#i don’t really care about anything except for ben’s matches now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chil2de · 4 years ago

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hi yes the benimaru fic i mentioned earlier— fire force fandom will you let me in please??🥺🥺 i don’t know what i’m dealing with fanbase wise mmfldjfj sometimes it feels like i’m head over heels for bens by myself so... i’ll drop this here for now.. see how it goes and i’ll continue w/ a second part if ff isn’t dead

nsfw themes throughout, so please read my disclaimer if you’re new. enjoy :)

w.c: 1.7k, characters: 9.6k (incl spaces)

there’s a certain sluggish quality that plagues your movements. it’s not fatigue or incompetence. or so benimaru would hope.

his mix matched gaze glosses over your unnecessary movements. that extra exhale you hiss, the additional bat of your eyelashes and the excessive perspiration that drips onto the earth below.

“stop.” he commands, tone low and stern as it pierces through the open air.

“huh? captain shinmon, i’m fine. we can keep going.” you huff through laboured breaths, pausing to gasp and drink in the plentiful oxygen around you.

“it’s one thing if you’re overworking your muscles. it’s another if you’re running a fever. go inside.”

“b-but captain-“

benimaru shoots you a dead stare, keeping his statement rooted deep where he stands.

judging by the bruises that adorn your knees, you know better than to disobey the captain.

“waka! have you seen (l/n)?” konro lingers in the doorframe of the main communal area, gaze scanning for one of his colleagues.

“she’s in her room. why?”

“her room? she has a few errands to run. is she feeling okay?”

“she’s running a fever.” benimaru exhales, shifting to get up from the table. he lightly scratches the back of his neck, adorning that usual aloof facial expression.

“in the middle of summer? how’d that happen?” konro chuckles through a small glimpse of bewilderment. of course he’d be concerned for one of his best recruits.

“hell if i know. what do we need? i’ll head out.”

if anything, benimaru is probably the sole reason why you’re running a fever. why he subjected to railing you underneath water that felt like it was nearing sub-zero was beyond you. it’s not like he’s about to admit he enjoys fucking his special little fire soldier. how he relishes and engrains the sight of your fucked out facial expression deep into his head, burning the image into his retinas. shit, you wouldn’t be surprised if the reason why he sometimes spaces out is because of you.

it’s always been blatantly obvious that you’re the captain’s favourite, no matter how much he denies it and how many glares he shoots at the people from other companies. you’re always left apologising for his behaviour, attempting to keep a straight face.

for the one time you dragged him out to patrol with you, and the amount of incessant whining, complaints and bribes you offered your captain, after a full month of lovely slow burn he decided to come along with you. he just up and left, had the audacity to turn around and ask you why you’re still standing there. benimaru always kept his distance to yours close, in fact the separation was almost minimal. you could feel his shoulders ghost over you.

every time he noticed someone staring at your figure for a little bit too long to be deemed appropriate, he hissed a scoff of distaste. at around the third or fourth person, you were already forced to deal with his short temper.

“what the hell are you gawking at? mind your damn business.”

but sure. apparently you’re not his favourite.

he can scoff and complain all he wants, but that won’t stop him even now from lazily snaking his hand around to his favourite baby girl’s waist. to him, this seems like the most normal thing.

“how else is she going to stand upright? she’s all stick and bones, the wind will knock her right over.”

okay, benimaru. you keep telling yourself that. even when his fingers feel an itch every time they’re not touching a part of your skin. he tends to get a whole lot more mouthy and irritable every time you’re not around, too.

hell, even his own townsfolk pick up on the fact that he’s out and about more. rounds that he always left to the lesser important underlings became more commonplace, especially with you by his side.

but the things that go on behind closed doors?

his peppermint red eyes that haunt your mind, infiltrating your very thoughts. you could be minding your business, going on about your day until you get an abrupt flicker of his mundane tic-tac-toe gaze staring up at you from in between your thighs.

you could be taking care of hinata and hikage, entertaining their antics when you feel the weight of benimaru’s stare burn holes into your uniform.

you could be doing your daily sparring with the captain. in the zone, breath held and blood stream steady until you remember the feel of his hot tongue trailing along the side of your neck. for someone who seems to be stuck in a perpetual state of sadness, you always catch the arrogant smirk that pulls at his lips.

“thinking of something?” he’ll cock his eyebrows, using the distraction to take a jab to your gut.

you groan, stirring around in your bed. you hate him, hate that stupid half lidded gaze of his. you hate how soft his wavy jet black locks are. the way the strands tug and bend whenever you try to yank his face away from your cunt. you run your fingers through your hair in a valiant yet futile attempt to free your thoughts from your captain. it’s only three o’clock in the afternoon, and you haven’t done anything but reminisce about your lover for the past hour and a half.

a meek and uneven sigh hisses from your lips. your eyes screw open and you flinch at the hard sunlight that pours in from the window. as you use the inner portion of your elbow to shield your gaze, you catch glimpse of a very familiar figure in the doorway.

“captain shinmon?” you inquire, propping yourself up onto your elbows. he closes the door behind him. you’re certain that you looked like a loyal dog sat panting and wagging its tail upon discovering the return of their owner.

“excited to see me?” he remarks in a flat tone, opening the grocery bag he’s carrying before setting a few things down onto your nightstand. it’s mostly medicine, though he snags a few of your favourite snacks and drinks. there’s also one of those fascinating green tea bottles that you buy at the vending machines, except they’re served piping hot.

“how’re you feeling?”

“i told you i was going to get sick if we had the water that cold.” you huff, averting your gaze in a fit.

“not my problem you can’t take a little temperature difference”

“a little? that shit was freezing! how the hell can you take water that cold?”

“how can you not?”

you chuckle a little, shifting to stare up at the ceiling.

“don’t you have paperwork to do?”

“you know i don’t do paperwork. sure as hell not gonna start doing it now.” benimaru huffs, kicking his boots off by the door. you can hear his clothes rustling and your head snaps to face him. he shoots you a glare, as though to scold you. it’s dripping on his face. ‘really? you’re so eager.’

“move up.” he cocks his head to the side, motioning for you to move over. you shift up, room spinning a little too much for your tastes. the mattress dips with his weight and his right arm (our left) reflexively hangs in the air for you to dip your head into the crook of where his shoulder and collarbone meet. he discards his navy kimono, the article of clothing hangs on one of the hooks at the back of your door. it’s probably not much comfort for him to be relaxing in a bed with half of his uniform still on.

you squish your face against his hard chest, head rising and falling in time with his breathing. the said arm relaxes and his hand rests against your shoulder. subsequently, you realise this is the first time you’ve seen him fully without his kimono on. at the very least, he’d still have the other sleeve on.

benimaru notices your blatant staring at his other arm. he can’t comprehend why you’d gawk at it now, since he’s used it plenty of times to choke you.

he hums a small ‘hm’ in question, asking you what you’re so fascinated about. you can feel his voice thrum and rock against his chest, it sends small shivers licking your body that he doesn’t miss.

“you look so funny without your kimono on. why don’t you wear it like this more often?” you drag your nails softly against his biceps. there’s a small groan that hisses from him. as you await his response, you outline a large vein that runs from his upper arm and trails down all the way to his wrist.

“i get cold easily.”

“then why did you take a shower with me?”

“are you hearing yourself?”

surely a little bit of his body temperature was enough to sacrifice. even if it meant he was sneezing a little bit and shivering afterwards.

“seriously? you can take a tranquiliser but you can’t stand a little cold?”

“you’ll make a shitty wife if you can’t even keep me warm.”

“beni!” you hiss at benimaru in appaul, craning your face up to guffaw at him. the manners on him sometimes are despicable.

you pout, shifting your upper weight to flick benimaru in between his eyebrows. he screws his face in mutiny, lips curled into a scowl.

you and him both know that if it were anyone else flicking him like that, they’d be sent crashing through six different blocks of houses down the street.

“oi.” he warns you, tutting.

“konro come by and work some voodoo magic bullshit on you? ‘cause you’re testing your luck by pissing me off. you’re such a menace when you’re sick, it’s unbelievable.”

you hum in awe, inching your face closer towards his. there’s a wave of mockery that paints your face green and you can only laugh at the unrest that swirls in benimaru’s eyes.

he won’t have his pet talking down to him like that. no, no. that just won’t do.

“oh? really? you want me to do it again?” you flash him a cocky smirk, digits curled into a flicking position. you rest the bridge of your middle finger against benimaru’s forehead, slicking some of his charcoal stained locks out the way.

his left hand flies to catch your hand in an instant. with just two of his fingers, he can wrap himself around your wrist. his touch is assertive, firm. he can drag you the fuck away from him as he pleases, but there’s no real malice or force behind him just yet.

“yeah? try me.” he barks, peering down at you through his lashes.

you just might.

#?? i hope he sounds okay?#his dialogue was extremely finicky to me #i’ve heard lots of people complain that their or someone elses beni sounded ooc so ihope thats not the case here #benimaru shinmon #benimaru x you #benimaru x y/n #benimaru x reader #fire force x y/n #fire force x reader #fire force x you #fire force #fire force imagines #fire force self insert #fire force smut #fire force hcs #fire force headcanons

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carewyncromwell · 4 years ago

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Carewyn’s third year had been an adventure and a half. She’d become something of a school hero for dealing with the Ice Vault’s curse the previous year with Ben Copper and Bill Weasley, but this year had also involved her becoming a Star Chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch team for one match, leaving the team after a fall-out with other Star Chaser Skye Parkin, and befriending not only Bill’s younger brother Charlie and popular Style Wizard Andre Egwu, but also her school rival Merula’s old friend, Tulip Karasu, and one of her lackeys, Barnaby Lee. And the year concluded with her having likewise gone into the Fear Vault with Bill, Tonks, and Barnaby and break its curse, setting her on a path once and for all to deal with all of the Vaults so she could save her brother Jacob.

After such a crazy year, Carewyn hadn’t been too surprised when Slytherin Prefect Felix Rosier asked to meet with her at the Training Grounds. She’d both lost and gained Slytherin quite a few house points (thanks in no small part to her short-lived Quidditch career), and she knew winning the House Cup was always his top priority, so she was very used to him “reminding” her to pick up after herself and earn twice as many points as she lost their house. Felix, however, for once didn’t start the conversation with the subject of house points.

“It’s the end of the year, and -- more relevantly -- the end of my time at Hogwarts,” he said. “Come June, I’ll have left this school for good...leaving Slytherin house in the hands of students like you. A troubling thought, to be sure,” he added as a dry aside.

Carewyn raised her eyebrows coolly, but did not answer.

She was more than used to Felix’s digs at her and her “delinquent” brother by now. It still irked her a little bit, but she’d known Felix long enough that she knew his behavior wasn’t really anything malevolent. He kind of reminded her of this fat, old, grumpy gray cat that belonged to the lady who owned the local ice cream parlor in her neighborhood, who always used to yowl in the back of his throat at anyone who came close to him, but almost never bare his claws.

Sure enough, with Carewyn not rising to the little barb, Felix brushed past it.

“With this in mind,” he said, and his shoulders were oddly stiff in how they straightened as he considered her, “I want to make sure you have something you can use to lead our house, in my absence.”

Carewyn blinked. “...You want to teach me?”

Felix had never really offered to help her before. She’d gone to him when she first wanted to learn how to duel so she could defend herself and her friends from Merula, and he’d reluctantly helped her out of obligation -- but he’d generally always expected her to take care of herself and, more importantly to him, win Slytherin house points on her own.

Felix gave a scoff. “Consider yourself fortunate -- I don’t tutor just anyone. I certainly wouldn’t have trained someone like your brother, no matter how smart he thought he was...”

Once again Carewyn tried to brush off Felix’s dig toward her brother, but this time it proved easier, just because of the expression on her Prefect’s face.

As long as Carewyn had known him, Felix had always been a rather guarded person -- a cold, vindictive guy who prioritized Slytherin winning above everything else and wasn’t really the type for sentiment or introspection. But in that moment, there was something uncomfortable, in his stiff shoulders and gruff expression...almost self-conscious. It made Carewyn hear his words differently and give them more thought that she might’ve before.

He wasn’t insulting her, she realized, as she looked at Felix. Slytherins weren’t always straight-forward about their feelings, and Carewyn was no exception. If Felix didn’t normally tutor people, but was tutoring her, then it meant he thought she was “worthy” of his knowledge. And if he wouldn’t have trained someone like Jacob, then it meant that he thought Carewyn wasn’t like Jacob. Carewyn still loved her brother with all her heart, so she only didn’t like being compared to Jacob because it was often framed as a bad thing, but even so. From the moment she’d first met him, Felix had always equated Carewyn with her “delinquent” brother and been extra hard on her as a result, not wanting her to be a burden on their house. So him acknowledging they weren’t the same was almost out of character.

He wasn’t trying to insult her. He was trying to apologize. He just didn’t know exactly how.

Feeling some pity prickle at the side of her heart despite herself, Carewyn opened her mouth as if to say something, before closing it again and reconsidering.

“...Thank you,” she said at last.

Felix was startled by the subtle, kind understanding in Carewyn’s expression. He considered her, some more of that odd uncertainty shadowing his gaunt face. After a brief moment, he cleared his throat and spoke much more gruffly again.

“Ahem. So. This is something you can use both in the Dueling Club and -- if you’re careful not to get caught -- elsewhere. I myself used it during a Quidditch friendly once, covertly,” he added with a smug smirk.

Carewyn cocked an eyebrow.

“Is my Prefect actually admitting that he broke the rules?” she asked with a slight smirk of her own.

Felix’s smirk broadened. “All good Slytherins know that rules are only to be followed when they work to our advantage. Besides, Gryffindor was in need of a good beating.”

He flippantly shrugged his robes off to the ground and faced the training dummies, his wand up and ready.

“This is the Freezing Charm,” he said in a much more crisp, business-like tone. “It will prevent anything with the ability to move from moving. Flitwick taught this to us so that we could freeze a pair of a shoes he’d enchanted to dance -- I’ve also found that it’s a great way to trip someone, if you point it directly at their feet,” he added with a rather smug smirk. “Watch me -- Immobulus!”

With an “X”-like wand movement, the Prefect had conjured up a cluster of violet-tinted white sparks, which collided with the closest training dummy and made it rock backwards, its limbs lashed to its sides.

Felix turned to Carewyn expectantly. The third-year Slytherin reached into the pocket of her second-hand light pink dress’s skirt and took out her own wand, getting into position in front of the dummy. She mimicked the wand movement she’d seen Felix use several times silently.

The Prefect watched her, before reaching out and taking hold of her wrist.

“Mind the breadth of your wand movements,” he said. “Imagine you’re creating a noose around your target -- bring your wand up diagonally, cross over the target, and then back down. It doesn’t need broad gestures to work: just enough that your target is clear.”

Carewyn didn’t particularly like Felix holding her wrist. It’s not that she couldn’t tell he was trying to help, but she just didn’t like someone holding her in a way she couldn’t easily dislodge herself from. Being too proud to say so, however, she sat very still, watching him out the side of her eye as she waited for him to let go. Fortunately Felix did, and Carewyn relaxed significantly, her wand trailing through the air a few more times as she refined the movement.

“...You said this spell can work on anything that moves, right?” said Carewyn.

“Yes,” said Felix. “The perimeters are anything animated, whether because it’s a living thing or because it’s been enchanted. The more you practice, the stronger and longer lasting its effects are. In some cases, you could even freeze multiple targets with it, but that requires a lot of focus.”

Carewyn smiled wryly. “So if it works on enchanted objects, I guess it’d work on a Golden Snitch? Maybe long enough to help our Seeker catch it during a friendly match without anyone noticing?”

Felix’s lips spread into a very broad smirk. “I daresay it would.”

Carewyn shook her head, but she was still smiling.

“You really love winning things, don’t you?” she said despite herself.

“Well, of course,” said Felix, as if it were obvious. “Don’t all of us Slytherins?”

“Sure,” granted Carewyn, “but... well, I guess I never saw much reason to care about the House Cup, just for the sake of winning it. It’s just a trophy. You can’t really do anything with it once you win it, aside from maybe brag.”

Felix cocked his eyebrows dully. “I suppose that’s why you left the Slytherin team to get crushed in the match against Gryffindor.”

Carewyn shot him a rather irked expression, but tried to focus on what she was doing instead, so she wouldn’t snap at him.

“Immobulus!”

The light of her spell didn’t fully germinate, instead only making it half-way toward the dummy. She adjusted her grip on her wand and began to silently practice the wand movement again. Fortunately the distraction had been enough to help her cool her temper.

“I left the Slytherin team because I was filling in for their original Chaser, and she was ready to play again,” she said firmly. “And no matter how much I want to win, I’m not going to accept my teammates bullying other people. Orion deserves better than that, as Captain... and I expect better too.”

Felix rolled his eyes up toward the sky, not out of irritation, but something like resignation.

“I still don’t entirely understand how you ended up in our house, Cromwell,” he muttered.

Carewyn raised her eyebrows dryly. “Would you prefer I hadn’t and given all those house points I’ve earned to Gryffindor instead?”

“No.” Felix’s nose wrinkled in revulsion. “Certainly I’m pleased you went to a house that actually uses its cognitive faculties.”

He shifted his focus onto the training dummies, casting a few more Freezing Charms at them, so as to serve as an example for Carewyn.

“I suppose I’m just surprised you don’t care more about winning,” he said, his voice sounding a bit more thoughtful. “Don’t you want that respect, if not for yourself, then for Slytherin house overall?”

Carewyn watched Felix’s form with a frown, rotating her wrist absently.

