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lastbluetardis · 4 years

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Chemical Reaction (20/22)

Summary: Though their chemistry class is now over, the chemistry between James and Rose is just getting started. Together, they navigate the highs of new love and the lows of coping with past trauma to forge deep and unbreakable bonds of love and commitment. Part 2 in the Catalysis series. Tagging @doctorroseprompts

This chapter: ~8000 words, explicit

If you like my stories, consider leaving me a tip? I know these are trying times, but if you are able, I would really appreciate it xoxo. And as always, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated as well.

AO3 | FF | TSP

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 | Ch17 | Ch18 | Ch19 | Ch20 | Ch21 | epilogue

James awoke slowly, groggily. His head was pounding and his eyes were scratchy and blurry. He had slept deeply and dreamlessly, and now that he was drifting towards consciousness, he had absolutely no idea where he was or what day it was. If he’d had to give the year or month, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to do it.

He would have been perfectly content to close his eyes and try to fall back to sleep; however, the cat yowling at the foot of the bed was making that impossible, as was the sharp, pulsing ache in his bladder. Had he gone out drinking the night before? That might explain his throbbing head, his desperate need for the toilet, and the reason he was asleep in a strange bed.

“Pippin, shut it.”

James blinked through the haze of his vision. Rose lay next to him, but they weren’t in his bed. And they definitely weren’t in Rose’s bed; he had way too much room to splay his legs without them falling off the mattress. But the room was familiar. They were… in his guest room?

The events of the past night finally clicked. Rose was here. Rose was here after they’d made up from their awful fight, and she’d stayed the night with him.

His chest warmed with love and gratitude at the sight of Rose pulling a pillow over her head as Pippin began meowing more earnestly upon realizing both humans were awake.

“I hate your cat,” Rose mumbled, her voice nearly inaudible.

“You love him,” he cooed. Pippin paced in the thin strip of space between their bodies, then stepped onto James’s lower belly. James yelped and swiped his cat to the floor, ignoring Pippin’s cry.

Rose snorted. “All right?”

“I really need a wee,” he squeaked. He vaulted out of bed and sprinted across the hall to the guest bathroom, ignoring Rose’s laughter behind him.

After attending to his over-full bladder, James stumbled to the kitchen—noticing with a grumble it was only seven in the morning—and he filled Pippin and Merry’s food dishes. Preemptively, he went into the basement and placed their bowls down there, knowing he would start painting before too long. Neither cat realized what he intended to do until he trekked up the stairs and closed the door behind him. He heard the frantic sounds of racing feet, then the scratching of paws and claws at the door, followed by the most piteous mewl he’d ever heard.

“Oh, you’re fine,” he said. “Go eat your breakfast, bud.”

Not particularly wanting to stand there arguing with his cat, James turned away from the basement door and went into his guest room. Rose was snoring lightly, her chest rising and falling with her even breaths.

He hadn’t been sure if he would see this sight again, and he knew he would never take it for granted. Though wide awake, thanks to his stupid cat, James instead slipped beneath the sheets once more, nestling deep into the mattress. It wasn’t as cozy as his mattress, a little too firm for his liking. He suddenly wondered whether Rose liked his other bed or favored this one; in all the months they’d been sharing a bed, he never once thought to ask if she preferred firmer or softer mattresses. Maybe they could invest in one of those fancy, dual-firmness mattresses he was always seeing commercials for on the television.

James began getting antsy after only a few minutes of lying beside Rose. He tried to ignore it, to take advantage of snuggling with her, but his mind was awake and itching to do something. Plus, they weren’t really snuggling. He was on his side, watching her sleep.

Not creepy at all, he muttered to himself.

Noticing that he was beginning to fidget, James relented with a sigh. Pecking a soft, barely-there kiss to her forehead, he slipped out of bed again and padded into his kitchen to start coffee and clean up the dishes from the night before.

Quietly as he could, he emptied the dishwasher and hand-washed the few dirty dishes in his sink while his coffee brewed. He had the belated realization that the scent of coffee might be enough to disturb and wake Rose. Oops.

Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. He grabbed his hazelnut-flavored creamer from the fridge and poured a healthy dollop into the bottom of his caffeine molecule mug. He took his coffee to the kitchen table and grabbed a crossword puzzle book to keep himself busy; he didn’t want to start painting yet, since the fumes and the noise would probably wake Rose, if she wasn’t already awake.

Surprisingly, it was another hour before Rose joined him. James was deeply engrossed in his crossword and didn’t hear her soft footsteps; he jumped when she linked her arms around his neck and rested her chin on the top of his head.

“Morning,” she murmured, voice gravelly.

“Morning.” He tilted his head up, accepting her kiss.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked.

“Mhm. Like a rock. Which is nice, since I slept for maybe four hours last night. Well. Last morning. I didn’t actually try to go to bed until six, and I didn’t really sleep. Just sorta dozed on and off and…”

“You went to bed at six?” Rose interrupted, a frown evident in her voice.

“I was busy,” he said, a little defensively. “Gollum wee’d on my bed and the guest bed, so I had to wash all the sheets and duvets. D’you know how long it takes those things to dry? Oh, by the way, Gollum’s got a UTI. He’s at the vet. I should be able to pick him up today or tomorrow. But I was busy washing all of the blankets and sheets, and then I figured I would vacuum and wash my bathrooms between loads, and then I realized I hadn’t dusted in a while, so I—”

Rose leaned down and silenced him with a swift, hard kiss. His mind went blank as he cupped his hand around the back of her neck to hold her in place. She pulled away too soon for his liking and utterly ignored his pout.

“I love you, but blimey, you need to work on not talkin’ so much before I’ve had my first cuppa tea,” she drawled, ruffling his hair.

She moved away from him to start the kettle and to grab a mug and tea bag. James stood and refilled his mug with his third cup of coffee.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, filling the mug to the brim to finish off the coffee in the pot.

“Not really,” she admitted.

James’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. Was it the mattress?”

Rose blinked. “What? No.”

“Is that mattress too firm?”

“No, it…”

“Do you like the mattress in my bedroom? I was thinking this morning that I never really considered the type of mattress you like, and if you don’t like what I have we can go shopping together for something you and I can both comfortably sleep on and…”

“Jesus Christ,” Rose muttered under her breath, rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes.

James abruptly stopped speaking, his ears and cheeks burning. “Er, sorry.”

“Your mattresses are fine,” she said. “If you would’ve let me finish, I was about to say I had weird dreams that kept waking me up. I dreamt Jimmy showed up. In one of the dreams, you and him became best friends…”

“Fat fucking chance,” James blurted, irrationally irritated at his dream self. “Rose you know I would never…”

Rose rolled her eyes. “I know. Didn’t keep my subconscious from dreamin’ about it though. And in another, Jimmy kept shoutin’ at me for the most ridiculous things that I can’t really remember. I didn’t want to keep dreaming about him, so I figured I’d get up and we could start painting your bedroom.”

James stepped up to her, arms outstretched for a hug, if she wanted it. She did, and tucked her head beneath his chin, linking her arms around his hips.

“I haven’t responded to Jimmy yet,” she said quietly. “I didn’t tell him I got his letter. I don’t know what to say to him. Or if I even should say anything.”

James gave her a tight squeeze. He wanted to tell her to block his number and burn his letter, but ultimately the decision was hers. He would simply be there for comfort and support, a shoulder to lean on, an ear to vent to.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “So proud. I’ll be here for you no matter what.”

She tightened her hold around him, nearly clinging to him and ignoring the beeping of the kettle.

“Thanks.” She sighed and pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “I’m gonna make an effort to tell you when I talk to Jimmy. If I talk to him.”

James ran his fingers through her hair. “I’ll be here to listen when you’re ready.” He kissed her gently. “Can I make you some tea and toast?”

She nodded and loosened her arms from around his hips, then allowed herself to be guided to an empty kitchen chair.

They ate a meager breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs while they sipped their respective hot beverages. When they’d finished eating and their plates and mugs were in the sink, James led Rose to the guest bedroom and found some old, ratty clothes she could borrow. He donned the shorts and paint-splattered t-shirt he’d worn the day before, and gave Rose a pair of mesh shorts and a frayed, stained t-shirt he often wore to do yard work.

“Right! Ready to get painty?” he crowed, clapping his hands together,

Rose giggled and nodded, but paused and asked, “Are Merry and Pippin gonna get in our way?”

“Locked ‘em in the basement,” he assured. As though to alert the world of his displeasure, Pippin began meowing very loudly from the basement door.

Ignoring his wailing cat, James took his phone with him in case the vet called, then he walked down the hall and flung open his bedroom door. The paint smell had dissipated somewhat overnight, and to his delight, all the walls looked dry enough for a second coat of paint.

They took a few minutes to discuss a plan of attack, wherein it was decided James would put the second coat on the ceiling while Rose started on the walls. That was how the next few hours passed, with James climbing up and down the ladder and working around Rose.

When the ceiling was completed, James opened up the can of glossy white paint to get started on the crown molding. Rose had finished two of the four walls, and they looked beautiful; the paint was even, with no brush or roller marks left behind.

His legs and core were getting sore from balancing on the ladder, and he wanted to say sod it to the crown molding. But he hadn’t been particularly careful when applying the paint to his walls and ceiling; as a result, the trim work was speckled with blue-gray paint. With a sigh, James dipped one of his smaller brushes and began the arduous, painstaking task of painting the trim around the ceiling.

After about an hour of scaling up and down the ladder, of reaching up and out to apply the paint, his back and shoulders were nearly burning with exertion. While he wanted nothing more than to stop for the day, he was eager to have this damn project finished. He was tired of his house smelling like paint and of needing to keep his poor cats sequestered in the basement.

He climbed down the ladder and returned the lid to the paint can, figuring they were due for a lunch break. With a groan, James leaned down and touched his toes, twisting slightly. It crackled like a bag of crisps. He exhaled as he straightened, then lifted his arms up and over his head. His back popped loudly, spreading relief through his entire spine.

“God that felt good,” he sighed, raking his hands through his hair. It felt a little damp with supposed perspiration.

“You’re covered in paint.”

James glanced over to where Rose was working the paint roller up and down the walls to apply a clean, even coat. His focus narrowed to the flex of her shoulders, visible even through the over-large t-shirt she was wearing. His mind’s eye could easily see the soft, smooth expanse of her back, the jut of her shoulder blades, the flesh on either side of the valley of her spine, the subtle dimples that peeked just above the waistband of her trousers. His fingers itched to push her shirt up, to map out her back and her belly, to press himself against her and kiss the side of her neck and her shoulder and…

He forgot she had spoken until she glanced over her shoulder at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat. “Well, you’re one to talk. You’re covered in paint too.” She’d pulled her hair up into a messy bun at the beginning of their venture, and several strands had escaped over the course of the morning, billowing around her face. Small streaks of paint adorned her forehead and cheeks from where she no doubt impatiently pushed her hair aside. “Besides, we’re painting. By default, that means we’re going to end up covered in it.”

Rose grinned, her tongue poking out of the side of her mouth. His stomach gave a funny little lurch, and he wanted to chase her tongue with his.

“Your hair is practically white,” she teased.

“No, it’s not,” he said, rolling his eyes fondly. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Oh yeah?” she challenged. “Look at your hands.”

He blinked at her, then glanced down. To his horror, he saw that most of his right palm was coated in paint. He looked to the ladder: the brush he’d been using had wet, sticky paint all along the handle.

“Oh, no,” he moaned. He raced into his en suite and saw that Rose was right: paint was streaked and clumped in with his hair.

He groaned.

“Told ya.”

Rose stood behind him and linked her arms loosely around his middle. She rested her palms on his stomach and began to rub long, lazy lines up and down his torso. Goosebumps rippled across his skin and he tried to keep himself from shuddering at her touch.

“You ought to be more careful about where you set your brush,” she murmured, stretching onto her tiptoes to plant a kiss to the nape of his neck, right above his shirt collar. “Want some help washing it out?”

“My beautiful hair,” he whined, mostly to hear her laugh.

He succeeded; she giggled and reached up to ruffle his poor, paint-splattered hair. He could feel how stiff it had gotten with paint.

“C’mere.”

Rose dropped her arms from around his middle and skipped into the bedroom for the roll of paper towel they’d been using to try to keep their hands relatively clean. Clearly he had failed in that regard, and his hair had paid the price.

While she did that, James washed his hands, scratching at the dried paint with his nails until his hands were spotless and pink once more. He then angled his head at Rose when she finally joined him in the en suite. But she shook her head and boosted herself up onto the vanity countertop instead. She ripped off a few sheets of paper towels and ran them under warm water to moisten them.

She gestured for him to step closer, and he readily did. He was not expecting, however, for Rose to link her legs around his hips. She hooked her ankles over one another behind his thighs and pulled him even closer. He sucked in a sharp breath as the front of his hips met with hers.

Automatically, he rested his hands on her thighs. Her borrowed shorts had ridden up, and he couldn’t help but touch her bare skin. Her legs tensed, drawing him in, before they relaxed again.

“C’mere,” she repeated, and he leaned into her.

He dropped his head so it was in easier reach for her; his new vantage gave him a teasing view down the front of her shirt, which had gaped low in front as she leaned forward and up. He couldn’t see anything beyond the soft swell of the tops of her breasts and he had the ridiculous urge to rip the front of her shirt open.

Rose sank her fingers into his hair as she began to scrub the damp paper towel through it. He bit his lip as sparks of pleasure shot across his scalp whenever she used her nails to scratch at a particularly stubborn bit of paint.

“God, you really worked it in deep,” Rose muttered, voice an octave lower than normal.

“What can I say? I’m very thorough.” His voice cracked, and he cleared it impatiently.

Rose’s hands gradually stilled in his hair. She set the damp cloth to the side and he took that to mean she had given up on his hair. He lifted his head and met her gaze, as dark and hungry as the desire churning in his gut.

He wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly their lips met, softly at first them more urgently as Rose flung her arms around his neck to pull him closer. Not knowing where to put his hands, he cradled them at her lower back, splaying his palms across her spine. James groaned and shuddered as her tongue slid against his, mapping out the contours of his mouth. She flicked her tongue along the roof of his mouth, then the backs of his teeth, then his upper lip. Next she sucked his lower lip into her mouth and bit it gently, scraping her teeth across it before she released it.

Heat unfurled low in his stomach, twisting and tightening his guts as it concentrated into a steady, dull ache in his groin. He could feel himself getting hard as Rose tightened her legs around his waist, pulling him in, in, in.

God, he wanted her. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her, body, mind, and soul. He wanted to make love with her, to hold her tightly as he pleasured her. He wanted to make her forget all about the heartbreak of the last twenty-four hours and to simply feel.

But after what she’d told him about makeup sex with Jimmy, would she even want to have makeup sex with him? He didn’t know, and so he would be perfectly satisfied to simply lose himself in her kisses for the rest of the afternoon. It would be enough to cradle her in his arms and let their breaths mingle in the same space as they shared kiss after kiss.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Rose mumbled into his mouth, reluctantly pulling away. Her lips were red and slightly swollen, her eyes dark and hooded. He recognized that expression, and his stomach clenched with anticipation.

“Sorry,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.

However, she pressed her hand to his chest. “Wait. Do you want to be doing this?”

“You can’t feel my interest in this?” he drawled, smirking. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but was hard enough that there was no way Rose couldn’t feel it. Even so, he pressed himself lazily into her.

“There’s a difference in you wanting it versus your body reacting to it,” Rose said with a shrug. “If you’re not into this…”

“I am,” he promised. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to share with her what had been going on in his head. “I was just wondering if maybe you weren’t. What you said yesterday about makeup sex with Jimmy…”

He trailed off with a small shrug. Rose’s expression softened, and she leaned forward to press a gentle, brief kiss to his mouth.

“We used to have angry sex instead of talking,” she said. “You and I spent an hour last night talking things out and apologizing. You opened yourself up to me and made me feel comfortable to open myself to you. You let me know how I hurt you without raising your voice, calling me any rude names, or swearing at me. And you let me tell you how you hurt me without getting all defensive or dismissive about it.”

James’s blood began to boil as his hatred of Jimmy Stone was rekindled. He pushed it aside, however, to stay in this moment with Rose. Jimmy didn’t get to take up space between him and Rose, especially when they were sharing such intimacy together.

“That’s what I want from a relationship,” Rose concluded. “And now I would like to make love with my best friend because I want to make him feel good and show him how much I love him. And I want to forget about anything else because nothing else will ever be more important than him and me and what we share together.”

James’s chest tightened and he swore he had never and would never love anyone more than he loved Rose. He covered her lips in a frantic, hungry kiss, feeling as though he couldn’t get close enough to her. She moaned into his mouth and slipped her hands beneath his shirt, mapping out the planes of his stomach, his obliques, his chest. He shivered at her touch, nerves sparking.

He stuck one of his hands under her shirt, walking it up to her breast, while his other dipped into the front of her borrowed shorts. They were loose, giving him plenty of room to work. He groaned when his fingers met with her wet heat.

“Got hot and bothered watchin’ you,” she gasped as his fingers teased her, tracing long, slow lines through her. “Was gonna snog you on the ladder but figured that probably wouldn’t end well. Don’t really want you breaking your back falling off the ladder ‘cos I couldn’t keep my hands to myself.”

James snorted lightly. “I was getting distracted watching you too. I love seeing you in my clothes.”

“Good thing I like wearing your clothes. God.” She hissed when his fingers circled that wonderfully sensitive bundle of nerves. Her hips arched into him, urging him on.

He eagerly complied, keeping his touch light and unhurried, relishing the variety of sounds she made. From the low moans to sharp inhalations, the noises she let out tightened the coil in his belly. He was so hard and desperate to rub against something, or to shift aside their clothes and enter her. But he also wanted to continue pleasuring her, so he worked to ignore the demands of his body.

Rose, however, was as in tune with his body as he was, and must have sensed how tense he’d become. She stuck a hand down the front of his shorts and wrapped her fingers around his hard length. He groaned at the sensation, at the friction of her hand moving lazily up and down. Her rhythm was as slow as his, mirroring the motion of his fingers against her.

All the while, James kissed her. Their kisses grew clumsier as their breathing turned ragged. He gave up on kissing her and instead lavished attention to the side of her neck, concentrating his efforts on the sensitive skin beneath her ear and where her neck joined her shoulder.

“Rose, I want you,” he rasped, his belly clenching impatiently. “I want to be inside you. Let me make love to you. Let me make you feel good.”

She let out a whimper, her fingers tightening around him. He arched his hips greedily, urging her to continue even as he fumbled with the best way to shift her clothes.

Sensing his deliberation, she reluctantly took her hand out of his pants. She moved them to the edge of the vanity on either side of her hips.

“Here,” she panted.

She unhooked her legs from around his waist, then tightened her abdominal muscles and arms as she lifted her bum off the counter. Wasting no time, James hooked his fingers in the waistband of her shorts, grabbing them and her knickers. He slipped them down her hips and thighs in one smooth motion. She impatiently wiggled her legs, helping him remove her cumbersome clothes, before he finally got them free of her feet. He threw them to the floor, then made to drop to his knees in front of her.

“No,” she said, grabbing the front of his shirt to halt his movements.

He blinked. She loved oral, just as he liked giving it. “But…”

“Later.”

“Promise?” he asked with a pout.

She grinned. “You can go down on me for as long as you like later. But for now…” She cupped her hand around his erection through his shorts, stroking him slowly. He shuddered as his breath escaped him in a low groan. “I want you inside me. Right now.”

Carefully, she lowered his shorts to free his erection. He worked them all the way down his legs and kicked them off behind him. He next grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Rose scrabbled with her shirt as well. She threw it to the floor, then reached behind herself to unclasp her bra.

The heat in James’s belly tightened as her breasts were revealed. In his (totally unbiased) opinion, they were the most beautiful pair of beasts in the world.

Now that they were both naked, it dawned on James that there were far comfier places to do this.

“Let’s move to a bed, love,” he said, even though it was so, so tempting to stay right as they were. It would be easy to step between Rose’s legs and push himself into her wet heat; it would feel incredible, being surrounded by her, making her moan, feeling her clenching and throbbing around him.

He shuddered violently as his need spiked, but Rose was already hopping down from the vanity countertop in all of her naked glory. He couldn’t help but catch her in his arms and kiss her. He hissed when his erection pressed to her hip. He grabbed her arse and pulled her into him.

“Y’know, standing-up sex is much more difficult and uncomfortable than countertop sex,” Rose drawled, though her words died on a gasp when he covered her breast with his mouth. He flicked his tongue against her nipple and scraped his teeth across it.

It became too awkward to keep his neck bent like that, so he instead replaced his mouth with his hand and moved his lips to the side of her neck.

“You are utterly irresistible,” he breathed, repositioning his hips so his erection was stimulating her as well. He flexed and arched his into her, ignoring that primal urge to enter her, to make hard and fast love with her.

“Counter’s right there,” she sighed, threading her fingers through his hair and hooking a leg around his waist.

Oh, God, that was the angle he needed. On his next forward grind, the tip of his cock slipped through her folds, teasing him with a hint of heightened pleasure. Fire blazed through him, a desperate, aching, burning heat as his body exploded with sensations.

He thought he would never again get to do this with her, yet here he was, mere seconds from joining with her in that most intimate way that belonged just to them. She was the only one he would ever share this with, the only one he wanted to share this with.

“Rose,” he gasped helplessly, grinding into her harder and faster.

Raw desire overwhelmed him, and he could hardly do anything but cling to her.

“Bed.”

Rose lowered her leg from around him, causing him to slip away from her. He grunted in displeasure as his cock was met with the cooler air of the en suite.

A small, soft hand slipped through his, pulling him into the bedroom. The smell of paint was all around them. Brushes and rollers and paint cans were strewn around the room, but in the center of the room was a beautiful, glorious, comfortable bed. It was covered in a protective cloth canvas, but it would be a simple matter to shift the canvas aside.

Rose, evidently, had the same idea. She grabbed the edge of the canvas and shoved it to the foot of the bed, leaving them enough space to crawl onto the mattress.

They moved in perfect synchronicity, with Rose settling on her back, legs fallen to the sides, and James hovering atop her, his hips cradled in hers.

