his eye, alone and trembling without so much as a jacket. He looked around to see if anyone you might know was near, but no one was paying you any mind. He was overcome with a sense of worry as he stared at you, not knowing if some sleazebag slipped something in your drink or if you had some kind of medical condition. He found himself moving closer to you and asking, “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just-” you stated breathlessly, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, “I just need a second.”

You stood there for another moment until you had yourself composed, finally standing up straight when it didn’t feel like your knees would give out anymore. You weren’t expecting to open your eyes and find the person attached to the voice that just spoke to you still standing there. His hazel eyes were filled with worry as they flickered over your frame. You were too busy gawking to notice his genuine concern.

“Did something happen in there? Do you need me to call someone?” the handsome stranger asked, his gaze finally settling on yours.

“N-No,” you stuttered sheepishly, clearing your throat and blinking quickly as if that would make the nervousness go away. “It’s lame, actually, I lost my friends and… The crowd was a bit much.”

Mathew’s shoulders visibly relaxed when he knew something traumatic hadn’t happened and a laugh passed through his lips. He offered you a smile and replied, “Yeah, that is kind of lame.”

You scoffed playfully and rolled your eyes, feeling your face heat up slightly. He laughed again and shook his head a bit, saying, “I kid, I kid. This place does get pretty rowdy on the weekends.”

“Not to be completely cheesy but, I take it you come here often?” you asked with a smile, wrapping your arms around your middle as the cool New York air started to seep into your skin. The adrenaline from your near panic attack had kept you from realizing how cold it was out and you’d left your jacket inside at your table. Hopefully one of your friends would grab it despite the drunken escapades they were partaking in.

“Pretty often, yeah,” Mathew grinned at the question. He was sure you hadn’t intended to use it as a pickup line, yet he found himself hoping there was genuine interest laced behind your words.

He shrugged off his black bomber jacket when he noticed you shivering and held it out to you. As you opened your mouth to protest, the look on his face told you that he wasn’t taking no for an answer. So you took the item from his hands and slipped in on with a gracious ‘thank you’ once you were swallowed in its warmth.

“I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Mat,” he replied while shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

It was silent for a moment between you, neither knowing exactly what to say. Mathew didn’t know if you were intending to head back inside and enjoy your night. While he was more than ready to go home ten minutes ago, he was now enamored by you, and wanted to do anything to stay in your presence. Usually, he was quick witted and able to charm a girl with a few simple words. In front of you he was drawing a blank, afraid of saying the wrong thing and scaring you off.

Seeing you shyly toy with the ends of his sleeve, a nervous smile curling on your lips as you looked at his feet had a surge of confidence flowing through him. He offered, “Would you want to grab a coffee? I know a place that makes the best homemade crepes.”

The memory hit Mathew like a freight train as he stepped out of the doors of the bar. He was left staring at the wall, at the very spot he spoke to you for the first time. He couldn’t feel the dull ache in his chest, having numbed himself with whiskey that was far too expensive. He turned to walk down to the street to wait for his Uber, but stopped short as he caught a glimpse of a woman walking by.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared after her. It was as if time slowed down, everything moving in slow motion but her. Everything was as he remembered from that night. The way her hair was styled, the dress that stopped halfway down her thighs, the heels that echoed in his head with each step she took. What shook him to his core the most was the jacket sported on her shoulders. From the night he first gave it to her, she would always steal it, claiming it looked better with most of her outfits than his own. He never argued, because he agreed, and he would never turn down a chance to see her in his clothes. It was you — unmistakably you.

Mathew’s feet started moving on their own accord behind you. It was like you were running away, until he realized it was him who was moving in slow motion with the people around him. The streets were bustling with people of all likes, experiencing the enticing New York nightlife. He was weaving through the crowd, calling out your name, desperate, broken and begging you to put back together the pieces of his broken heart.