“Well, of course, I want respect, but... well, winning a trophy doesn’t really matter to me, I guess, if I don’t love what I’m doing in the first place. The Quidditch Cup I get because I love playing Quidditch...and I want Orion and the others to achieve their dream of winning the Cup. But winning for the sake of winning just kind of seems like attention-seeking -- like those boys in Gryffindor who do dumb things to try to get Emily Tyler to like them...”

She recalled some of Bill’s classmates conjuring up a wall of flowers out of thin air and showing off on their brooms trying to impress her before Valentine’s Day and cringed. She was so glad that she was able to convince Bill Emily wasn’t worth his time -- he wasn’t the type to showboat, and she didn’t want him to feel like he had to, just to compete with idiots like that.

Felix cocked his eyebrows, interested.

“... Hm. So winning alone isn’t enough. The prize at the end has to have some personal value, to you. The journey means nothing, if you don’t get something for your labors -- in this case, not something tangible, but some sort of internal fulfillment.”

His lips actually curled into a slightly looser, more satisfied smile.

“... That actually is very appropriate to a Slytherin.”

Carewyn smiled. “Glad you approve.”

She pointed her wand at the training dummy closest to her, her blue eyes narrowing with focus.

“Immobulus!”

This time, her spell hit its target. The dummy rocked back, its limbs lashing together at its side just as Felix’s had earlier.

The Slytherin Prefect’s face burst out into a full, broad smirk.

“Excellent!” he said. His dark eyes actually glinted with some pride. “As to be expected by the student who defeated a Gryffindor two years her senior.”

“That Gryffindor is my friend,” Carewyn said reproachfully. “And Bill was probably going easy on me at the time...”

“His mistake,” said Felix dismissively.

At that moment, a burst of raucous laughter rang out from the other side of the Training Grounds, prompting Felix and Carewyn to turn around.

A group of Slytherin boys a few years younger than Carewyn had strolled out onto the grounds with huge, wicked smirks on their faces as they talked amongst themselves. The one in the center of the clump, a dark-haired boy with gleaming, beady little eyes, was showing off something on his arm.

“Drew it myself!” he said proudly. “Sure made that blood traitor Hufflepuff wet himself -- ”

“Nice one, Emmett,” snigged one of his cohorts, a skinny, scrawny boy with large front teeth.

Felix’s lips came together tightly at the sight of the first year boys. When Carewyn looked at what the boy called Emmett had been showing his friends, though, she gave a horrible start seeing what looked like a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth drawn on it in paint.

Her blue eyes flaring with righteous anger, Carewyn lowered her wand and immediately strode over.

“Wipe that off your arm right now,” she said very coldly.

The younger boys looked up at the third-year girl, startled. The boy called Emmett reacted belligerently.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” said Carewyn. “The Dark Mark is not something to joke about.”

Emmett looked undaunted.

“Who says I was joking?” he asked with a smug smirk.

Carewyn put her hands on her hips. She was ready to give this boy a verbal lashing, but she was cut off by Felix.

“Emmett,” he said very lowly. “Take it off.”

The sight of Felix made Emmett’s smirk slide off his face. His beady little eyes narrowed, suddenly turning very hard.

"You’re not the boss of me, Felix!” he snapped.

“I am your Prefect, however,” said Felix, his voice still very quiet and solemn. “And I am your brother.”

Carewyn glanced at Felix out the side of her eye, slightly surprised. Emmett’s tiny eyes flashed.

“Not for much longer,” he taunted. “Reckon Mum’ll let me have your room, after you fly the coop? Don’t reckon she’ll want to have it set aside for you to come back and visit -- ”

“I wouldn’t need that room, at any rate,” said Felix. “Now take that paint off your arm.”

Emmett’s eyes, the same shape and color as Felix’s, were smoldering with resentment. He raised his arm, showing off the fake Dark Mark on his arm with a kind of vicious pride.

“Dad would’ve liked it,” he spat.

Felix’s eyes narrowed too, flashing with an emotion that Carewyn couldn’t quite place.

“Is that what Mum’s made you think?” he asked softly.

Sticking his chin out stubbornly, Emmett wiped the paint off his arm roughly on the inside of his robes. Then he turned to his friends, muttered, “Come on,” and the group strolled toward the other side of the Training Grounds.

Carewyn watched them go before turning to look at Felix. He'd bowed his head and closed his eyes, sighing quietly through his nose. His face looked so tired, so jaded...disheartened.

Compassion touching the inside of her chest, Carewyn extended a hand and rested it on the side of Felix’s shoulder.

The Prefect gave a light start -- he’d momentarily forgotten Carewyn was there. Then he glanced away.

“Don’t suppose you’ve met my younger brother previously?” he asked.

“No,” said Carewyn. “Is he a first year?”

“Yes.”

Carewyn looked out at Emmett Rosier in the distance with his friends -- they were all still muttering malevolently among themselves.

“He’s six years younger than you, then,” she said slowly. “I guess that means you probably looked after him a lot, when you were younger...”

Like Jacob looked after me, she thought.

“...Yes.”

Felix’s shoulders had stiffened noticeably. Trying to brush his feelings aside, he spoke more brusquely.

“Well, our practice here is done. Let’s be off.”

~*~

Felix used his lesson for Carewyn as an excuse to give Slytherin 20 house points, citing her display of “exceptional Charms work” and for “setting a good example for younger students.” Carewyn couldn’t help but think awarding those house points was probably a good half of why he’d initiated this whole thing in the first place.

As fate would have it, though, not long before curfew, Carewyn ended up catching sight of Felix heading out alone to the castle courtyard after dinner that evening. Perhaps because the Prefect hadn’t known anyone was watching him, his gaunt face betrayed some more of that strange emotion that he’d shown around Emmett -- that resigned, melancholy look.

Telling Rowan and Barnaby that she’d meet them in the commonroom, Carewyn decided to follow Felix. She found him sitting in the courtyard alone, his arms resting on his right leg crossed up and over his lap as he looked up at the stars.

“Hi, Felix,” Carewyn greeted gently.

Felix looked up.

“...Cromwell.”

Carewyn took a few steps forward, so that she was standing beside him.

“May I sit with you?” she asked.

“If you must,” said Felix. His voice didn’t come out nearly as rude as it might’ve normally, though -- it almost sounded accepting, despite its resignation.

Carewyn lowered herself down on the ledge next to him, her hands clasped in her lap. Her almond-shaped eyes drifted up onto the night sky -- she didn’t feel comfortable enough to look Felix in the eye.

The two sat in silence for a long moment before Felix finally broke it.

“...Is there a reason you followed me out here?”

Carewyn shrugged. “I saw you leaving, and...I just got this feeling that you were drowning in something dark, in your head. Like you were facing down this demon only you could see. And, well...I didn’t like the thought of you sitting all alone with those thoughts.”

She clasped her hands in her lap.

“So I figured I’d just sit with you for a while, if that’s okay. Just so those bad thoughts aren’t the only thing keeping you company. We don’t need to talk, if you don’t feel like it.”

Felix glanced from Carewyn’s clasped hands in her lap to up at her face out the side of his eye, almost baffled.

“And what do you want in return for this, exactly?”

Carewyn raised her eyebrows.

“Oh come on, now,” said Felix scornfully. “You have to want something, to be this...nice. I’ve never been particularly pleasant to you before today, after all. What other reason would you have to act all buddy-buddy with your mean old Prefect?”

His dry sarcasm made Carewyn frown.

“...I didn’t really think you were being mean, when you said all that stuff about Jacob and me. It made me mad sometimes -- still does, honestly,” she muttered under her breath before moving on, “If you’re looking for my reason, it’s that I feel sorry for you. I’m sure it’s not a reason you’ll like, since you probably don’t like being pitied -- ”

Indeed, Felix did look rather miffed.

“ -- but that’s my reason all the same. And you don’t have anyone else to be here for you right now, and I’m able to do it, so I may as well. You might be nasty a lot of the time and I might not get your whole obsession with the House Cup at all...but I can tell you only act like you do because that’s just how you are. You’re not the sort of person who shows you care with soft words. That doesn’t mean you don’t care, and that doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.”

Felix stared at Carewyn, stunned despite himself. Finally he broke his gaze away, casting it off toward the floor in the far corner of the courtyard.

“You really are a strange one, Cromwell,” he said gruffly.

There was a silence. Then he spoke again.

“...I suppose you did this for your brother too? Sitting with him even when he went off to be by himself?”

Carewyn nodded. “Sometimes. Sometimes he’d do it for me too. Mum had to work really long hours, so it was just us, a lot of the time."

Felix looked back up at the sky, leaning forward over his lap as he gazed at the stars overhead.

“...My father was away a lot too,” he admitted.

He could sense that Carewyn had shifted her gaze over to him, but he didn’t look at her.

“He always had a lot of work to do that he couldn’t tell us much of anything about. We’d assumed it was something to do with his job at the Ministry -- he’d been working at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the time, so I’d always thought maybe it had to do with something classified. Whatever it was, though, he didn’t want me to know about it -- for any of us kids or Mum to know about it. He didn’t want us asking questions. He didn’t want us going into his office or opening any drawers. He always kept everything locked. As far back as I can remember...I was never allowed to know what was inside. He always said...that his work was no fit thing for a bright young lad like me to spend my time on -- especially when I had my mother and younger siblings to look after.”

His eyes darkened noticeably. Carewyn’s eyes softened.

“Your father was trying to protect you, then,” she murmured.

Felix inclined his head. “All of us. He knew that if we knew what he was wrapped up in, we’d want to help him. Even if it meant joining the Dark Lord ourselves -- selling our souls and our freedom away, just to be by his side...we’d do it.”

The Slytherin Prefect’s eyes were as black as tar pits as he stared at his hands resting on his leg without even seeing them.

“But Emmett and Boudicca...they’re too young. They don’t remember how it really was -- all they know is what Mum’s recollected for them. How she saw things...how she wanted to see things. She didn’t want to think of Dad seeing his alignment as something he wasn’t proud of -- a beast he was willing to serve to achieve his goals, but didn’t want to sacrifice us to. ...She didn’t want to think of how he would’ve tried to dissuade her from following his path, if he were still here.”

Noticing Carewyn’s concerned expression, Felix shook his head.

“No, she’s not a Death Eater. Can’t very well be one, when their leader’s gone, can she? But she’s...changed, since Dad was killed. Hardened her heart. Sees our family’s core mission in life as living to avenge what was stolen from us...and by ‘our family,’ that unfortunately means us. Emmett and Boudicca have been brought fully on-board to the idea, of course, thanks to all the rubbish she’s fed them, but me...well...”

He smirked humorlessly.

“...I’m ‘flying the coop’ to Romania, to train dragons. So yeah, not exactly doing either of my parents proud.”

His face then grew more grim.

“...But I just...need a place that’s mine. A place that’s mine alone, where my fate is mine to make. And staying at home, I’ll never find that. All I’ll do instead is die slowly...wasting my time trying to save people who have no interest in being saved and have even less interest in saving me.”

Carewyn considered Felix for a moment. Her blue eyes trailed over his face thoughtfully, resting in the darkened corners of his sunken-in, resigned eyes.

“...Your father’s Evan Rosier, right?” she asked at last.

Felix’s expression twitched. “Yes.”

Whatever reaction Felix had been expecting, however, it wasn’t what he got. Carewyn offered a weak smile.

“My father’s name was Evan too,” she admitted.

Felix blinked in surprise.

“I didn’t really know him,” said Carewyn. “He left Mum, Jacob, and me when I was three or so. He was a Muggle, and finding out Jacob, Mum, and I had magic...I guess he just couldn’t handle it. So he packed his bags and never came back. Even before he left, I gather he didn’t pay me that much attention, so that’s why I don’t have many memories of him. Jacob raised me more than he did, really...”

The memory of her brother carrying her on his shoulders and having a mock duel with Licorice wands made her heart hurt. She closed her eyes and pushed the images down as best she could so as to keep her composure.

Felix’s expression shifted slightly, betraying something almost sympathetic.

“Funny how people don’t understand that they’re supposed to actually be around, if they want to really be considered parents,” he said cynically.

Carewyn nodded.

“I’m really sorry about your mum, though,” she murmured. “Your siblings too.”

Felix scoffed. “What are you sorry for? It’s not your doing.”

“No, I know...but I’m still sorry that you haven’t been able to support each other. ...That’s what families are supposed to do, even if a lot of them don’t.”

At least I’ve always had Mum, she thought to herself. And I had Jacob, before...

Once again she pushed the memory of Jacob sitting with her under the Christmas tree on his stomach to the back of her mind.

Felix sighed quietly through his nose, his gaze shifting back up toward the sky.

“Things often aren’t as they should be,” he said lowly. “But that’s nothing new for us Slytherins. That’s why we have to be resourceful and use what little we have, to earn the appreciation we’re owed.”

Carewyn offered Felix another slight sad smile and nodded, before looking back up at the sky.

They sat side by side in silence, their eyes heavenward, for a good while. More and more stars appeared as night fell, creating constellations that winked down at them through the blackness. And as the two Slytherins sat together, Carewyn absently started to sing under her breath, to pass the time.

“My child arrived just the other day --

He came to the world in the usual way,

But there were planes to catch, and bills to pay...

He learned to walk while I was away.

And he was talking 'fore I knew it, and as he grew,

He’d say ‘I'm gonna be like you, Dad --

‘You know I'm gonna be like you...’

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon,

Little boy blue and the man in the moon...

‘When you coming home, Dad?’ ‘I don't know when,

‘But we'll get together then...

‘You know we'll have a good time then...’”

When Carewyn’s voice had faded back into the silence, Felix finally uncrossed his legs and faced her properly -- and for the first time in Carewyn’s memory, his lips were actually turned up in a very slight, warm smile.

“You’d make a pretty fair replacement for Chester Davies,” he said amusedly.

Carewyn smiled back. “You mean in the Frog Choir?”

“In the Frog Choir -- and as a Prefect.”

Carewyn was taken aback.

“Prefect? Me?”

Felix’s sunken-in eyes were glinting with a bit of mischief. “Indeed. I think I may have to pass along a recommendation to both Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape, before I leave.”

He got to his feet, sliding half of his hand into his pocket so that it was resting on his hip.

“Come along, then -- best get you off to the commonroom before curfew. And I expect that when you get that little badge, you’ll send me some post thanking me for my support.”

x~x~x~x

[Enjoy Felix’s character playlist here! // Carewyn’s dress based on the pink dress pictured here // read the first Father’s Day post featuring my HPMA Anastasia “Ana” Read and her stepfather Bradley Pinkstone here!]

@aceyanaheim @oneirataxia-girl @the-al-chemist @danceworshipper @kc-needs-coffee

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #felix rosier #carewyn cromwell #bill weasley #jacob cromwell #evan bach #evan rosier #lane cromwell #my writing #my art #first time writing ANYTHING with felix!!#oh boy this was fun #but yeah basically I see felix mentally seeing charlie and carewyn as replacement 'young siblings' to fill in the hole of losing real ones #to the monster of pureblood mania :<#both boudicca and emmett rosier become death eaters to 'follow in their father's footsteps'#which really in truth feeds mara rosier's thirst for vengeance to supposedly heal her pain of losing her husband #basically mara rosier is a tragic figure with shades of morgan lefay sending her children off to war to avenge her pain in her stead :(#it's kind of no wonder that felix -- just in order to save himself -- had to break away from his toxic family #fortunately at the romanian dragon sanctuary he acquires a new 'found family' of his own :')

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pinkoptics · 4 years ago

Text

Would You Catch Me If I Fall?

aka Cherik Fallen Angel fic

Part 2 of Chapter 2

(Previous parts now on Ao3)

Erik is going to do everything he can to make sure Charles is taken care of. Charles saved his life. That’s why. Right… right???

“Mr. Olsen, I believe you will do exactly as I’ve asked.”

Mr. Olsen opened his mouth, to protest most likely, but Erik was well practiced in speaking in a way that left no room for interruption. “You will, because you are aware of the exact amount my firm has donated to your hospital this year and every other before it.”

Mr. Olsen was turning an interesting shade of red. It had nothing on Azazel, but the flush beneath his skin was making a concerted effort.

“You are also aware of what it would do to this hospital’s reputation for being at the forefront of mutant medicine if my firm were to very vocally withdraw its support and place it elsewhere, say... Johns Hopkins?”

“Mr. Lehnsherr—“ Still red, but now also sputtering. “You do not have the authority. Shaw would never—“

Erik smiled in such a way that Olsen cut himself off. Erik’s smile, though the word hardly applied, very early in his career had earned him the nickname ‘The Shark.’ Only used when he knew his prey was very much backed into a corner of their own making and it was time for the kill.

“If The Incident were to suddenly appear on social media again, with a narrative much closer to the truth...”

Red became purple. “We have an NDA! You can’t—“

“When information is out it is out, Mr. Olsen. Non-disclosures only hold weight if the parties involved care about the consequences. I could give a fuck. Besides, whether this hospital is guilty or innocent, reputations once ruined are terribly hard to salvage, aren’t they? Once, tried in the court of public opinion...”

“Shaw would— you’d be—“

Erik simply raised an eyebrow.

Olsen was right. Erik didn’t have the authority to stop donations, Shaw would have his job and his ass if he ever went to the public about any of the firm’s cases. Moreover, he would probably lose his license to practice. None of those things mattered however, not because Erik truly didn’t care, but because Olsen only needed to believe he was serious. If Erik couldn’t sense the man’s weaknesses, and couldn’t exploit them, he would hardly have been the best lawyer at his firm (no matter what Emma said to the contrary). The seed of doubt, once planted in a weak mind, was notoriously difficult to weed out.

“Fine,” Olsen ground out. Looking like he was very much sucking on a lemon.

Erik levitated the paperwork he had prepared by its staple. It was accompanied by one of the disgustingly expensive fountain pens the firm utilized to perpetuate its reputation. It hovered in front of the sour countenance and Erik felt the same sense of satisfaction he did after a particularly shrewd cross examination.