Rose wasted no time; she took him in hand, lined him up, and guided him inside of herself. He couldn’t help the soft cry as he was surrounded by her. She echoed his moan, locking her legs around his hips and digging her nails into his shoulder blades.

James began to shake. Hot shivers pricked across his body, and he had the mortifying dread that he was about to come any second. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think about anything other than how good it felt to be inside Rose, how safe and loved he felt, how relieved he was to be making love with the love of his life when, for a long, exhausting, harrowing day, he thought he’d lost her and broken this beautiful life they shared.

It was then that he realized his body had been telling him he was about to start crying. Hot tears slipped down his cheeks, before they were brushed away by gentle hands.

“James.” Rose caressed her thumbs beneath his eyelids, a silent request. He opened his eyes and saw that hers, too, were glistening with tears. “I love you. More than I can say. More than you’ll know. More than I thought I could ever love someone. You are my happy ending, the happy ending I never thought I’d have, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and laughing with you and crying with you.”

A choked sob bubbled up his throat and he spared a thought for how ridiculous they must look, lying on a bed in a paint-strewn room, connected as intimately as two people could physically be, and yet they were both crying.

“I love you, Rose,” he answered, voice raw. “Thank you for…” For what? For loving him and letting him love her? For letting him apologize and giving him an apology in return? For being patient, kind, and loving? For making him feel at home for the first time in a long, long time? “For everything.”

She brought his face closer to hers and brushed a ghost of a kiss to his cheeks overtop the tear tracks, then to his lips. She planted kiss after kiss to his lips, gently at first, then more frantic as he slid his arms under her shoulders to hold her closer. Their mouths moved greedily together, falling into a rhythm they each knew well as James began to move atop her.

Rose broke the kiss with a sigh, arching her hips into his. Their kisses grew more sporadic, with James concentrating his efforts on her neck and collarbone. She felt amazing, the slick drag of her tightening muscles around his cock sending frissons of pleasure across his entire body, head to toes.

He gathered her impossibly closer, burying his face into her neck as he breathed her in, her scent overpowering the smell of paint in the room. He was surrounded by her, by her warmth, her body, her love. With every thrust of himself into her, he was being consumed, giving himself willingly to her and receiving all of her in return.

Rose began trembling, clenching around him as her breathing hitched. Shifting his weight and balance, he took one of his arms away from her to slip his hand between their bodies to rub the place they were joined. Her back arched, thrusting into him as she squeezed him tighter, tighter, tighter…

She cried out his name, the sound full of pleasure and relief as she was swept away by the force of her orgasm. Shuddering and shaking, her nails dug hard into his spine as she clung to him. He could feel his own pleasure mounting, feel the urgency building within him as he quickened his pace.

His body was too small to contain the maelstrom brewing inside of him. His lungs constricted, leaving him panting raggedly at her shoulder as he moved within her. Rose had stopped pulsing around him, so he returned his arm to the mattress, bracing himself as he snapped his hips harder and faster, chasing his release.

Rose scraped her nails up and down his back, raising goosebumps across his skin and pulling a low groan from deep in his throat. Fuck, she felt incredible. He never wanted to leave this moment, yet he was desperate to reach his climax, to join her in that overpowering ecstasy.

Her lips were at his ear, her hot breath tickling it deliciously as she whispered, “I love you, James. My James. I love you.”

He cursed and cried out as the tension in his belly flared sharply, then rolled outwards, boiling his blood and leaving pleasure in its wake. He’d never felt so good and was sure nothing else would ever feel as amazing as this, despite the past four months proving to him that making love with Rose would always be addicting and overwhelming.

He was thoroughly exhausted when the tide receded and he slumped bonelessly into Rose. He could hardly catch his breath and he was sure his arms would never stop shaking.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Rose mumbled, sounding as worn out as he felt, “but if makeup sex with you is always going to be that intense, we’re gonna need to find things to argue about at least weekly.”

James snorted, then giggled, before he was full-on belly laughing. Rose was laughing just as hard beneath him, her shoulders shaking as she gasped for breath. His abdominals ached by the time he managed to pull himself together.

“Your hair is still a mess,” Rose said, running her fingers through it.

Shivers prickled across his scalp. He moaned and pressed closer.

“I think a shower is gonna be the only way to get all the paint out,” she continued.

“Mmm. I could use a bit of help. To make sure my hair is utterly paint-free.”

She grinned. “I s’pose I could be persuaded to join you. After all, I might’ve gotten paint in my hair and need someone to check it out for me.”

“See? I’m doing you a huge favor,” he said.

Rose pinched him, then sighed and melted into the mattress and pillows. “We probably ought to get more painting done before we shower though.”

“I dunno about you, but it would take an act of God to move me from this bed right now.”

At that moment, James’s phone began to trill with an incoming call. He grunted in annoyance, unsure where he’d left his phone, and figured whoever was calling couldn’t be more important than his post-coital cuddle with Rose.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?” she asked, trailing her nails lightly up and down his spine.

He huffed. “Unless God is calling, no.”

“It could be the vet,” Rose said as his phone continued to ring. “Didn’t you say Gollum could come home today or tomorrow?”

With a displeased groan, James pushed himself up to his forearms, then carefully rolled off of her. His muscles complained at the movement; his legs barely held his weight as he stumbled around the room, searching for his phone. The call had ended by the time he found it sitting precariously top of the canvas-covered nightstand. Rose had been right: it was the vet. He learned upon listening to the voicemail message that he could pick Gollum up any time that afternoon before six o’clock.

“Let’s shower then fetch him,” Rose suggested. “We got a lot done today and can finish up tomorrow, if that’s all right.”

James was sure he would be even sorer tomorrow, but he absolutely did not want to do any more painting today. He enthusiastically agreed, and then waggled his eyebrows and said, “Shower time?”

Rose rolled her eyes but a small smile crossed her lips. She shifted off of the bed, looking as stiff as he felt; hopefully the warm water would help loosen their muscles.

James should have known it would be impossible for their shared shower to be purely functional. As they washed themselves and helped each other scrub off stubborn flecks of paint, they found any excuse to stand closer than necessary. Their damp, soapy bodies rubbed together deliciously and James couldn’t help but trail wet kisses across her skin as his body thrummed with renewed desire. When Rose shampooed his hair and dug her nails deep into his scalp to scrape away all of the paint, James thought he was going to combust on the spot. All of his blood pulsed into his cock with dizzying intensity; by the time Rose rinsed the suds from his hair, he was grinding himself firmly into her hip.

“Again?” she asked with a smirk.

“Please,” he rasped. “I want you.”

“Shower sex requires more balance and strength than I currently have,” she said, sliding her palm down his belly to take him in hand. “But I can think of something else I can do with this.”

With that, she dropped to her knees before him and wasted no time in slotting her mouth over him. Pleasure sparked up his spine and goosebumps prickled across his skin despite standing beneath the warm spray of water. Her tongue drummed across his cock while her hand stroked the base of him.

She built him up with a steady rhythm, and James let himself be lost in her ministrations, for once unbothered that he wasn’t going to last very long. He couldn’t bring himself to care, not when the friction of her hand and the suction of her mouth felt so bloody good.

He grunted out a warning when the heat in his belly coiled in on itself. Smirking, she took her mouth off of him and pumped her hand harder and faster down his cock. She arched her chest closer, the overhead lights shimmering off her wet, flushed skin as the head of his cock brushed the swell of her breasts, and oh God, he was done for.

The tension unsnapped in a sharp wave of pleasure and relief that left him moaning and curling his toes into the wet, textured floor of his shower. He thrust into the sensations rocking through his body as her hand continued moving on him, drawing out his orgasm for as long as she could.

He cursed when his ears stopped roaring and his head stopped swimming. Rose was still crouched in front of him, evidence of his pleasure spattered across her breasts as she lazily stroked his softening cock. He shivered.

“Thanks,” he croaked a bit stupidly.

She grinned. “My pleasure.”

“Pretty sure the pleasure was all mine, actually.” He helped haul her to her feet, and he crashed his mouth to hers. Between kisses, he murmured, “That felt incredible. Thank you.”

“I love doing that to you,” she replied, sighing when he tilted her head back to kiss her neck.

“Looks like you got all covered in paint again,” he drawled, trailing his fingertips across her breasts.

“Really? That’s your line?” she snorted.

He pouted. “What’s wrong with my line? That was a brilliant line.”

She simply rolled her eyes, but another smile tugged at her lips. “That was a terrible line and so cheesy and so dorky.” Before he could splutter out a rebuttal, she kissed him and said, “But you’re my cheesy dork.”

His blood warmed and he hummed, his body overflowing with love and appreciation for her. He kissed her softly and whispered, “Since I got you messy, it’s only fair that I wash it all off.”

“Hmmm?”

James trailed his fingers up and down her sides, from her breasts to her hips, in long, slow strokes. Her nipples pebbled and tightened so invitingly, and he couldn’t keep himself from taking one into his mouth. She arched into his touch, fisting her fingers through his hair to hold him in place. As if he would ever want to move.

Time ceased to mean anything as he lavished attention to her breasts, letting his tongue and the spray of the shower rinse her chest clean. Her breathing turned ragged the longer he allowed his teeth and tongue to tease her nipples and the curve of her breasts. When his back and neck grew too sore to remain hunched as he was, he dropped to his knees before her and gave the same attention to her hips and lower belly.

She thrust closer to his touch, trying to get him where she wanted him, but he smiled to himself and grabbed her hips, halting their impatient movements.

“James,” she whined, tugging at his hair. “I didn’t make you wait.”

“As I recall, earlier you told me, and I quote, You can go down on me for as long as you like later. It’s later, isn’t it? And I am nowhere near satisfied yet.”

“James, please,” she begged, and fuck, if she didn’t know what that did to him.

He shivered and tried to continue kissing her hips and thighs, but he was desperate to taste her, to hear her sounds of pleasure.

“C’mere.” He tapped one of her legs, encouraging her to drape it over his shoulder. “I won’t let you fall.”

Rose obeyed, bracing her back on the shower wall for balance and leverage. She gripped his hair tightly with one hand while her other shot to the washcloth holder. Her knuckles went white from how hard she clung to it.

“Relax,” he breathed, planting barely-there kisses right above where he knew she wanted him.

She growled in frustration and arched into him. He caressed her leg, then finally lowered his mouth and lick a long, slow line through her folds. She cursed and squeezed his hair, before loosening her hold.

He feasted on her as though he were a starving man. He couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t taste enough of her. Her urgent moans spurred him on, and he redoubled his efforts.

“James. I’m gonna…”

He hummed into her, loving her sharp cry as she trembled apart around him. Her thighs shook and he made sure to brace himself to take on more of her weight in case she lost her balance. Rose dug her heel into his spine, pressing him closer to her as she sighed his name and a string of curses.

Many long moments later, Rose shakily unhooked her leg from his shoulder and urged him to his feet. He held her to him trailing his fingers up and down her spine as she worked to slow her breathing.

“I love you,” she mumbled, face buried in the side of his neck. “You are so good at that.”

He puffed up with pride. “You deserve nothing less. Besides, I love doing that to you. Though I’m miffed you wouldn’t let me go on for longer.”

As though to contradict him, their hot water turned lukewarm, then went suddenly frigid. James, who had his back to the spray, yelped and leapt out of the water’s path, knocking Rose into the wall.

“Christ that’s cold!”

Rose cackled and ruffled his wet hair before she reached around him and turned the water off. “See. It’s a good thing I didn’t let you carry on. I would’ve been furious if a jet of cold water interrupted that.”

James sighed, then grudgingly stepped away from Rose to exit the shower.

“Dunno about you, but I’m starving,” Rose said while they towel dried themselves.

“Worked up quite an appetite, did you?” he asked, winking.

“Nah, I think it’s just ‘cos it’s way past lunch time,” she replied sweetly.

When they were dried and dressed once more, they exited the bedroom and closed the door behind them, then released Merry and Pippin from the basement.

They inhaled a quick lunch of turkey sandwiches and sour cream and cheddar crisps, with half of a cupcake for dessert. As James cut the cupcake in half—horizontally between “happy” and “birthday”—he remembered the gift he’d had stashed away in his backpack all month long.

“Oh, bugger,” he muttered to himself, ignoring Rose’s look of confusion as he abruptly dropped the knife and rushed to the front door where his bag hung from a peg on the coat rack.

He rifled through it until he found the thin, rectangular velvet box. He had nearly decided on a thicker square box until he realized the box looked like it might hold a ring, and he hadn’t wanted to send mixed messages. If—when, he thought hopefully—he proposed to Rose, he wanted that to be the first and only time she thought a proposal was coming. He didn’t want to tease it in front of her without following through.

Necklace box in tow, he returned to Rose and held it out to her. “Happy birthday. I’ve been carrying it around all month to give to you whenever you told me it was your birthday. It slipped my mind last night.”

Rose’s cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink as she accepted the box from him with a mumbled, “Thanks,” and a brief kiss. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked on his toes and heels as she took the lid off of the box.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she breathed, running her fingertips delicately across the silver chain and pendant. She looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you. I love it.”

He exhaled in relief; he hadn’t been sure what her response would be, since she had an aversion to gifts. But he’d seen the infinity heart design and hadn’t been able to resist.

Rose must have noticed his reaction, and she smiled sheepishly. “I’m trying to be better about accepting gifts. Especially since you enjoy giving them. I really love it, James. Thank you. Will you put it on me?”

She took the necklace out of the box and handed it to him. He draped it around her neck then clasped it, brushing a kiss to her nape to sign off on a job well done.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, unable to resist kissing her again.

She hummed and melted into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He leaned forward to press a kiss to her lips as she said, “Let’s finish lunch then we can collect Gollum.”

“I’d rather continue kissing you,” he countered, leaving kisses along the side of her neck.

“We can keep kissing when we get home,” she answered, though with how she threaded her fingers through his hair, she was in no rush to put an end to their activities either.

“Or… we can kiss now.”

Rose breathed out a laugh. “You should be a responsible pet owner. Let’s fetch Gollum, then when we get back, we can snog on the couch for the rest of the night.”

“Hmmm, you drive a hard bargain.” He planted a final kiss to the patch of skin right below her ear, enjoying her slight shudder, then pulled away to guide her to the kitchen and their shared, halved cupcake.

#ficandchips #doctorroseprompts #dwfic #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #university au #romance #lemons #my fic #chemical reaction #catalysis series #chemical potential sequel

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maviemesregles · 5 years

Text

Once I was an Eagle

The third chapter is here, folks! :) The story unfolds itself slowly but surely. (NSFW)

A shoutout to my lovely beta @eclecticstarlightconnoisseur <3 Thank you for sharing this journey with me and for your kind words of encouragement.

So from now on, you guys don't have to bear with my mistakes any longer :)

❤

As always it’s available on AO3.

Chapter I: The beginnings

Chapter II: Sassenach

CHAPTER III: Catharsis

Mess was something I was afraid of. I remember my mother always saying that sometimes I'm too emotional and irrational. So I've learned how to be organized and keep everything in order, including my emotions. I had to. I was a surgeon and could not allow my feelings or temper overtake me. Claire Beauchamp who knows what to do. Years of learning made me a perfect example of a control freak. I could be a coach giving lessons on how to hold your shit together. But, it was a facade, a mask put on for work and strangers, for the patients who needed to have a Dr. Beauchamp who has everything under control. My true nature did not always correspond with the show I tried to sell.

Since I bumped into that tall Scot, the last little thread I held over my inner world was slipping out of my fingers. Then there was a law of inertia. I was balancing on the edge before falling down to the abyss of the unknown.

I returned home with an unsatisfied ache in my belly, between my thighs, behind my closed eyelids, and on my swollen kissed lips. I jumped into the hot shower furiously scrubbing down myself to wash off the smell of the pub, the street, (and his cologne that traveled with me home) off my skin. I've spent a good twenty minutes standing under the shower trying to reclaim the power over the situation that was running away from me as quickly as the water into the drain below my feet. I inhaled and exhaled (the way they taught us at yoga classes which Geillis made me go).

My fingers traced the bottom lip where I could still taste him. Get a grip, Beauchamp.

When I just crossed the threshold, Geillis's number was shining on my screen before I even could take shoes off of my aching feet. "I hoped ye willna pick up." She mumbled mouth fulll, chewing on something crispy.

"Ye did so I reckon yer not with him?"

"Nah".

"Was he that bad?"

I shook my head as if she could see me.

"No, not at all. At the beginning of the evening, I couldn't guess if he's just a confident prick who's trying to get into my knickers or not but now I don't know."

After a detailed description of the date to Geillis, I strolled down to the bathroom. “Maybe he didn't like me?" I asked thoughtfully, trying to get rid of mascara that has imprinted into the delicate skin, which now was turning red.

"He'd better get into yer knickers" Geillis snorted. "But I think the lad likes ye well enough, only he has decided to teach ye a lesson after Lallybroch or he's being a gentleman. If he wanted to get ye laid he'd done it this evening."

“Is it a good or bad thing?" I asked pulling my jeans down.

"I dinna ken. I'd say ye invite this Jamie over to dinner and see for yourself".

Grabbing Adso under my armpit on the way to the bedroom, my phone came alive with a loud ringing (Jesus, I have to change that ringtone). Already planning what I might say to Geillis (remembering all swear words I knew) I almost pressed Accept but stopped right in time, seeing "James" on the screen. I stared at my cell phone long enough to read now "Missed call".

I had texted him while in the cab "Home. Safe and sound." He replied what appeared in a second "Good. It was a bonnie evening."

I crossed my legs sitting at the end of the bed, watching Adso bury himself under the duvet. Why has he called?

I spent about ten minutes before my fingers finally hit the Call button.

"Jamie?"

"Claire"

He said my name in a way that made my toes curl and my heart race a marathon. The soft vibrating "R" and a hint of an accent turned just Claire into something more special than I could imagine.

I heard a quiet rustling of the sheets and his quiet breathing before I spoke. That made me wonder how he looked in bed. Did he sleep on the right or left side of the bed? Was he a light sleeper or not? What did he dream?

"Is something amiss?" I bent my neck holding the phone between my ear and shoulder.

"No. Just wanted to hear ye voice again."

"Oh." I gasped. I bit down on my lip but nonetheless could see a stupid smile on my face reflecting in the window.

"I dinna wake ye, Sassenach?" I heard him shift, getting comfortable and tried to imagine what he looked like. Was he tangled into the mass of bed sheets and blanket, sitting upright in the dim bedside light. Or maybe laying down, one hand up, elbow supporting his head, chest rising and falling with his quiet breathing.

"No. I was just getting ready for bed."

Adso's grey head popped out of the duvet. My companion looked at me tentatively and climbed up onto my knees with a loud "Meow."

"Ye have a cat?” I was sure I could hear him smile.

"Uh uh". I mumbled stroking Adso's furry back.

There was a pause for what seemed an eternity before Jamie asked quietly.

"Can I meet the wee cheetie?"

* * *

That night, Jamie and I had agreed on what he simply called "a real date" I could not sleep. I was vaguely aware of the lonely cars passing down the streets, drunk gangs of students singing and screaming in the park across the way, I could hear my neighbour's TV speaking. I fell asleep by 5 am feeling absolutely drained. I took extra shifts for the next couple of days (to clear my head from him) and felt thoroughly exhausted. So now when my phone buzzed, I startled almost kicking a cup of Earl Grey off the table.

"What's yer drink of choice, Sassenach?"

"Make it wine. Red" I quickly typed back rushing to my fridge. (what goes with red wine? Geillis and I never had this problem mixing up takeaway of all kind with a bottle of red)

"Sorted. 7pm, right?"

"See you."

"xoxo"

My cheeks blossomed into a rosy pink while I giggled at his last text. Adso glared at me from his windowsill perch, shook his head, licked his paw twice and jumped off heading to his bowl. That brought me back to my earlier task of the day to think of the menu for tonight. I had to fight an urge just to order from my favorite Italian restaurant and pretend I prepared it all. "Christ." I hissed examining the shelves of the refrigerator. Old curry takeaway, Brie cheese which was probably out of date, some leftovers from my attempt at the pumpkin soup and a pack of milk.

Next two hours I've spent tidying up my entire flat, doing several loads of laundry, changing the bedsheets to fresh crisp ones, and hiding away my Ikea plushy teddy bear that Joe got me last birthday as a joke. The kitchen was scrubbed down until the counters shone and all fridge food remains were thrown into the rubbish bin. Lighting scented candles that lived on the coffee table in the living room, I caught myself thinking I'm trying too hard.

Jamie would step into the house of Dr. Beauchamp - organized, clean and ordered. He wouldn't see two weeks piles of laundry needed to be done, he would not open the fridge and close it deciding to call a takeaway because he'd realize I'm a terrible cook. Jamie wouldn't laugh at me for sleeping with a toy in bed, nor he wouldn't know about the existence of "snack basket" full of crisps and Gummies next to my couch. He wouldn't know who Claire really is. Or would he? Did I want him to know?

After paying for the Waitrose delivery, I occupied kitchen with an unusual enthusiasm that didn't last long. I was a nervous wreck. My attempt at pasta Carbonara came out as someone's morning sickness and was sent straight into the trash. Cursing and praying to all existing Gods at once I've reminded myself that I wanted to keep this easy and fun. So pizza was the choice. Something that was hard for me to fail I still went through the recipe for the dough with surgeon precision. Popping the tomato sauce, spinach and white chunks of mozzarella on top, I glanced at the clock. Feeling the sweat sticky fabric of my shirt clinging to my back I sent pizza tray to the oven hoping Jamie likes Margherita. With Adso purring at my legs, I rushed to the shower mentally thanking myself for washing my hair the day before. Ten minutes later, wrapped up in a towel I was welcomed with a delicious smell of pizza lingering in my kitchen and satisfied with the outcome left to the bedroom.

The sudden doorbell buzz caught me just in the middle of dressing up. Hair looked as if an explosion happened on my head, with the only moisturizer on my skin while I huffed and puffed pulling on old jeans (the ones that lost all their blue from many washings). Grabbing the first jumper that fell out of the wardrobe and dragging it over my head on the way to open a door I prayed that Jamie wouldn't be all dressed up for the occasion. (why did he come twenty-five minutes earlier?)

My heart hammered in my chest and I had to take a few deep breaths trying to appear composed. He was casual. A simple white t-shirt with a leather jacket, the same tartan scarf, and jeans that looked as old as mine.