You kept walking and Mathew was trying his hardest to catch up, but was like with each step he took his feet were growing heavier and heavier. He let out a strangled, frustrated cry as he yelled out your name once more. Suddenly, he was knocked to the side, stumbling over his own feet and nearly falling into the street. He turned to look at the man who just rammed into him carelessly.

“Watch where you’re going, you prick!” he shouted after the man who paid him no mind, receiving a few dirty looks from others.

It was then that he realized everyone was moving in real time again. His breath hitched in his throat as he spun to search for you in the crowd. You were gone. Deep down, he knew you had never been there in the first place. His mind was playing another dirty little trick on him, as it did so often the last few months. His guilty subconscious tormented him with images of you, making him watch you slip away time and time again. The hollow feeling deep within him only grew with every hallucination.

He turned his attention to the building he’d found himself in front of, and if the visions of you weren’t already torture enough, the universe had just thrown something else into the mix. Yet, he found himself making his way up to the door, the bell chiming above his head as he entered the quant diner. He takes a glance around, seeing an old couple at a table on one side of the building and a man by himself at the bartop, a laptop open and headphones in as he had a quiet conversation on what Mathew assumed was a Zoom or FaceTime call. He drops his head and walks to the familiar corner booth then slides into the seat and cancels his Uber.

A moment later, the waitress approaches the table. Mathew meets her eyes and embarrassment floods through him as he takes note of her sympathetic smile. He’s seen the smile a thousand times now from anyone who had an inkling of what he’d been going through.

“Coffee?” she asked softly, knowing the answer before he could even muster a nod.

You slide into the booth, sighing in content as the warmth from the building seeps into your bones. Mathew slides in across from you and the two of you share a shy smile as you meet eyes. Never before had he been so nervous to take a girl out. Maybe it was because you weren’t like the others. You hadn’t thrown yourself at him the first chance you got. You didn’t seem to know who he was or his status in the social hierarchy of the people in Long Island. It was refreshing and terrifying all at the same time.

You both look up as the waitress walks over with a bright smile on her face and asks what you’d like to drink. “Coffee,” the two of you say at the same time. Mathew’s face visibly turns a light shade of pink, and in turn you feel a rush of heat traveling up your own neck. The waitress smiles knowingly.

“Cream, please,” you add.

As the waitress turns to Mathew he says, “Black is fine.”

It’s silent for a moment as you both wait for the waitress to return with your drinks. Your eyes are floating around the diner, taking in some of the unique decor and 80’s flare with a modern twist. Mathew watches you closely and decides he quite likes the way your eyes shine under the glow of the baby blue neon lights. He takes it upon himself to start pointing out some of the historical decor in the building. It’s your turn to admire him and how his eyes light up when he talks about something he finds exceptionally appealing. His lips are curled into a smile as he spouts off facts to you about each item he points out.

He pauses his rant about people not appreciating The Beatles enough when he sees you grinning at him. He smiles sheepishly and diverts his gaze to the steam rising out of the coffee mug just placed in front of him, asking, “What?”

“Nothin’,” you replied with a small shrug, smile never leaving your face. You stirred a splash of cream into your own coffee and quizzed, “I take it as you come here often too?”

Mathew felt his ears grow hot but he still managed to muster up a confident smirk and lifted his eyes to meet yours, “I said best homemade crepes didn’t I?”

“That you did.”

“I usually end up here after a night at the bar and I need to sober up. People say coffee doesn’t work but it sure feels like it,” he explained, “Plus, they serve breakfast twenty four hours.”

The way your eyes lit up when Mathew said that had butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He listened as you went on a rant about how breakfast was underrated and you’d kill for pancakes for dinner over a steak most nights. From there, the conversation between the two of you flowed effortlessly. You learned how the other liked their eggs cooked and what your drink of choice was. Your favorite colors and favorite scent of body wash. Being with Mathew made you feel as if you’d been sleeping all of these years and were just waking up. Never had you felt so drawn to someone in the way that you were to him, and him the same. Any other night, if he had met a girl in the fashion that he’d met you, he would have had you in and out of his apartment long ago. He wouldn’t be on his third coffee refill with a plate of perfectly cooked strawberry crepes in front of him.