Threatening Olsen in this way was beyond overkill.

However, Erik knew of nothing else that would resolve Charles’ situation as swiftly. As Olsen scratched out his signature nearly hard enough to tear paper, Charles’ need for insurance, identity, and anything else he did not have, vanished.

Besides, he’d never liked this man or this hospital, so if he got to have a little fun while getting Charles what he needed, all the better. The faster he could get Charles out of here unscathed the better. He owed him that much, possibly more. There were few people insane enough, selfless enough, to throw themselves in front of a car for a stranger. Erik had made it his life’s work to protect people who couldn’t protect themselves. Charles had more than earned that same protection until he was back to his former self.

T’s crossed and i’s dotted, Erik left Olsen to fume, so he could share the good news with Charles. The words that had been leaping forward died on his lips when he took in the state of Charles’ room.

“. . . Did you rob a florist?”

Charles graced him with a much less hysterical, much more pleasant sounding laugh than he had any time previously.

“Aren’t people just lovely? This one is from the nurse on call, Ben. He has the most adorable little boy. Teething at the moment, which is trying of course, but he’s so precious one can hardly be cross. I’m sure Ben would be happy to show you the photos too. This one is from Dr. Yousef, whom you’ve already met. She detests flowers, personally, as she’s never home consistently enough to care for them properly. This one is from Saima...”

While Charles no longer appeared to be in a state of hysteria, it appeared to be Erik’s turn, and he became suddenly, hysterically deaf. Had he misplaced a day? Or two? More? Was he the one with the head injury?

“Did you— I mean, do you know them?”

Charles cut off his still in-progress monologue about his sudden and inexplicable well-wishers.

“Oh no. We’ve just met. Nancy would like to get coffee when I’m better though. I believe that is a cultural expression of friendship, is it not? Or does coffee equal sex? It’s so hard to keep track of these things as humans rarely say what they truly mean. Why do you lot insist upon speaking in code? A code that changes every generation no less. Regardless, I’ve never had coffee. Given how utterly obsessed with it you all are I’m rather excited to find out what all the fuss is about.”

Erik didn’t know what part of that to address first, if at all.

Ben, Yousef, Saima... who the fuck was Nancy?

Sex?

Never had coffee?

“Oh Erik, I’m sorry. You look so confused again. I forget myself. I would much rather have coffee for the first time with you of course. At that diner you speak so highly of. I believe diners generally serve coffee.”

Erik blinked. Did that mean Charles wanted to be his friend or have sex with him? Or, did never having had coffee actually mean never having had sex? No. Wait. What in the fuck were they talking about?

What came out was, mercifully, “You make friends quickly.” This was something he and Charles certainly didn’t share.

“Do I?” Charles shrugged. “I love people. All people. They’re so fascinating.” Something else he and Charles certainly didn’t share. In his experience, most people were dull or cruel or both. Except Charles. Charles had been the exact opposite of dull or cruel right from the first. Crashing headfirst into Erik, literally and figuratively, and smashing all his expectations of what people did or didn’t do for one another. It might have also been the head injury/amnesia mitigating the dullness, making him say the most ridiculous things that Erik had ever heard and couldn’t even begin to sort out, but Erik didn’t really think so. He read people extremely well and Charles intrigued him. No one intrigued him.

Shoving the friends/coffee/sex equivalency conversation aside, Erik patted his briefcase. “I’ve sorted out everything with hospital administration. You won’t have to worry about insurance, bills... if there’s anything you need, just ask. They will be sure you get it.”

“I won’t ask how you managed it.” Charles’ look became conspiratorial. Almost as if he did know Erik’s methods. There was no way, of course, that he did unless he was a telepath, which Erik had already briefly mused on. “You really needn’t have troubled yourself, though I appreciate it, you, all the same.”

There it was again. The strange gravity his words seemed to possess. Erik flushed, not something he ever did, feeling that appreciation to his core. Charles’ smile deepened and somehow held the same weight as his words. Looking at it was almost too much, like looking straight at the sun, it warmed parts of Erik he hadn’t even realized were cold.

“You can stay with me,” Erik said, apropos of nothing, then flinched, his own words surprising him. It wasn’t the offer he had intended to make. The Firm put people up all the time for various reasons, and Erik had planned to slip Charles in to one of his current cases with no one the wiser. The doctor felt certain it wouldn’t be long until his memory returned, based on her previous experience of such cases.

Charles’ astonishment seemed to match his own. “Erik, that’s too much. You’ve done so much already.”

Erik rubbed at the back of neck, avoiding Charles’ eyes, which were comically, anime-wide. While he hadn’t meant to make the offer, he also found now that he had, he also had no sense of regret. His flat was large, he practically lived at the firm, so it would hardly be an inconvenience and the less he abused his position, the less tracks he had to cover.

He coughed, “There’s always Nancy.” Erik hoped the joke would break the sudden tension. “You could take her up on her ambiguous offer.” Charles laughed. Success.

“Coffee, and whatever else it may suggest, is a far cry from living together. Besides, I don’t even know Nancy.”

“You don’t know me either. You may have unwittingly saved a sociopath the world would be better without.”

Charles shook his head. “Don’t be absurd. You’re a good man, Erik. Better than you know.”

Everything about this was absurd.

“It’s settled then, when they discharge you, you can stay with me until we figure out who you are.”

Charles’ face, which Erik was already beginning to realize was nakedly expressive, came over suddenly unreadable.

“I—“ Charles hesitated, eyes flicking away from Erik to the window. Erik supposed coming to live with any stranger was enough to give anyone pause, especially someone who was as disoriented as Charles must already be. He was about to shift back to his original, much less awkward, plan when Charles’ gaze focused back on him. “All right. Until... until then.”

“Until then,” Erik echoed and they both fell suddenly silent.

He was inviting someone to live with him when he had never lived with anyone besides his mother his entire life. Roommates? Please. Erik had never had to, but would have rather lived in a squalid apartment than have to share a living space with anyone, even when putting himself through the extraordinary expenditure of american law school. Yet, here he was. Here they were. It felt right. Perhaps he had an overabundance of gratitude and quid pro quo to sate. It was the only thing that made any sense in the face of something that made absolutely no sense.

He’d probably regret it the instant Charles was in his space, but he also wasn’t someone who went back on his word, so he was taking in this stray whether he came to regret it or not.

Mama, at least, would approve.

Now on Ao3

Thanks for reading!!

#cherik #cherik fanfic #erik lehnsherr #charles xavier #fallen angel fic #pinkoptics fic

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mylifeisactuallyamess · 3 years ago

Text

General Hux x Female Reader/Ben Solo x Female Reader

A/N: This is a heavy chapter, Hux is just not coping 🥺

Warnings: lots of feelings and angst, implied suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 4411

Read Chapter 21 here on AO3

Masterlist

The day your husband woke up will never leave you. His body seemed to come to life before your very eyes, choking on his tubes, arms flailing against the wires as he tried to get his bearings. It wasn’t until you grabbed his face making him look at you, his beautiful green eyes dull and sunken but something sparked in them when he saw you. Hearing your voice calmed him and he lay back down, his eyes fluttering with sudden exhaustion and sinking back into sleep. You refused to leave him, not caring or paying attention to anything else on the base so much so that Poe dragged in a cot for you to sleep in. Rose and Finn would come in, bringing food and sometimes they’d stay and keep you company but everyone was so busy adjusting to a new way of life and making room for all the people that were now residing on Ajan Kloss.

Mitaka was the person you saw the most, he had recovered from his surgery and he told you how he had saved Armitage after he was shot, immersing him in the strongest solution of bacta he could find and moving him over to the Finalizer. He had then turned the ship against the Final Order, taking significant damage and finally arriving here only to plough the dead ship into the surface of the planet. Most of the time he just sat with you watching over Armitage like a silent guardian.

You were taking one very rare break from being at your husband's side, feeling the sun on your face and the breeze in your freshly washed hair. You felt the tightening of your belly but wearing the light clothing that had been given to you meant you could hide the changing shape of your body for a bit longer. You heard a noise, slowly opening your eyes you saw Kylo approaching. He looked different, the scar that you had traced so many times with your eyes was gone and he looked similar to when you had first met him, except now he was dressed like you. A shirt, leather trousers and boots, his hair was longer than you remember and his expression was softer, sadder even. He stopped a few large paces away, his eyes locking with yours when he saw you watching him.

“I heard what you did,” you said, turning back to bask in the light of the sun.

“I remembered what you asked me, how you asked if this war was over soon.” You dipped your head and scuffed your boot along the floor.

“What of it?” You asked.

“I remembered the desperation on your face and that’s what drove me to end this.” You let out a soft laugh.

“Don’t fool yourself.”

“It’s true!” He exclaimed, stepping towards you but you turned your angry gaze to him making him stop once more.

“You could have ended it at any time!”

“No! Not after he, him, Palpatine made himself known, if I had stepped down and disintegrated the First Order he would have swept in unchallenged and taken over the Galaxy yet again!” His expression was pleading as he tried to get you to see. “I had to wait, I saw the opportunity after Rey died and I took it. I had a choice and I hope I made the right one.”

“I guess we will see,” you replied, beginning to make your way back.

“How is Armitage?” He called after you but you didn’t stop.

“Like you care,” you shot over your shoulder suddenly wanting to be a million parsecs from him.

Hux’s recovery was slow but most of that was because he refused to talk, he would eat and drink and even walk around, using you to lean on but he would not talk. It frustrated you, making you grind your teeth in annoyance whenever you asked him a question and he stared into empty space like you weren’t even there. He got stronger but his nightmares got worse, his entire body would shake, sweat would drench his bright hair and he would yell so loudly. It ripped you to pieces seeing him so broken but refusing any sort of help. His body grew stronger by the day, no longer using you to balance himself and the walks you took lasted for up to half a day as though he couldn’t bring himself to return to the base.

You moved you both out of the medbay and into a hut, they were everywhere spreading far and wide to accommodate the people that now called this place home, the Resistance and First Order finally living in harmony. You felt a swell in your heart every time you looked at the encampment, a sadness that littered your soul when you realised the massive scar that now rendered the Galaxy. Many of these people didn’t know who their families were, where they came from. Some had nothing left and like you, nowhere to go. What had really been achieved except for the pain and suffering of all these people?

You sat up one morning, instantly noticing you were alone and panic slithered through you. You rushed out of your hut, barely pulling your boots on before you were charging into the jungle. Each pound of your heart matched the hurried rush of your feet and you retraced the paths you took with him everyday, but he wasn’t there. You tried to calm yourself but knowing how damaged he was inside you kept thinking the worst so you pushed yourself harder, struggling through the jungle only to happen upon the lake where the Finalizer still sat, dead and lifeless.

You nearly cried with relief when you saw him, his red hair a crowning glory in the early light of the day, his arms crossed as he stood like a statue surveying the broken remains of what used to be his home. You slowly approached, highly aware of how similar this was that rainy day on the estate.

“Are you just going to stand there My Lady?” You sucked in a breath, your eyes closing in relief at the sound of his voice, your heart beating with joy for the first in months.

“I do not mean to intrude,” you breathed hating the way your voice wavered with emotion.

“You’re not,” he replied but still he didn’t take his eyes off his ship.

“I’m so sorry Armitage,” you whispered.

“I should be the one apologising,” his face twisted with anguish and he turned away from the sight before him. “I’m sorry I ever married you and dragged you into this.”

“Please don’t say that!” It took you a moment to realise he wasn’t stopping and you hurried after him but he stayed just out of reach until you both got back to the hut. “Armitage!”

“You should just leave me, I’ve had plenty of time to think about it. I should stay here and face whatever punishment they deem fit.”

“This isn’t all on you, you can’t take responsibility for the entirety of this war!”

“Someone has to,” he muttered.

“It’s not your fault! I refuse to lose you again!” You almost screamed, making him look at you in surprise. Many emotions flitted over his face before he settled on that blank expression you knew so well.

“Why are you fighting so hard for this?” He asked dully.

“Why aren’t you fighting hard for this?” You cried back.

“You’re better off without me,” he shouted. His expression now one of distress as he ran a hand through his hair. “Everything is gone, everything I’ve worked for, fought for it’s all gone!” You went to reach for him but he pulled away from you, backing into the wall. “You don’t want me, you don’t need me. Just leave me alone!” Tears streamed down your face as his voice cracked, your heart was breaking from his words.

“You are worthy of love, Armitage.” He smirked and shook his head.

“How can you say that? How can you say that after what I did?”

“You didn’t have a choice,” he moved further away from you. Disgust lacing his features but you didn’t know if that was because of you or himself.

“Of course I had a choice. I could have gotten us out of there if I so wished.” His gaze rose to meet yours. “He got you out didn’t he? So why didn’t I?”

“Armitage please!” But he was beyond reason, lost in the hatred of his actions.

“You are better off without me, go to him, Kylo. He’ll look after you far better than I ever could.”

“Armitage, wait!” You followed him out of the hut, painfully aware that everyone in the vicinity was awake and listening to your conversation.

“No, nothing else you can say will change my mind…”

“I’m pregnant,” you blurred out loudly and you saw his back stiffen when he jolted to a stop, the few people you could see made shocked faces and disappeared into their huts. Finn and Rose paused to the side no doubt holding their breath as they watched the scene unfold before them. You wanted him to turn around, you wanted him to run to you, lifting you in the air with excitement but you knew he was going to be conflicted about this. Finally he did turn, his eyes on your hands as you twisted them nervously.

“Is it mine?” He asked stiffly. The question had you sobbing, you expected it, of course you did but you had hoped he wouldn't sound so indifferent about it.

“Y-yes.” He nodded before striding off. Words failed you, watching him leave you like this shattered your heart into pieces, littering the floor with your pain. You wanted to scream, to ask him to come back to face this with you but he was gone.

“C’mon sweetheart. He’ll be back.” Poe gently guided you back to your hut, you had no ideas where he had come from but you were grateful to him.

“How can you be sure?” You asked quietly, wiping your face.

“Well for one he’s got nowhere to go,” you glared at Poe through your tears but he at least had the sense to look ashamed at such a comment. “And two,” he continued. “For all his faults, Hugs is loyal to you. He’d never admit it to anyone, probably not even himself.”

“You don’t know him like I do,” you said softly.

“What’s that? I’m right? Yeah I’ll take it,” he smiled kindly at you. “I’ll go get some caf. I’ll be back ok?” You nodded, the smile leaving your face as soon as you were alone. You heard him talking to Finn and Rose, their voices trailing off as they walked away. You gently put a hand on your stomach, hoping Armitage came back soon. Poe came back and spent some time with you but you couldn’t follow the conversation, your eyes trained on the door waiting for Armitage to come back. Finally he made his excuses and left you alone, but it didn’t last long.

Your thoughts scattered when the door opened and you stood up, a flush creeping over your skin, a name on your lips but you couldn't utter it. Because it was the wrong man.

“You’re pregnant?” He asked incredulously.

“What do you want, Ben?” It still felt strange to call him that.

“I had no idea,” he rumbled.

“Yes you did. It’s why you saved me. Isn’t it?” He was too big for your space and you wanted him to sit down but you also didn’t want him to stay. “On the Finalizer, sending me to the Resistance you were giving me a chance with this baby.”

“I couldn't see you get killed!” He snarled curling his hands into fists. “I waited for Armitage to betray the First Order, his beliefs, to prove his love for you and he didn’t.”

“Because you would have killed him as soon as he put a foot wrong!” You hissed at him, trying to keep your voice low.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “I guess we will never know.”

“Please, leave me alone. He won’t come back if you’re in here.” You turned your back on him, hoping he’d get the message so you missed the crestfallen look on his face. The way his large hand went to reach for you but then he thought better of it and moved away.

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone.” You turned to reply but he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.

You paced, watching night fall beyond the walls of your little space, the fauna coming to life in the darkness and you sighed, trying to hold back the storm of emotions that threatened to engulf you yet again. You just needed to know he was alright. Your legs tired and you finally lay down, closing your eyes but sleep didn’t come so you stared at the door, tracking the rough wood yet again until he came back.

You sat up on the bed as the door slowly opened. He stepped in, his boots dragging on the wooden floor with each step, he didn’t look at you and instead rested heavily against the closed door. The fire had died down and there was silence outside indicating everyone was asleep. He slid to the floor, resting his elbows on his knees and thumping his head gently back onto the door. He looked exhausted in the dim light, his clothes slightly muddy like he’d been out trekking, his hair was wind swept but still as vibrant as ever. You ached to hold him close, to breathe your love into him so he could feel it but you knew he’d probably reject it right now. He was hurting, still coming to terms with the loss of everything he thought was important. He was having to rebalance, finding out the world did not run on the need for power and dizzying heights of control took time getting over. Nevertheless, you slowly slid off the bed kneeling just a few paces away from him, your hands clasped neatly in your lap as you gazed at him with sorrow filled eyes. The need to speak was driving you crazy, words filled your mouth before filtering out into nothingness not making it past the barrier of your lips. His eyes were closed, a pained expression pulled on his face and for a moment you thought he’d fallen asleep against the door when he shifted. His eyes opened and you rushed him, pulling him into an embrace that for once he didn’t fight. Neither of you spoke, taking the time to breathe each other in, accepting the first moment of comfort you had taken from each other since he had woken up in the medbay. He was warm and firm in your arms, alive and breathing as he wrapped an arm loosely over your back.

“Come to bed,” you whispered. “Please?” He had been sleeping in a chair no matter how many times you had offered him the bed he had refused to take it, until now. He stood almost swaying as you led him over, making him sit down so you could remove his boots and muddy trousers before letting him slip under the covers. You went to move away to let him rest alone when his hand shot out and grabbed you.