“I’m here.” His voice sounded low and hoarse.

“You are.” I swallowed a lump in my throat that seemed to suffocate me.

We stood in an awkward silence that stretched between us as the thousands of days, hours, minutes not spent together (yet?)

“Will ye let me in, Sassenach? I’ll freeze my bollocks off out here.” He smiled, the little wrinkles covered the sides of his eyes as the sun rays. I think I heard something in my heart shift.

The cold wind reached my bare feet and I moved aside just a little, letting him through. The familiar smell of his perfume (sea salt, amber wood and Italian cost) wrapped up around me when Jamie leaned to plant a kiss on my cheeks. One on the left, one on the right. I caught myself rising on my tiptoes for him as if I were a cat arching its back into his touch. Somehow it felt much more intimate than our full-mouth-greedy-tongues pub encounter. I watched him taking his jacket off, removing his boots and exclaiming happily “There ye are, wee cheetie” when Adso popped his grey head from the corner and strolled down to Jamie sniffing his hands. I leaned my back against the door thinking that it felt right. James Fraser in my apartment, crouched down on my floor, petting my cat who’s now was purring away. For a second there I wondered how it would feel to be touched by those hands. (is it normal to be jealous of your own cat?)

"I've made pizza. I did not know what you like." I announced, popping a cheesy slice on his plate, licking the grease glistening on my fingers. If it wasn't me kissing him just a couple days ago and flirting away then now I would have been very much offended by the look he gave me. As if he was ready to eat me alive right there, right now.

His gaze softened. (has anyone else on Earth had eyes this blue?)

"It's perfect. I couldna imagine a better option for a dinner than pizza".

It felt easy with him. There were minutes we ate in companionable silence, and minutes when we spoke, "clink-clink" of wine glasses interrupting our voices.

"So, I know horses are your hobby.But you still did not tell what it is you do for a living?" I looked at him over the rim of my glass. I watched him lick his lips, setting his pizza aside.

"I have a wee business with my uncles." Jamie took a sip, his Adam's apple bobbing under the skin as he swallowed. "It's a small beer brewery. Nothing verra special but sufficient enough."

"Beer is it?" I smirked. "I would think a Scot like you should be involved in the whisky business."

He grinned, glass in his hand, cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink.

"Well, I'm verra good at drinking it, no making."

When our dinner was demolished and plates covered only in crumbles and crusts (on my plate), I stood up bringing them over to the sink. My hands were almost elbow deep into the soapy water when Jamie had asked something that made my knees shake just for a moment.

"How come such lass as ye not married, let alone single?"

A heavy silence fell down, erasing our previous banter. Sensing my discomfort he added immediately "Claire, I dinna mean to be noisy". But I had told him anyway.

* * *

"But the main thing was that he had said I wasn't a woman if I could not give him a child. I was just an empty shell of female appearance, there was no much use to me." I inhaled deeply, feeling his eyes on my back when I finally finished. "Truthfully, I don't even know if I am really barren. I don't know who's at fault. Frank never went for a test and I...Well, I could not make myself do it afterwards."

I braced my hands on the opposite sides of the sink trying to compose myself. The swell of tears started to gather in my eyelashes threatening to escape.

"Sassenach."

I heard his quiet steps behind me and I shuddered a sigh thinking how did this evening (a promise of a good sex) turned into something that vaguely reminded me of a soap opera on TV that my neighbor Mrs.Baird watched.

I felt his fingers gently squeezing my shoulder.

"It doesna matter anymore."

"No." I sniffed. "It doesn't."

I turned to him then to be trapped once again by the studying gaze of his blue eyes which now were the reminiscent of storms at sea that promise clear skies. His long fingers brushed away loose curls off my face.

"Do ye need to be alone? Ye want me to go?" He asked softly, hands wrapping around my waist.

"No" I shook my head in protest, suddenly terrified he'd leave. " I don't want you to go."

He nodded.

"I willna. I promise."

On its own accord my forehead dropped against his chest and a sigh of contentment (I did not know was there) escaped my throat. We stood there in each other's embrace long enough for Adso to jump up on the counter to peek at Jamie and I with clear "What are you up to, hoomans?" written on its fluffy face.

"Netflix and chill?" I sniffed, the sound muffled by Jamie's t-shirt. He gave me a lopsided smile when I lifted my head.

"Ye ken what that means, right?"

"I do." I laughed rubbing my eyes, smudged mascara staining my hand.

We indeed watched Netflix. Sitting on a modest distance of each other, under the same plushy throw, still close for our fingers to touch. I was too aware of his presence and closeness that my back started to ache approximately 15 minutes after I sat straight up, afraid to move. But then the wine we drank started to kick in, my body (and mind) relaxing and by thirty minutes into the movie (The Notting Hill I'd made him watch), I found myself in the kingdom of Jamie's warmth, our thighs and hips pressed to one another, his hand wrapped up around my shoulder and my head rested just above his breastbone where I could hear his steady heartbeat. His chin rested on the crown of my head and I could feel his lips slightly brushing above but not kissing just yet. I did not know when and how I fell asleep. Lulled by Jamie's soothing presence I must have dozed off sometime after the credits rolled, last night shifts catching up with me.

I roused to a touch that faintly reminded me the butterflies' wings scattered across my skin. My eyes fluttered open when I could feel Jamie’s warm breath making my skin tingle.

The room was dark, dipped into the heavy night shadows with only thin moonlight sketching a path along the carpet. I had no idea how long I slept only to find myself still on the couch, Jamie’s smile lingering above me. I smiled back feeling his fingers softly caressing the sliver of skin between my jeans and sweater. My back arched instinctively to his touch. He leaned down to press his lips upon mine. It was a lazy kiss, unhurried in the way our mouths melted together, the way he tasted the fullness of my lower lip, the way our tongues sought permission and their slow dance continuing until we both were breathless.

Jamie was looking at me as if he'd seen me for the first time. I could see his eyes move, something faintly reminding me of a tenderness floating at the bottom.

"What?" My lips moved slowly, still numbed by his taste. I touched his cheekbone to see if it feels right for me, for him to do so. How many times would I repeat this simple move? Jamie's fingers had found my hand, turning it palm up.

"I think ye are beautiful, Claire. Verra." His thumb softly outlined my lifeline before he brought my hand up planting a kiss just in the center of it. That simple gesture made me surrender, undid me in fact. I could feel the hot bubbling sensation starting somewhere in my toes rising all the way up to my thighs, my belly, crawling inside my breasts and wrapping around my heart, taking a peek under my skin as if checking is it a suitable place to be here forever?

I dragged my lips over his clavicle that slightly stood out above the collar of his t-shirt, leaving a moist trail of my breath. He smelled earthy, slightly salty with a mix of his cologne. Jamie's breath was shallow and I shifted feeling my arousal build between my thighs. My own abilities to inhale and exhale properly failed me when his fingers dragged the woolen fabric of my sweater up up up until there was nothing to hide. I jerked involuntarily as his auburn curls tickling my skin when his mouth closed over the peak of the left breast. It seemed like a century passed by instead of minutes as his lips moved from one breast to another.

His hand splayed flat on my stomach drawing patterns up and down making me almost beg him to continue just a bit down where I wanted him to be. But before I gathered enough courage to do that his fingers slid under the waistband of my jeans, testing, teasing.

“Jamie” I pleaded with the voice that didn’t sound like my own.

“Do ye want me to stop ?” He asked softly kissing the corner of my mouth.

I did not know if “No” actually left my mouth, but only managed to cling to him in desperate anticipation of my own release. Sensing this, he seemed to slow down on purpose. His mouth hovered above mine, our breaths mixing up as he slipped his hand out (me whimpering in protest and him chuckling, the cocky bastard) to unzip the unnecessary piece of clothing. I raised my hips just enough for Jamie to pull them down to my knees. I was becoming lost in him, forgetting how to breathe. Needing to feel him, I reached for the hem of his t-shirt seeking access to his skin. He ignited a hunger in me, I needed to see him, feel the realness and closeness of him, to be in this moment for my life to have a meaning. Even if it meant just mere minutes.

Pulling the cotton fabric over his head my fingers traced the line of veins that ran along his arm until found where I had mended his flesh with the stitches I had placed. I leaned my head to kiss the spot where the scar would make its presence known. Jamie’s breath hitched and within seconds my lips were trapped by his once again. When we parted with a wet pop his fingers traveled south one more time pushing the grey cotton triangle between my thighs aside. My blood was rushing hot, heart hammering hard against my breastbone. So loud that I thought Jamie could hear. The promising warmth of his fingers drew a map on my inner thighs. Slowly tortuously from one to the other, traveling up to brush over my navel making me pant, and slippery with need.

“I want you inside me” I had whispered then, dragging my tongue over the stubble on his jaw.

“No, a nighean.” He sounded hoarse but dreamily sweet. “I want to watch ye first”.

If it was possible to become undone just from his words, it would have been then. His fingers drew another path, coming home, where I felt hot and greedy for him. I mewled, my hips rising into his touch, nails digging into his shoulders. I kept my eyes shut, fingers leaving marks on his skin, as he drove me down the road of pure sensation. Where my walls had crumbled and fallen down, where he had made me cry out God's name in vain. Where my trembling hands had managed to unbuckle his belt and in a swift motion pull his jeans down, Jamie's feet trapped in them, laughing hard. His moan that sounded more like a hiss when I ran my palm at the length of him, tagging his white boxers off. When all the sharp fences alongside my soul started to crouch down and fade away as our bodies joined. I gasped feeling the saltiness of tears rising up from my belly all the way to my throat because this felt like coming home, suddenly he felt like home. When the lonely tear had rolled down my cheek, into the hollow of my neck, to the fields of my curls (I did not know where it came from) I heard him whisper "mo ghraidh". It had no meaning for me but the way Jamie's lips imprinted those words into the column of my neck destroyed the last barricades I had built over my soft and sensitive, scarred heart.

After a time we were both gasping for air as fish landed on the shore his solid body pinning me down on the cushions. I whispered, "Jamie, you're crushing me".

He hummed a quiet apology. With eyes still veiled by an overtaking orgasm, he rolled off me and gathered me closer to him. His hands wrapped up around my waist, back pressed to his chest. I thought I heard him murmur something into my hair (that faintly sounded as ancient Gàidhlig) before after-sex slumber had taken us both to its realm.

* * *

The nagging ache in my lower back that I usually had from falling asleep on the couch (after a particularly hard shift at the hospital) was something that woke me up. I thought I was suffocating from the realness of the dream I had but it was just Adso who curled like a cinnamon bun on top of my chest.

I was alone. (not that I was really surprised)

But somewhere deep inside I felt a painful sting of bitterness to find myself in the reality of lonely-morning-post-one-night-stand. I reached for my phone with a stupid hope that maybe Jamie had texted me. Nothing.

"Looks like we are back to normal, baby" I sighed scratching Adso behind the ears.

The Edinburgh's skies were gloomy, heavy with a promise of rain. I stared into the window but did not really see anything behind it. The soft knock took me out of my stupor.

"I used the last of yer shampoo.I figured ye wouldna mind." Jamie stood in the doorway, his hair damp from the shower, now two shades darker, like autumn leaves.

My mouth dropped open as I just watched him casually stroll and make himself comfortable in the chair.

"And, Christ, Sassenach, but yer cat does fart like a freakin' raccoon."

"Does it?" I whispered.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #once i was an eagle #maviemeregles fic #jamie x claire #modern au #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #this chapter has drained me these wee soft babies

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delicrieux · 5 years

Text

rubatosis | l.l.

HALLOWEEN WRITING CHALLENGE!🎃 day 2, word(s): cycles of the moon.

pairing: loki x f!reader

fandom: marvel

request: Hi! Can l have a loki imagine please? Reader is one of the strongest beings in the universe and part of the avengers. Soldier background like captain marvel etc and Loki lowkey flirts with him romantically all the time and reader thinks he has an endgame about using her powers so she ggets mad Finally loki snaps and makes wanda look inside his mind to prove he actually loves her? Luv u :) [ @imaginesyes]

warnings: none

words: 1,7k

author’s note: i changed it a bit! also YES i know that im late but tbh lill prolly be late to my own funeral so does it rly matter??? this is from this post and i will try to do all 30 of them!:) four, rubatosis ( the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat ).

feedback is always appreciated xoxo

masterlist | buy me coffee☕

Loki Laufeyson had taken a special interest in you and of course you would find that flattering, though unsettling and suspicious (the latter, more than anything). He would often appear in the same places you frequented, and he would spare no compliment, albeit most of them could be considered more of an insult rather than anything. It was annoying. Though funny. And nice in a sort of I-have-caught-the-gaze-of-a-trickster-god-is-that-even-good? way. He is definitely persistent and terribly charming when he wants to be, but to trust his word would be stupid and so you refrain from entertaining him because really now, you are a realist, and he definitely wants something.

You possess power and not once or twice did a man like Loki try to sweet talk his way into a favour. Normally you would send such a pest flying, though you have your doubts when it comes to Loki. That and he is Thor’s brother, and Thor is not only a friend but also a dear co-worker, and beating up his younger brother would surely break some sort of ethics code. You know Tony probably would not care of Loki’s well-being (might even cheer you on to be completely honest), but as a soldier you have a strict morale code and a tendency to listen to orders, either by contract or otherwise.

But even with all of this in mind you could not quite help being a bit smitten. And the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat made you wonder if he could hear it, too. The answer to that would be no, though you know he knows what he is doing to you. Irritation grew into anger fairly quick.

But to be fair, how does one not resist him? His eyes are the colour of a forest, dark, alluring, though icy, as if covered in snow; and he is most refined and graceful in movement. Not to mention he looks fantastic in a suit. Once, at a work party, he had noticed you lingering about away from the guests, enjoying solitude with a flute of champagne in your hand and a wistful look on your face. He had moved to your side seamlessly and said nothing for a whole minute. There was silence, though it was intimate, as if words were not needed in order to be close. You enjoy his voice, though you appreciate his silence perhaps more. He lies often, that you knew already. Only when his lips are sealed is he truly being genuine.

Alas, he could not help himself, and he leaned in, and you could faintly smell sandalwood and ink, “They are a rowdy bunch, aren’t they?” Strangely there was no malice in his voice; it was soft, amused, though thoughtful. His gaze was strained on Thor and his large glass of ale, telling an animated story to SHIELD agents, a tired-looking Captain America, giddy Nat, and grinning Tony who tried to steal the show quite literally. Loki then glanced at you, awaiting an answer.

“Yeah.” You said simply, “That’s why I like them.”

“But you don’t enjoy attention.” It was a quick observation; he was watching your reaction intently. You turned to him with a smile.

“If I did, I wouldn’t be standing by the door, would I?”

He grinned, “Well…” He drawled, “Perhaps you fancy a different kind of attention. It’s easier to spot you outside the crowd then within it, after all.”

“Looking at me often enough to know, huh?” You raised a brow. He shrugged.

“Why? Have you caught me staring?”

You gave him a look. He seemed awfully pleased with himself.

And then there was a night at Asgard, in the palace, serene and magical in every way. The whole world seemed to be asleep and the chirp of crickets and languid dance of fireflies was what awoke you, or so you mustered when you wandered the dark lonely halls. The air was fresh and warm; it was summer, it was always summer there. You had entered the gardens and even deep into the night the scent of roses was so sweet it was nearly choking. Under the moonlight you had found him. He was wandering, just like you had been.

At first Loki had seemed surprised to see you, though that slight shock had melted into a pleased smile and he had said something slick and you had replied with a roll of your eyes. The two of you fell into step and pebbles crunched under your feet. He was curious and you were alert. You passed statues and fountains, all appearing somehow prettier in the dark. You are not sure when he had started speaking of the moon and it’s cycles, though once he did you glanced upwards and saw it change from new to crescent and so on and so forth and that magnetic light along with his pleasant voice made it all so dreamlike.

Perhaps that was it; that was the night you had realised even if he did have some ulterior motive it didn’t matter because his company is much too valuable. The though made you even more bitter, if anything.

It’s late into the evening and Fall is merciless: cold, windy, rainy. The kitchen is alight with warm light and two cups of tea lay in the table, cooling by the minute. It tastes fruity, you conduct after a careful sip. The playfulness of the drink does not match the mood at all. You frown softly, stare into the depths of your mug and see your reflection in it. You sigh; your shoulders slump. This whole situation is absolutely hopeless.

Wanda, across from you, sits in her pyjamas and wonders how can she help. Seeing you so defeated is heart-breaking – you are one of the strongest people she knows, always ready to support someone both physically and mentally. She wishes she could use her powers – in a fleeting thought she imagined wiping your memory of a pesky, handsome prince, and now her mind, coming up empty of solutions, wanders to that idea again – though she knows you would not appreciate it (if you ever regained your memories, that is). The best she can do is make tea, or coffee, or hot chocolate at the very least and offer her warm embrace as a safe space where you can be loved and cherished and not toyed with.

Wanda would punch Loki. She had realised so when she noticed how conflicted you looked each time you even mentioned him.

“What if I talked to him?” Her voice is rasp, deep – perhaps silence had stretched for far longer than you had imagined. You glance up at her and she gives you a loving smile, “You know…Witch to trickster…”

“I… don’t think that would help much, W.” You mutter into your drink, “But I appreciate the effort. Really. Just… don’t worry about it. I’ll deal with him…Eventually.” You take another sip. “I just…wish I knew what he was thinking. If he’s serious. Or is this…just another ploy.”

She looks at you for a long while, “…What if we knew? What he was thinking. What if I could find out?”

You perk up, “You can do that?”

She smiles, “There are only few things that I can’t.”

It needs time, she explained and you decided to be patient for as long as your nerves allowed you, which to be fair was not that long. It was another gathering, another one of those meetups at Stark Tower that always ended in heated arguments. You held your ground when Loki approached you to wish you a lovely morning – even if it was pouring till noon – and you held your ground when Tony accused you of being on Steve’s side too much. Wanda was nowhere to be found. Unconsciously you searched for her, for any trace of her, and your heart skipped a beat when you felt her familiar warm aura pulse in the air like a heartbeat.

The conference was long and extremely draining. You were boiling on the inside when you entered and anxiety was choking you when you left but there was not even a ripple of this shown on your face. It had stopped raining a while ago. The air is cold and damp and you shiver before you pull your arms closer to your body. You stand outside and take in the scenery, breathe deeper, feel yourself align with nature and calm.

You feel her again behind you, and so you don’t jump when her hand lands on your shoulder in a comforting squeeze.

“…Well?” You ask, your throat dry and voice scratchy.

“I was thorough.” She says and you hear a smile in her voice, “And you know I don’t like him. You know I don’t. But there is no doubt in my heart that he likes you, (Name).” You turn to her, “Though, I’m not sure which is worse. He really liking you or just pretending.” She notes your confused gaze and sighs, “He’s dangerous.”

“We’re all dangerous, W.” You counter. “If we weren’t heroes we’d make for extremely powerful villains.”

“As long as you don’t forget that he was one.” She lets go of your shoulder, “Well, anyway. I met Tony in the hall on my way here. He looked frazzled.”

“Ah,” You nod, “he was being a baby again. Yelling at me for defending Steve.”

“One of these days those two will have a serious fight.”

“Yeah.” You agree. A few drops of cold rain dot your cheek, “Yeah they probably will. Have you seen Loki?”

“He disappeared right after the meeting. Sorry.”

“No, that’s fine. I…I’m not sure what I wanted to say anyway.”

It was past midnight when you left the Stark Tower; most of your time was spent trying to make amends with Iron Man himself, though he was too stubborn to listen. The only thing that kept you from snapping was the occasional glance out the window - the moon was full until it wasn’t, half alight until it was only a sliver. The cycles, they kept changing. Wherever Loki was, he was near enough to make those fantastic illusions.

He cares, you’d think and smile and look at the moon, he really does.

the end. hope you enjoyed!

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noahreids · 6 years

Text

Beauty in the Aftermath (CS FF) | 14/14

Summary: Confronted with the sudden appearance of her birth parents, Emma, in a moment of panic, runs. She flees the diner, Storybrooke, the country. She finds herself a day later in the Dublin, Ireland Airport terminal wondering what the hell she has gotten herself into. With some fear, a little determination and a considerable amount of faking it along the way, she sets off on a trip she never planned on taking but needed more than she ever knew. She finds herself, she finds a Brit adrift on his own journey and finds out what home really means.

Rated: M (Sexual content & some Irish whiskey along the way).

Also on: AO3 | FFN Tumblr: [ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 ] Art!: Cover | Ch.1 | Ch.3 | Ch.5 | Ch.7 | Ch.9 | Ch.14

A/N: I can’t believe we're here, the final chapter. This has been an absolutely amazing experience, beyond anything I could have ever imagined. And it’s honestly because of everyone that’s read, liked, reblogged, left comments, tweeted and just really simply being awesome amazing people. I know I’ve said it before but I appreciate the heck out of each and every one of you. You have no idea. So thank you, thank you, thank you. I wish I could take each of you out for a Guinness or hot chocolate, your choice ;) xoxo

So much love to everyone at @captainswanbigbang your encouragement, patience and work to put this event on is out of this world. Thank you. Thanks to @shippingtheswann, @imagnifika for amazing collaboration and to @halobxist & @meanderingcaptainswanmusings for everything xo.

And last but not least, please keep supporting all the other CSBB authors and artists. We are one lucky fandom!

And now will Killian find Emma?

Chapter 14

Emma tightly grasps the arms of her chair, whitening her knuckles and holds on until the tips of her fingers begin to hurt. Her heart pounds wildly in her chest as she turns her head, eyes wide. And there, just across the room stands Anna in all her spirited grandeur, hair damp and frizzing from the rain, cheeks pink and eyes bright with elation, like she’s just come in from a race.

Emma isn’t sure if she wants to throw herself into Anna’s arms or collapse into her chair and cry in relief. She’s momentarily frozen, simply trying to find her voice that is currently nowhere to be found. The how and the why and the do you know where he is are all clamoring hard to come out first that they get stuck in her throat, forcing Emma to remain silent instead, blinking at her friend, a new tear escaping.

“Oh, Emma. It’s okay!”

Anna rushes to her side and grabs hold of her hands.