Mathew learned that you hadn’t been in New York long. You’d moved about two months ago and had a fashion design internship with some fancy company he’d never heard of. You were looking to build your own empire in the business. With the way you exuded yourself now that you were comfortable with him and talked with so much passion about your dreams, he didn’t think you’d have any trouble. The drive you had to build a future for yourself wasn’t something he was used to hearing from the women he surrounded himself with.

The famous athlete, something you learned about him in between bites of food, was used to women throwing themselves at him and his teammates. Some of them were just looking to brag that they slept with an Islander, others had more devious intentions. They were after the money Mathew tried his hardest not to spend recklessly - the gifts he could potentially buy. Some wanted his last name, to be in with the WAGs and flaunt their relationship all over social media; to rub it in the face of others that she got what they so desperately wanted. It was part of the reason that he never exclusively dated, too afraid that there were ulterior motives behind sultry whispers and sly smirks.

The diner that had previously been significantly busy when the two of you got there had now cleared out completely. You and Mathew hadn’t realized how long you’d actually been there until you took note of the empty tables. Your waitress was standing in the corner against the wall, looking like she was mindlessly scrolling through Instagram while she waited for you to leave. You and the Centerman had been so lost in each other that you hadn’t realized hours had passed and it was nearly two in the morning.

“I guess we should get out of here, huh?” you asked, hoping the gorgeous man in front of you picked up on the suggestive tone of your voice.

It didn’t seem like he did though with the way his shoulders slumped and he mumbled, “Yeah, I guess we should.”

As Mathew fished his wallet out, he felt you gaze burning into him. You weren’t ready for the night to end and you were hoping he was thinking the same. He looked up and locked eyes with you, holding the stare as you raised a singular eyebrow and a coy smile curled on your lips. Realization crossed the chiselled features of his face and he gave you a smirk before throwing down a good amount of cash on the table. He slid out of the booth and held his hand out to you, giving you a small bow as if you were royalty.

“M’lady?”

Mathew chokes on the very breath in his lungs, his eyes burning as he stared down at the cold, untouched mug of coffee in front of him. It’s no longer black, now a light chestnut color but the splash of cream he’d subconsciously added to it. He had picked that up from you because ‘only psychopaths drink black coffee, babe’. He switched back of course. This was the first time he let himself slip up and fall back into a habit that used to be so comfortable with you.

He swallows thickly and stuffs a generous amount of cash into the black checkbook, far more than what the coffee was worth. He pushes himself out of the booth and avoids the waitress’ eyes as she comes over to collect the payment. He can’t even muster a smile as he mumbles out a ‘thank you’ and exits the diner. Lori, the woman who always gave you the best service there, is left to sadly stare after him. She knows better than to ask what happened to the sweet girl who always used to accompany him.

Mathew walks a couple blocks down to his apartment building, trying not to remember how you’d clung to his arm. How your giggles echoed down the empty streets and your perfume swirled around him. When he closed his eyes he thought he could almost smell it, wondering if traces of you were lingering on the jacket hanging heavy on his shoulders. He still remembers how it felt to have your hands wrapped around his bicep and your hip bumping his as you walked pressed to his side. He enters his building and the feeling is gone as quickly as it came.

He walks into his dark apartment and thinks that it feels colder and colder every night that he comes home alone. He can’t help but take note of your missing pile of shoes by the door that he always used to chirp you for. He hangs his keys on the hook and his eyes linger on the empty spot beside it. He walks past the couch on the way to the bedroom and tries not to think about how bare it looks without the hoodies you used to steal from him littered about.