“Stay?” He asked softly and you tried not to smile. He moved over as you got in, not sure if he wanted to be touched or not but that uncertainty was banished when he pulled you tightly into his embrace and for the first time in a long time you felt contentment.

You awoke early again, feeling refreshed after a deep sleep because Hux hadn’t had a nightmare. You slipped out from under his arm and got dressed in some fresh clothes casting one last look at him you smiled before heading off to get some breakfast.

Poe was up early, sorting through the fresh supplies that had been brought back on the Falcon last night.

“Morning sweetheart, you look better.”

“I feel better,” you responded. “The trip was successful then?”

“We need to do another, even with people leaving to find their own way through the Galaxy there are still some arriving here because they have nowhere else to go. This lot won’t last us that long,” he commented.

“But it will do for now, you should be proud, General. You have created a safe haven for those who would end up wandering lost.” Poe sighed and you placed a comforting hand on his arm. “You know I will help if you need me to.”

“You already have your hands full,” he replied quietly.

“I am hoping my news will help him sort his priorities.” Poe’s eyes lit up and he grinned.

“A little bit of good news amongst the stress, how are you feeling? Here take some extra food,” he offered you.

“Poe I can’t, you have so many people to feed…”

“Would you just take it?” He growled, forcing more pouches into your arms. “I’ve got bottles of water as well…” you waited patiently as he retrieved a little crate and you placed it all in there, activating the hover mechanism on it.

“Thank you Poe.”

“Go go, I’m so busy,” he said, smirking, giving you a wink and making you laugh.

“Alright I’ll leave you to the very tedious task of counting!”

“Yes, thank you!” He called after you, picking up his datapad.

You had a little bounce to your step as you made your way all the way back to your hut, opening the door and guiding the crate in, you didn’t see Armitage sitting up at first. You closed the door and turned to give him a smile but the scene before made your blood run like ice in your veins.

“Armitage?” He was sitting on the edge of the bed running a hand over a blaster. “Where did you get that?” You asked quietly, panic licking its way through your body as he looked up at you. He looked so lost, his eyes were red and his pale skin blotchy, his red hair had lost its fire looking lank and dull as it slanted over one eye, his stubble was more pronounced today showing that he hadn’t attempted to shave.

“I just took it.” Your heart began to beat loudly, your pulse roaring in your ears, you wanted to call out for anyone but you didn’t know how he was going to react.

“What do you want with it?” You asked in hushed tones. He tapped it into his hand and you saw the safety was off, the panic heightened, thrumming through your body until it felt like all your hairs were standing on end.

“I didn’t know at first,” his voice was gravelly and tired. “But then I realised this could be it,” his shoulders rose and fell with a shuddery breath. “The answer to everyone’s suffering.”

“No one is suffering anymore,” you crouched down, slowly resting on your knees so you were on his level. “The war is o-over Armitage.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m still fighting?” He snarled. To your surprise he stood, the blaster gripped tightly in his hands and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You were losing him.

You watched him pace in the small living area growing more agitated by the second, mumbling more to himself than you. “I am suffering, I feel so useless, there is nothing to aim for, not goals to achieve. No order, no control, nothing to strategise, no one to fight, I feel myself going crazy…” he stopped and looked down the barrel of the blaster. Your breath stilled, an ache bloomed in your chest as the seconds slowed to a crawl. Thoughts of getting up and knocking it from his hand flashed through your mind but you knew you’d be too late. “This is the only answer I’ve found,” his eyes dragged to you. His brows rose for a moment in an expression of sorrow as he took in your tear stricken face. “I’m taking responsibility….” No! You wanted to scream but the sound got lodged in your throat when his finger squeezed the trigger. You closed your eyes expecting a light, a bang, the sound of him falling to the floor, anything. But there was only silence.

Your eyes flew open at the sound of the door smashing into the wall and Ben came in, his chest heaving like he’d been running, his hand outstretched as he held Armitage in an invisible cage, he wrenched the blaster out of Hux’s frozen grip and tossed it out of the hut.

“What are you doing?” Growled Hux and his eyes blazed fiercely at the force user.

“I came to stop you,” Ben huffed, still catching his breath.

“How did you know?” You flinched as Ben pointed at you but his gaze was still locked on the ex-general.

“I could feel her heart, breaking from across the encampment.” A gasp left you as strong arms wrapped around your terrified form and Poe hauled you off the floor, also out of breath.

“I’m sorry sweetheart we came as fast as we could,” he breathed into your ear.

“Just let me go with dignity!” Hux glared at Ben as he snarled through gritted teeth.

“There is no dignity in this Armitage. You have someone who loves you, she wants you. Don’t throw that away, the chance of a life because the First Order no longer exists.”

“The First Order was my life! It was all I had!” Shouted Hux.

“And look what you have to replace it,” Ben snapped, gesturing at you clutched in Poe’s arms. “Don’t be a fool, don’t let your fathers ambitions rule even now. Because then it really all would have been for nothing. These people helping you would be for nothing.” Hux sagged to the floor with a grunt when Ben released him.

“Are you alright?” He asked angrily, turning his back to Hux. You nodded, shaking Poe off and rushing to your husband. You knelt next to his folded form, you wanted to reach out and touch him and you felt the frustration rise that you couldn’t touch him. Even though right now it was all he needed to remind himself he had you, he had reasons to live.

“You need to go. Now.”

“I’m not leaving you…” started Ben but you cut him off.

“Yes, you are. Go.” Poe tugged on the bigger man’s arm, his hazel eyes locked with yours for a moment before giving in and following the pilot outside. Your hands over your husbands shaking form but frustration made you move. Using all your might you pulled at him, making him sit up.

“Armitage!” You grabbed his face making him focus on you. His entire being quivering with pent up emotions ready to be released, his green eyes blown wide but they looked at you as he tried to keep himself together. “They’re gone, you can let go.” He sagged with relief against you, his face crumbling and you hugged him close as he buried his face into your shoulder.

“I can’t look at their faces anymore,” he whimpered. “All I see is what I’ve done, over and over again written in their eyes, in the words they say, how they act…all I see is the hurt that’s been caused, all because of me.” You held him close as he silently sobbed into you, giving him the outlet he needed without a word.

“It’s not you, this doesn’t fall on you.” You shrugged him off your shoulder, making him focus on your face. “Promise me, promise me you won’t pull that shit again!” Your profanity made him raise his eyebrows in surprise even through the storm of his emotions. “I need you, we need you,” you stressed softly. “Armitage please,” you rested your forehead against his pulling him close to you. “You are loved and needed and I will say it until you believe it.”

“What if I never believe it?” He whispered.

“We’re family. I know you’re not used to that, you feel alone, I feel alone! Our home is gone, all I have is you. And I can’t…..I can’t lose that. Please don’t make me!” You covered your face with both hands trying to stifle the sobs that shook your body. The feeling of utter hopelessness wrapped it’s fateful arms around you dragging you down into the dark abyss you’d been holding at bay for so long. You wanted to ask him why he wasn’t letting you in, to let you help him but you knew it was pointless. You went to get up, to move away or leave, just to distance yourself but your eyes flew open when you felt his fingers curl around your wet hands. He pulled them down from your face, his gaze searching yours, his expression sad as his mouth opened.

“You are my home,” he whispered.

“Armitage…”

“You want me to talk, I’m talking.” You hiccuped a breath at his firm tone, an echo of the man he used to be finally shining through, but he was right. You’d spent all the time trying to get him to open up. You should listen to him now. He reached for your cheek, his long fingers gently wiping your tears away. “Starkiller, The Finalizer, Arkanis, none of them ever felt like home after I met you. Took me so long to see it,” he murmured. “To see how you helped me face myself and now,” his gaze flicked down to your stomach. “Now you are making me see something I never thought I’d see. How can I be a parent?” You saw the uncertainty in his gaze, the way his brows tried to pull down for a moment. “What if…what if I….become like him?”

“You could never!” You reached for him, bringing him closer until his forehead pressed into yours. “I know you’re scared, don’t make that face, you are allowed to be. I am. I’m scared.” You bit your lip as you chose your next words. “It feels easier to walk away but it’s not,” you said firmly, threading your hands into his hair. “If we face this together we can do it, Armitage. We can get each other through this.”

#general hux x female reader #armitage hux x female reader #echoes of the heart #general hux x you #general hux x reader #armitage hux x you #armitage hux x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #my writing #mylifeisactuallyamess #cw: suicidal thoughts

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Good Omens one-shot - “Wrong Address” (Rated NC17)

Summary: Since Aziraphale won't let his demon come over during lockdown, Crowley decides to send him a special gift. It doesn't work out quite the way he planned...

... but that might turn out to be an unexpected blessing. (1655 words)

Read on AO3.

"Anthony J Crowley! Did you send me a care package?"

"Yes, indeedy, angel," Crowley admits, a smug smile tugging his lips up at the corners. He reclines in his throne, phone pressed to his ear, staring out his windows in the direction of his angel's shop, beaming at the smile in Aziraphale's voice.

"What a wonderful surprise! This has positively made my day! Whatever made you think of it?"

"Well, when you mentioned finding those cookbooks in your shop, you sounded so damned happy, I wanted to see if I could top it even if you won't let me come over so I can watch you eat your tasty creations... " Crowley mutters on the finish, still bitter at his angel's reluctance to bend the rules, especially since those rules shouldn't apply to them. There's no way either of them can get sick! "So when I saw this online, I thought it could be a way for me to be a part of your culinary journey."

"How very thoughtful of you," Aziraphale says apologetically. He's not trying to hurt Crowley. He would love nothing more than to have him slither over and share a crumpet or two.

But angels assigned to Earth stations are meant to be role models. What he does, he does for appearance's sake.

He must lead by example.

Though, to be honest, it's quite annoying being penned in like this for the good of mankind when humans can't see fit to sit on their arses for a few months until this whole virus bother blows over.

"So... " Crowley nudges as an expectant silence falls between them, each waiting for the other's next move.

"Indeed! Don't keep me in suspense!" Aziraphale says, rubbing his palms together. "What's inside?"

Crowley rolls his eyes. Like he's going to set up this whole surprise and then just spill the beans! "You won't know until you open it, will you?"

"Oh! You want me to open it now then? With you on the phone?"

"That's wot I was hoping. I want to hear your reaction. You know, since I can't be there and all."

"Okay. Give me a moment. I need to find a letter opener or a box cutter or... or something... "

Crowley sinks further into his seat, closes his eyes, and makes himself comfortable. Knowing Aziraphale and his unique organizational system, this could take a while. But listening to his angel hum as he roots through his desk drawers relaxes him. Crowley finds himself drifting off, lulled by the sounds of Aziraphale simply being Aziraphale. But he can't let himself get too cozy. It would be a shame if he knocked out and missed Aziraphale digging into his gift.

Crowley considers snapping his fingers and giving his angel a hand with the packing tape when he hears a dull pop! and a triumphant, "Success!" Unpacking noises follow - the crumpling of paper wrap being pulled apart, amplified through Crowley's phone, then a giggle that falls somewhere between nervousness and confusion. "Oh! Uh... "

Crowley sits up straight, peering into the distance as if he could see what Aziraphale sees from Mayfair if he tries hard enough. "Wot? Wot's going on?"

"I... I don't know how you intend on me making a meal with what's in this box. Or are you punishing me because I won't let you come over? That would be unnecessarily hurtful, even for a demon."

"Why?" Crowley springs up and stalks over to the glass, addressing the greying treetops below. "Wot'sss in the box?"

"Don't you know?" Aziraphale teases when he starts to suspect this as an honest mishap and not a ploy by his demon.

"Obviousssly I don't!"

"Let's sort through the contents together then, shall we?" Aziraphale reaches into the box, pulling out items one by one. "We have here a pair of silky black knickers. I think these would suit you more than me, my dear."

"You think so?" Crowley asks, annoyance replaced in an instant by intrigue over his angel's impression of him.

"Oh, yes. I think they'd be most flattering on you. And here we have something called a Ben Wa ball, some... " Aziraphale clears his throat before he owns up to the next one "... anal beads... "

Crowley snickers, more at Aziraphale's tight tone than the item itself.

"... a Do Not Disturb sign with an illustration on it that’s anything but subtle, and an object I can only describe as a gel-filled self-pleasuring device. Oh... this one needs refrigeration."

Crowley's mouth goes dry, his imagination running wild with that description, trying to conjure a vision in his head of what such a thing might look like, and where it would go, especially cold. He presses a hot palm to the glass and shivers involuntarily. "Oh my... "

"You sound surprised. Is this not what you ordered, dear?"

"No!" Crowley squeaks. Aziraphale stifles a chuckle when his voice cracks. "No, I didn't," Crowley repeats, fighting for composure while the rest of him itches to bust through the window, unfurl his wings, and fly to his angel.

He could probably make it to him before the first splinter of glass hits the pavement.

But no.

Boundaries.

Aziraphale's determination to not have Crowley over is about more than protocol. Crowley knows this. Angel set up boundaries. And even though his reasons for doing so are ludicrous, Crowley needs to respect them. "Is there a company name on the box?"

"Let me check." Aziraphale mumbles as he searches the package for a name. "This end up, handle with care... here it is! Tantalize Me - the premium adult date night mystery box. Ooo! That sounds interesting! Do you think there could be a murder to sort out in all of this?"

"I don't think that's what they mean by mystery, angel," Crowley says, hearing Aziraphale dive back into the box.

"A-ha! I think I've found the problem."

"And that is... ?"

"I'm afraid this package was meant to go to another bookshop on my same block. It's entirely possible they may have my box."

"I think you learned some information about your competition that you maybe didn't want to know."

"Yes, I suppose I did."

Crowley sighs. "But now I feel like a heel."

"Why is that?"

"I promised you a meal and I didn't deliver."

"Pun intended?" Aziraphale asks with a snort.

"Not," Crowley replies, less than amused.

"I don't think you can be blamed for a mix-up with the post, my dear."

"Bet I can... " Crowley says, thoughts shuffling back to that awful Horizon IT scandal he lazily threw together that went, unfortunately, better than he'd planned.

"There is one thing to eat in here."

"Really?" Crowley grumbles, turning away from the glass and leaning his back against it, an intense chill seeping through his clothes and into his skin, its sting matching his rapidly fouling mood. "What's that?"

"A tube of personal lubricant. And it's chocolate flavored!" Crowley's eyes widen when he hears the telltale snap of a flip-top lid opening, followed by a wet squelch. "Mmm. It's not half bad."

"Are you actually eating that?" Crowley asks breathlessly.

"Only a little. I licked it off my finger."

Crowley fumbles his phone, catching it before it crashes to the floor. "A---Aziraphale... "

"Listen to this! It says on the label that it tingles with body heat. Isn't that interesting?"

Crowley's eyelids flutter shut and he swallows hard, his entire body becoming a solid, throbbing ache. Aziraphale doesn't have body heat. Not all that much. But as a demon, Crowley is full of Hellfire. What would it feel like to have his angel spread that lube on him, press his body against him with his skin tingling like crazy? Jesus Christ! "Aziraphale... "

"Whatever is the matter, my dear?"

"Nothing. Except now I think you're punishing me."

"Carl and Tish Lloyd are probably expecting their package. They must have some big plans. I should send it on its way," Aziraphale suggests with infuriating rationale. "Shouldn't I?"

"Th---that wouldn't be good form!" a desperate Crowley argues. "You've already opened it! And sampled it! You can't give it to them in that condition!"

"That is true. That wouldn't be very neighborly. But what to do with it? That's the question... " Aziraphale wonders while Crowley dies inside, a moan trapped in his throat struggling to break free every time he thinks about Aziraphale licking chocolate-flavored lube off his fingers. "Did you want to... uh... try a bit? Of the chocolate goo, I mean?"

"Are you going to ship it over?"

"I guess I could do that," Aziraphale muses. "But who's to say it will get there? What with the post office making such tragic errors. No. I think there's only one way we can ensure that you get your fair share."

Crowley's brow furrows, his brain cluttered with mixed signals. "Are you asking me... ? Can I come over?"

"I have some conditions."

"Name them," Crowley says, prepared to bolt the second Aziraphale gives him the go-ahead.

"You can come over only if you can make it here without being seen. No giving the humans irresponsible ideas. I know that's your job, but I can't be a party to that. Deal?"

"Deal." A snap of his fingers and a second later, Crowley snatches the tube of lubricant out of Aziraphale's hand. He takes Aziraphale's right wrist gingerly in his grasp, squeezes a dollop of lube on it, then licks it slowly off, amber eyes locking on his angel's blue gaze. Aziraphale's whole body shudders from a single swipe of his tongue, Crowley's tastebuds tingling on the finish. He licks his lips, depositing a thin layer of the lube, which fires across his skin like firecrackers. He sees his angel tremble, sees the white glow of lust in his eyes, and he grins.

Crowley is about to enjoy the best meal of his life.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #ineffable lovers #azirapahle #crowley #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

Text

Akio

CW: References to the death of a friend, grief, suicide, murder

Sequel to Found Out and this past flashback to Oliver Branch

The sound of thin, breaded pork cutlets frying in the big pan on the stove fills the air, and Akio breathes in the familiar smell where he lays on his back on his parents’ gigantic cream-colored sectional couch, stretched out across the whole length of it on one side. Not that he’s all that tall to take up all that much space, really, but what matters is that he would definitely have fallen asleep by now if it weren’t for holding his phone up over his face.

It fell on him, once, and he’s pretty sure no one noticed. Emi, his younger sister, hasn’t even looked up once from her own phone, except once to triumphantly announce that no one caught her and they all voted someone else off the ship. Then she looked back down and never looked back up.

Akio frowns, looking at his own screen, tapping his thumbs as he writes out an answer to the person messaging him. “Hey, Mom?”