“Yeah?” she squeaks out her question.

Anna squeezes her fingers and her expression gentles from excitement to understanding.

“So, okay. I promise. Let’s call Killian right now, he’s sporting the same expression you are, although with a little more self-loathing.”

Emma’s face scrunches in confusion.

“But he doesn’t --”

“Have a phone? I know, what a dummy! But listen to this, Kristoff and I were on our way to grab a bite to eat at the Brazen Head, and there was Killian, pacing outside a coffee shop. He was trying to figure out how to connect to the Wi-Fi on the phone he’d just bought, muttering over and over that he must have missed a hostel as he looked for you. So anyway, I run over to him and--”

“Anna,” Emma interrupts, eyes pleading. “Why didn’t you just call me?”

“Uh, we only called you about a thousand times,” she says, shaking her phone in front of Emma’s face.

“What are you talking about? My phone never rang.”

Emma fishes her phone out of her pocket, only to find the screen dark. Her stomach drops. She presses the home button and the dreaded dead battery image flashes across the screen.

“Oh look, here’s Kristoff.”

Kristoff’s grinning face fills Anna’s screen and all Emma wants to do is steal the phone away, she wants to ask more questions, she wants Killian to suddenly appear directly in front of her.

“Kris, are you with Killian? I found her. At Abrahams on Lower Gardiner. You’re where? Oh!”

Emma tries to follow the conversation, she really does, but when she hears that Kristoff is with Killian, all she wants to do is be where he is, now. She frantically stuffs everything back in her pack, unaware Anna has stopped talking or that the front door has opened once again.

She just needs to get to him and everything will be alright. She’s sure of it.

“Anna, you need to tell me where he is.”

She is met with silence.

She looks up to find Anna watching her with that same soft smile. One she doesn’t have time for.

“Swan.”

She drops everything. Her bag lands with a loud thump, falling precariously close to the end table, rattling the tea cup and saucer but she pays no mind because he’s there. Killian is in the lobby, eyes a little wild and hair even wilder. His chest heaves with quick breaths as they stare at each other.

“Killian,” she says with relief, with a small gasp before her feet are moving her across the room. He keeps them both upright when she reaches him, wrapping her arms around his neck, lips meeting in a hard desperate kiss.

His arms come around her, and hold her tightly, as she changes the angle of the kiss, wanting more, breathing him in. She only pulls a breath length away, hands gripping the collar of his jacket, eyes closed, words rushing out.

“How, how did you find me?”

“I’ve been to every hostel in the city, some twice and when I found Anna and K--” his explanation breaks off on a laugh as she peppers his face with kisses.

“You really found me,” her voice comes softer, surprise tinting her words and she watches as he turns pensive, eyes searching hers for the words she isn’t using.

He cups her face, thumb catching fresh tears on her cheeks, gently wiping them away.

“Of course. I will always find you. Did you doubt I would?”

She doesn’t want to say yes, or to admit to all the fears and worries that had threatened to overwhelm her, not when he had been looking for her as frantically as she, but he must have read it as clear as day on her face. He has always teased her about being an open book.

“Emma, where did you think I went?”

She opens her mouth but how does she explain such a thing? Her grip on his jacket tightens and she tries again to explain that there is a little voice that whispers to her when she is at her most vulnerable. One that tells her she isn’t good enough to keep anyone around for very long, one that tells her she doesn’t deserve him, but the words don’t come. She also wants to tell him how badly she wants to fight that little voice, how she didn’t want it to be true with him.

The front door opens and a group of young women tumble in, carrying with them their giggles and a current of cold air.

Emma shivers, tucking herself against Killian. His hand drops to her back, running up and down.

“Emma, you soaked through, sweetheart. Let’s get you dry.”

She buries her nose into his shirt, breathing in the warm, familiar scent of him.

“I’m fine.”

Another shiver and he tuts in disapproval, and she is grateful for the distraction from his question, for him not pushing it further, for now.

“We have to find a place to stay. They might have rooms here, we can ask,” she whispers as the girls pass and disappear up a staircase, dropping them into silence once again.

“I’ve booked us a hotel, with an ostentatiously large comfortable bed, eternal hot water, and room service. Come on,” he explains, finding her hand against his chest and giving it a squeeze.

“But? Why?”

He shakes his head and leans down to capture her lips in a slow, sure kiss. She chases after his lips when he finally pulls away, and looks up at him with heavy lidded eyes.

“I never want you to wonder where we’ll be sleeping again. We’ll keep it for as long as you want.”

“Killian,” she whispers, a touch of awe.

His lips brush her forehead before dropping her hand and walking over to wear she left her bag. He hikes it onto his back and comes back to join her, lending his hand out to her.

“Let’s set sail, love.”

She grabs on tightly but takes a last glance around.

“Wait, where’s Anna?”

“She slipped out with Kris. We’ll meet up with them tomorrow.”

Emma nods to herself but glances quickly towards the front desk. She finds the clerk, watching her over his book.

“Thank you, so much. Especially for the tea.”

He smiles and nods.

“Any time, the door is always opened.”

She leaves him with a last smile and lets Killian guide them to their hotel, never once letting go of her hand.

The room is only dimly lit by the small bedside lamp, casting a golden glow across the white duvet. The curtains are drawn tight, blocking the outside world from intruding in and muting the late night sounds. The quiet calm, only disrupted by the central air kicking on in a cyclical fashion. Emma takes it all in with long, slow looks and deep even breaths.

She sits crossed-legged in the middle of the king-sized bed, comfortably sinking into plush blankets. Her skin is pink from the hot water, fingers a little wrinkled from the generous amount of time she took in the shower and her hair sits in a messy bun a top her head. She is wrapped in a thick terry cloth robe, practically disappearing into the soft cotton and in no hurry to get dressed.

She spots her bag across the room, slumped on a chair and knows she could find something dry to sleep in but she doesn’t want to. All she wants to do is to crawl under the covers, feel the warmth of Killian’s skin against hers and sleep for days, but that would require Killian being back by her side.

She listens and hears the water still running in the bathroom, he too choosing to luxuriate in the first real shower they’ve had in a long time.

She’d tried to convince him to join her, but for once he stood his ground.

“If you’re in there with me, my mind will only be focused on one thing.”

She’d pouted but followed him into the large bathroom.

“But,” she’d tried but he simply silenced her with kiss.

“Most importantly, we need to warm you up and then we can have a nice chat.”

He turned the water on and the bathroom slowly filled with steam. Satisfied he’d turned and helped rid her of her wet clothes. Each layer he’d peeled away, he’d kissed a new spot. Her shirt came off, a kiss to her shoulder. He knelt while pulling her leggings down, he’d pressed his lips to the jut of her hip, warm breath lingering as he looked up. He’d given her a little amused head shake as she whispered please.

“Come here, just for a second,” she’d tried a new tactic and pulled him up. Her naked self, deliciously pressed to his clothed front.

She’d kissed him hard, feeling him hard. She’d sighed and it had been his turn to shiver.

“Emma,” he’d warned. “This is why,” he’d added, closing his eyes, and taking a deep breath before pulling away and pulling back the shower curtain.

“In you go. I’ll call for room service so it’s here when you get out.”

She’d finally reluctantly agreed and here she is now, waiting for him.

She spies the plate of goodies besides her and while she really isn’t that hungry, she can’t resist the hot chocolate, a sprinkle of cinnamon still decorating the top of the whipped cream.

And that’s how he finds her, in the middle of the bed, hands wrapped tightly around a mug, mid-sip.

When he hesitates at the edge of the room, clad only in boxer briefs, she finishes her sip and drops the mug on the end table, licking her lips and encouraging him to join her.

It doesn’t take much convincing before he’s pulling the covers back, settling against the headboard and before he can protest or explain why it’s not a good idea, she’s straddling his lap, her shy smile quieting any words of concern.

Her fingers trace his features, tucking a damp lock of hair behind his ear.

“You’re sure you won’t eat anything?” he asks, eyeing the barely touched plate.

She shakes her head slowly, finger tips running along the shell of his ear, down his neck and resting over his heart.

She likes that it beats just as wildly as hers.

“And you’re warm enough now?” he asks, hand running up under her robe to rest on her thigh.

A nod.

He gives her a wry smile.

“So am I going to have to guess why you were so surprised I found you? Or was it that I was looking for you at all? Or are you going to tell me?”

Her eyes leave his lips and look up, worried she is going to find a trace of anger or disappointment but what she finds is a smile and patience and something that might be love. She thinks of the words on her postcard.

And thinks it might be time to be a little brave.

“I -- for a moment I thought maybe you left. That you realized what a mess I was. That you’d had enough and it was the perfect out.”

“Emma, I’m not going anywhere.”

She looks for the lie and doesn’t see any.

“We could teach surfing in Doolin and eat fish and chips at that little diner every night,” he offers with a squeeze to her thigh.

“You were terrible at surfing.”

He shrugs, not offended.

“Eh, I was improving by the end.”

That gets a laugh out of her and a thought pops into her head, her own suggestion.

“We could run boat tour in Dingle.”

“And visit with Fungie every day,” he finishes for her, inciting another laugh.

But soon she falls quiet, eyes on her hands in her lap.

“Or,” she starts and stops.

He parts her robe just a bit and rest his warm hand over her frantically beating heart, her next suggestions on the very tip of her tongue.

“Or? Or what, Emma? Your heart is racing. Tell me.”

“Or we could go back to Storybrooke?” she finally asks, voice small, full of nerves, eyes downcast but his hand leaves her heart and trails up her neck, tipping her chin up.

“Okay.”

Emma blinks, the word barely registering. It couldn’t be that easy, could it?

“Just like that?” she asks.

“What did you think I was going to say?”

“You just -- you’ve never mentioned it.”

“Neither have you.”

“Killian.”

“Emma.”

She huffs and attempts to move off but his hand and wrist fall to her hips, keeping her in place.

“You just, you talk of all these exotic and extraordinary places that you’ve already been to and all these new places you want to see. But you’ve never once mentioned anything in the US, never mind Storybrooke.”

Now he does look at her like she’s at least a little crazy, so she forges on.

“I know Storybrooke may not be as glamorous as Rome or Bali or wherever, but I need to go back.”

“Emma, those are all places we can visit someday if we want to, but now? I just assumed I’d be going back with you. Did you not think I would be by your side? I’ll follow you anywhere, if you’ll have me.”

He looks away and seems to contemplate his next words.

“And perhaps I’ve been a little reluctant to talk about leaving because in one way, it means saying goodbye to Liam but--”

“It doesn’t!” she interrupts, cupping his face, passionate, sure of her statement and he smiles, turning his head to kiss her palm. “This is definitely not goodbye. This trip felt like a beginning and he’ll always be with you and any trip we take.”

“Thank you, I hope that’s true but that’s only part of what I need to explain. Perhaps you aren’t the only one with fears, Emma. I’ve quietly held onto my own worries, that you may not want me--” before he can finish his statement she covers his mouth with her hand.

“Take that back.”

And she doesn’t move her hand away until she sees the smile reach his eyes and the rumble of a chuckle in his chest.

“So does that mean you’ll have me?” he asks, hand slipping down to the knot in her robe.

“Of course.”

His fingers deftly undo the loose knot, warm hand parting her robe further, slipping it off her shoulders to pool around her waist.

“When do we leave?” he asks, moving closer, mouth finally, finally, moving along the curve of her neck, bringing goosebumps in its wake.

“Not right now.”

She feels his smile as his lips reach her jaw and move to her ear.

“How long do we have this room for again?” she asks, her voice grows softer with each press of his lips. She arches as he cups her breast, fingers finding her nipple, teasing, pinching and making her gasp.

“As long as you like.”

“A few days then, just you and me.”

Her hips rock slowly.

And she feels his groan against the curve of her shoulder before he flips them, hovering over her.

“As you wish,” he whispers as she helps him with his boxers, lowering them over his hips.

He moves against her, where she’s wet and aching for him, they both sigh.

“I’m sorry for running,” she whispers, voice tight with emotion.

He shakes his head, before capturing her lips, grounding her.

He pulls back, finding her eyes before sliding home, they both groan.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry. We’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He pulls out before sliding back, stealing her breath and taking them late into the night, together.

The next few days tumble into a week, and while she would like to say they visited all the sights, explored Dublin, got lost in history and legend, in reality they barely left the room. They rarely got dressed for that matter and it was more than okay.

They did manage to see Anna and Kris once, where Emma pulled Anna aside and thanked her for everything.

And they did get dressed to taste some whiskey at the Jameson Distillery before tumbling back into bed, a little warm, a little drunk and full of laughs that melt into moans.

But catching her breath on her final days in Dublin, Emma thinks that she might remember those days and nights caught up in each other, just as clearly as some of the most beautiful cliffs and ancient castles.

She’ll remember the comfort she felt, waking up each day, knowing there was no end no matter what happened next.

It’s this comfort that allowed her to finally pick up the phone and reach out to David and Mary Margaret. With Killian by her side, nodding encouragingly, it had been easier to not hang up when someone picked up after the first ring. It was his hand in hers that helped her apologize for taking so long to call and when Mary Margaret had protested immediately, telling Emma to take all the time she needed, it was his smile that had her asking if they could and meet and talk when she got back home.

“Any time, any where, anything you need. Oh, thank you, Emma,” Mary Margaret had whispered and Emma had known it was finally time.

They booked their flight the next day.

And as their plane climbs higher and higher into the sky, and Dublin slowly disappears from view, she knows they’ll be back again one day.

“Okay?” he whispers as they reach cruising altitude. Emma casts a last look out the window before pulling down the shade.

“Perfect. Just tired.”

“Sleep then, I’ll be here when you wake.”

She drops her head to his shoulder and does just that.

“So this is where Emma Swan calls home,” Killian says as she lets them into her little apartment, flicking on a light and breathing in the familiar smell. She glances back to him as he drops his bag and kicks off his shoes.

“I think wherever you are is home.”

She says and quickly retreats further into the house, shaky hands holding the flowers that were on her doorstep when they arrived. She had told Mary Margaret and David when they were getting in and they had kindly sent a welcome home gift.

It was surreal. She couldn’t believe things were going this smoothly, that maybe she was allowed to be this lucky.

“Swan, are these all the postcards you wrote?”

His voice is distracted, far away. She freezes as she fills a vase with water but then after a beat she lets out a slow breath.

“Unless someone else was sending me post cards.”

“Will you allow me the honor of reading them?”

She smiles at his words and then thinks of what saying yes would mean.

Should he? So many of her truths are on there. So many words to him. Now that she thinks of it, they weren’t so much postcards as love letters to Killian.

“Now?”

“Mmm,” comes his distracted reply, maybe already glancing at the back. Although she knows if she says no, he’ll drop it. It’s that truth that makes her say yes.

“Sure, go for it. I’ll just be in my room, second door on the right,” she finally responds, not like he won’t be able to find her in the small space.

She thinks maybe she can unpack, maybe she should shower, maybe -- maybe she can’t do anything until he comes to find her or she hears the front door slam shut after he runs away. She shakes the image right out of her head. She knows he won’t do that but what will he think?

Minutes pass and she settles at the edge of the bed, lying back and letting her legs dangle over the edge. She counts her breaths in an attempt to stay calm. After awhile she hears his quiet footfalls down the hall, until they come to a stop in her room.

“Emma,” he whispers but she can’t bring herself to move. She closes her eyes and he walks in further. She feels him standing at the edge of the bed, knees brushing her bent ones.

“Is it too much?”

She peeks up at him through one eye.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters in the most loving way possible and then he tells her to wait and disappears. She hears him unzip his bag and rummage around.

He comes back, still only her postcards visible in his hand.

“I love all of these. Thank you for letting me see a little glimpse into your thoughts but I have to admit, there is one I like one most of all.”

He holds up the last one, the one holding the words ingrained in her mind. She holds her breath.

“I do, I do,” he echoes the last line to her and she scrambles to sit up.

“You do?” she whispers, her question imbued with hope, with awe.

“I do. I love you too.”

She’s not going to cry again, she not going to -- he tosses the postcards onto the bed, scattering beside her and reaches into his pocket.

“Whoa.”

He smiles indulgently, fingers holding a small black velvet box.

Holy shit.

“Calm down, Swan. I’m not proposing but this is a promise. That it’s you and me, Emma, as long as you’ll have me. I don’t want you to worry about --”

“Yes.”

His words trail off and his eyebrow pops up, a grin she loves so much, pulling at his lips.

“Swan?”

“I’m not worried, not about you. It’s you and me.”

He opens the box and gently removes the ring, and even though it’s not a proposal, when he slips the delicate claddagh ring on her finger, she knows it’s forever.

“I’m so glad you found me.”

“Always.”

“And not just that day in Dublin.”

“I know, Swan and I’m pretty sure you found me too.”

He kisses her again and again, following her onto the bed.

She cups his face, pulling back long enough to make sure she has his attention.

“I love you.”

“And I you.”

She pulls him down again, vowing to never ever let go.

THE END.

---

My goodness. That’s it.

Thank you for reading, I loved writing these two and thank you for coming along on their journey.

It’s possible I may write a look into their future because I don’t want to say goodbye but... we’ll see.

Have I said thank you! <3

#cs ff #cs fanfic #csbb #csbb 2018 #captain swan #cs au #captain swan big bang #lana writes cs #fic: beauty in the aftermath #dear god it's done #i can't even believe it

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elejah-wonderland · 6 years

Text

Love Hurts/7

Fanfiction

Part 7

Elijah Mikaelson x reader

TVD/TO AU story

Summary: Y/N got a letter from a lawyer from New Orleans, stating she inherited a part of an Estate. She went there to see what it was about. There she met two brothers Elijah and Klaus, who also part own the property.

a/n: thanks for reading so much. I'm posting this part already, because I will be away for a few days and will not be writing or editing. xoxo

tags @rissyrapp20 @dendrite-lover @goddessofthunder112 @captainshurley

@cassienoble2000

_____

A week after

Camille's car crash turned everything like 360 degrees around. It put a lot of things in perspective, but has brought old heartaches out.

"So, you are not coming home with us?"- Bonnie asked her friend one last time before she and Damon were to board the plane to Virginia.

Y/N now shook her head in negation, thanking her friends for staying longer than they anticipated. All three of them now went into a group hug.

"Call whenever you need - to cry- to shout- to you know."- Bonnie said.

"Thanks so much you guys!"- Y/N said.

"I still think you should just cut your losses and come back home with us."- Damon said.

"I have this whole project going now that I got the approval and I have this whole Ball thing and the fundraiser. Oh, you guys, thanks so much for everything- ok, you go now, before I start crying."

Bamon waved at her a little and went through the departure gates.

Y/N was a fighter in many respects. And no matter how much her heart ached, thinking at one moment to pack up and leave New Orleans behind, she was not a quitter. She buried her feelings in the Mikaelson Plantation House Project and got fully involved with every part of it. Klaus supported her fully and signed everything that was needed on his part as well as Elijah's. She barely saw him the accident and their heart-breaking talk.

It was not that they avoided each other on purpose, they just had other priorities. She the Plantation and him work and then Camille, who was still in coma.

_____

A few days later

At the New Orleans house

"I've named Jackson the Ground's manager now. He is really good with the workers"- Y/N said to Klaus as they talked about the project development."

"Yeah, he was always capable. He is so ready to do more."- Klaus agreed then asking her if she wanted to have a glass of Bourbon.

"No, thanks. Juice. Ahm- I've also given Andrea a job."

"You did- right."- Klaus said handing her the glass of O. J.

"She needed a job. We talked. She really didn't want to continue waitressing. And she knows so much about this place and she is great with people. Plus she studied art history and she loves this place. She is really enthusiastic about it and in L.A. she ran a bar/art gallery. "

"Something told me you and her would become friends."- Klaus said.

"She's been really bad. She lost her sister. It hurt. It's terrible losing your twin. She told me that her and Hayley were really tight. I totally get her needing to be away."- Y/N said.

"This is your way of telling me I should lay off her and- Mary has already taken Hope to see her?"- Klaus realized what Y/N was getting at.

Y/N was quiet and sipped the juice and then said-"Let bygones be bygones. Everything can change in a flash and- well, I don't have to tell you"

"No, you don't. And you are right. This family knows all too well how one minute everything is absolute bliss and the next all is pure darkness."- Klaus now looked at the photographs of his mother and aunt walking to the table where they were- "I will start believing that this family is cursed. The Mikaelson curse."- he looked at the photo of Dahlia now.

"What?"- Y/N slipped looking at him strangely.

Klaus turned around to Y/N and continued-"We were at the Plantation house and I was eight, I think. I remember getting into the house and she was with a woman dressed like she was - well, she was a witch. To cleanse the house. I heard them talking about the Mikaelson curse. My aunt told her that it ran in the family since apparently forever, saying that no Mikaelson will ever be truly happy. This - what happened to Camille- just proves it is true."

Y/N went into pensive mode. Her thoughts were with Elijah. Did he believe the same? She flashed back to the day before.

Flashback

Early in the morning

Y/N walked into the kitchen. Elijah was already there.

"Hey"- she said as she came to the counter where he was pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Hey"- he slipped and then asked if she wanted a cup of coffee. Y/N nodded and sat down at the table.

He brought the coffee over to the table as well as the French bread Mary had already prepared.

"They are still warm."- he said taking one slice for himself.

If someone watched them from outside, they would say that there were two people who were beyond civil to one another because they either tremendously hated or loved one another.

"How is work?"- Y/N then asked and Elijah would answer with a short all right.

"Jackson told me you are thinking of giving him a managerial job?"

"I think he can do it. I can count on him for everything. He is really someone you can count on."- Y/N said.

"That's true. He is a good guy."

And then there was silence again. They looked at one another with love still glittering in their eyes and at one point as their hands were close to one another, Elijah moved his little finger touching hers.

Both of them were breaking inside. Elijah then suddenly said-

"I only bring unhappiness." He stood up abruptly and left. (end of flashback)

”Y/N, are you ok?"- Klaus asked her now.

"Yeah, we will just have to break this curse."- Y/N said adamant.

"What? You don't really believe this? Will you now get a witch, too? This is the south and New Orleans is full of ghost stories. My aunt was just a very eccentric woman."

"No. I just said it so say it. Anyway, with everything that happened- there is this something that I am thinking over and over in my head in the last couple of days and- I really don't know what to do. It's about the Ball."