He strips into his boxers after brushing his teeth and climbs under the chilly sheets. He’s turned on his side, staring at the vacant spot beside him. He can see you there, messy hair splayed out around you and your face smiling back at him. He reaches out and grabs the pillow that used to be deemed yours, pulling it into his chest tightly. Your scent is long gone from the pillowcase, yet he still buries his nose into it and squeezes his eyes shut as if that will bring you back.

As he begins to drift off to sleep, his mind once again tortures him with visions of you. How you stumbled into his apartment the night you met as a mess of teeth and tongues fighting for dominance. You undressed each other on the way to the bedroom, clothes scattered across the floor. Your skin was hot against his as he laid you on his bed for the first time and worshiped every inch of your skin. He remembers your breathy moans in his ear as he filled you up and rocked into you, slow and deep. Your limbs were tangled as you came down from your highs, your head on his sticky chest as he ran his hand over the tangled hair on your head.

He remembers whispering, “I’ve never met anyone quite like you,” and you replying, “You’re something special, Mathew Barzal.” The two of you fell asleep like that, with Mathew thinking he could spend forever with you wrapped in his arms.

Mathew awoke the next morning with a pounding headache and a weight sitting heavy in his chest. He’s still clutching his pillow as he turns over and looks for you instinctively. When he’s once again faced with the empty space beside him, his heart drops. He flips onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. It’s the same everyday that he wakes up, replaying the day everything changed like a broken record in his head.

Your whirlwind romance with Mathew happened unexpectedly. While the two of you did click instantly, you certainly weren’t expecting it to be so serious so fast. He was a famous hockey player who was on the road most of the year. You thought, at most, you would be someone he called when he was home in New York because you were convenient. Instead, you got the fancy dinner dates and spontaneous trips to Philly when he played the Flyers. You got a bouquet of flowers at your door when he was off on a roadie. You got to meet Anthony and enjoy quiet nights in just drinking beers and mocking shitty reality TV. You had moved into his apartment almost completely after only four months without either of you really realizing — yet neither of you stopped it.

The relationship you had with Mathew was unique. It was something people dreamed of and hoped to find. You were Twin Flames; two halves of one soul that united. You fell for each other so hard and so fast it made you dizzy. Before you knew it, a year had passed. You’d completed your internship and your boyfriend was a rising star. You had built a strong foundation in New York and it was potentially where you could put down your roots and live out the rest of your life, yet you had bigger dreams and plans for yourself. Something you hadn’t been completely honest with Mathew about.

You were scared. Scared of the unknown complications and challenges you could face. The two of you had moved so fast you were having trouble differentiating between fantasy and reality — if this is really what you wanted. What if you settled down in New York and Mathew was traded to a different team across the country? What if he decided he didn’t want you anymore in a few weeks time, leaving you high and dry? What if you didn’t really love him and you were just convincing yourself that you did? These questions had been plaguing you for weeks, especially when he was away, and it was becoming too much. So you did the cowardly thing and you ran from it.

It was nearing the Stanley Cup playoffs and the Islanders were well on their way to securing a spot, so most of Mathew’s focus had been on hockey. It never bothered you because it was his career. It’s what he did for a living and what he loved, so how could you fault him for that? The roadies seemed to fall closer together and last a little longer. Mathew now knows that’s why he didn’t notice your things slowly disappearing from the apartment then, and he still beats himself up for not realizing that you were slipping away.

He’d been on one of those seemingly long roadies and his flight came in early that morning from Tampa Bay. While they came out victorious, the games had been rough and Mathew was sore. He couldn’t wait to decompress and cuddle up with you for the few days he had off until the next home game. As the Uber pulled up outside the building, he felt exhaustion overcoming him and wanted to sleep the rest of the day away.

He walked through the door, lugging his duffel bag and suitcase, a sigh leaving his lips at the fact that he was finally home again. The ease he felt was quickly replaced with panic and confusion when his eyes landed on the suitcases in the foyer. His blood ran cold in his veins as he dropped his bags and called out your name with a panicked tone. The apartment remains silent so he quickly makes his way to the bedroom, pushing the door open to find you sitting on the edge of the bed and staring out the window. His own rapid heartbeat is pounding in his ears as he pulls at his tie and moves towards you.