“Yes?” His mother looks up from cooking, her eyes moving through the big open space right to him. They’d knocked down all the walls when they bought the house, open-concept-something-something. Akio didn’t care, but it was apparently deeply important to his parents. Something about family togetherness.

“You remember Tristan Higgs, right?”

Aimi pauses, tucks a bit of her short black hair behind one ear to get it out of her eyes as she flips the pork cutlets on by one, to get the other side nicely browned, too. The sizzling ratchets up in volume and then back down again. Next to her sits four bowls already filled with rice, and the table already has the vegetables ready to go. “Of course, honey. Oh, the anniversary’s coming up, isn’t it? I have an alarm set on my phone… did you want to go to the cemetery next week to see Ronnie and Paul?”

“Ew, no creepy graveyards for me, thanks,” Emi says, eyes still glued to her phone.

“We wouldn’t take you anyway,” Akio says, rolling his eyes. “You don’t even remember Tris or his parents.”

“I do, too. I was like seven. He was really nice. Mrs. Higgs was really nice, too. Mr. Higgs was weird.”

“Wow, what a stellar eulogy that was, Emi. I can see why you want to be a writer when you grow up. The description there was just incredible.”

“Oh, go drive into a lake,” Emi says, without any particular rancor in her voice.

“If you’re going to fight, I’m going to send you two upstairs so I at least don’t have to listen to it,” Aimi says, moving the cutlets to rest on a paper plate with paper towels lining it while she heats mirin, soy sauce, and… some other stuff in a different pan. Honestly, Akio has no idea exactly how katsudon happens, all he cares about is that it’s the perfect after-practice food and he is starving.

Except he keeps getting distracted by this guy on Insta. “Anyway, Mom, um, about Tris. So… yeah, I do want to go out and see his parents next week, yeah, but-... there’s this guy on Instagram who keeps asking about him. That’s… that’s weird, right?”

Aimi looks up, blinking. “Asking about Tristan? What is he asking?”

“Just like… he says he saw the video I put up on youtube, and he’s asking, like… what was his birthday, and did he like fried chicken, was he autistic, and… did he like musical soundtracks. This is weird stuff to ask a total stranger, right?”

“A little.” Aimi pauses while she watches the pan, and then pours a small bowl with beaten eggs into it, watching them spread and start to lighten to a puffy yellow as it cooked in the already-boiling liquid mixture. “Did you ask why he wants to know?”

“I did, but he just said he’s doing some research or something. But, like… research on what?” Akio taps on the guy’s little profile photo, bringing the profile itself up. “His username is benthebadmagician. Okay that’s-... that’s kind of cute.”

Aimi’s voice turns sly. “Is this Ben cute?”

“Ugh, gross, Mom. That’s not-... I mean he’s kind of-... that’s not important.”

“Ooooh, eyeballin’ the insta-hotties,” Emi singsongs. “Aki’s gettin’ desperate. Just get a freaking dating app like everyone else.”

“Already on it, Emi.”

“Then why exactly don’t you get any dates? Oh, right.” Emi sits forward and grins. “I forgot about your personality.”

Akio throws a throw pillow at her and the big orange poof misses by a mile. Emi laughs, getting to her feet and wandering over to the fridge, pulling a can of soda out and popping the top. “Aren’t you an athlete, how the hell did you miss that?”

“Language,” Aimi warns, waving a spoon at her daughter. She gently places the cutlets into the cooking eggs to finish up. “No swearing under my roof, young lady.”

“Aki swears all the time!”

“Aki is twenty-four years old,” Aimi says, almost primly. “And he doesn’t swear where I can hear him.”

“What, so it doesn’t count if you don’t hear him?”

“Of course it doesn’t, how do I know if I don’t hear him?”

Akio smiles, faintly, but he’s scrolling through the Ben guy’s instagram feed now. Just looking at the grid of squares, photos and videos. Lots of coffees and food, people laughing, photos of a girl with really pretty hair. Photos of Ben the Bad Magician himself. Nerd, Akio thinks, but cute nerd - definitely nose-in-a-book type. Nice brown hair, nice smile.

“Oh look at that face,” Emi says, eyebrows raised. “Ben the Insta-Weirdo actually is cute huh?”

“Go eat slugs.” Akio keeps scrolling down and down, not sure what he’s looking for. Autism awareness banners - he checks those to learn the Ben guy’s got an autistic little brother, and his friend Christopher is autistic. There’s a couple slides, and he swipes his finger to what he assumes is a photo of the Ben guy with the little brother, who looks almost exactly like him, just a whole bunch younger and looking, unsmiling, off to one side while Ben grins at the camera.

Akio doesn’t bother checking the last slide - it’s probably just whoever the Chris guy is. He backs back out to the grid of thumbnails. Maybe he just picked up on the stuff Tris always did when he was excited, and got curious? Maybe his little brother liked the video? Akio’s gotten a couple comments from people saying they liked seeing an autistic kid just be fucking happy in public without getting shit on for it, and that used to be a big deal for Mrs. Higgs, too...

The question about musicals keeps snagging at him. Tris loved musicals, went through cycles with them. He and Akio had a whole routine done to a song in Hairspray, just for fun, when Tris was obsessed with that for a while. And then they were going to do the Time Warp as a routine once...

Akio keeps scrolling, only vaguely aware of his sister and mother talking, and Emi leaving the room to go call their dad in for dinner.

Emi stops in the doorway and turns back. “Don’t forget to get his phone number, Aki. You can definitely trust strangers on the internet creepily interested in your dead best friend, right?”

Akio looks up, then, blinking at her. “Emi, that’s-...”

She seems to catch herself, and gives him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Aki. That got bitchy.”

“Language,” Aimi reminds her. “But I appreciate you apologizing. Does anyone even hear me say to use nice language any longer?”

“No,” Akio and Emi say in unison, and then Emi disappears down the hallway, bellowing for their father in her loudest voice even though she could easily walk up the stairs and not have to yell at all.

Akio looks at his mother and deadpans, “Your daughter is really weird.”

Aimi matches him tone for tone. “Your sister is weirder.”

She places the cutlets on top of the rice bowls with the egg just underneath the meat, carrying them one by one to the table, setting them each down in their place, and then grabs her glass of wine, patiently waiting for her while she cooked. She pads on bare feet across the hardwood floor over to the pale white rug, soft as down underfoot, and stands next to where Akio is laying down. “Are you looking at the profile?”

“I am, yeah. I don’t know what I’m looking for, really, just… hey, wait.” Akio stops at the thumbnail preview for a video, tapping to open it up. It starts with a blue-haired boy smiling, and his smile hits Akio all odd, makes his throat tighten and his heart start to race. The boy in the video puts up a finger and backs up, glances over his shoulder at a TV screen behind him playing the tango scene from Rent.

Akio blinks as the boy holds out a hand and a girl with really gorgeous long wavy hair takes it, the two of them moving effortlessly into a perfect mimicry of the dance on screen. The room they’re in is mostly empty, furniture shoved to the walls to turn what looks like some kind of lobby into a dancing space.

“Wow, that kid can really dance,” Akio murmurs, but the smile catches him, tugs at the back of his mind. The blue-haired boy can’t keep the grin off his face, it has to hurt to smile so big for so long, and the last person Akio thought that about was…

“You got this, Chris!” Someone calls from offscreen, and for a second Akio hears Tris and catches his breath, but no, no, they said Chris. Someone else claps for Mari - that must be the girl, maybe.

They continue to dance, and Akio can’t tear his eyes away. “Mom? Do you see this?”

Aimi looks up from straightening some magazines on the coffee table and leans over, sipping her wine absently. “See what, honey?”

“Look,” Akio whispers. His throat is closing up, he can’t manage anything more than that.

The two do a spin, and then burst out laughing, and the Chris boy stands back up straight, throwing his arms up like he’s just hit a perfect landing-

“Oh my god,” Aimi says next to him, her own voice strangled and choked, and Akio feels his mother’s hand suddenly clutch onto his shoulder. “Aki, is-”

“He’s dead,” Akio whispers. “He killed himself after his parents-... he’s dead, Mom.”

The Chris boy looks right at whoever was filming the video, shoots them a brilliant, shining smile, and then starts rocking, his hands moving through the air and twisting at the wrists, bouncing up and down on his toes.

Akio’s breath is shuddering in and out, and his heart pounds, trying to break out of his chest. “He’s-... Mom, he’s dead.”

“His aunt had him cremated,” Aimi says, but her lips are barely moving and the wineglass is loos in her fingers. “After they found him. She didn’t want a funeral.”

“He’s dead,” Akio repeats, thinking of the smile, the movements, the shy way he ducks his head at the end when people clap him on the back. He backs up to the wall again, keeps scrolling, looks for more pictures of the blue hair. He opens every single one he can find, searching for something, some sign that will tell him he’s not seeing what he knows he’s seeing. “His aunt took his phone away after like three months and then he was dead a month later, wasn’t he?”

There’s a pause.

“Mom? Mom, didn’t he kill himself like four months after they died? Didn’t he?” Akio’s voice sounds weak and is getting weaker. “Mom, please-... please answer me, didn’t he-”

“He left a note,” Aimi whispers. “His aunt-... she said he left a note, that he couldn’t live without them. It’s-... I never thought-... I never thought to question her, Aki, I never-... she was Ronnie’s family...”

He clicks another video.

“You’re a fucking mess, Christopher,” The girl from the dance video says, sitting in a tank tops and shorts on the edge of a bathtub. “Letting your roots grow out like that. But don’t you worry, Madam Mari is here to help!”

“Please don’t, don’t don’t-don’t call yourself Madam. Please?” A voice says, uneasily, and the blue-haired boy moves into the screen. “For, for, for me?”

“Yeah, no problem, Chris. Why’d you let it grow out so bad, anyway?”

His hair’s not blue in this one - or it is, but only about half of it. Pale and faded, but the top of his hair has grown back in for about three inches, and it’s coppery strawberry blond. He turns to the camera and gives a sheepish smile. “I, I got distracted and for, um, forgot.”

Aimi’s wineglass slips from her fingers, hits the floor, sprays wine like blood across the pristine white rug.

Neither of them notices.

“I… I cried for him for like a year straight,” Akio chokes out, and he finds more pictures, more videos, more more more. He opens them up and then backs out of them again, unable to stop himself. Every photo shows him some shard of the mirror reflection of a dead boy all grown up - a sparkle of green eyes, happy motions in the background of a video, more of that familiar sunny smile. “I kept-... I kept all the stuff he left in my room, I saved all h-his text messages from before he d, disappeared, I-”

“This can’t be him,” Aimi says in a fierce whisper. “It can’t be, Aki, it can’t.”

Akio taps on another video.

The boy ties his long blue hair back in it, glancing sidelong at the camera, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “And, and, and you’ll, um, you’ll buy the, the, the-the-the nachos?”

“If you can still do it? Yeah, absolutely. Seeing that’s worth a plate of nachos to me. I’ll even buy you those fucking margaritas you like.”

“Chris just likes the sugar,” Someone else says, and Chris sticks his tongue out at them.

He takes a few steps back, rolling his shoulders, shaking out his arms.

Akio tells himself that if the Chris on the screen doesn’t nail this, it can’t be him, it can’t be him at all.

The boy puts his hands up, then down at his sides, back bowed briefly in a motion Akio knows too, too well, knows better than he knows breathing. The boy takes off across the grass without hesitation and-

Akio and Aimi both exhale.

-he jumps forward, dips at the waist, catches himself on his hands and does a perfect set of three backflips across a big grassy lawn, stumbling the landing but his feet pop right back into final position, and he throws his arms up with his chin lifted, and someone offscreen shouts, “Perfect Ten, Stanton!”

The boy laughs, shakes his head, says, “I’d be, be, be dinged for the, um, the landing, but-... but, but good, right? I did good? Laken?”

Someone with the coolest hair Akio has seen steps into the screen and they hug, kiss briefly, and then Chris apparently can’t handle the happy emotions because he backs away to start bouncing up and down, grinning.

He looks back at the camera. “Want to see me, me, me... me do it again?”

“He’s not dead,” Aimi says, and her voice sounds like someone closed their hands around her throat. “Oh, Ronnie-”

“What the fuck happened to Tristan fucking Higgs?” Akio’s voice is barely audible over the sound of the video starting over. “He’s… he’s not dead. He’s not dead, Mom, he’s not-... he’s not dead, Mom, he’s not dead and he’s right-... that the university, right? He’s not dead, and he’s, has he-... has he been here the whole fucking time?”

His mother doesn’t chide him for language this time. Her hand tightens on Akio’s shoulder as red wine soaks the rug beneath her feet and she whispers, “Give that Ben boy your number. Tell him to call you.”

Her fingernails ache where they dig into his skin through his shirt.

“Now.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @orchidscript

#chris the strawberry blond romantic #akio nakamura #hidden whumpee #found whumpee #trauma recovery #parental death mention #death mention #suicide mention #angst #bbu #box boy #box boy universe

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falllingstyles · 4 years ago

Text

Spreading you open is the only way of knowing you

Y/N isn’t quite ready to be with Harry the way he wants, resulting in many nights of unspoken words and sweaty bodies.

2.5k words // TW: mentions of sex and minor mistreatment (can’t exactly call it abuse but it wasn’t love or an appropriate relationship)

The cacophony of noise from the city below was no match for what had echoed from the walls of Y/N’s flat for the past twenty minutes. She was sure she would be quite embarrassed to see her neighbors the next morning with the noises that were undoubtedly loud enough to be heard through the walls. She was even more embarrassed by the thought of them not even being phased anymore. But her discomfort was worthwhile as they all kept their mouths closed.

The sight of Harry Styles frequenting her front door was something they saw quite often, and the shock of a massive celebrity leaving out the same door the next morning had worn off over the past few years. Meeting the year of his second to last tour with One Direction, the two had grown close behind closed green room doors and over long phone calls. But it wasn’t until he left the band that Y/N had noticed a change between them. It was quite crazy to think of how that change let them to their position now.

Y/N laid on her bed, basking in the shadow that Harry’s body created, watching his chest rise and fall as he slowly fell back onto the sheets. Taking one last moment to right himself, he ran his hands through his hair, despite it being far too obviously unkempt to pass as simply bedhead. After seeing his hair look so many different ways over the years, his hair after her hands ran through it was easily the best looking, but she’d never admit it.

He looked down at her, finding her stare within seconds as he always did. His eyes had become such a comfort, that it was hard to picture a night without them roaming over her body like they had done for years now.

His smile, ever-present, was different. His eyebrows slightly furrowed, Y/N could tell he was thinking hard. Struggling to find the words he was searching for, Y/N simply ran her hands along his bicep, hoping it would bring him some solace.

“I’ve, uh, got to go to Bath next week to work on something I wrote a little bit ago.”

Y/N perked up. “A song! You’ve written a song!”.

He giggled a bit, “Well it is my job.” The nerves washed over him again, the song he had written wasn't something he really wanted to have to explain to her. The inspiration coming after a difficult night they had spent together while on a break from his first tour. “But, me and some guys found a great studio there and I think it’d be nice to hash it out with them.”

Y/N propped he head up now, closer to Harry’s lips than he thought he could handle. “For a second album?” She whispered, trying to hide her excitement at the possibility.

Trying his best to conceal the truth - behind both the prospect of a second album or the fact that it was entirely thanks to her - but ultimately failing, Harry nodded. Y/N didn’t even bother to cover herself up, leaping from her position under the sheets to straddle Harry, whispering about her excitement.

He lifted her off his torso and more onto his chest, with the anterior motive of not being able to handle another round of her body atop his waist, and basked in her excitement.

“That’s wonderful Harry, I'm so happy for you. How fun! A new album, more pretty suits, more touring.”

“Maybe you’ll come along for more of it this time”. He asked apprehensive, not being able to muster the courage to look into her eyes.

Y/N moved further from his body, letting out a small laugh. “Me?”

“Me?”

It was obviously not the response he was expecting to hear, such was evident in his rapidly falling smile.

“Who else?” He asked slowly.

“A real date?”, she asked.

“Yeah,” He said, his confidence from only a few moments earlier almost completely gone, “At the place Ben was telling us about.”

“That restaurant is always jam-packed with people, I don’t think-”.

“We don’t have to go to that restaurant, there’s a nice trail-”.

“A trail? Harry, I’m not quite sure I could...”

Fumbling over every word made the thoughts race through her head even faster. Not a single cohesive idea was around long enough before the fear of being seen shot it down. The cameras, the fans, the press. She could see the headlines now, ones calling her a slag and a gold digger, the posts making assumptions about her and her relationship with Harry. Comparing her to his past girlfriends, the girls with ultra-slim waists and perfect pouts.

“It’s alright we don’t have to do anything big, I just wanted to-.” He muttered whilst reaching out to caress her thigh. A nervous habit she noticed he had over the past two months since she met him.

“No, we can’t do anything.” She said louder, cutting him off again. Her breathing became heavier, and the feeling of his eyes on her was unbearable.

The ‘anything’ that he was referring to was a broad range, one in which they both were scared to breach the subject of. Admit that they had both thought of some sort of future together, in which all their worries melted away with a simple touch. A future full of late nights and hectic mornings, picking children up from school, eating a big dinner, and asking how their days went. A future that started with a date, and led to many many more.

After a long pause, filled only with the sound of their heavy breaths, he whispered; “You don’t want to go out on a date with me?

“I can’t”, Y/N choked out.

“You don’t want to be with me?” She could see the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“I do, I just can’t”. Just the same as she couldn’t tell him how deeply in love with him, that every beat of her heart was for him. She loved him, but what came with his heart wasn’t something she could carry.