"What's with the Ball? I thought everything was ready and we are doing the whole thing in less than a couple of weeks?"- Klaus said.

"Yeah, everything is ready. But with Camille in hospital, I just feel awful-can't really cancel the Ball, because a lot of money was donated to it because it is now this huge event and opening of the house and the mayor is coming and- "

"You are right, we can't cancel it. This Ball is the making and breaking of us and our family."

"Yeah"- Y/N said looking at the clock.

Klaus offered her another drink, but she declined and as she was about to get off to bed, Elijah walked in.

Klaus poured his brother a drink without even asking.

"Anything new?"- Klaus asked referring to Camille.

Elijah took a sip and then said- "The swelling on the back has come down and they will operate as soon as she regains full consciousness. She opened her eyes today for a little while, but slipped back in, but it shows that she is coming out of the coma. "

"That is great news!"- Klaus said now hugging his brother.

"It is."- Elijah said in a happy but tired tone of voice.

Y/N's eyes watered, happy to hear there was some good news, and as Klaus moved out of the hug she now moved over to Elijah and hugged him.

"This is such great news. So happy for you."

Y/N looked at him with pure heart now adding-"Everything is going to be all right."

The way Y/N said it, Klaus thought that there was a witchy something going on there.

Elijah thanked both of them for being so optimistic and supporting.

"We love you- what are you talking about, of course we are supportive and optimistic."- Klaus said.

The we love you made Elijah now glance at Y/N, and she smiled at him. Eyes streaming at him 'always, no matter what' .

But what he didn't know was that Y/N made a decision that very morning when she employed Andrea to run the Mikaelson Plantation house. And the decision was that she was leaving New Orleans after all.

Flashback

"I really need to know if you are going to be able to do this, because- I will go away for a while to visit my parents. They are in Brasil now. It's just after the Ball, but, when I look at your resume, this is going to be a piece of cake for you."

"I can do it. Absolutely."- Andrea said.

"You know that you will have to work with Jackson, because he is the manager of the Grounds now. How do you feel about it? I mean- I get it if it is going to be too much?"- Y/N asked.

"I guess you know everything about us- of course you do. Did you tell him- and Klaus?"

"Jackson is coming in half an hour and we will all talk together. He seems to be a professional, and - I will tell Klaus tonight."

"You're like that someone who is trying to mend broken bridges- that's how Mary described you."- Andrea said.

"Yeah, Mary thinks that I was sent from up above- at least that is what I heard when she -"

"She speaks to the picture of Esther?"- Andrea now said.

"You know about that?"- Y/N said.

"I know Klaus and Elijah since we were kids."

"Exactly. There is like nothing I have to tell you that you don't already know. I know, I am leaving you like - at the beginning of the whole thing, but I will be on the phone all the time."

"Don't worry. I got this. And I know how to handle Jackson."

"Great. All seems to be falling perfectly in place."- Y/N was happy.(end of flashback)

That was the truth. Work-wise, everything was running like clockwork. Andrea and Jackson worked well together, both of them agreeing that work came first and personal feelings second. Y/N could see the underlying love they still carried for one another underneath, and watching them talk at times, smiled somewhat devilishly, her heart happy that she played a role in potentially bringing them back together. At a small party that Y/N organized for all the staff, Andrea and Jackson sat down next to one another. He complimented her on the work she had done so far, giving her a little kiss on the cheek.

Unlucky in love, but lucky in business, Y/N thought, looking at everyone. Klaus came up to her and congratulated her.

"Are you sure you can't do magic?"

"Oh, come on. There is a lot of things that are not done yet."- Y/N replied.

"Like what? The centerpiece should be moved maybe a little to the left."

Y/N kicked him a bit on the shoulder for making this remark. Klaus could see that she was not completely at ease.

"What's wrong?"

"I hope everything goes well tomorrow. It's kind of a big deal."- Y/N said.

"What can go wrong? Nothing. I feel that things have turned for us. Camille's recovery is going accordingly. Elijah will be here as well, tomorrow. Everything is fine. Relax now."- Klaus said.

"Yeah. I just need a good night sleep and I will be fine."- Y/N said and now walked to some people, who waved at her.

As the party was winding down, Elijah arrived at the Plantation house as well.

Klaus met up with him at the driveway. Getting out of his car, Klaus asked-

"Hey. How are you doing?"

"Fine."- Elijah replied taking his tux out of the car-"Here?"

"Y/N is a bundle of nerves, but everything else is fine."- Klaus reported-"Camille?"

"Fine."- Elijah said as they walked into the house-"She sends her love. She is happy about the whole project taking off."

"There. Like Y/N said everything will be fine."- Klaus remarked and they walked in the house.

Later, as he had a shower, Elijah walked out to the back porch where the garden party for the staff was held. There were only a few waiters left clearing up, and Y/N, of course, overlooking everything and setting all ready for the next day. He looked at her, his heart still pounding widely everytime he was in her vicinity. Words of his aunt now came storming in-

"Love is the gift of Gods, binding two hearts together blessed by the morning star. It's glorious song quivering inside you always and forever."

It is exactly how he felt for Y/N. All of him burning with sweetest feelings, wanting to go over and take her in his arms and hold her always and forever. But in his core, he was also a noble and moral person. And he could not crush Camille, now, as he felt he had betrayed her as well as he had betrayed himself and Y/N by not clarifying his feelings.

As Y/N saw him, she waved a little at him and he now went to her.

"Klaus said that everything is set and ready"- he said.

"It is what it is now. I just hope that we will make your mom and aunt proud."

"I am so very sure we will. You will. It's abolutely astonishing what you have mastered in those past months."- Elijah said.

"Thank you. It means so much - "- and she went quite trying so hard to keep her heart steady.

"All right. So- good night. We all need to rest. It will be a busy day tomorrow"- he put a little smile on and after a small loving gaze he turned away and walked to the house.

Y/N wanted to call him out and run to him, but her mind kept het from doing so. She can't make it harder for him. And for her as well.

Making the last rounds around the house a little later, entering the Salon, all of the memories of her arriving for the first time at the Plantation started unfolding, and like a little movie everything that went from that moment on, the way she fell in love with the place at the very instant just sitting out there on the porch, all up to the moment she and Elijah declared their feelings for one another, and the afternoon when she felt the happiest ever.

And as if doing a very odd ritual now, she stood in front of the photo of Esther and Dahlia saying-

"I didn't really ever believed in fate or anything like this. I had dreams of me doing something great and - coming here. You bringing me here was something so extraordinary and so great. In such a short time so many amazing things have happened, that it feels like I walked in a very weird story- a very unusual adventure. Thank you. I hope you are happy with all that I have done. Oh, and - talking about that Mikaelson curse- I think that tomorrow night we will break it. I don't know how, but something tells me that it will be done. Also, I am leaving after the Ball. I thought that I wouldn't, but I just- I can't be- here and watch Elijah with someone else. And maybe, I wasn't meant to be with him after all. I know one thing - I will love him forever."- Y/N looked around the room and the closed her eyes for a second remembering his kisses.

The night of the Ball was truly magical. Y/N, Elijah and Klaus shone as the hosts representing the next Mikaelson generation. The event was even more glamorous than it ever had been before. Both of them presented Y/N as the heart and the soul of the Ball and she graciously thanked them all. And in the tone when she gave her part of the speech, Mary recognized a certain farewell sentiment in N/Y.

At one point as Y/N was out in the garden mingling, Mary said to her as she came to the woman-

"You are leaving, aren't you?"

Y/N looked at Mary thinking that Andrea might have told her about her trip to see her parents.

"I have a flight tomorrow night. I am going to see my parents in Brasil for a week or so."- Y/N replied.

"And you are not coming back- here. I am right, aren't I? Is it because of Elijah?"- Mary said.

Y/N looked at the housekeeper slightly shocked that she would mention Elijah.

"My darling, I have seen the way he looks at you, the way you look at each other. Something happened?"

Y/N's eyes watered a bit-

"Please Mary, you can't tell anyone. I - have to go. Elijah needs to be with Camille and help her get better. I need to make it easier for him."

"How about you? This is not good. None of it."- Mary said.

"You said it. It is not good. Mary- please, just keep it to yourself. Please. If Camille would find out and it affected her recovery, I would not be able to live with myself. Promise me."

Mary nodded and slipped I promise.

"Thank you"- Y/N said and went back to her guests.

Not long after as the Ball was winding down, Elijah having seen Y/N and Mary talk, and having heard Andrea telling Jackson that Y/N was leaving for Brasil, he went to look for Y/N, finally finding her in the study.

"Y/N"- he said.

Y/N turned and he continued-

"I hear you are going away?"

"I am."- she said-"I am going to visit my parents"

"Is that why you had a lenghty talk with Mary, who was clearly quite upset afterwards. You are not just going to visit your parents. This is for good-"

Y/N now nodded saying-

"I can't stay."

"We can make an arrangement. I will leave and move to Camille's."

"Elijah, this is your home. You lived all of your life here. I am the one who came out of nowhere, and I have a home, and my parents, my friends in Mystic Falls. I miss them."

"And you think that we will forget- all those three months, all what you've done here will be wiped away? What you and I - "

Y/N now walked to him and put her hand on his cheek-

"This has been the best adventure of my life. It's been wonderful. You've been wonderful. But I have to go."

"Adventure, ha?"- Elijah said.

Y/N nodded-

"Yes. I thought about everything and yeah, it's been an adventure."

"I thought we-"

Y/N shook her head like saying whatever was between us was not that extraordinary.

Taking her hand off of his face now clearly disappointed feeling like she stuck a dagger in his heart he said-"than we have nothing to say to one another"- he turned away and walked out of the room.

Tears now streamed down her face, heart breaking into pieces, but she had to let him go.

And she let him go.

_____

#Elijah Mikaelson #Elijah Mikaelson x reader #tvd fanfiction #Fanfiction

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rabexxpaulson · 7 years

Text

Love Letter (Foxxay).

The idea for this prompt was given by the awesome @gayassraulson (on Wattpad). Thank you! I hope you all enjoy it, lovelies! xoxo

P.S: I think this might be triggering for some readers, specially because the way I wrote it can imply to rape; I just thought it was best to prevent anything <3

Blue eyes, pale skin, lips so pink; I look at you and all I want is to hold you, protect you from all the bad. When you arrived here I had no idea of how much you'd mean to me, but now looking back, I guess I should have had expected it. When we first touched, even though I couldn't actually see you, I knew you were the most celestial creature I'd ever lay eyes on; When I saw you for the first time - Blonde curls, shinning blue eyes, gorgeous smile - I knew I would never be able to fully live again if I didn't have you by my side. Ever since that day, I hold my breath every time you pass, every time we share a room, a glance, a joke; The thing I wish the most is to tell you all of this, how much you mean to me, what I feel for you, but I can't - I'm too scared, too broken after so many years with people who just pretended to care. I had to go blinde to see the truth, but I don't regret any of that because, thanks to my oblivious, I finally have a hint of light in my life, and that will always be worth it, just to see you every day. I love you

Cordelia sighed softly as she finished putting all her deepest thoughts onto the paper once again; The woman took the small piece and shoved it into her pocket, heading to her office as she prepared herself for another day of supressed feelings and fake smiles. The Headmistress was still, after 15 years, pretending that everything was okay with her marriage; At the beginning, Hank was great, but now, she hardly got to talk with him - Taking off the times when he would ask Cordelia to do something for him, or ask for sex. Sex... Sex was absolutely the worst, but the woman had grown used to faking her feelings and wills, too afraid of being left alone again, being screamed at again, treated like garbage again - Not that it didn't happen with Hank, but the feeling of having someone seemed better than being alone, physically alone.

Taking a deep breath, the Headmistress opened her office's door, entering the room and instantly opening the big windows, all the beautiful Sun rays invading the office; 'At least I can have this kind of light in my life' Cordelia thought; Early mornings were always the best for the woman - Everyone was asleep, specially Hank, and she had all the time to herself, to think about how much she loved a certain witch, and to fly away from reality just for a couple of hours.

After walking to the kitchen and grabbing a cup of coffee, the Headmistress was now back at her office, the door closed as she started working on the inumerous piles of paper on her desk, chest light as her mind wandered all the way to her deepest secrets, favorite thoughts, beloved blue eyes; All of her peace vanished as she started hearing steps on the house, various steps, different steps, and for the more that she could enjoy some company, she knew the steps she was looking for were none of these she was hearing - they didn't carry the lightness, happiness of the ones she craved so much. Taking a deep breath, Cordelia kept focused on the work she was doing, chest now not so light, mind now not so happy; Thoughts of Hank, his cruel words, cruel actions replacing the before so good ones. The Headmistress took a deep breath, bitting her lip as she laid back on her chair; 'If only I had the courage to tell her how I feel... tell him how I feel, too'. It just seemed too impossible, way out of hand... The Headmistress and the most wonderful, gorgeous creature she had ever seen together... impossible; That's why it was so hard to leave Hank after all, he loved her -At least he used to, or she used to think he did - when no one else did, and now? Now no one else could. In Cordelia's mind she had to accept whatever she got, even if it was a careless man who'd use her just for sex and money; That was the closest thing of love she'd ever have, after all. But dreaming? Dreaming about a certain Swamp Witch was free, and as long as no witch read her mind, Cordelia was all fine - Or at least she could pretend she was.

Passing to the second pile of papers, Cordelia let out a sigh, her eyes already hurting; The Headmistress decided to take some fresh air, standing up and taking her glasses off, walking towards the window and staring out of it, a silly smile making it's way to her lips as she watched her beloved Swamp Witch down at the green grass, alone, a small bird resting on pale fingers as Misty smiled to it, eventually watching it fly away, soft blonde curls bouncing lightly at the wind, pink lips contrasting perfectly with pale cheeks. Cordelia's peacefull state of mind was cut out with harsh knocks on the door; Her eyes shut close for a moment before she answered for the person she so much wished to avoid to enter, body still turned to the window, not willing to face Hank anytime soon - It was inevitable though, and some time in the next 5 minutes she'd have to.

"I missed you" Hank said as he walked towards the woman, wrapping his arms on her waist, placing a wet kiss on her neck, causing Cordelia to clench her teeth as she slowly scooted away from his lips, turning around and trying her best not to show just how disgusted she actually felt with all of that; Lately it had been harder to hide... the more she stole glances from the Swamp Witch, the more she fell in love, and the less she wanted to keep pretending things were okay - But, the more she talked with Hank, the more she believed no one could ever stand her, and the scarier she got to actually do something, try something, say the truth to him and to the woman she was helplessly in love with.

"How did you sleep?" Cordelia smiled weakly, her hands struggling to stay at his neck, the inevitable bitter taste invading her mouth as she tried not to focus on how his hands gripped on her waist, pulling her closer, body fully pressed to his; It was hard to stare at his eyes, hard not to feel like she was trapped with someone she didn't want to be for the rest of her life, but had no power to break free from.

"Wonderful, what about you?" He smiled, and Cordelia couldn't help but pull away from Hank, her hand brushing a stray of blonde hair away from her face, pulling it behind her ear as she stared at the window once again, this time, however, the sight was not so pleasant; The grass was still green, and the sky was still blue, but Misty Day was not there anymore.

"Fine" She lied; Nights had become basically unbearable for Cordelia, fighting against Hank's strong hands pulling her closer... sometimes too close.

"Tonight I hope to be better, though" He smirked, walking beside Cordelia and squeezing her butt; The action nealy caused the Headmistress to throw up, but she managed to close her eyes and take a deep breath. "Wait... what's that?" The man asked as he took a piece of paper from Cordelia's pocket, the woman's brown eyes growing wide, heart instantly almost flying away from the Headmistress' chest.

"That's n-nothing" She managed to speak, fear well heard in her voice as she tried taking the letter from Hank's hands, being instantly pushed away by him. "Hank, g-give it back! It's m-mine!"

The man kept reading the piece of paper, his brows furrowing more and more with each word he read, eyes darkening with rage; Eventually, he let the paper go, the piece falling to the floor just like a feather, making not even a sound to add to the present chaos. With closed fists and clenched, dark eyes, he stared up at Cordelia, breath heavy. "Who is that for?"

"N-no one" The Headmistress managed to blurt out, the man's position causing her to shrink herself like a scared kitten, brown eyes already starting to get teary.

"Don't you dare to play those games with me, Cordelia!" Hank shouted, walking closer to the woman, pinning her harshly against the wall, causing the woman to let out a small grunt of pain, his hands holding hers firmly above her head. "Tell me, who are you screwing?! Who are you cheating on me with?!"

"No o-one, Hank!" She shouted back, tears falling down pale cheeks, her wrists becoming already bruised from the man's harsh touch. "I'm not cheating on y-you!"

Hank hardened the grip on Cordelia's wrists, causing her to let out a silent scream, brown eyes clouded with fear. "If you're not cheating on me, you certainly wish you were" He spoke harshly. "Who's that, Cordelia?!" His body pressed even more against the woman's, causing her to let out another grunt of pain.

"Y-you're hurting me, Hank... let me g-go, please" She cried, her mind already wanting to give up on fighting, not being able to see hope.

Before Hank could say or do anything else, a soft knock on the door was heard, and Cordelia instantly opened her mouth to answer, being silenced with a harsh hand being placed over her lips.

"Cordelia is busy now!" Hank screamed harshly, anger being well heard in his voice.

At the other side of the door, Misty furrowed her brows; The Swamp Witch had never been a fan of Hank - She saw how Cordelia's smile always seemed to disappear when he was around, and how, on many and many nights when she couldn't sleep due to all the city noises, she'd hear the Headmistress sobbing quietly from her room, sometimes from the kitchen or even from the Greenhouse. "Miss Cordelia, are ya alright?"

The soft voice, the voice Cordelia loved the most, it caused the Headmistress to feel her heart softning a little, and a small pinch of warmth to follow through her chest; But, for the more that her soul smiled at the sweet sound, her body still didn't have enough strenght to fight the man's hands.

"She's okay! Get out of here!" Hank shouted again, and Cordelia felt her heart tightening once again; God knows what Hank could do to Misty if it came to his realization that she was the woman the Headmistress was referring to in the letter - Tears came stronger as she thought about all the possibilities.

With the words Hank shouted at her, Misty just had the confirmation that there was something going on; With quick moves, she opened the door, blue eyes opening wide as she saw what was going on. The curled blonde felt like her blood was about to boil from all the anger that was suddenly making it's way inside her body, a feeling she was not used to, but she couldn't help to feel, specially when it came to someone hurting Cordelia. "Get off of her!" Misty shouted, instantly running towards the man, but being pulled away by two strong hands, causing her to fall back down.

As Hank let go of her, Cordelia could just manage to take deep breaths, her body was hurting from being pressed so strongly, and her wrists had huge, dark purple bruises; Brown eyes lift up to the man's face again, and the Headmistress could see the way he stared down at Misty - The Swamp Witch had fallen into her elbows, and the before sweet blue eyes now had a mix of anger and fear on them.

"Is that... is that the person from the letter?" Hank asked quietly, her teeth clenched again, fists closed as he stared back at Cordelia. "A... woman?" He added, turning completely to the Headmistress now. "You are in love with a fucking Swamp Rat?!" Hank shouted, pinning Cordelia on the wall again, another grunt of pain coming from her lips. "Do you really think you are capable of being loved back by someone?" He laughed bitterly.

'Swamp Rat'... how could someone call Misty that? The words echoed in Cordelia's mind and, in that moment, she thought she'd be able to push Hank away, but soon all her anger was replaced by fear, fear of the man's words being the truth, and all of that end up being just another joke on her; Cordelia felt her tears coming stronger and stronger, lips shaking as no words managed to form.

In Misty's mind, by the other hand, it was a confusion of happiness, anger and fear; She could swear she was hearing wrong when Hank said Cordelia was in love with her, but with the next cruel statement about the Headmistress, the anger that boiled once again showed her that her ears were not lying. Getting up from the floor, Misty managed to pull Hank away, nearly throwing him to the same floor she was laying on seconds ago, the surprised expression on the man's face being priceless. "I told ya to get off of her" Misty spoke firmly, her own tone shocking herself; The curled blonde didn't waist any time when kicking the man right between his legs, wanting to make sure he was not going to get up any time soon - At least until she made sure Cordelia was fine. Quickly, she turned to the Headmistress, just then passing through her mind that the older woman could be upset with her; He was his husband, after all. "Miss Cordelia, I'm so s-so--" Before Misty could finish her sentence, a head was buried on her neck, and firm arms hugged her; The Swamp Witch hugged Cordelia back instantly, hand stroking blonde hair, heart tightening with the sobs the woman was leaving on her neck.

As Cordelia felt arms hugging herself back, she was finally able to let it all go; There was no going back now, no hiding anymore, and for more scared that she was, breaking free from this Hell gave her a small hint of hope - Although she knew this hope had a name and a body. The Headmistress mind was spinning with everything that had just happened; The way Hank had hurt Misty, the way Misty had protected her, the fact her cards were all on the table now... that was extremely scaring, and it caused Cordelia to want to disappear in shame. Still, the soft hand stroking her hair told her it was okay.

"Oh, how pretty!" Hank shouted bitterly, still on the floor. "Now you two can be pathetic together, I mean, if she's blind and desperate enough to accept to get with you!" The man laughed again, scooting back to the wall.

Misty felt the grip on her waist getting stronger, as well with the sobs on her neck, and she knew it had been enough, enough for both of them; Gently, she let go of Cordelia, turning around to the man, breath heaving with anger. "Shut ya' mouth, now!" The curled blonde screamed, getting closer to the man and kicking him again, causing Hank to shrink in pain. "Anyone would be so lucky to even see Cordelia every day, but ya treat her like shit and make her believe in all ya' bullshit, when in reality ya're the one people can't stand!" Misty shouted back, eyes clouding with more and more anger.

"Oh, please! You have no idea of what you are talking about!" Hank shouted once again, his body all curled up in a ball. "I was the one married to that woman, I was the one who had to cheat on her a million of times just to survive it"

With Hank's final words, Cordelia couldn't take it anymore; She felt her whole body falling to the floor as the weight of her insecurities and fears got too heavy. The Headmistress could handle knowing those things, but hearing them out loud, in front of the only piece of happiness she had in her life, it was too much.