He drops to his knees on the floor in front of you, his eyes full of concern as he meets your tear filled ones. The pads of his fingers are rough and warm as he takes your hand in his own and whispers, “Why are your bags by the door, baby? What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” your voice breaks as you reply, bottom lip wobbling before a sob wracks your body.

Mathew quickly pulls you into his chest, his hand cradling the back of your head as you cry into his game day suit. Dread fills his body, having never seen you so upset. His heart is in his throat and he feels as if he’s going to be physically ill. He holds you like that, kissing the side of your head and whispering words of affirmation until you can compose yourself. You pull back from him and wipe your wet cheeks but he keeps one hand on the side of your head and the other on your waist.

Then you drop the bomb on him.

You explain that your internship was never a permanent plan to stay in New York. You have a flight in four hours that leaves for Paris. A one way ticket taking you to the fashion capital of the world to start your career. You found a job opportunity so perfect that you’d be stupid to pass up. Mathew wants to be happy for you. He wants to jump for joy and celebrate with you, but you hid this from him. You did exactly what he was afraid of and shared with you within hours of your first meeting. He’s filled with disbelief and anger instead.

“This was your plan the whole time? You hid this from me the last year we’ve been together?” he exasperates, moving to his feet as he starts to pace the room and tug at his hair.

“Everything was so good with us I didn’t want to ruin it. I was going to tell you, Mat, I swear.”

“When?!” he shouts, feeling guilty for a moment when he sees you flinch, but the anger overpowers it. “Because it looks like to me you were just going to leave without so much as a goodbye!”

You shake your head, and squeeze your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your palms to your eyes as the tears start to well again. You argue, “I knew when your flight was coming in. I wouldn’t just leave you like that.”

“But you are. You are leaving me like that. You clearly have your mind made up about this and didn’t bother telling me,” he rebuttals, “You let me believe for a year that you were in this. I’ve given you one hundred percent, despite the hardships. What did you give me, huh? Fifty at best?”

You’re quiet, not wanting to admit that you hadn’t been all in on the relationship like him, even though you acted like it. Really, you’d had one foot out the door the whole time. Mathew’s voice shakes as he stares at you from across the room and says, “I love you. I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

A choked sob wracks through your body at his words and you cover your face with your hands. You knew he was in love with you, even the blind could see how head over heels Mathew Barzal was for you. He starts desperately rambling about how the two of you can make it work. Yes, long distance is hard, but he believes it’s worth it — believes you can love him like he loves you if you’ll take the risk. Why else would you have spent a year with him if some part of you didn’t think so? You put up with his relentless hockey schedule when you had every reason to walk away and live your life like the other twenty somethings you surround yourself with.

You disagree though. Long distance would only complicate things further. The different timezones would be unforgiving to your conflicting work schedules. Mathew often didn’t get long enough breaks to be able to fly out and see you and it be worth it. Plus, an international flight once a month, maybe more? It sounded like a good idea but eventually his wallet would suffer. You certainly couldn’t do it with the salary you were starting at, nor would you risk losing your job by unimportant travel to see a man. It was a negative and closed off way of looking at it on your part, but for both of your sake, it was best that way.

“It’s impossible…”

“It’s not impossible, you just don’t want to try!” Mathew yells, unable to care that his neighbors have more than likely heard every word of your argument.

“Mat, I have had the best year of my life here in New York. I’ve made memories that I could never in a million years forget. You are a part of that. I love you, God, do I fucking love you, but admit it. This was never meant to be long term. Not with the paths our lives are taking. We were never meant to last forever,” you stand from the bed and stare at him across the room, pleading with him to look at it from your perspective. You wanted to leave this in a good place, friends possibly, if he could accept what this was at face value. Two people who loved each other very much, but weren’t meant to be. The cliche ‘right people, wrong time’.