“Nobody has to know, no one but our friends. I know you don’t like the paparazzi but-“

“What kind of relationship would that be! We just fuck in private and pretend we don’t know each other in public?”

Funnily enough, it was exactly what they ended up doing. When you researched ‘Y/N L/N’ online all that came up was her name and photo from the ‘about us’ page of the production company she worked for, just as she liked it.

If you really looked hard enough in the foreground of a few photos of Harry taken at restaurants or beaches you could spot her, but her face among their sea of friends wasn’t one worth recognizing. Despite Harry saying otherwise. He didn’t often pay attention to the people who called themselves fans of his when they picked apart the photos transpiring from invasive cameras with too bright flashes. But when some would pick up on a glance between the two of them, a grappling of hands, or a stolen smile he couldn’t help but dwell on it. He understood what simply being seen with him brought upon her, but is he too optimistic for thinking she’d ever be willing to endure it for him?

It was easy for Y/N to ignore the fact that their relationship, or whatever it was called, had become exactly what she didn’t want it to be. The moments in which she would look at him and wonder what it is they were doing would end as his lips would be on hers in an instant.

It wasn’t that they didn’t have anything else to do, they spent a very long time as nothing more than friends and they undoubtedly had fun. Being able to wander the halls of arenas, gorging on expensive foods in restaurant back rooms, and jumping off yachts. Until things became - complicated - they never doubted their friendship. There were no secrets that they hadn’t whispered to each other under the cover of a starry night. Or so they thought.

Y/N couldn’t believe what they had done, not that she could bring herself to fully regret it, but having sex with her best friend for the past three months - even after she turned him down - was something she could never have imagined. She had sat at his kitchen island many times beforehand, but never after having just been underneath him. She watched as he meticulously placed the cheese for his quesadilla at the stove in front of her. He had insisted he make them a small meal after she had mentioned hardly eating much of a dinner.

Harry had always taken very good care of her, but this was different. He always paid for meals no matter Y/Ns resistance, invited her to parties with his hot shot friends, and gave her gifts she never felt she fully deserved. But this wasn’t something she had ever really had before, this realization being so profound that she told him. He grinned, now focusing on chopping the onions. The sizzling in the pan filled the kitchen, filling the void of silence that Y/N was debating breaking.

“Ryan was never so … gentle with me”.

The sizzling continued, but Harry paused. After Ryan had broken up with Y/N she had spent the proceeding two weeks at his flat watching shitty TV and crying into his shirts.

“Ryan wouldn't have made you a meal…. after?” Harry asked, not daring to breach the subject of what they had just done.

“I mean, sometimes he would but I’m talking about … when we…” Y/N felt like a child, she couldn’t say it. Couldn’t say a stupid word. Harry’s head whipped to her, an unrecognizable expression on his face. “He didn’t like … do anything” referring to one of her worst fears “but … sometimes I wasn’t able to tell him to loosen his grip or slow down when I needed him to.”

Harry had done everything she had told him to. When she asked him to change positions, he obliged without a second thought. Telling him where to put his hands, what she liked, and how fast to go. But not only could she feel his consideration with every stroke, but something else as well. Something that they shied away from at every second except for in bed.

He didn’t expect her to laugh at his question, after having spent so many nights hyping himself up to ask it. Trying to remind himself that Y/N was his friend and that he would take a question like that seriously (because she’s always taken his other serious questions with the reaction he’s hoped for in the past). He looked into her eyes, a pair that he thought of in the moments before he fell asleep. She quickly realized the seriousness in his face and moved a bit further across the bed. Despite not being able to make it far considering the mass of pillows along the edge.

Harry wanted nothing more than to reach out to her, but it was obvious at this point, six years into their friendship and three years into whatever it was they were doing now, that there was no point. Not unless she was underneath him could he evoke the reactions he wanted from her. The careless smiles of absolute bliss were like a secret he could only be privy to at night.

“I… I’m sorry Harry, you know that I ca-“

“You can't do what!? Y/N? You can’t…”

Y/N’s suddenly felt every inch of her body that was touching Harry’s, his torso underneath her, her feet at his thighs. Every inch burned. The affection that had just been pouring out of her, both emotionally and physically to both their delights, had suddenly run dry. There was nothing but unsaid words and rumpled sheets now, the passion long gone.

Y/N could never tell if what they had been doing for months was ruining their friendship, or that their friendship ended the second that he leaned in and kissed her that night in New York all those years ago.

Y/N could never understand how someone could ever say that the magic to being in New York City could ever be lost. She had lived in her apartment for a few months now, and it was easy to say that she loved it. A space to herself, if you ignored her three roommates of course. It was only temporary of course, being needed back in London in six months, but there was no way she was going to sit idly by and let those six months slip away.

Making her extra grateful to have Harry come visit. Y/N had fixed the creases on her comforter at least nine times before she received his text telling her he was on her way up. Sprinting past her roommate's doors and into their well-decorated foyer she stood excitedly waiting for him.

The second Harry stepped in before he even got a chance to look around - there was Y/N running toward him - she had a hard blazing look in her face as she threw her arms around him. And without thinking, without planning it, without worrying about the fact that the roommates he had heard plenty about were watching, Harry bent down and kissed her. After several long moments, or it might have been half an hour (or possibly several sunlit days) they broke apart.

The grin that had been on both of their faces only moments before was still plastered on their faces but now covered with cherry red lipstick. Lipstick that Y/N rushed to wipe off Harry’s soft lips as she slowed her breathing to avoid the person attached to the footsteps that were steadily growing louder.

But with each kiss, they communicated just what they couldn’t say out of bed. The words that they could hardly even dare to think, let alone say out loud. So when it came to conversations in the space they usually used for sex, it became difficult. Leading them to one of their two usual answers. Have sex, and if they already did, have sex again, but ultimately to leave and pretend like it hardly ever happened.

So, when Harry watched Y/N slowly crawl off the side of the bed, he could hardly force words to come out. Only being able to push a final “Why can’t you? Y/N? please.”

The tension grew stronger with each article of clothing Y/N put back on. She took her time meticulously fixing the hem of her shorts to ponder his question. Why? Why couldn’t she? But, she was already two steps from the door. Leaving the room that fostered the only space Harry and Y/N would truly allow themselves to be open.

I’ve never written for Harry before so go easy on me please! I really do like this though, it was a lot of fun!

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

Grow As We Go (Rosnali) - Athena2

Summary: Denali and Rosé face some ups and downs as they wait for their baby to be born.

A/N: This is another idea that came into my head and just had to be written. It’s pretty much all fluff, and I really hope you enjoy! Please leave some feedback if you like, I really appreciate it! Thank you to Writ for beta-ing!

Title from the song by Ben Platt.

Read on AO3.

“Can you look at it?” Rosé asks fearfully. “I just—maybe if you do it—“

“I got it.” Denali quickly rises off the bathroom floor and grabs the pregnancy test off the counter. She knows Rosé is hoping that if Denali looks at it first this time, it will bring good news. Not like the last two tries.

She resumes her position at Rosé’s side, leaning against the bathtub. Rosé’s legs are pulled up to her chest and she’s chewing her lip to shreds. Denali slides an arm around her shoulders.

“Whatever happens, it’s okay,” Denali says softly.

Rosé gives a stiff nod, squeezing her eyes shut so she can’t peek, and Denali turns the test over, the tiny thing like lead in her hand.

The world is silent except for Denali’s heart pounding in her chest. The air is thick with tension, the knowledge that once she reads what the test says, there’s no unreading it, no changing or undoing the information. Either Rosé is pregnant, or she’s not, and the whole world teeters on the edge of this stick. Denali doesn’t breathe as she stares at the test, trying to make sense of the pale blue lines—they really should’ve picked the test that just tells you if you’re pregnant or not—and matching it to the instructions on the box.

“Rosie,” she gasps, “Rosie, it’s positive!”

Green eyes fly open, not daring to hope just yet. “Are you sure? Should we do another?”

“I’m sure, baby.”

She opens her arms and pulls Rosé into them, everything full of hugs and kisses and excitement because they’re having a baby.

—

Rosé is really sick of starting each morning with her head in the toilet.

She always thought morning sickness was just something that popped up in pregnancy montages in movies, not something that would send her running to the bathroom every day, Denali trailing behind her to keep the hair off her face and rub her back.

Rosé groans as she releases her shaky grip on the sides of the toilet, leaning back and taking a glass of water from a worried Denali.

“Thank you.” Rosé sighs, grimacing at the bitter taste lingering in her mouth. “I’m sorry you have to start every day watching me puke my guts out.”

“Hey, we’re in this together, remember? A little vomit won’t scare me away.” Denali wipes sweat off Rosé’s forehead with a cold washcloth, and Rosé melts into the touch. “The doctor said the morning sickness should go away soon.”

“Fuck, I hope so.” She doesn’t want to complain, because she wanted this, knew she wanted to carry their baby. But she’s really sick of puking.

“I wish I could help you more,” Denali says wistfully. She keeps the washcloth in place, eyes scanning over Rosé’s face, searching for any signs of pain or anything wrong. The love Denali has for her warms Rosé’s heart, even if it’s a little strange to see her so cautious, so careful.

Denali’s no stranger to stress or anxiety or intense focus, to long hours perfecting everything she does. But she also has no trouble climbing on a pile of books, which are in turn piled on top of a chair, to change a lightbulb, or walking around with a self-bandaged broken toe, because ‘I’m at three months without an urgent care visit, Rosie, and why break the streak?’ She’s the reason their medicine cabinet is as well-stocked as a hospital supply closet, the reason ‘we can’t have nice things, Denali,’ after deciding that turning cartwheels was a valid way to test the size of their kitchen and knocking over a row of wine glasses.

Rosé’s the one who reaches for her soup recipe when Denali so much as sniffles, the one who insists on all the urgent care visits, just to be safe. A kind of nervous care she always has for Denali even if she herself is guilty of going to work when she should take a sick day, never wanting anything to stop her. The pregnancy has changed things, and now Denali takes notes at Rosé’s doctor’s appointments and looks at her in worry anytime Rosé has a cramp. Rosé’s just going to let herself be cared for, because there’s no one else she’d rather have care for her.

Rosé manages a smile, squeezing Denali’s hand. “You do help me. So, so much, Denali. Seriously, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’m just being dramatic.”

Denali opens her mouth in mock surprise. “You being dramatic? I never would have guessed!”

Rosé swats at her gently.

“Really, though, you deserve to be dramatic. I mean, you’re carrying a baby, Rosie. Like, a little human.”

It feels special, to hear it like that. It’s been frustrating for Rosé to move slower than she normally does, to back out of their normal weekend shopping trips because she’s just so tired. Frustrating to feel so useless, barely able to help Denali make dinner without having to go to the bathroom every five minutes or take a break because her legs are sore. Part of her wants to push through, do the things she normally does. But she’s learning to give in, to let herself rest while Denali dotes on her, because it’s not just her anymore. She has a little human inside her.

Their little human.

“I love you,” Rosé says.

“I love you too.”

—

Rosé surveys the walls of the nursery, plotting out the arrangements for the jungle animal decals. Denali had painted the walls a soft pastel yellow last week while Rosé watched, because Denali was afraid of her being around the fumes. ‘I’m not gonna huff the paint, Denali, I just want to help,’ Rosé had insisted, because it wasn’t fair to make Denali do all the work, but she gave in and sat in the hallway without much of a fight. She’s always been cautious, and she can’t let anything happen to the baby.

Even if they’re getting the nursery ready, it still feels a little surreal, a little hard to believe that in a few more months, there’ll be a baby to fill it. Her belly is starting to grow, and she has to lean over it to kiss Denali on the cheek.

“We’re really doing this,” she whispers. There were moments after the negative tests when she thought they’d never get here, that the spare bedroom would forever be a spare bedroom, home to odds and ends and the occasional house guest. But now it’s really happening, and Rosé rests a hand on her stomach for proof.

“I know.” Denali leans her head on Rosé’s shoulder, and they stand there together, looking at the walls and picturing everything that will happen in this room. They’ll read to their baby here every night, each trying to outdo the other with ridiculous voices for the characters. They’ll play in here together, sprawled out on the rug laughing with joy. They’ll—

“Guess who’s here, bitches!” Jan’s voice booms down the hall, killing the moment.

The baby kicks, and Rosé rubs her stomach in sympathy. “Poor thing, not even born yet and Jan’s already giving you a headache.”

Denali thought it would be fun to invite their friends to help, but as Jan, Lagoona, Olivia, Utica, Symone, and Kahmora pack themselves into the nursery, the real fun is going to be seeing how many people they can possibly fit in here.

Olivia asks about a hundred questions; Utica gives long-winded answers to all of said questions; Jan and Lagoona argue about turning screws clockwise as they assemble the crib, the argument reaching its peak when Lagoona storms out of the room and comes back with the clock off the hallway wall to prove her point; Kahmora takes an hour to find a spot for one decal; and Symone is the only one who actually gets anything done, artfully arranging books and stuffed animals in a magazine-worthy spread.

When everyone finally leaves, the hall clock replaced and slightly crooked, Rosé and Denali sink to the floor of their baby’s room and let themselves dream.

—

Rosé’s sisters took their baby shower planning very seriously, and Denali’s eyes keep bouncing around the place, taking in the decorations and balloons and perfect dessert table with perfect pastel cupcakes and perfect pastel macaroons. They even got a freaking chocolate fountain.

Guests rush up to them, nearly trampling Denali in their hurry to kiss and hug Rosé and ask her all about the baby. Denali hangs off to the side, watching and hating the way everyone rubs their hand over Rosé’s baby bump without even asking her. Rosé would say yes anyway—she’s always craving touch and physical affection—but Denali still wishes they would ask. Wishes they wouldn’t treat Rosé like some novelty act, passing her around to each other to touch and commenting on how well she looks at this stage, like it’s any of their business, like her first priority should be how good she looks while seven months pregnant. Denali knows they mean well, but she hates it. And she hates how in public, people’s eyes go right to Rosé and blow past Denali, how often they ask Rosé where her husband is. Like Denali isn’t even there. Like the baby is Rosé’s only. She’s not jealous, not at all—especially not when every part of Rosé’s body aches, when her moods go up and down, when she’s exhausted but struggles to sleep. And Rosé is pregnant, after all—she deserves to have people fussing and fawning over her. But it’s like people don’t see Denali as part of this family, don’t see her as a mom, and it hurts especially now.

“Are you okay?” Rosé asks, and Denali’s heart melts. Even at her own baby shower, she’s still worried about Denali. “Did something make you upset, or uncomfortable?”

“I—“ She doesn’t want to do it here, in front of everyone, but part of her can’t hold back, can’t stop the feelings from running across her face, and Rosé notices, because she always notices.

“Hey, let’s go outside a second, okay? Get you some air?”

Denali nods numbly, letting Rosé lead her outside. The February air is cool on her face, and she didn’t know how hot she was until now.

“You don’t have to talk,” Rosé says gently, “but I’m here.”

She’s always here for Denali, and a rush of affection hits her. “It’s–you’re pregnant,” Denali blurts, every deep emotion betraying her with one of the most obvious statements of the century.

“Wow, really? I had no idea!” Rosé grins, rubbing her stomach, and it eases Denali’s tension, reminds her everything’s okay. “Did I do something?” Rosé asks, serious again.

“No, no!” Denali says quickly. “It’s not you at all.”

It’s not Rosé’s fault, and Denali won’t let her think it for a second. Rosé has been so good about it, always introducing Denali as her wife and telling everyone how excited they both are to be mothers. It’s not her fault she’s the one people direct all their questions to.

Denali takes a breath and continues. “It’s just … you’re pregnant. You’re the one having the baby, and sometimes people just–they make me feel like it’s your baby. Like I’m not part of it.”

Rosé nods intently, gaze turning sad as she listens. “I’m so sorry, Denali.”

Denali shrugs. “It’s fine. I’m not mad, it’s just … hard.” Part of regrets saying it, of putting this extra stress on Rosé when she’s dealing with enough, but another part of her is glad to have it out there, take the weight off her shoulders.

“Let me tell you something.” Rosé’s voice is firm now, and she takes Denali’s hands in a fierce grip. “This is our baby, Denali. Ours. You’re my wife. You’re the one holding my hair back when I puke and coming to all the doctor’s appointments and childbirth classes, and you’re the one who’s gonna be there for this baby and love them their whole life. Don’t ever think you’re not part of this, okay? You’re my wife, and I don’t care what anyone says, you’re our baby’s Mama.”

She lets Rosé hug her then, her arms fighting away all the doubts and fears she has, all the memories of peoples’ questions and stares.

“I love you, Rosie,” Denali breathes into Rosé’s neck. “You’re gonna be such an amazing mom. Seriously. I need to get my motivational speeches on your level,” she adds, pulling out of the hug with a smile.

Rosé grins too. “We’re both gonna be amazing, okay?”

Denali nods, and she believes it. She and Rosé have always balanced each other out perfectly, Denali getting Rosé to loosen up when she’s stressed, Rosé calming the chaos often brewing inside Denali. They could each be firm when the other needed encouragement, soft when they needed comfort. They can do this, and there’s no one else Denali would want to do it with. “Yeah, we are.”

“Good.” Rosé leans over and gives Denali a gentle forehead kiss. “Do you think anyone will notice if I take a cupcake from the dessert table? I really, really want one.”

Denali snorts, taking her hand. “Let’s go back inside, I’ll steal you all the cupcakes you want.”

—

Denali wakes slowly, blinking through the warm layers of sleep. Rosé is still sleeping beside her, and though Denali wants to surprise Rosé with pancakes in bed, she decides to wait. The back aches have been keeping Rosé up lately, Denali staying up with her watching home renovation shows and stroking her hair until she manages to drift off. She didn’t fall asleep until after 1am last night, and Denali wants her to get as much rest as she can.