Misty instantly ran back to the older woman, throwing herself beside Cordelia, hugging her tenderly, wanting to protect her at all costs; She stared at Hank, and with one flip on her finger, the man was thrown outside of the room, the door slamming closed and locking instantly. The curled blonde let her arms hug the Headmistress tighter, allowing her to burry her face on her neck once again, hands softly caressing Cordelia's back, trying to calm her down, blue eyes starting to overflow with tears, anger being replaced with worry - Worry for the woman she loved so much. "C-Cordelia...?" Misty sobbed lightly, one hand going to blonde locks again, stroking it sweetly, desperate to calm the Headmistress down. "D-Delia... please, c-calm down"

The shaky tone on Misty's voice, the soft hands caressing her skin so tenderly... Cordelia knew she was safe, finally safe; For a split second the Headmistress was able to see things without all of her insecurities and, for that same split second, everything in her life seemed to have hope. Taking deep breaths, the woman decided to give happiness a shot - She had nothing left to lose, after all. "I'm s-s-sorry" She managed to sob, hesitantly popping her head up from Misty's shoulder, wipping her tears away. "I didn't w-want you t-to see all o-of that..." Brown eyes fell to the floor, hands playing with themselves, the bruises all over her wrists.

"Hey..." Misty spoke softly, hesitantly taking the other woman's hands, caressing them softly, trying her best to ignore the bruises that caused her heart to tight itself with sadness. "Please, don't apologize, Dee..." Blue eyes stared at brown ones, realizing they were staring back at them.

The soft touch on her hands caused the Headmistress to feel her emotions easing a little; She stared lovingly at blue eyes, feeling all the love and hope she had radiating from them. Hesitantly, the older woman pulled herself a little closer to the Cajun, not being able to do anything else than that, mind daring to cloud with all her fears once again; The curled blonde could feel the way Cordelia stared at her, how scared those brown eyes were, but still how much love they carried, and she couldn't help but let out a soft smile, daring to let one of her hands pull away from the Headmistress', softly following up to her cheek, caressing it tenderly, pulling a stray of blonde hair away from the older woman's face.

"I'm never leavin' ya, Dee" Misty whispered softly, wanting to take all the fear away from beloved chocolate eyes and give them back the familiar sparkle the Cajun knew too well from staring so much at them. "Never" She added, an afterthought of all the love she felt.

Cordelia bit her lip as she kept staring at blue eyes; The words hit her ears and she just couldn't believe them, her mind now clouding with an unfamiliar feeling, something she remember not feeling in a long, long time, her chest receiving a warm splash, an internal hug. Shakily, Cordelia let out a small, soft smile, her free hand creeping up to be placed above Misty's, caressing it sweetly. "M-Misty..." Cordelia managed to speak, voice coming as low as a whisper as her heart started beating faster once again - This time not from fear, but from excitement, happiness for the future. "I... I l-love you". Finally saying those words felt like a victory for the Headmistress; So many sleepless, restless nights and finally she had managed to be true to herself, break free from her own living Hell.

"I love ya too" Misty blurted out the words as fast as she could, not daring to let Cordelia leave with this weight in her chest for not even one more second; Blue eyes got teary as she slowly leaned closer to the Headmistress, brushing her nose on hers, feeling a hand leaving the top of her own and tangling in blonde curls, stroking them softly. "I've been in love with ya for so long" She whispered tenderly, loving to be saying those words out loud, and loving even more to be saying them to the woman she admired the most in this World.

Being this close to Misty was enough for the Headmistress to feel all the weird flippings in her stomach, and the butterflies and weak legs coming together as well; She stared at plump, pink lips, the flesh she had been thinking for so long, desiring to feel in her own for so long - It was now so close, unbelievably close. Abscently licking her lips, Cordelia stared back up at blue eyes, realizing they were staring at her own lips; Not waisting any more time, the Headmistress softly leaned closer, connecting their lips at a soft, passionate kiss, giving the Cajun enough time to pull apart if she wanted to. The older woman was instantly kissed back, pink lips dancing against soft, plump skin, both following a rhythm, their own passionate dance; Gently, Cordelia pulled away, staring lovingly into ocean eyes, her brown hues carrying nothing but love now, all the fear going away and, as Misty Day opened her own eyes, the Headmistress could realize hers were also clouded with love, love and nothing more, the most beautiful shade of blue she had ever seen.

The Cajun smiled to the older woman, a reassurance that everything was in peace now, a reassurance that Cordelia would never have to feel scared, alone, unloved again; Misty was hers, and Cordelia was Misty's, and no one or nothing in this World could ever change that.

#fanfiction #fanfic #ahs #american horror story #foxxay #misty day #cordelia foxx #rabexxpaulson #coven #ahs coven #cordelia goode

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ugh-supersoldiers · 7 years

Text

You Saved Me Too

MASTERLIST

Summary: You saved Bucky without even knowing him, but little does he know that he’s done the exact same thing for you.

Characters: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Flashbacks of attempted suicide, tons o’ angst, sad!bucky :(, happy ending (not really a warning but yknow), SHIT EDITING IM SORRY FOR ANY MISTAKES I WILL FIX THEM TOMORROW

Words: 2171

A/N: This is a song fic based off of Song #3 by Stone Sour (here’s the version I used), requested by the lovely @pommom91. I know the song is a little more rock than this fic, but I took a more soft approach to it and took a lot of inspiration from the acoustic version of the song instead I hope that’s alright :) Anyways, I really hope you like this and it’s at least somewhat close to what you were looking for xoxo

ALSO IF YOU GUYS LIKE THIS PLEASE REBLOG AND LIKE SO I CAN GET SOME MORE REQUESTS AND PROMPTS AND STUFF PLEEEAAAAASE

If you take a step towards me You will take my breath away So I'll keep you close and keep my secret safe No one else has ever loved me No one else has ever tried I never understood how much I could take

You stood on the bridge near your small apartment and gazed at the landscape in front of you. It was one of those sticky summer nights in July, your t-shirt clung to your back as a result, but you didn’t mind. You sipped the iced coffee in your hand, frowning slightly at the watered down taste. You’d gotten it nearly two hours ago, and the ice cubes had began to melt, making the espresso less intense.

C’est la vie, you thought with a shrug, choosing to enjoy your nightly walk instead of sulking over your drink. You listened to the sound of rushing water coming from below your feet as you began to walk across the bridge, on your way back home.

You did this fairly often. You were new to the city, moving there as a result of a horrible break up and a desire to start over. You were in the process of picking up the pieces of your broken heart and figured New York was a darn good place to start.

You were contently listening to the sound of crickets chirping and then you saw him.

A man sat directly on the guard rail, his feet dangling dangerously over the edge. Normally, you might have assumed that it was just a teenager being egged on by their friends, but this was different. This was a full grown man slowly standing up from his sitting position, now standing facing in with his back to the churning river below.

This was a man about to jump.

Your heart thumped so loud in your chest that you barely even heard yourself cry out to him over the thudding in your ears.You dropped your coffee, rushing over to him, watching intensely as his eyes widened at your presence. A gasp escaped him, like the air had been ripped from his lungs, he must have not seen you before.

You stopped directly in front of him, the only thing separating the two of you was the metal guard rail. You examined the man in front of you, the scruff decorating his face, long brown hair being rustled by the wind, blue eyes filled with an emotion that you couldn’t quite place. Those were the eyes of a desperate man.

“Please don’t.” You said.

He looked at you quizzically, tilting his head to the side as if not understanding what’d you’d said. You glanced down at his hands holding on to the rail, and noted that one of them was made completely of metal.

“Jump,” You confirmed, “Please, please, don’t jump.”

“Wh-” He began, but closed his mouth. Perhaps he was at the same loss for words as you were.

“I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, but I’m telling you that if you’re looking for any reason - at all - not to do this, that reason is the random girl who just so happened to be walking on the same bridge that you planned to jump off of.”

He blinked, his eyes scanning your face for something. He wanted to believe you so terribly, but he couldn’t shake the nightmares, he couldn’t ask for forgiveness for the things that he’d done. You watched his hands loosen on the rail and you reached forward, wrapping your arms firmly around his neck to stop him, the only thing between the two of you was the coolness of the railing.

He gasped, clearly very surprised by your affection.

“Give me 5 minutes more.” You said.

You took his silence as a cue to continue.

“My name is (Y/N),” You began, not even sure what you were supposed to say to this man, And when I was a kid I had a cat named Sparky and I loved him but he absolutely hated me so I have a ton of little scars from his scratches on my hands. When I was in high school everyone called me (Y/N/N), even though I hated it. My favourite colour is red because it reminds me of the flowers my grandma used to plant in her back yard when I was little. And I wholeheartedly believe that everything happens for a reason.” You finished rambling and took a breath, “Your turn.”

“What?” He asked, his voice gruff. No one had ever opened up to him about things like this before, and no one had even tried to ask him about himself.

“Your turn.” You repeated, your chin resting on his shoulder.

“My name-” He stopped, as if he was decided what he wanted to tell you, “My name is Bucky.”

“Okay, Bucky,” You said calmly, not daring to shift your arms but moving your head for that you could press your forehead against his, “Why are you out here?”

“It’s a bit of a long story.”

“I’ve got all night.”

And when he told you everything, your heart broke for him. Bucky Barnes - the Bucky Barnes - had taken your heart and crushed it with his own story. But you listened, and rubbed his back soothingly. Anything you could do to comfort him.

But the thing was, the whole time that Bucky was spewing out his sap story, as he put it, he was focusing on the feeling of your beating heart. It had been so long since another human being had extended any sort of compassion, and yet here you were, a woman who had no idea who he was now listening to every word out of his mouth and bracing him in his place so he wouldn’t jump.

“Have you told many other people about yourself?” You asked him.

“Well, it’s not exactly small talk.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“What?” He asked.

“All those things you said probably won’t featured in the latest issue of Vogue. Your secrets are safe with me.”

Bucky didn’t understand why you were trying so hard to save someone so clearly helpless, all he knew was that it was working.

“Please come back over the rail.” You nearly begged.

Bucky’s limbs seemed to move on their own, one foot over the metal guard then the next. You never let go of him the whole time.

Once he was safely back over, you hugged him tighter than before, your eyes flushing with tears of relief.

“Thank you.” You said, “Thank you.”

Then I saw the worst was over When I laid my eyes on you It was all that I could do to know my place Out of all the vast illusions Out of all the dreams come true I was gone until I finally saw your face

If you cried out for more If you reached out for me I would run into the storm Just to keep you here with me I have gone beyond my years I've wasted half my life But I found it all in you Did I save you? 'Cause I know you saved me too

“Bucky!”

He felt a firm hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake as the images of his latest nightmare clung under his hooded eyes. Lightning cracked beyond the windows of his flat, and he jumped slightly. The storm had triggered a myriad of horrors during sleep.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now.” You said, pulling him impossibly closer to you under the covers of his bed.

After the night on the bridge, you’d become a quintessential part of Bucky’s life. You only lived about a block from his place, so whenever Bucky had a nightmare, you were only a call away. This was one of those nights filled with a plethora of nightmares, one after the other after the other. He’d called you two nightmares ago, and you’d been there to wake him from the next one he’d had. You’d driven through the storm to get to him.

He’d never been so relieved to see your face as he always was when you were there to wake him from the images that haunted him during nightfall. His eyes would shoot open, hoping to God the worst of it all was over, and then he saw you and he felt safe again. If you were there, it was going to be alright.

He felt your hand gently cup his cheek, stroking his cheekbone gingerly. He sighed, trying to slow down his heartbeat. You lips pressed to his forehead and he keened at your touch.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

“For what?” He panted.

“For saving me.”

He nearly chocked on his own adam’s apple. Save you? You were very clearly the one that saved him that night. He wanted to ask you more, to ask you what you meant, but his eyelids were so heavy and the way you soothingly stroked his hair was slowly coaxing him back to sleep. His eyes closed, and he slept once again.

It doesn't really matter what you do or say I'm never going anywhere anyway 'Cause when I'm dying for you I've never felt so alive

Bucky held the cup of coffee in his hands that you’d just poured for him and quietly thanked you for it. It’d now been about a year since you’d first met him, and Bucky was so in love with you that it physically pained him to think about. Everything you did was angelic, perfect even in his eyes. You made him feel like he was human again, which was something he hadn’t felt in nearly 70 years.

You were talking to him about something that, admittedly, he wasn’t really listening to. He was intent to just watch the way your eyes lit up about the subject, and how your nose crinkled when you laughed. It never really mattered what you were talking about, he just liked to hear your voice, it compelled him to want to stay with you forever.

You sat across from him, cross legged on the sofa as you talked to him like he were your oldest friend, holding nothing back. All he could think about was how he would do anything for you, and how crazy it was for him to think that you could ever feel anything like that towards him. He was damaged goods.

“Buck?” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, “You still with me?”

“Wh- Oh, yeah sorry, musta spaced out.”

“Okay.” You said, but Bucky knew you well enough to know when you weren’t convinced.

“What did you mean when you said I saved you?” He blurted out, instantly regretting it when he saw the redness appear on your cheeks.

You stayed silent, clearly shocked by what he’d asked you, but after a few uncomfortable seconds, you began to speak.

“I meant what I said, Bucky. You saved me.”

“But how?” He asked.

“You gave me purpose.” You answered simply, “All I wanted to do since that night was be a part of your life, and it kept me going. Then I started to really get in that head of yours, and I realized that it wasn’t me wanting to help some stranger anymore, it was me-” You cut yourself off, looking down at your hands.

“(Y/N)?”

“Every time my phone rings in the middle of the night, I don’t even check the caller ID because I already know it’s you and I probably already have my hand on my keys reader to drive over.” You said, refusing to make eye contact, “I’ve gotten 10 speeding tickets since you started calling, I race over to your place because I care about you so much it’s like I’m totally blind to everything else when you’re on my mind. It reminded me of having a stupid crush on someone in high school.”

Bucky’s heart raced in his chest, he set his mug down on the table in front of him and leaned forward, waiting for you to say more.

“I realized that I’d been living a life without purpose for so long that it was so refreshing to have you. You make me feel so alive, Bucky and for that reason you saved me by helping me relearn how to love someone.”

Bucky sucked in a breath, he couldn’t believe what you were saying. Was this an admission?

“You showed me how to feel alive again, Buck.” You concluded, twiddling your thumbs in your lap, blushing even more than before.

He’d heard enough. He marched over to your side, plopped himself down next to you and tilted you chin to look up at him.

“I love you.” He said simply, watching your eyes grow wide at his words.

“Y-you-” He didn’t let you finish, his lips were already cutting you off. Kissing you with everything he had, he thanked God that fate had brought you to him that night, because at fault of that, you’d both found your reason to live. You’d both saved one another.

#bucky x reader #mcu #fanfic #marvel #bucky barnes #song fic

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footiefanficwonderland · 7 years

Text

Weekend Getaway (Emre Can OS)

This one’s for the lovely Meera Sorry for the wait darling and I hope you like it. As always, please share your thoughts. xoxo

Aurora was never a risk taker. But a trip to the mountains with no other than Emre Can may make her rethink her tactics of playing everything safe.

Aurora fixed her glasses and tried to focus on the paper that she was trying to write. As if this wasn't hard enough her phone screen kept lighting up with every new text message that arrived. Reading just a preview, she rolled her eyes and let out a sigh of irritation. Sometimes she really couldn't believe how irresponsible her friends were!

They have all agreed to go to the mountains near the city tomorrow, to catch up and take advantage of what was probably the last sunny weekends this year. However, one by one, all of them seemed to come up with an excuse not to go, in the last minute. Furious, she turned her phone face down and did her best to focus on her work.

She only allowed herself to look at her phone about half an hour later when she took a short break to fix herself a cup of coffee. Leaning on the kitchen counter as she waited for the water to boil, she skipped through the new messages. It seemed that the only one who actually still wanted to go, was the one who suggested this trip in the first place- Emre Can.

Aurora didn’t know him all that well. To be fair, this was a group of about twelve people some of which she knew better than others. All of them have met at different points over the years and have somehow bonded together. For instance, there was her absolute best friend, Jenny, whom she’d been friends with over 14 years, and then there was Emre, a friend of Jenny’s boyfriend, who went hanging out with them once or twice and sort of just stuck around. She didn’t have a single clue why he would hang out them when he was a pretty famous footballer around here, but she was the last person to judge someone. To be fair, just because she wasn’t close to him didn’t mean that he hadn’t gotten along quite well with some of the people in their group.

Her phone buzzed signalizing another text but the name on the screen surprised her. “Emre Can” it read. Hesitating for a bit, she opened the message and read it carefully. Apparently he was as annoyed as her and was asking if she still wanted to go to the mountains even though everybody else has canceled.

“You mean just the two of us?” Aurora was quick to respond.

His answer came a moment later, “If you don’t mind.”

Ignoring her trembling fingers, she typed her response, “If you’re okay with that”.

“Is 9 a.m. okay for you?” read the text message that followed.

“Can we go at 11? Saturday’s my day for sleeping in.” She even added a smiling emoji.

“See you at 11,” he responded a few moments later.

Then came the second guessing. Aurora started wondering if this was really a smart decision. Admittedly, she was furious at all her friends for canceling and wanted them to regret not coming with Emre and her, but on the other hand, she barely knew Emre and was not even completely sure she liked him. He was polite and nice indeed, and never during their short interactions did he do or say anything to offend her, but they were just so different. He was a jock, a popular and outgoing person who seemed to have the ability to charm everyone he wanted to. She, on the other hand was an introvert. Not so much shy, but she liked spending time on her own, never too interested in trying new things or meeting new people. She was the most relaxed person around the people she knew and loved, but she just wasn’t the type to socialize very easily. And especially, not with someone like Emre.

Closing her laptop and turning the lights off, Aurora headed to bed before her thoughts made her cancel on him.

---

Their ride to the mountains only convinced Aurora more in what she was already thinking- she should’ve canceled too. It was the most awkward hour that she has had in a long while, and she is sure Emre felt the same. They’ve managed to exchange a few words when they were both complaining about their friends being complete jerks or when they used common friends as a possible topic of their conversation. However, Aurora lacked the ability to small talk for a long time and looks like Emre was no good at that either because they were only able to chit chat for a very brief time.

At one point, Aurora asked to take a look at the playlist in his car, and almost squealed in happiness when she saw that, among the songs that she has never even heard of, he had For the First Time by The Script.

“You listen to The Script?” she asked almost too eagerly. Finally a common ground she squealed in her mind.

“What?” Emre was confused, and when she showed him which song she was refereeing to, he waived his hand dismissively. “Oh it’s not mine; a friend added it to the list.”

A small “oh” escaped Aurora’s lips, and she leaned against the window trying to hide her disappointment. This was going to be a long day she thought.

The awkwardness between them continued and seemed to grow more by the second, even as they went to have breakfast. They exchanged a couple of words as they waited for their food, and Emre chuckled as she took pictures of the restaurant and the view to send to their friends to, as she said, “rub it in their faces”. But she secretly envied them because the awkward silence between her and Emre was becoming unbearable. She was actually hoping that something would come up so that they would have to leave early, for she had no idea how they were going to spend the whole day like this.

It was only after they’ve finished their breakfast that things began to ease up a little bit. They were both sipping their coffee and aimlessly scrolling through instagram, when Aurora stumbled upon a post about the movie The Intern.

“Awww this movie is sooo good!” she exclaimed excitedly, turning the phone to Emre to see.

“Oh yes, it is absolutely amazing,” Emre agreed with a grin.

Aurora’s mouth fell open. “You’ve watched it?”

“Yeah, I’ve actually seen it a couple of times,” he admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

“Wow, to be completely honest with you, I’d never think that you’d like these types of movies” she said, truly amazed.

“Why is that?” he asked with a smile. Aurora opened her mouth to answer but she realized she didn’t know what to tell him. She just didn’t think that he was that type of person. But which type was that exactly? The one that could love the same things as she did?

They started talking more and more about the movies they liked, both thrilled when the other one mentioned the movie that they found fascinating. Then one topic lead to the other one and soon they were both rambling about things they liked and disliked, laughing and teasing each other good-naturedly about some bad choices.

The atmosphere has slowly transformed from awkward to a quite pleasant one. Aurora thought to herself that maybe meeting new people and getting out of her comfort zone wasn’t as bad as she’d always portrayed it. In her mind, she made a self reminder to step out of her routine more often.

“Would you like to go for a walk?” Emre asked after a while, and Aurora gladly accepted, packing her belongings into her backpack.

The day was unusually beautiful for this time of the year. Had it not been for the snow melting on the ground, one could easily forget that it’s winter. They walked down the path into the woods and up the mountain, enjoying the beautiful view and soaking up the sun. Emre was retelling some anegdote from training and as he laughed, Aurora caught herself thinking how his was the prettiest smile she has seen in a long time. And really, on his slightly darker skin tone, his teeth seemed so dazzling white, but what was even more beautiful were his deep brown eyes that seemed so warm and soft as he laughed.

Once they have returned to the restaurant Aurora suggested that they play some board games. She asked the waiter if they had any, but he informed her that they only had UNO cards and chess, and chess was already occupied by the senior couple sitting by the window. Not really being an expert in chess and believing her friend wasn’t either, Aurora took the UNO cards.

Emre admitted that he hadn’t played since he was a kid, so she re-explained the rules to him. She won first two or three games, but Emre was a bad loser. He demanded they play more and more until he finally won and then he tried beating her score, but Aurora wouldn’t give up on it so easily.

“Ha! I win!” Emre exclaimed, throwing his fist in the air, after he threw his last card on the pile leaving Aurora with a couple of cards left in her hand. “10-7!” he said, indicating that he was now leading by 3 points.

Aurora chuckled rolling her eyes good-naturedly. Maybe she should’ve stopped the game while she was still winning.

She glanced out the window only to see that the sun has begun to set. The sky was painted in beautiful colors, and the city which was slowly being swallowed by the dark looked magnificent from up here.

“What a beautiful view,” she gasped, grabbing her phone to snap a few shots.

“It is indeed,” she heard Emre agree. But when she turned towards him he wasn’t looking through the window, but at her.