Mathew couldn’t though, he wouldn’t. He was blinded by a rage that he had never felt before. You had wasted his time — a year that he could’ve spent entertaining pretty girls who threw themselves at him for a quick fuck. Partying with his teammates and friends and reveling in his success that was only growing with every game he played. He finds himself wishing he had left you alone that night outside of the bar and just gone home. He lets the fury coursing through his veins take over, and with his fists shaking at his sides, he grits out in a low voice, “Get out.”

His words don’t shock you. You don’t know what other outcome you hoped would come from this. It doesn’t stop the stabbing pain that shoots through the center of your chest though. He won’t even look at you, hard gaze concentrated at your feet with his jaw set tight. You fight the urge to go to him. Wrap your arms around him and take it all back. Promise him you’ll stay even though you’d be sacrificing everything. It wasn’t fair to you, so you force your feet to carry you out of the bedroom and out of his front door for the last time. The sobs come once you’re in the elevator, then again in your friend’s (who was nice enough to give you a ride to the airport) car while they held you.

A few seconds after Mathew hears the front door shut, he’s tugging at his dark hair and letting out an agonizing shout. His breathing is ragged as he paces the room and debates running after you, but what would he say? The argument seemed final. You were set in your plan to take off to France and he couldn’t change your mind — he couldn’t make you stay. So he sat down on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. He squeezes his eyes shut and allows himself to feel the heartbreak, a guttural sob passing his lips.

Mathew closes his eyes and sucks a deep breath into his lungs as the memory fades. His heart is heavy in his chest as he reaches over and retrieves his phone from the bedside table. There’s a text from Anthony sent in the early hours of the morning, asking if he’d made it home safely. He doesn’t reply, instead opening the Instagram app and pulling up your profile.

His breath catches in his throat as he looks at your most recent picture. You changed your hair, a slightly different cut and a different color, but you’re just as breathtaking as he always thought you were. You’re sitting at a cafe with a cup of some fancy brew in front of you and the caption is in French, something about dreams coming true. Though, he’s not focused on some silly caption when he can’t take his eyes off of you. You look happy, wearing a smile he used to see when Anthony or one of your friends would sneak a picture of the two of you. Regret floods his body, the memory of the day you left still fresh in his mind. He thinks about liking the post just to tell you that he still loves you and he hasn’t forgotten about you. He exits out of the app before he allows himself to succumb to that urge.

He forces himself out of bed and into the shower before he’s late for practice. He mulls over in his head whether he should text you or not. He knows you more than likely won’t reply with how things ended all those months ago — now that you’ve moved on and you’re happy without him. He wishes he could too, yet he carries so much guilt for the things he said and allowing himself to have his heartbroken in the first place. He misses you like hell and the never ending visions of you plaguing his mind only makes it intensify.

Mathew heads to the rink in silence. He doesn’t speak to his teammates in the locker room and goes through the motions of practice in a daze. He’s not there completely and everyone can see it in his eyes. Anders is planning to pull him aside, Trotz insisting they have a talk and threatening to bench number thirteen until he gets his shit together. Mathew can tell. No one has tried to speak to him and Anthony keeps throwing him a side glance every few minutes. He prepares himself in the brief post-practice shower.

“Barzy, mind hanging back for a sec?” his captain asks as the other guys begin to filter out of the room.

He huffs out a sound of agreement while fishing his phone out of his duffel bag. His mom usually texts him a few times a week so he needs to let her know that he’ll give her a call later. He nearly drops the device as his eyes hone in on one message. Anders is talking but his heart is pounding so loudly in his ears he can’t hear him. He clicks on your name and feels every nerve in his body ignite at what the text message says.

I miss you. I’m coming home.

tagging the gc bc I love them @bricksatlandyswindow @butgilinsky @barzysthighs @babytkachuks @dmonchld @anxietyandtacos @sortagaysortahigh

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