They’re so close now. Just over a month away. Denali carefully pulls the blankets back up over Rosé, marveling at the swell of her belly. Pretty soon, they’re going to meet their baby, after all these months of waiting and the two tries before this. Denali remembers how awful those days were, how they had sat breathlessly on the bathroom floor, the pregnancy test shaking in Rosé’s hands as she looked at it. How she kept looking from the test to the box, checking and rechecking the results, how her face fell when she realized she hadn’t misread the negative result. The silence that came after, when Rosé couldn’t get the words out but Denali knew anyway. Rosé insisted she must have done something wrong somehow, her eyes filling with tears even though she never cried, and nothing Denali said could convince Rosé that it wasn’t her fault. But the worst part was that she wouldn’t let Denali wipe her tears for her, like she was afraid something was wrong with her and didn’t want Denali to catch that wrongness. Denali stayed at her side, watching Rosé sniffle and struggle to compose herself, until she finally slipped into her arms and let Denali hold her.

But that didn’t happen this time, Denali reminds herself now. She’s firmly in the present, watching Rosé sleep, red hair a tangled sprawl across her pillow. She’s so beautiful, even in her sleep, and Denali wonders if the baby will look like her, with red hair and green eyes and a wide smile. She’d love a little Rosie running around, she really would. But she wonders if the baby will get any of her too. They had picked a donor that they joked could’ve been Denali’s brother—dark hair, brown eyes, tanned skin, even dimples, for crying out loud. Will the baby have any of those traits, pieces of Denali even if Denali didn’t pass them on herself?

This is their baby, no matter how they look, and Denali can’t wait to teach them things, to share all the parts of herself. She wants to teach them to ride a bike, and ice skate, and make perfect chocolate chip cookies. She wants to help them find adventure and be brave and show kindness. She wants to give their baby all the love in the world, no matter what.

“I love you, baby,” she whispers to Rosé’s belly.

Denali stays in bed, cleaning out emails, until the mattress shifts and Rosé’s eyes flutter open, instantly searching for Denali and brightening when they see her.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Denali teases.

Rosé gives a sleepy smile, snuggling deeper into her pillow and reaching her hands out for Denali to join her. It takes a lot of rearranging, with all the pillows Rosé’s been using to help her back, but they manage, cuddling close together and breathing each other in.

“Let’s have pancakes for breakfast,” Rosé says eagerly.

Denali smiles. “You read my mind.”

—

The first contraction comes like a lightning strike after they’ve put away the dinner dishes one Tuesday night, a bolt that shatters the fragile balance between pregnancy and birth, before and after, and shoves them toward the latter. They’re flying down the drop of a roller coaster after months of climbing to the top, and it’s more real than it’s ever been. Denali wants to panic, frozen at the whimpers Rosé is letting out, but her wife needs her. She pushes away her panic, grabs the bag they packed at the eight-month-mark, and squeezes Rosé’s hand as they head to the car.

She doesn’t let go until the nurses put a brown-haired, green-eyed baby girl in her arms.

—

It’s their first night home with Charlotte, and the air feels fragile. There’s no monitor to scream if anything goes wrong, no nurses just a moment away if they need something. They’re on their own now. On their own, but not alone. Because they have each other.

Rosé wanted to have the crib in their room, just for tonight, to soothe both their minds, and Denali agreed. This way they’re sure to hear her if she cries, and they’re only a half-step away. Rosé knows Charlotte will have to sleep in her room tomorrow, but for tonight, she’s here, and Rosé is perched on the edge of the bed, just watching her sleep. She’s absolutely perfect, with thick, dark hair like Denali and a tiny dimple in her chin like Rosé.

After everything, after all the tests and appointments and waiting, their baby is finally here, and she’s worth absolutely all of it.

“We should sleep, Rosie,” Denali says, sliding next to her.

“I know,” Rosé says. “I just–I just want to watch her a little longer.”

“A little longer,” Denali agrees, and she rests her head on Rosé’s shoulder as they marvel over their baby girl.

#rpdr fanfiction #denali foxx #rosé #rosnali #lesbian au #pregnancy au #fluff #athena2 #concrit welcome #tw vomiting #submission #s13

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inyourwildestdreamslove · 4 years ago

Text

Fearless: Chapter 6

You deal in fear…

So who else to help Klaus master his powers? Who is quite determined to set you up with his brother…

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“No one ever does darling…”

Diego x Reader

Masterlist

Chapter 6: Love, Gimme Love

The next morning you are woken up by Cleo bumping her head against yours. You open your eyes to see a pair of vibrant yellow eyes gazing down at you. She is laying on your chest and seems intent on you getting up.

“Alright...I’m up…”

Grabbing a long cardigan you put it on and wrap it around yourself to protect you against the morning chill. You cautiously step around a sleeping Diego who is sprawled out on the makeshift bed in your room. He insisted on putting himself between you and the door. The silence of the house is almost deafening as you make your way into the kitchen. Standing in your kitchen is the man from the night before.

“Who are you?” you ask calmly.

He jumps before he turns around, “Uhh… well…”

You raise an eyebrow at the man before.

“A friend of Klaus?”

“You don’t sound very sure of yourself,” you say as you cross your arms over your chest as you regard him harshly.

“Look… we uh… knew each other a while ago and I just wanted…” he says awkwardly scratching his head.

“To use him?”

You ask bluntly.

“Huh? Who are you?” he asks defensively as if questioning his clearly questionable motives is simply unheard of.

“Look, Klaus is my friend and we’ve worked hard on getting and keeping him sober. What happened last night?” Your question is like a bullet as you fire it at him.

“You sure you’re just his friend? You sound like a jealous girlfriend,” he snaps back.

“What Klaus does with his time romantically is none of my business, I merely want to know why months of progress was thrown to the wind last night.”

“Look, he’s a grown man, it’s not my fault he doesn’t take rejection well,” he snaps.

“Get out of my house,” you say monotonously.

“What?”

“You heard her,” Deigo’s annoyed voice comes from the doorway.

The mystery man whips around to see Diego standing in the doorway.

“Who are you?!” he exclaims in shock.

“Klaus’ brother, who are you?”

“Uhhh… Listen man…”

“No, you listen man,” Diego as he takes a menacing step towards him, “leave Klaus alone. He was doing just fine until you came along and messed him up again. We’re trying to help him. If you don’t have his best intention in mind, you don’t need to be near him, understand?”

The guy nods in fear as he regards Diego.

“Why did he listen to you and not me?” you whine catching Diego’s attention, “Is it the macho guy thing?”

Diego hides a smile as he regards you, “It's because you’re so cute.”

You pout and cross your arms which only seems to make Diego’s point.

Diego turns back to the mysterious man standing in your kitchen and glares at him, “What are you still doing here? She told you to leave!”

He jumps in surprise before he grabs his pants from the living room floor and scrambles to leave. The sound of your front door slamming closed behind him indicates that you and Diego fulfilled your mission to get rid of him.

“What do you think happened?” Diego asks.

“I think he rejected Klaus,” you say softly.

You regard your kitchen before making your way into the living room and frowning at the mess that the two men made last night. The scent of stale cigarettes lingers in the air mixed with the faintest scent of weed. The pungent scent of beer drifts up from your carpet and you notice where it looks like one or two was knocked to the ground. You’re thankful that you didn’t find any evidence of anything else. Relatively speaking this relapse seems to be minor even if it’s unwelcome.

It’s a few hours of cleaning before Klaus wakes up and walks out of his bedroom. He looks ashamed as he makes his way into the now clean living space avoiding your eyes.

“I’m sorry…” he croaks out, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

You regard him with a frown as you turn your attention away from the book you're reading to the man standing in the doorway.

“I just don’t get it…” you say softly, “you were doing so well…”

“I just…”

Diego comes out of the kitchen two cups of coffee in his hands as he makes his way over to you. He hands you one before he settles himself back onto the couch beside you, his arm draping itself over the back of the couch lingering in the space behind you.

Klaus looks surprised to see Diego there, “Diego?”

“He walked me home last night after the match. You opened the door and you were obviously drunk and there was a man passed out on my couch. Diego didn’t feel right leaving me alone with him.”

Klaus winces as you tell him about the events of last night, “He was…”

He stops and takes a shaky breath, “We used to…” he tries again.

“It’s okay…” you murmur as you pat the place on the couch next to you. Klaus plops down in the space next to you and leans into you. His head comes to rest on your shoulder as he heaves a sigh and you notice tears threatening to fall once again.

“I thought he liked me…” he says with a sigh, “No one has really given me the time of day sober… except for Dave… maybe ever… Kyle and I’ve been talking lately. We used to run in the same circle a few years ago, but he really just wanted a hit of something, he didn’t want me...”

Klaus leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees running his hands up and down his face.

“Klaus, he’s a jerk and you deserve someone so much better than him,” you say softly.

“I just want…someone to love me...”

“Hey…” you say softly, “I love you, maybe not in the way you’re talking about, but I do love you. And I want what’s best for you. I’m not going to tell you that you shouldn’t try to find someone if you’re lonely, but maybe stay away from people from your past. If you need companionship we can look into hobbies for you okay?”

“You aren’t mad? You aren’t kicking me out?” he asks looking at you in surprise, “You still want to help me?”

“Klaus… you’re trying so hard. I’m not going to say I’m not disappointed, but you aren’t perfect. You’ve spent years of your life being high on something to escape feeling anything real, it’s ridiculous of me to expect you not to slip up. Especially, when the only way you know how to cope with anything is with drugs and alcohol. I’m just relieved that it wasn’t something worse.”

Klaus just blinks at you before he wraps himself around you. You feel his tears wet the shoulder of your tee shirt as you hold him against you. You slowly rock him back and forth as you allow him to cry.

Pulling away Klaus wipes his eyes before he regards the two of you, “So Diego walked you home huh?”

“Oh for the love of…” Diego trails off his hand coming up to run up and down his face in exasperation.

You blush as you look away from Klaus and his dancing eyebrows.

“Nothing happened…” you mutter as you grumble under your breath, “the universe made sure of that…”

Klaus breaks out into a grin having heard your muttering, “So you DO like Diego! I knew it! Diego! When you take her to bed make sure that you take very good care of my flower okay? She’s been very stressed lately! She deserves-”

“Klaus!” you yelp in embarrassment before you launch yourself at your friend, your hand going over his mouth to stop the words from leaving him.

“W-what?! W-why a-are you?” Diego stutters in embarrassment.

Klaus just cackles as he grabs your wrists to keep your hands from his mouth, “She deserves-”

“Klaus if you finish that sentence I am not cooking for you for a month!” you threaten.

He looks up at you in wide-eyed horror, “A month!?”

“A month!” you exclaim, still fighting with him. He may be scrawny, but he’s a lean and strong scrawny.

He gasps dramatically before muttering a ‘fine,’ under his breath. You regard him with narrowed eyes suspiciously for a few more moments before you are satisfied with his silence. The air now feels heavy as both you and Diego shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“So did he teach you how to throw knives? That’s his oldest-”

“Klaus!” Diego roars as he launches himself at his brother, getting caught in the crossfire and ending up in a dog pile between the two brothers and yelping as someone’s elbow is in your side.

“Guys!” you yell as Diego fights to get to the cackling Klaus.

“Get off!” you yelp pushing the two away from you, Klaus just clings to you as he yells for you to save him from Diego.

“I need a- something…” you say your head in your hand after you have untangled yourself from the fight and the two brothers have calmed down. Ok so you banished them to separate sides of the couch but that is beside the point.

“You should take a relaxing bath! That always helps me! I’m sure that Diego would love to join-”

“Klaus!” you both yell in unison as he snickers to himself, obviously proud of his ability to make you both uncomfortable.

“What?! That is not going too far! They both need to get laid! It would-”

“Klaus!” you both yell again interrupting his one-sided conversation with Ben.

He just laughs and you shake your head attempting to ignore your best friend and your crush respectively.

“I’m going to make lunch,” you grumble as you get up.

“I’ll help,” says Diego as he gets up off of the couch to follow you.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” yells Klaus.

“There isn’t anything you wouldn’t do,” snips Diego.

“Exactly.”

You roll your eyes as you head into the kitchen with Diego hot on your heels. You head towards the refrigerator to see what you have to eat.

“You know…” You glance over your shoulder at Diego as he stands in the middle of the kitchen. He’s fidgeting and keeps crossing and uncrossing his arms and ruffling his hair.

“Yeah…?” you trail off waiting for him to continue.

“Can I take you out? O-on a-a-a r-real date?”

You blink at him for a moment confused about his sudden nerves, “Of course you can.”

He smiles in relief before he nods, “Good.”

You giggle at him as you pull some pasta salad off of the shelf and put it on the counter.

“What would make you think I wouldn’t want to go out with you after last night?” you ask with a sly smile.

“Well… I didn’t know if you were… you know… just being nice…”

“Letting you almost kiss me isn’t me being nice Diego, it’s me wanting you to kiss me,” you murmur with your hands on your hips.

“Oh? You want me to kiss you?” he asks with a cocky smirk as he takes a step towards you.

“I thought I made that abundantly clear last night?” you ask as you turn back towards him.

His hands find their way to your waist as he gently pulls you towards him. He leans his head down before he brushes his nose against yours. A soft smile blooms onto your face and he chuckles as you give him an Eskimo kiss. With a surge of confidence, Diego leans down and captures your lips in a chaste kiss.

“If you two are going to go at it like rabbits… I would like to be informed so I can vacate the premises,” Klaus interrupts.

You and Diego jump away from one another like teenagers at high school prom and blush.

“Klaus!” Diego growls as he regards his brother.

“They do make a cute couple…” Klaus says as he turns to the empty space next to him, where no doubt Ben was.

Diego sends Klaus a warning look as Klaus just sends you a wink with a smirk on his face.

“Oh leave it, Diego… He’s never going to let us live this down…” you grumble as you push Klaus out of the kitchen, “You’ve been rooting for this, the least you can do is give us a moment!”

“Okay okay! So pushy now that you have a mans to make you happy!” he gasps dramatically, “Do you love him more than me now! Are you going to ignore me in favor of Diego?! What have I done?”

Klaus’ eyes widened in dramatized horror showing he was just joking.

“Leave Klaus,” you grumble, “I keep getting interrupted and all I want is a kiss, okay? So go!”

“So demanding! Kitty cat aren’t you? Be good to her, Deigo!”

You and Diego both roll your eyes at Klaus as he saunters out of the kitchen. You huff in annoyance as you feel a pair of arms around your waist pulling you into a strong chest. Diego buries his face in your neck and you feel a few chaste kisses as his voice becomes a low grumble.

“Forget him,” he says nuzzling you, “Let’s enjoy this…” Diego trails off as he presses languid kisses to your neck. You blink up at him as you repress a shiver and drape your hands on his entangling your fingers. He pauses for a second before he turns you in his grip and pulls your body towards him. You squeak in surprised excitement as your hands rest on his strong chest before you slide them up his chest to dangle around his neck. Diego bows his head and pulls you into a deep fiery kiss that leaves you weak in the knees. You stumble back against the counter as he presses into you, an almost desperate groan leaves his lips as he presses you back into the hard surface. You gasp as you feel his hands slide from your hips to your ass and squeeze your supple curves. He picks you up and sets you onto the counter settling himself in between your thighs and pressing into you. You can feel his bulge as he presses himself almost desperately into you. You let out a soft moan as you press back almost desperate for his touch.

“And another thing!” Klaus says coming back around the corner, mischief in his voice.

“GET OUT!” you both yell each grabbing the closest thing to you, which just happens to be a dish cloth and the sponge you use to wash the dishes and throw it at him.

“Hey! Fine! Jeeze!” he exclaims with a cackle he walks away effectively dodging the projectiles

You heave a sigh as you bury your face against his neck and he hugs you to him.

“That was intense…” you say softly.

“Too intense?” he asks hesitantly.

“No… Just intense…” you whisper pulling back to look into his eyes. He’s trying to catch his breath too. Almost shly you bump your nose against his and capture his lips again.

“We’re going to have to find a… distraction… for Klaus,” Diego breathes as he breaks the kiss. His voice still a little breathy from the earlier passion.

You just nod absently as you gently push him away suddenly feeling too hot, “Yes… we definitely are…”

With a sigh you turn back to the task at hand, or better yet your distraction from Diego’s lips, and finish preparing lunch.

When you both exit the kitchen Klaus is sitting innocently on the couch as you hand him a sandwich with the side of pasta salad you made yesterday.

“Finished so soon? At this rate I’ll never be an unc-” Klaus begins only for Diego to smack the sandwich the of the way into his mouth causing Klaus to sputter indignantly.

“Careful Klaus… Or you might find yourself kicked out afterall,” you say with a smirk at your friend.

“You wouldn’t?!” he gasps scandalized.

“Try me… Interrupt again and see what happens…”

Klaus snaps his mouth shut in a pout as he regards his sandwich before murmuring, “You two are no fun…”

“Oh, we’re plenty of fun… We just keep getting interrupted….” grumbles Diego.

“What happened last night?” Klaus asks innocently.

“Some assholes…” you mutter in derision as you take a violent bite of your sandwich remembering the events of the night before.

“Did you…?”

“Yes…”

“Are you okay?” Klaus asks in concern.

“I’m fine, Klaus,” you murmur with a smile, “Things just got a little dangerous last night is all…”

“Well, I'm glad Diego was with you at least,” Klaus says decisively, “He’s always good in those situations.”

Diego looks surprised as he regards his brother, “Thanks, man…”

“I mean (Y/N) is a force to reckon with so it wasn’t like she needed help, but it’s always good to know someone is there,” Klaus continues, completely destroying the moment.

“Thanks, man…” Diego reiterates, this time with a scowl.