He quickly averted his eyes and Aurora tried to hide her blushing cheeks. Even though she convinced herself that she’d misunderstood him, suddenly all small signs that he had shown throughout the day started playing in her head. How she’d often catch him staring at her direction. How he helped her fix her scarf, his eyes lingering on her lips just a bit too long. How his fingers brushed against hers as he took the tea cup from her hands. How amazed he was by how soft her hear was after he’d asked to touch it. How softly he gazed at her when she was rambling.

Thinking about it now, Aurora started questioning herself if maybe there was a slight chance that he liked her. He was a very handsome man judging by his physique. His smile was definitely the prettiest one she has seen in a long time, and there was just something so calming about his eyes. But he got more attractive by the minute, with every conversation they shared. Aurora had no idea that one’s opinion about another person could be completely changed after just one day.

“So, do you like me any more now?” Emre asked all of a sudden.

Aurora almost chocked up on the tea she was sipping. Did he have the secret ability to read her thoughts?

She cleared her throat, recomposing herself. “What do you mean?”

“Well I had a feeling that you didn’t really like me all that much before, but I guess that’s fair because you didn’t really know me. How about now?”

“Um, I- I’m sorry you got that impression.” Aurora stuttered, evidently surprised. “It’s not that I didn’t like you it’s just…you were kind of like an unexplored territory for me. At first I thought you were cocky and overly confident and full of yourself-”

“Wow,” Emre raised his eyebrows, amused.

“But now- now that I’ve had a chance to get to know you better I- I realized there’s much more to you than what I’ve thought. And I’m glad I got the chance to find that out.” She said honestly.

He smiled softly at her, “I am too.”

Suddenly, she felt sort of uncomfortable sitting so close to him, his gaze burning through her skin. All of a sudden she started feeling self-conscious around him but the self-consciousness was mixed with some strange urge to impress him, make him see her in the best possible light. She felt as though she…she liked him. But that was very unusual, for he was not at all the type of guy she would fall for. Making new friends is quite nice, but he just wasn’t for her. And she knew it. Yet, there was something so calming about talking to him, spending time with him. There was just something about the way he looked at her, smiled at her…or maybe she just wasn’t the object of male attention in a long long time.

They had spent the rest of the evening simply talking since Aurora refused to play any more games with him. Turns out she was even worse loser than he. Emre tried to teach her a few things about football and how the game functions but gave up on the task soon enough since everything he told her was met with her blank expression signalizing that she didn’t understand a single thing.

They were planning on heading back to the city soon, when a group of tourists occupied the table next to theirs. There were five or six of them and they seemed to have come from Spain. The group was talking and laughing very loudly and it seemed like they were having a great time.

Soon enough one of them pulled out a guitar from its suitcase and began fidgeting with the wires. Aurora had learned Spanish in high school, so she was able to understand a little bit of what they were saying. Apparently the guitar was new and he was explaining his friends that he thought it didn’t work properly. The redhead sitting opposite of him said that it was probably him- not knowing how to play it right, and everyone laughed. To prove them wrong, he started playing the notes of some Spanish song, the one that Aurora has heard somewhere and vaguely remembered. She started humming to the song while Emre looked at her amused, smiling softly. One of the guys from the group noticed her humming along and invited them both to join in. Emre and Aurora pulled their chairs closer to the group’s table, and soon more people followed, clearly intrigued by this cheerful young group. Even the senior couple that Aurora saw playing chess earlier today came by. Soon they had to move their little group to the sofas by the window because there just wasn’t enough room for everyone to sit anymore.

The atmosphere was so cheerful and everyone was just so happy and relaxed, and Aurora, who was just this morning wishing for this trip to end as soon as possible, was now mentally high-fiving herself for saying yes to Emre’s invitation.

The two of them were sitting on one of the sofas together. Emre’s body was so close to her that their arms were touching. Sitting so close, the scent of his perfume filled her lungs and as she hummed along to the song that they were playing, she fought the urge to lean on Emre’s shoulder. It was a bit chilly so she wrapped herself in her thick scarf and sipped her wine, and maybe she would’ve dared to make a move had this not been only her first glass.

As she closed her eyes and sang along, she leaned back against the sofa. But as she did, she felt Emre’s arm behind her back, resting on the sofa as well. She thought it was an accident so she quickly wanted to move away, but Emre wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She turned her head to look at him and their eyes locked for a moment before Emre leaned in and pressed his lips softly against hers. Moving on their own, her lips kissed him back, and she expected the kiss to last much longer but it didn’t.

Emre pulled back and gazed tenderly into her eyes, before he leaned against the sofa again, his arm still wrapped around her shoulder. He seemed so relaxed and peaceful that Aurora didn’t know what to think. He didn’t even say anything about the kiss. He didn’t even apologize. Not that he needed to- she didn’t have anything against it, but did he think he could just kiss her like that and don’t say anything?! She forced her inner self to stop freaking out and took a few breaths to cool down.

All of a sudden, the place became too crowded, too small and way too hot. She could feel her cheeks burning and her heart pounding against her chest. Afraid that Emre could hear it too, Aurora stood up and left the room under the excuse that she had to use the restroom.

---

Looking at herself in the mirror, she cursed at the fact that she had the tendency to blush even at the smallest things. Not that kissing a guy she barely knew was a small thing but still. She splashed some water over her heated cheeks and washed her hands, hoping to cool down a little bit. She tried telling herself that it was just a kiss, that he probably got caught up in a moment and nothing more.

But the thing is…she wanted it to be more than a moment. She hoped that he kissed her because he wanted to taste her lips on his. Because he liked her. And then her mind reminded her of all the small signs from and her heart jumped with hope that maybe he did like her after all. But she had awful experience with getting her hopes up so she shook her head and forced herself to not think about it. Aurora braced herself and stepped out of the bathroom promising that she’ll behave as if this wasn’t a big deal.

But as she did so, a pair of strong hands grabbed her, and soon she was pressed against Emre’s masculine figure, while his lips found their way to hers. He kissed her more passionately now, his tounge exploring her mouth as soon as it opened. Her hands creeped up his chest and wrapped around his neck and he wrapped his arms tighter around her pressing her more closely against his body if that was even possible. Once they finally stopped kissing it took them a couple of moments to catch their breaths and recompose themselves.

Aurora immediately opened her mouth to ask what was all of this supposed to mean, but Emre shut her up with a peck on her lips.

“Don’t ask,” he said looking into her eyes, “I have no idea either.” He chuckled a bit shyly as if he read her mind once again.

“Do you want to stay here or go home?” he asked. “Because all I know is that I want to keep kissing you for as long as you allow me.” He said sincerely, his fingers caressing her face.

Aurora was completely utterly speechless. She didn’t know what to think. She was a type of person who always needed to know all the facts before making a decision. Her mind demanded answers.

Taking Emre’s outstretched arm, she followed him back in the room, deciding that maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world to take a leap in the dark.

A/N: The movie that I mentioned here is incredible. If you haven’t watched it yet, you won’t regret it I promise. And so is the song which I also mentioned in this OS.

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aquawolfgirl · 7 years

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I wish you would write a fic where Rey is a bus driver, and Kylo is a super grumpy passenger. I could see Rey making it her mission to get a smile out of him on his daily commute! I asked for the window-washer one the other day and flat-out died of delight reading it. You are wonderful and feel better soon!!! XOXO

Thank you, lovely!! I absolutely loved writing that one, and I hope you get a kick out of this one! Thanks for the well-wishes, too - my body just has hated me ever since I went to Celebration!

“Good morning, sir!”

A grunt. No smile, no greeting, nothing. A soft grunt in reply, and then he’s moving to the back of the bus.

Rey sighs softly, closing the doors and pushing on the shift again, looking out into the grey morning.

Three months. It’s been three months since he started coming on the bus. A gorgeous man in suits that probably cost her entire paycheck and no business on a public bus. He looks like the type to have a town car, or a private driver, but no, he’s taking the bus instead. Always just a handful of stops, not too long. Not long enough to deal with the subway, and not long enough to make a cab worth it, she knows.

But still. He acts like public transportation is a smudge on his stupidly shiny shoes, not even saying hello or goodbye. The closest she’s ever gotten to hearing his deep, soft voice was a ‘thank you’ at the end of his run, when he seemingly forgot himself and actually spoke to her.

It’s been grunts or silence ever since.

“Good morning!”

Four months, now. He says nothing even as she forces a smile his way, and she watches his fine navy blue-wool covered ass make his way to the back for what feels like the hundredth time.

Not today, it seems.

“Achoo!”

There is no ‘good morning, sir’ today. She lost her voice somewhere between her evening shift, and this morning. Her throat feels like she’s swallowing sandpaper, her head feels like it’s full of cotton, and the plastic bag next to her is full of tissues. The cheap kind, because she was brought up on them and can’t find it in herself to get ones with lotion or extra soft cushion or whatever the hell they put in them because it’s a tissue, you use it once it goes in the trash. Her nose suffers for it, though, red and raw as she sniffles pathetically.

There’s a snort from her right, and she looks up, wide-eyed as she sees the attractive businessman looking down at her in … amusement?

“Your sneeze sounds like a squeak toy,” he tells her, something like a chuckle in his deep voice, and she stares in awe at him as he reaches into his briefcase and pulls out a package of tissues. Not the cheap ones she uses, no. Nice ones. A small travel pack of the kind with lotion. “Here, the ones you’re using are shit.”

It startles her that the attractive businessman curses so easily, but she offers a soft, “Thank you,” as he hands her the travel pack and moves down the bus.

She uses them sparingly, when her nose feels so raw she’s sure it’s about to bleed, and now understands why people by the expensive packs.

“It would probably be better if you didn’t say anything.”

It’s day 2 of whatever sickness she has, and her voice is still gravely as she greets her passengers. It’s not doing her throat any favors to force a smile and greet them cheerfully, she knows, but she feels the need to.

“Excuse me?” she asks, after greeting the attractive businessman with a froggy, incredibly unsexy “Good morning, sir!”

“For your throat,” he says simply, before he pulls one of the cups from the cardboard carrier and hands it to her. “Tea with honey. They didn’t have lemon, but this should help.”

She doesn’t even get a chance to say thank you this time before he’s moving to the back of the bus, left with a cup of tea that warms her chilled hands and soothes her aching throat enough that her next “Good morning!” doesn’t sound quite so monster-like.

She notices he sits closer to the front over the next four weeks. His tie is looser than it once was. His shoulders are looser, too, his gait not quite so stiff. He doesn’t smile much, no, but instead of just staring dead ahead the entire time, he looks out the window, his earbuds plugged into his big (but adorable) ears.

He’s spoken to her, but he hasn’t smiled.

Not a victory, yet.

And then he’s gone.

Six months, and he’s gone. She doesn’t see him in the morning, or the evening, her classes in between. There is no attractive ass to admire in grey or navy or black or dark red. There is no pair of ears and head of dark, soft-looking hair in the rearview mirror. She finds herself feeling down, having looked forward to seeing the man every day.

She imagines him in some sleek black car driving to a tall glass office building every day. She imagines him taking a town car, or maybe - in her wildest dreams - riding some expensive, sleek motorbike, his helmet keeping his fantastic hair in check.

She imagines him quite a lot, but she doesn’t see him. Not for another week, not for another month.

She never even got to see him smile.

“I’m fine, Poe, really,” Rey exclaims, laughing as she pretends to sway off of her stool. “I’ve already had two!”

“Lightweight!” Poe calls her, laughing as well as he winks and walks away, dressed to the nines in a suit lacking a tie, but the man doesn’t need it to look fine as hell.

They’ve been trying to get into this club for months, the three of them. Finn’s in the bathroom, and she waits at the table as Poe inquires about their food and another round of drinks. She’s in the best dress she owns, a red number she wore back in high school she’s surprised she fits into anymore. She takes one more sip of her Long Island iced tea, the ice melting and diluting the last few drops.

“Of all the places to see you, I didn’t expect it to be here.”

Her eyes widen, and she turns to see him.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again at all,” Rey admits, taking in his black suit and bright red tie, his hair achingly perfect as always and face softer than she’s ever seen it.

“I bought a car,” he says simply, and she hums, taking another sip of her drink even though it’s mostly ice and she ends up slurping a bit. “The profits from here have been more than rewarding, but I wanted to see you for a few more months before I actually bought another.”

She chokes on air, eyes widening as she looks at him, shocked. What? “Sorry?” she asks.

She shouldn’t have been aiming for a smile, she thinks. She should’ve been aiming for a smirk. It’s absolutely sinful, and she feels heat rush through her veins as she watches him.

“You saw me before my morning coffee,” the man explains. “I was barely awake. I should’ve asked you if you were free, but I was too tired to remember half the time.”

“Oh.” Her voice is a squeak.

“So I’d like to ask you now - are you free for a dance?” He jerks his head towards the floor where people are dancing to some heavy, slow beat, and her heart leaps into her throat.

“Um, yeah, sure.”

Never mind the smirk, she thinks as he smiles, truly smiles - a soft, crooked thing that makes his dark eyes seem to light up. That was what she’d been waiting for.

#aqua answers #aqua writes

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delicrieux · 5 years

Photo

pairing: kane x f!mc

fandom: playchoices, the elementalists

summary: after the confrontational and scandalous tea party, (name) finds herself in a wonderland-esque place when her life had just started becoming boring again.

warnings: uh... age gap i guess??

words: 3k (i snapped)

author’s note: jfc this took so long. hours of work. and a few different versions (one was set in a labyrinth but i decided to go with this instead). hope you like it! tagged all the people that wanted. you can view this as kane totally manipulating the mc ..he probably is tbh. anyway, this will suffice till TE is back in a few weeks. i regret nothing for stanning my eccentric mustache man.

tags: @tilliesmarshall - @somegdchoices - @lastfirstcupcake - @peach-space - @magicpijama

feedback is always appreciated xoxo

masterlist | buy me coffee☕

It had been a terrible week full to the brim with nothing but stress and worry. To make it all seemingly worse, none of her friends bore their gentleness with her, and their jubilant smiles, daydream gazes, bell like laughter was washed away by autumn rain. There must be something in the water, they all mutely concluded one cloudy morning during breakfast, with their lips sealed and eyes sunken into fresh cups of coffee. Yet it is as if they all shared a telepathic line, acutely aware of what their seatmate was thinking: Why is no one talking?

In silence they had all decided that this is simply one of those weeks where nothing goes right, and the only salvation is solitude. Even the ever social Shreya seemed to count her words, rejoicing once she had reached their limit. And Aster, ever the tender soul, wore less blooming flowers as days slipped into nights, appearing a bit haunted and even ill. (Name), too, was hardly any better. She is the Sun, the brightest star in the sky, but her light had reduced into nothing but a pale, sickly glow. There must be something in the air, they had mussed wide awake at midnight, listening to the wind howling outside their bedrooms. Nevertheless hope poked and prodded their heads with an impatient thought: Surely this will all blow over and chaos shall resume as it has, never to be disturbed again…right?

It is late again; the evening is inky, full of stars. (Name) sits beside her writing desk with her head in her hands, feeling herself slip into madness once the words in her textbook swim again. She swallows a fit of frustration that wanted to escape with a curse. This will not do. It would appear that being detached from Pend Pals would grant more time to focus on studies, though it has been the last thing on her mind and now she has an exam the next day and she knows absolutely nothing. There is a secret within her heart; a secret that no one knows and cannot know, because she realises just how silly it is. She feels as if the walls are closing in on her; that this room is too small, too crowded, though she is, and has been for most of the week, completely alone.

A knock on the door makes her jolt, and raspy she squeaks, “Come in!” though she fills with dread at the mere prospect of talking to anyone. The visitor waits for no other confirmation and the door opens to reveal her twin, displeased as she always is, glaring down at her.

“What’s wrong with you?”

She blinks, taken aback by the hostile question “My… I’m just…not feeling that well.” She explains clumsily, “Is there something you need? Because I really have to study.”

“Sure you do. Mind telling the truth now?”

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. I know you. Everyone’s been acting weird. You especially. You’re not as…” She gazes her up and down, searching for the right word, “-dramatic as you used to be.”

“It’s just stress.”

“If it was just stress then you’d be crying that you are literally dying.” Atlas crosses her arms over her chest, her displeasure momentarily melting into concern before she fixes her stern façade again,” So…talk to me. Or whatever. I can’t let you be out of it when Kane’s on the loose. Even if you pulled the stupidest move imaginable and tried to stop Alma from killing him.”

Irritation seizes her breath and she grits her teeth, “Yeah so I got a little heated, sorry for wanting to settle things peacefully. He’s literally the only one that gave me any sort of answers. And –just-ugh! What is with you and constantly being on your guard? Fighting? Can’t I just be a normal student and worry about normal things? Like exams?”

“Normal was thrown out the window when our mother—“

“You know, for someone who hates her so much, you sure don’t shut up about her.”

Atlas pales, speechless. Before she can fire back, (Name) adds, “Just leave me alone. Try to focus on your studies. Because the only danger we’ll be facing soon is Harrington’s stupidly difficult questions.” She turns back to the book, “Goodnight, Atlas.”

Of course Atlas would notice the change – she had always considered herself an outsider, even now, but being rejected by her sister is too much, and the hurt in her eyes betrays it. (Name) can’t see it, the glister of angry tears, but she can feel it; can feel Atlas’ magick pulse about her, unruly. The door shuts and silence falls over her bedroom, as if Atlas was never here in the first place. (Name) sighs. Perhaps she should not have said that. She does not know what came over her. This is all simply too much.

The witching hour has long passed and (Name) haunts the hallways of Penderghast. Strange illusions play on the walls; the air is cool, fresh, much better than the stuffy, perfumed atmosphere of the dorms. Here she feels a bit better. She wonders if there are any professors roaming about this late, and if there are, will she be in trouble if they catch her. There is a sharp ring in her ear that distracts her, one she had tried again and again to get rid of by shutting her eyes, hitting her head, though all it did is worsen the ache and vertigo nearly took her.

A playful gust of wind brushes the back of her neck and she shivers, eyes lighting up from the all too familiar magick. Kane. Her hearts leaps in her chest, though is it from fright or excitement or both she has no clue. At the very end of the hallway she notes an open door, the only open door, from which moonlight spills onto the floor. She moves as if enchanted, enraptured by curiosity, suddenly eager to speak, to run, to rejoice, when just this morning she had barely gotten out of bed.

She enters the Hall of Mirrors and her reflection meets her in a thousand ornate forms. His magick lingers here as if a personal invitation. She finds its source easily, and turns to her side with a grin. It almost feels odd to smile after frowning for the whole week. The tall mirror’s surface ripples as if water. No signs of danger, or perhaps she misses all of them, or she does sense it and embraces it, because she feels the same exuberant energy she always does return to her, as if she’s soaking it all in like a sponge. With a spring in her step she jumps through the mirror, not caring if she is to be eaten by sharks a moment later.

The mirror turns solid behind her, and, slowly, the door to the Hall of Mirrors shuts with a ghastly creak.

She feels a rush of verve pass through her, nearly taking her breath with it. The world is a distortion that clears into a detailed, vibrant scene. The forest oozes in dazing scents; The sky is candy, luminous - shy pinks, spry lemons, calm blues – held by trees so tall she cannot see their tops; flowers, some as big as she is, some as small as the ant crawling on her shoelace, grow and radiate in gentle rainbow colours; birds chirp their melodic songs. It is warm here, humid, as if in a magickal rainforest.

There is no paved path, and with her magick she swiftly parts bushes and flowers alike into a makeshift archway. What is this place? She wonders, taking in the scenery with every step, Am I really somewhere or…in an illusion? A white rabbit darts across her path and startled she jumps. She senses him before she sees him, and with her heart in her throat she cautiously waves her hand and the trees bend into a walkway, revealing a pocket of large, closed space, littered with ruins of old buildings and chest pieces that the forest had claimed as their own ages ago.

“Apologies, my dear (Name).” The wind carries his voice to her in a velvety whisper, “I would have come to greet you sooner, but I was not sure if it was you.” Kane tips his hat in curtsy, a smile stretching on his lips as he eyes her curiously, “I am, however, absolutely delighted to see you again.” In a grand gesture he motions to the area, “Well? Do you like it? I was thinking of all sorts of places to show you after our little tea party. I’m hoping no…distractions this time, however.”

“It’s definitely beautiful,” She agrees. He is visibly delighted, “And…no distractions. I came alone.”

“Wonderful. You were the only one invited.”

There is just something about him that is deliberately strange. He has a child-like exuberance about him, which can become extremely chaotic if not contained. But she hardly minds chaos. In fact, after their last encounter, she grew to enjoy it. Who cares if this is an illusion? What does it matter if the sky falls on her head? Who is to say this is not just a dream? Why spoil the fun with all this thinking, Atlas is the thinker, she is the doer. Two sisters can’t be too much alike – that would be unbelievably dull.

The same tender smile does not leave his face, and with one last longing look, he spins on his heel, his first somewhat contained excitement now spurring into arrogance, “Join me!” He exclaims, jutting his elbow for her to take, not once worrying she might not.

(Name) glides to him as if enchanted, wrapping her arm around his. Hints of his cologne hit her nose with a dreamful inhale; the fabric of his jacket is silky and smooth. They fall into step, she too distracted by his closeness to realise how her magick reacts to his: it dances, sways, traces behind them like a cape.

“I was anxious you might have gotten into trouble for defending me.” He says, catching her gaze, “Though I am incredibly grateful.”

She gulps, tries to think about her answer, yet his eyes – what a peculiar colour – are much too beguiling, “Well…There were…No fights, per se.” She hums, quickly glancing away, “We just all…stopped talking.”

“That is quite unfortunate. Though, it is as I told you, (Name). I will be your friend even when no one else will.”

His words bring calmness and a sense of security, however odd that might be, and she smiles to herself, hoping he would not notice. But he does. “Don’t suppose you want to dance with Wood Nymphs? Smoke cigars with the Caterpillar? Cause a massive storm?”

“Wood Nymphs? Cater—You want to destroy this place?

“I’m simply suggesting activities, my dear (Name). I want you to enjoy yourself. I want you to be happy.”

They lock eyes for a long moment, and her heart begins to beat just a little faster.

“But I am.” She admits in a whisper, feeling rose bloom on her cheeks, “I…haven’t had this much fun since…forever.”

“And you have no idea how long is forever if you have no one to share it with.”

There is a pause before she speaks, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“What do you truly want, Kane?” He perks at the mention of his name, quirks his lips upwards.

“The same thing you want. I want to have fun. Your friends and…colleagues pin me for the evil type. I admit I have some…questionable motives at times, but I only have one objective. To have fun. And where is more fun than on Earth? Illusions lose their charm when there is no one to look at them. And this world can become quite lonesome after some time.”

And the activities commenced, all minus the storm. They had first stumbled upon Wood Nymphs, twirling in circles, donned in silk and cashmere robes. One lounged on a branch high up, playing the golden harp. The melody echoed along with the chirp of birds. The dancing Nymphs soon rushed to them, pulling (Name) out of his grasp with giggles and sweet whispers. She looked at Kane as if to ask if it was alright to join them. He merely winked. A grin broke out on her face as she let the women spin her as she joined their strange dance. But as she glided, stumbled, and watched, trying to catch onto the next move, she kept stealing glances at him, finding him greatly amused at her expense, and his magick playing with the saplings which jittered happily.

Everything was unexplainably loud: the joyful tune, the rustling of leafs, the breaths of Nymphs and their sing-song laughter, the faraway sound of dipping water… And the heat was finally getting to her, and once she spun her foot got caught on a root and she tumbled forward, straight into his chest. He did not even budge, simply caught her with ease.

“Careful now.” He warned, regaled, his lips quirking into a devil-like smile, “How am I to take you dancing if you keep falling over?”

Shakily she apologised, not failing to notice his hands resting on the sides of her waist. But before she could even form a coherent sentence, the Nymphs had stolen her back from him once again, and this time he let her go with laughter. Blushed and flustered, she tried to avoid looking back at him, though the idea was tempting.

When they escaped the Nymphs, they trotted along, and (Name) made sure to show off her crown of flowers the women had placed on her head. They moved with no direction in mind, this forest a labyrinth of secrets. But just as she figured they had taken a wrong path to nowhere, they found a glass garden, big and mossy, yet through the glass she saw butterflies sleeping in flowerbeds. They entered and it was even hotter here, crowded. The pollen emitted peculiar scents: from strawberries, to chocolate, to something pleasant but light-headed. She coughed when she breathed it all in. Suddenly, everything was funny.

And yes, perhaps there was a small storm once they stumbled upon a body of water – oh dear, when had he lost his hat? – and perhaps she was too giddy to control her power, and the leaves which she magickally moulded into makeshift boats shattered along with half of the pond.

But the sky was still candy, still luminous. She isn’t sure if it was before or after the water incident that she realised this place is forever. Her life back at Penderghast felt like a millennia ago, dull, and grey, and full of responsibilities, but here she was free to do as she pleases. There is so much to explore that she knows even if she inspected every inch of this forest that she still would miss something. The possibilities here are endless, and summer here, too.

Before she knew she was back at the begging, at the old mirror which’s surface rippled once more. And fear abruptly struck her and she took a cautious step back, letting go if his hand that she, unknowingly, was holding.

“You don’t want to go back?” He questions, brows raised, pretending to be surprised by her reluctance. She shakes her head.

“I don’t want to leave you.” She admits before she can stop herself, and she feels so stupid for her outburst. He grins, all too pleased, yet the look in his eyes is tender. His hand lands on her cheek, his fingers rough against her sensitive skin.

“The first time I saw your face, I knew it.” She leans into his touch, “I knew there is something undeniably special about you. I am…glad you feel the same.”

“I knew it too.” She whispers, “I just…there were…People trying to convince me otherwise.”

“Do they still matter?”

“No.”

“Good. I do not enjoy sharing.”

And it is finally so painfully clear. The secret that had been heavy in her chest burst free and blooms into awe and love. Love? Fascination, adoration, one may choose which ever word one may, but there is no denying the obvious. This feeling is greater than her, greater than him, and the whole world, every accident, every smile, every painful memory was meant to lead her to this moment. Her eyes gleam with fondness and he knows exactly what she is thinking, because he is thinking it, too. All it takes is one gentle pull and his lips connect with her in a delicious, forbidden kiss that leaves her breathless.

It is over much too soon, and when they part their fingers intertwine.

“Write to me?” She asks.

“I am not sure that would be wise.”

She smirks, “Wise? Who cares about wise? Where’s the fun in wise?”

“Ah, a woman after my own heart.”

“Don’t I already have it?”

“And here I thought you had a shy disposition. I’m proven wrong. It is you who is bad for me, not vice versa.”

She takes a few steps towards the mirror, “You sure you don’t want to come with me?”

“Oh, I do. But I can’t.”

“Because of Alma?”

“And the rest of the faculty, yes.”

“Then I’ll make sure to raise a bit of chaos for you.”

He lands a kiss on her knuckles and finally lets go, watching with a pleased smile as she winks and jumps through the mirror. The world is a delirious contortion once again before all falls into the stale image of the Hall of Mirrors. The rising sun is peaking over the horizon, its rays slowly dissolving the crown on her head, which evaporates into gold and orange smoke. She is shivering from the nights events.

Yet she can’t help herself from smiling. Wide awake she wanders back to the dorms, entering the shared lounge and finding Shreya, sleepy, her hair a mess, stopping by her bedroom door to glance at her, “Morning?” Shreya says, voice hoarse from sleep.

(Name) beams, “Mornin!”

“You’re…up early?”

(Name) hums, “Yeah, I’ve been walking around campus trying to clear my head. Anyway, better catch up on some zs. See you at breakfast?”

Shreya only nods, stumbling into her bedroom and shutting the door behind her. (Name) wonders will the table be silent again. With her so…energetic, that is hardly an option. She will talk everyone’s ears off.

And no one will suspect a thing.

thank you for reading! ❤

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delicrieux · 6 years

Text

divination

PART 2: MY GIRL

PAIRING: charlie weasley x reader

summary: charlie has a crush on (name) and tries to act normal around her. surprise! it appears (name) has a crush on him, too also, requested by anons and @ghostwriter050402. a/n: this may or may not be a set up to another fic lol. ANYONE THAT WANTS TO BE TAGGED LEMME KNOOOO!!! ALSO! y’all are THIRSTY FOR CHARLIE!! TBH CAN’T BLAME YOU i love myself a man w a ponytail. i’ve gotten a lot of requests so i put them at the end of the fic as to not take up too much space :) what else what else...oh! thank you everyone for loving my fics! means the whole world to me, really. your comments make my day <3 THANK YOU TO MY BAE @slytherin-princess1 FOR THIS MOODBOARD! SUPPORT MY WIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! xoxo

feedback is always appreciated xoxo

MASTERLIST. ko-fi (i chug coffee as i write these fics, and another cup would make me happy <3)

Charlie Weasley never really had the chance to talk to you during your first three years at Hogwarts, and he blames it on Quidditch and his lack of suave charm for this ordeal. Bill always raved about how absolutely fantastic you are, what a smart witch, good friend, and a passionate person. He was not even sure how you looked until he saw his brother rush to a short Slytherin girl with the prettiest eyes he had ever seen. He was about to take a sip of pumpkin-juice, though his hand, seeming to have a mind of its own, had halted near his lips and the liquid drizzled helplessly onto his shirt. He hardly even noticed the mess he was making, instead his attention now stuck onto you as his eyes trailed you and Khan wave bye to Bill and take a seat by your table. Bill, too chipper for such an early gloomy morning, sat down next to his brother idly chatting about this and that when—

“Charlie…” Bill started gently, “Are…Are you okay? What happened to your shirt?”

That is how it had all started. Rita Skeeter’s competition made you even more of a target for the public eye, and he suddenly started seeing you everywhere. Perhaps noticing you is the better term to describe it – you are not a ghost, nor have you deliberately taken routes where you knew he was loitering about. If you were missing your usual group of friends, which consisted of some of the brightest and most mischievous students of the time, you were sneaking around the castle looking like a suspicious girl trying to act as inconspicuous as possible. Even before regarding you fully, not just in passing indifferent glances, he had heard of your mission, your brother, and the dangers and chaos that followed after you.

You are just…so cool, how could he not crush on you?

Andre is friends with everyone. He has connections and he knows how to use them, and he also happens to be Charlie’s best friend. Keeping crushes a secret from bothers is easy because they are mostly preoccupied with other things, and Bill is drowning in his Prefect duties as it is. But from best friends? It took exactly five minutes for Andre to notice the dreamy look in Charlie’s eye during dinner one night, and ten minutes to coarse it out of him. With his secret outed, Charlie had desperately shushed his friend when he giggled not so subtly, and only after Andre swore not to say a word about this to anyone did he ease up. After a bit of deliberation, Charlie then asked Andre for a bit of help. Nothing drastic, just something to get your attention, or at the very least inform you of his existence.

And Andre had helped him. In a conversation, which Charlie demanded be described in great detail, that Andre and you had had at Hogsmeade, Andre had named dropped Charlie, completely out of place and out of context. You must have either not noticed or not cared, because it sure as hell sounded weird and awkward.

But as fate has it, he is seated next to you in one of his least favourite lessons – Divination. Though, upon noting your tiny form plopped on a seat by his table, he soon came to change his mind.

The room is hazy and full of light pink and purple smoke, lavender incense, and crackling fire. It’s hot. Fumes stick to his skin, and he has to shake off his robe as in a last attempt to feel less warm. You have long lost yours. No windows are open. The Professor mumbles ghastly into her crystal, her soft whispers a mix of fright and awe. Students mumble quietly amongst themselves. No one dares to break the silence with a laugh, because they know that the professor will freak if they do. The crystal ball resting on his and yours table emits an alluring lilac hue.

The two of you had shared formalities and then fallen into silence, focusing on the task at hand – seeing the future. The Professor had promised that vision would come to all who gaze into the crystal’s depths. Charlie did not buy it for a single second, he even grinned dumbly, about to strike a conversation with you about what absolute bull this class is, only to find you greatly immersed and glaring at the crystal. It then dawned to him that you are, most likely, trying to see your brother in that small glass. That or you are greatly interested in checking out your reflection.

“Is it working for you?” You inquire, your eyes finally lifting from the crystal to him. He shrugs, rolling up his sleeves.

“The only thing I see is me sweating.” He comments dryly. You grin.

“I suppose it is a bit silly,” You agree, “I was hoping to at least get a snippet. The Professor was really into it. Thought I give it a genuine go before wanting to throw it out the window.” Your voice turns bitter, “I think my face is going to melt off.” You mumble, pressing your palms onto your red cheeks. “Do you think we could sneak out of here?”

He chokes on fumes, they burning his throat. We. Plural. Should he be excited, or are you simply nice enough to want to break him out this horrible class and send him on his merry way? After a few contained coughs, and you giving him a sympathetic look, he nods, “I think if someone came close to death or caused a diversion, we could book it.”

“What if I pretended to faint?” Your voice tints with glee, which is a bit morbid but he doesn’t mind. Your eyes twinkle mischievously in the lilac glow, “You could call the Professor and then carry me to the infirmary or something.”

Carry me. He chokes again. Your hands lands on his upper arm, soothing gently, your voice now laced with concern, “Are you alright, Charlie?”

He nods dumbly, “I think I’m allergic to this smoke.”

“Well, if you faint first I will try my hardest to carry you.” You say with a smile. He grins.

“Yea, good luck with that.”

“I know a few handy charms.”

“Use ‘em often?”

“Only when desperate times call for desperate measures.” You look him in the eye, “You ready?”

“Try not to hit your head on your way down.”

“I am hardly that reckless.” You state and he stares at you expectantly, “Yea, alright, I get it, I’ll be careful.”

Just as you are about to start your act, his eyes catch the strange mirage in the crystal. Curious, he peers into it, and his heart skips a beat – in the haziness he manages to recognise his figure and yours, but it is dark and blurry and hard to understand but he thinks that you and he are in a chamber of some sort. He blinks stupidly, alert and uneasy, about to call your name but once he looks up he sees you lifeless leaning off your chair before you fall and knock the crystal off of the table.

The whole class hears you slump - it is more the clatter the ball makes as it rolls off of the table and onto marble ground – and a series of gasps along with the Professors confused “What happened?” echo in the hot classroom. Charlie is quick to your aid, jumping from his chair and circling around to lift you, “I think she fainted, Professor.” He explains, worried. Soon he has you in his arms. He notes you trying your hardest not to grin, and he has to fight off a smile too. With you safely in his grasp - honestly, light as a feather – he turns to the Professor, “I will take her to the infirmary.”

“Yes, please do…But be back quick!

Yeah, that’s a no, the two of you share the same line of thought. You and Charlie are only coming back long after class is over, and only to get your stuff back.

After a successful mission the two of you were free for the period. He was a tad disturbed of how good you were at this acting thing, but the adrenaline over being your partner-in-crime had taken hold of him and he could do nothing but smile dumbly at every word you said. The two of you lazily spent the period, lounging in the cooler part of the castle and letting exhaustion take hold of you. The air was fresh and crispy and the ground radiated with cold. The two of you had plenty of time to relax, and once conversation was done with, pleasant silence settled. Which got him thinking back to before you gracefully knocked the crystal ball over with your award winning act. About the two of you, venturing alone, in what he presumes is a dangerous and deadly place. Was that a Cursed Vault? Or perhaps a doorway to it, a room that holds a clue to where it might be. You had taken Bill on an adventure…

Will you be taking him, now?

His eyes then found your form, slumped in one of the beanbags, dozing off. A pang of worry had tugged on his heartstring. You must be so tired, he realised, sleepless. He can only imagine what kinds of nightmares you have about your brother. How painful it must be not knowing where he is. He shuddered at the thought of harm coming to one of his siblings. He would be devastated, a complete mess.

For the rest of the period he thought about you, Jacob, and the Cursed Vaults. His resolve to help you all but became stronger.

The meetups between you two were more frequent. He still mostly conversed with you during Care of Magical Creatures, since it was one of the few classes the two of you had together, but now Divination, instead of being the typical annoying class it used to be, was a thoroughly enjoyed joke fest. Your hello’s, ones that, at the very beginning, were bright and energetic, gradually came to be breathless whispers of ‘…Hi’ accompanied by a lovely smile as you met him in a hall or elsewhere.

He fit in perfectly in your group of misfits. And after nearly half a year of growing closer, it was finally time to explore the Cursed Vault hidden somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. The only problem was locating it, but thankfully, Tulip had snooped around and found a chamber that might contain a map. Bill was supposed to accompany you. That idea did not sit well with Charlie. So after thinking it over, the same night his older brother was supposed to meet you in the dungeons, he had caught him in the Common Room.

It was a clear night, starry. It was four in the morning and only ashes left in the fireplace. The Common Room was void of life, just books scattered, pillows lying on the floor, and blankets messily thrown to the side – they were remnants of activity. Charlie called his brother in a raspy, sleep ridden voice, and Bill had nearly jumped out of his skin, already near the portrait.

“Can I go, instead?” Charlie asked. Bill had frowned, about to question why on earth he would want to, but Charlie quickly interjected, “Please.” He mumbled, “You already went with her…Can you just…give me a chance?”

Surprised and a bit reluctant, Bill had agreed.

That’s how it had happened. Of course, when you had gasped seeing Charlie loitering about the dungeons and not Bill, he had explained to you that “Bill’s busy. Completely forgot about the essay he put away for the last day. Woke me up ten minutes ago, to be honest.”

The dungeons are damp, cold, and quiet. Your footsteps echo off of the walls and short ceiling, almost creating vertigo. It’s dark. No light, just a dim glow of the glossy walls. He can’t make out your face, just your silhouette, and even then only after a while of walking in complete darkness. It is a bit eerie. You can’t afford to shine Lumos – that might give you away. If Snape is even anywhere near these parts, he would surely notice the odd change in lighting.

He grows unease by the minute. You are uncharacteristically quiet. Granted, you might just be scared to speak in case of a spy lurking about, but still, not even a comment? Joke? Inquiry? Completely unlike you, and he knows you well enough by now that you are a chatter box that will argue her way into her grave so having you not whispering or giggling is highly disturbing. He figures you are scared. That’s fine’. He is, too.

“Don’t worry.” His voice never grows higher the sound of your soft footsteps, as his hand, clumsily grasps yours in the dark, “I’m here.”

Your fingers intertwine with his firmly, and he feels warmth spread through his whole body, “You were so silent that I forgot.” You murmur. He practically hears you smiling.

The walk to the secret chamber grows ridiculously short. He feels as if he had just gotten used to feeling your small hand in his when, inevitably, he had to let you go. The passage way had opened with a charm that fell from your lips and a spark from your wand. Once the two of you entered, it closed shut behind you, solid as stone and as if never there to begin with.

The room is airy and cool; a familiar lilac glow illuminates the scarce décor and he has to shut his eyes hurriedly as they sting from the sudden change in lighting, Once he adjusts, he is alert and ready to assist you. He finds you immersed in some letters found in a nearby bin.

“This…” You start, eyeing the papers warily, “Might take a while.”

Charlie shrugs with a sympathetic smile, “I’ve got time.” He assures you.

“Up for some light reading?”

“Define light.”

“Thousands of pages.”

“…Can I skim?”

“If you find the map or at least an allusion to it, you can eat these papers for all I care.”

“Don’t say that to Barnaby. He might be tempted.”

He felt emotionally and physically beaten after thirty minutes or so. The letters you had given him were mostly about books and taxes and other boring things alike, and before long he had sat down onto the ground. There are no seats here, after all, and the floor is hardly the most comfortable, but it beats standing. What is more, he is tired, and sleepy, and if it was not for the pinching cold he is reminded of each time he exhales a puff of smoke, he would surely be snoring.

He notes you squirm after a while. You had been sitting next to him, then away, and then close by again, lastly you had laid down, but even then your attempts were futile. It was painful watching you. So ridden with stress, sleep deprivation, and his feelings for you, he had, without even contemplating, suggested that—

“You can sit in my lap.” That promptly woke him up; choked up, he added, “I already carried you…so…it’s like that. Just…I’m sitting. And it’s cold. I could start a fire, though.” He suggests awkwardly, a bright red blush blooming on his freckled cheeks. You simply stare at him, void of words, the letters between your fingers long forgotten. After a pause, he notes you blush like a rose and nod shakily. You pick yourself off of the ground – and the letters that spill from your grasp – and make your way to him. He watches you approach with a racing heart. Merlin, why can’t he be cool and collected like Bill is?!

Your body is like a furnace, heating his frosted fingers and making him smile shyly into your shoulder. His arms wrap around your waist and your back hits his chest. You hurriedly pull the parchment to hide your face, and he wonders can you even read anything from so close. He catches a whiff of your perfume and his heart skips a beat. Really, this was not a good idea. How will he focus now?!

“…Hey…Charlie?” You squeak. He clears his throat.

“Yes, (Name)?”

“You know… The Yule Ball is coming up, and I…wasn’t planning on going, but...” You tilt your head to get a look at him; once your eye meets his, your lips quirk upwards into a lovely smile, “If…you wanted to go…”

“I best get my suit ready, then.” He grins at you, squeezing you closer. With a pleased smile you turn back to the letters, “But…shouldn’t I be the one to ask you?”

“Were you going to?”

“Well…no—“

“My point exactly.”

BONUS:

The windows are dotted with snowflakes; outside a storm rages over the castle, icy wind howling. A glimpse of it can be caught once doors open. It is usually Hagrid carrying Christmas decorations, or an occasional pine tree. Festive music echoes in the halls. The students whisper amongst themselves what they will do on holiday, who they will invite to the dance. The atmosphere is sweet and gleeful. Couples in love use the odd mistletoe to smooch and be screamed at by Prefects and teachers alike.

It’s late in the evening and you had just picked up some Potions books from the Library once you ran into Bill. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d say he was waiting for you to emerge. You greet him with a smile as you pull the heavy tombs closer to your chest. He returns the grin with a nervous twitch, and falls into step with you. The two of you chat the whole way to the staircase leading to the dungeons, where you stop to give him a quick hug. Once you turn to leave he calls after you, breathless, a question leaving his lips.

“Do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?”

You freeze in place. Gulping, a tad saddened to be the bearer of bad news, you look at him helplessly, offering an apologetic smile, “Oh, I’m sorry, Bill…But…Someone already asked me…” You admit, “And I said yes.”

His face crumbles a bit, but he soon glosses over the obvious hurt of rejection with a cheery, “Oh! Well, save me a dance, then. Catch you later?”

“I’m sorry, Bill—“

But he’s already on his way back to the Gryffindor Common Room.

requests: can you do a cute lil charlie weasley x mc?? it can be about anything tbh,, i just love him so much and i adore your writing!!! / Your “won’t he?” gave me soooo many feelings! In the part 1 I saw you hint (sort of) a Charlie/Reader. I love Charlie since forever, so could you write a OS with him, pretty please? / HEY ITS ME THE CHARLIE/MC ANON IVE HEAD REQUESTS ARE OPEN gfgfhg so if its really ok to request what about charlie with the biggest crush on mc ( a slytherin girl like in won't he? ) and just. he is such a dork. idek what to write im too excited just plz gimme lovesick charlie fghgh / OMGGGG YOUR HOWARTS MYSTERY FANFICS ARE SO GOOD ITS JUST..AHH! SO SO CUTE! BUT broke my heart with bill, i do love felix ❤❤❤ but what if you try write a what if bill did tell her how he felt?? or more a one shot where charlie finally got the guts to talk and spend time with mc??? its all so good i cant wait for more! / Heyyy can you write a Charlie Weasley from hogwarts mystery please? / can we please get some charlie weasley fics going ? or one shots ? 😩 hphm charlie has me head over heels 😭

forever tags: @scarletraine- @brahwhytho- @smilesfromabove- @pharaohkiller - @victoriaelvendorkweasley-@onehellofdevilotaku- @eyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy- @phillipas00- @xxcrowfeatherxx- @cupcakestyleshood- @invisibilityrocks- @nephalem67 - @chwechwechwe - @porpentyna - @lesbianheartbreaker - @banjosanjo - @madswheelers - @sombodymaybeawatson - @disneyfanatic77 - @superanonymousreader - @aliypop - @slytherinyour-chambers - @onehellofdevilotaku - @victoriaelvendorkweasley - @pharaohkiller - @smilesfromabove - @brahwhytho - @scarletraine

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