You chuckle as you watch the interaction as you settle back against your sofa, “So who is up for a movie?”

“Isn’t your new one out?!” Klaus exclaims, “the one you worked one a few months ago?!”

“It is! Do you want to watch it?” You answer.

A book on the far wall falls to the ground indicating that Ben is there and he does.

“I do! I don’t know if I’ve ever seen any of your work,” Diego says suddenly excited at the prospect of seeing a film you’ve worked on.

“Cool! Let’s put it on!” you say in excitement.

You quickly put the movie on and relax against Diego who had instantly pulled you against him. Klaus being Klaus laid down so his head is resting in your lap and the sudden chill in the corner of the couch, and the way that Klaus kicks at the otherwise empty spot indicates Ben is resting there.

You feel a sense of contentment as you spend a lazy day with the people you have come to care for more than anyone.

Notes: Super excited for the renewed interest in this story! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please drop some love and leave a comment or send a message! It makes my day!

#diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x you #diego hargreeves imagine #The Umbrella Academy #the umbrella academy fanfiction #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy romance #reader insert #reader pov #fearless

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poptod · 4 years ago

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Cambridge Ghouls pt. 3 (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Your friend’s antics has pulled you and Ahk out of your comfortable library and into Scotland.

Notes: been a hot minute since i updated this so renewal on what is going on here: you are a zombie named crayon who lives on the grounds of cambridge university. your friends are ahk, a revived mummy; amy, a ghost; phillip, a vampire; rose, a corpse; and benjamin, a human. i wrote and came up w this while high and i feel like im following in the footsteps of shawn, the writer of natm. enjoy the story i tacked onto the one drawing i made WC: 6.8k

The pressure of your head on his shoulder, face hidden in the beaded cloth of his collar, was the only sensation he cared to feel. Early hours of night often lead to this position––cradled in blankets, trying to learn English, and trying to cope with the new world the both of you were vomited into. Tonight was much the same, though the familiar warmth of the hearth was cold in the dusty dark of the library room.

Your friends had yet to join you, a fact that had Ahk glancing at the door every five minutes. It was unlike them to take so long. If he had to guess, he'd surmise they'd gotten into a spot of mischief, and were held up with their own problems. That happened an unfortunate amount of times, but Ahk didn't mind much, as it often left the two of you in peace and quiet. While the four of them cavorted off on school grounds, he kissed the top of your head.

"- and did I ever tell you where I got that from?" came from behind the door, muffled but growing steadily closer. The footfalls of several people followed, and Ahk assumed it was his friends finally visiting you and him.

The door slamming open startled you into a jump that pushed your cat off your lap, knocking Ahk's jaw as you frantically scanned the room. His lower teeth clashed with his upper, sending a sharp wave of pain through his skull, one that quickly dissipated upon seeing his friends. Phillip, leading the pack, was talking loud and fast with wildly fast hand movements, and was clearly not being understood by anyone present. Amy followed close behind, floating above the heads of the others for ease. Then came a very distressed-looking Ben, whose usual soft features were contorted into panic.

Phillip continued talking for a minute, unchallenged for attention, until Ahk, who grew easily irritated at times, finally stopped him.

"Phil!" He said, his accent still twisting his words. "None of us can understand you."

"Wh -" he paused at last, looking to each of them, "I – Ben lost my violin!"

"A what?" Ahk said, taken aback.

"I'm sorry!" said Ben in a fluster.

"He did what?!" said Amy.

You stumbled over quietly, hanging off of Ahk's arm as you attempted to listen.

"I got that violin from my grandfather, crafted out of this beautiful wood and enchanted, and... ohh! You are so irritating sometimes," Phillip whined, growing into a growl as he pointed a finger at Ben.

"Enchanted? What, like a magic violin?" Amy asked.

"Precisely like a magic violin," Phillip said with a sigh, looking dramatically morose. What else could you expect of a vampire from the 1600's?

"Can someone please tell me what a violin is?" Ahk said, glancing between Ben, Amy, and Phillip.

"It's an instrument like the harp or lyre," Amy quickly explained. "Ben borrowed a 'special' violin from Phil after almost failing music class."

"I can't afford to fail another class," Ben moaned, "I'm already two classes over the limit, and my parents can only do so much."

"Mein Gott," Phil said under his breath.

"Is your grandfather going to be mad?" Ben asked nervously, turning to Phil.

"No, they're not hard for him to make. He's just the only one who's capable of making them, and the wood is very specific. It's the only kind that can channel pure magic."

"So... the Tree of Life," Ahk said. He had his hands folded beneath his chin, eyes concentrated on the vampire.

"Something like that. It's just – look, I need that violin, too. We can go and try to find that tree and ask my grandfather to make another, and you can use it to pass the class, but after that it comes back to me. Don't take music next year," Phillip said, turning to face Ben.

"Damn it," Ben cursed. "Fine. Deal."

"Wonderful," Phillip said with a curt smile, shaking Ben's hand firmly.

Once he let go, Phillip went straight to the bookcase, supernaturally fast eyes scanning the many titles. Ahkmenrah watched on for a moment in mild confusion before his attention was diverted to you, your weight falling onto him as you leaned.

"Careful there," he murmured, helping to rebalance you. You wouldn't understand him, but the sentiment was there, and you stayed close-by.

Ben, being a tall lad, looked over Phillip's shoulder every time he pulled a book down. While he did that you got distracted by your cat Winchester purring at your feet, kneeling down to gather him in your clumsy arms. The undead cat––much like you––didn't weigh much after the rot.

"Amy, are these books up-to-date on their information?" Phillip asked, ignoring Ben's breathing in his ear.

"Why should I know that?"

"Because you know an absurd amount of things that don't really matter except for in certain, usually odd instances," Phillip replied without looking up.

"... most of them are up to date," she mumbled. Phillip thanked her before promptly returning to his search.

You tugged on Ahk's sleeve again, opening your mouth to say something but only a soft whine leaving you. He took your hand, facing you with concerned eyes, but said nothing. Instead he scanned your expression, waiting to see if you would motion or signify anything. You wouldn't understand his words, anyway.

"Hunngryy.." you suddenly breathed out, your fingers coming to rest on high on his cheek, dragging down to the end of his jaw. His eyes widened.

"Hungry?" He repeated.

Ahk turned to the others, contemplating how he would get you something to eat. There was no food in the library, and very little food in the whole of the school, what with the winter break nearing. Best choice would be to keep with the others, he decided.

"You'll be alright for a little bit, right?" He asked you. You showed no signs of any reaction, only staring at your fingers touching his face.

"Ahk, we need to go to Scotland," Phillip said, snapping a book shut and sliding it back into its' place on the bookshelf.

"What? Why?"

"Because of the British," he seethed, promptly whipping around and walking out the door.

Ahk watched on in his usual state of confusion, but knew better than to ask questions. As much of a leader as he was born and bred to be, he was happy to follow the vampire's lead, to look after you as the others panicked about their petty things.

So he took your hand––followed only when everyone else was out the door, and locked the library behind him, fingers still entwined with yours. Though your hands were in a constant clumsy blunder, you tried your best to keep still in his touch. He never minded. Your fingers, while a little cool, had a forgiving magic that calmed him easily.

Brisk night air hit his face the moment he exited the school, following his friends through the grassy fields growing outside the brick and mortar building. Disappointing as it was unavoidable, none of the stars showed in the sky, blurred by the bright streetlamps lining the puddle-filled roads. The distinct scent of rain––petrichor––intoxicated the air he breathed, a leftover of the rains plaguing the city all day. Cars passed by, though luckily not often, as the sound of a roaring engine followed by rainwater splashing up his leg was not something Ahk enjoyed. His beautiful, golden robes never fared well in dreary English weather.

You showed no aversion to the cold or the wet. He had never seen you shiver, or wipe rain off yourself, or avoid stepping in puddles. You tried to stay out of mud, yes, but that was about it.

Phillip paused at the roadside, glancing out at the street with wide, searching eyes. Ben joined him on his right, and the two of them began to look for a cab, a fact that Ahk only knew because it was how they always got around. Once you caught up to Ahk halting, you bumped into his shoulder. Winchester followed you in a quick strut, ever loyal to his owner. For a second you stumbled back, but with a tug from him you were centered, once again resting part of your weight on him. Without him, you slouched in a noticeably-undead way.

"Can I ask what we're doing?" Ahk asked Amy, though he kept his eyes on the two men trying to hail a cab.

"One moment," she said.

A second later and he noticed the car driving up, rolling wheels flicking water onto the shined ends of Ben's tailored shoes. He stepped back with a gasp, backing into Phillip, who quickly pushed him away. Once the cab came to a full stop, Phillip made his way to the front window to speak with the driver. After a quick conversation, the five of you crammed into the back of the cab, your knees held up high to your chests with each of your hands in your respective laps.

"Now can I ask what we're doing?" Ahk asked again.

"We're going to Scotland to get the tree," Amy said.

"It's a specific strain that doesn't exist in England, but there should be a few up in the highlands," Phillip further explained.

"Are we taking a cab all the time?"

His slip-up in english was overlooked as Phillip said, "we're getting to the train station. Won't be a comfy car but we should get there in time."

"We'll need you two to get the tickets for us. They see Ahkmenrah, or Crayon, they're going to ask questions. If they see me, well... um.. I suppose I could just act like a ghost," Amy said, trailing off as she thought strategically.

"Good point. And we need an excuse for when they come to check our tickets," Phillip said as he leaned inward into the group, his right leg bouncing up and down.

"Movies! Or – or a musical, how's that work?" Ben suggested in a sudden moment of brilliance, a wide smile matching his sporting tone.

"Good idea, for once. And – wait," Phillip paused, "is the screen between us and the driver...?"

"It's there," Amy said, sparking a sigh of relief out of Phil.

"Gott sei Dank," Phil mumbled.

For the next 10 minutes of driving that should've been six without traffic, the three of them discussed the technicalities, the lies they would have to formulate in order to achieve their goal. In that time you began to gnaw on your fingers, hunger tearing at your already shoddy intestines. Ahk scolded you twice, though it never worked, and the third time he did so you whined and hid your face in him. He sighed quietly, leaning in to kiss the top of your head.

As the cab began to slow to a halt, Benjamin pulled out his wallet, handing several notes to the driver through the tray given. With that the five of you stumbled out of the tiny black automobile, watching it speed off only to stop at the next hailing woman.

"Alright, you guys wait out here. Benjamin and I will be back in a couple minutes," Phillip said, halting you, Ahk, and Amy beside a bench near the entrance.

Though clearly irritated by the command, Amy took the invisible seat beside the bench. Ahk took a seat as well, and you easily followed, fidgeting with the skin on your hands.

"How long will they take do you think?" Ahk asked.

"Ten minutes maybe? Neither of them have great... people skills," Amy said hesitantly, her eyes never leaving the doors of the station.

A tug on his head stopped him from asking for clarification, and instead he turned back to you, patiently but quietly asking what you were doing. You hummed something unintelligible, continuing to pull at his crown. To spare himself the headache he took it off for you, handing the heavy gold to you, and chuckling softly when you couldn't quite carry it.

To your side sat Winchester, who gingerly sniffed the shining metal before shrinking away in disdain. You mumbled something again before landing a kiss on top of the cat's head.

"I'm going to need that back, you know," Ahk said with a chuckle, bringing your attention back to him.

You just tilted your head and smiled, slightly spaced out but eyes filled with a warmth. Every now and then he glimpsed this, this spirit that had nothing to give but kindness, who shone from the best center a human can have; honest adoration for another. You raised your hand, tangling your fingers in his dark hair and ruffling the curls there.

For a moment you tried to say something, but as it continually didn't come out right, you instead attempted bopping his nose with your fingertip. Attempted meaning not successfully; you missed and almost poked him in the eye, but Ahk flinched and you just poked him on his cheek. He chuckled, took your hand, and kissed the back of it.

A blush of sorts took to your cheeks. Like most times, you had little idea why you were feeling strangely, and thus pulled away from his touch. He knew not to mind by now.

"Amy?"

"Mm?"

"Do you think they have any food in there?"

"Nothing that's open. Might have a coffee place still up, but... well, they might have some croissants. Bread," she said, taking a moment to think before she spoke.

"I don't think Crayon would eat it," Ahk said.

"Probably not." Amy looked past Ahk to you, watching you for a moment before continuing. "The dinner car might be open, though. Depends on how expensive the tickets are."

"Hmm," he sighed. "Thank you."

She nodded with a smile before turning back to the train station, the warm light of lamps both indoor and outdoor illuminating the empty waiting lines and streetsides. Those still outside were dressed in coats and scarves, though weren't piled up in different layers––those would have to wait for colder months, which would not come until the warmer ones came and went.

Most people ignored the three of you. Close to no light shone on the bench shadowed by the overhang, and since you kept quiet, no one bothered to spare an extra glance. In the dark, Amy was mostly invisible. You and Ahk didn't have that power, but you mostly looked like a homeless person, and Ahk... well, he wrapped himself up in his cape, and that was about the best disguise he could manage.

The door of the station clicked open, drawing all eyes to the approaching figure of Phillip, silhouetted against the lights of the station inside.

"Ben's inside, we booked a room and we're leaving in five minutes," Phillip said, almost out of breath as he stopped in front of you.

"Five minutes?" Amy asked as the three of you stood. "Rather last minute, isn't it?"

"It's a night train, no one's got tickets anyway," Phillip said, tapping the backs of each of you as you passed him, coralling you all into the building.

It wasn't warmer inside as Ahk expected, leading him to thoughtlessly tuck his arms into himself. He'd been looking forward to some warmth. Hopefully he'd find that on the train. Just as Amy surmised, most of the restaurants inside the building were closed, iron grates pulled over once-colorful shops. Ahk paused to take in what little architecture he could see in the dark, but was soon pulled away by Phillip leading the group onwards.

Once again he tapped your backs, counting each of you as you entered the halted train. You reached for Ahk's hand as you walked down the long hallway, searching for the right room number, which only Benjamin and Phillip knew. Most of the lights outside the train were dimmed by the darkened windows, and instead the way was shown by tiny lamps lining the hallways and rooms.

"Here," Ben said, stopping those ahead of him. You and Ahk turned, and the five of you piled into the little room, whose velvet seats were soon covered up by your group.

As usual, you took your seat beside Ahk, who had claimed a window seat that happened to be near the table as well. On the other side of the train car, there was nothing but empty tracks and the eerie darkness of cities at evening. You sniffed and leaned back against the Pharaoh.

"Mmm," you mumbled, turning to press your face into his side, "hunngryy."

"I know," he said softly. "Do we have a food car?"

"I don't know if they'll have any real food, but they probably have snacks," Phillip said, still situating himself in the crowded room.

Ahk looked to Amy, who shrugged.

"Might as well try," she said, and with no reason to refute her, Ahk clumsily led you past the seated legs and back into the hallway.

The train began to rumble forward as the two of you walked. You bumped into Ahk's back when it happened, but you regained balance easily, and two train cars down you found the dining car. Only one light was on, sat upon the bartop beside a single bowl of nuts. The windows, lined by red and gold curtains, showed nothing but speeding darkness outside.

You moaned uneasily, tugging on Ahk's sleeve as your eyes remained entranced upon the flickering buildings outside.

"Fast, isn't it?" He said softly, glancing to you before looking back outside. "You'll be alright?"

Of course you didn't understand his words, but seeing as he wasn't upset by the high speeds, you calmed down. He then glanced over the bar counter, searching for any food besides the bowl of nuts. Upon finding nothing his face screwed up in dissatisfaction.

"Will you eat nuts?" He asked as he took the bowl, handing it to you.

You fingered through them, pushing aside the ones you deemed inedible. He watched you for a little while––and you did take a while to sort the whole bowl––but in the end you only ate about three. It might tide you for a little while, but you would have to eat again later.

After thoroughly searching the train car, the two of you returned to the rest of your friends, who had made busy discussing the fickle state of Phillip's teeth. Phillip himself wasn't engaging much considering he didn't find the topic an agreeable conversation point, and his stubbornness had led way to Ben and Amy getting once more embroiled in debate.

"I honestly think his teeth grow. I'm pretty sure I've heard of that being a condition, and I mean, it happens to rabbits. It could happen to humans," Ben said, crossing his arms but keeping a polite tone. Amy, however, had no consideration for such niceties.

"I... I don't care to unpack all that, but we've told you this before. He's a vampire. He can retract his teeth, and that's why they have different sizes at different times," she explained in a seething voice, her teeth clearly gritted behind her lips.

"Where would someone store a retracted tooth? It's not like claws, there's no space in the skull," Ben said, completely passing over the very clear indicator of something he had yet to figure out; Phillip was a vampire.

"Tiny bit of food over there, but I'm still going to be looking," Ahk said halfheartedly to Amy, crawling in beside her on the bench. "How long's this ride supposed to be?"

"Ten hours," Phillip replied gruffly, his half-lidded eyes staring vacantly out the window. He slouched against the wall, balancing his cheek on his palm, elbow rested on the tiny desk beneath the glass.

"Oh dear," Ahk said, his voice suddenly small.

"Yes, well," Phillip sniffed, shifting in his seat, "we'll have to be quick once we get there. Our ticket back is for the coming morning."

"Wait, morning?! Have you forgotten Crayon and I can't see the sun?"

"Oh, shit, my apologies," he said, eyes wide as he remembered your unfortunate curse. He stood, smoothing out the wrinkles in his suit. "I'll, um, I'll go see the director. I'm sure I can get something sorted, trade in your tickets for, um... tomorrow night. We can get you a hotel room or something."

He left quick after that, scooting past all your legs before pushing himself out the door. A deep uneasiness settled itself inside Ahk, appearing in the form of a racing heart, and paranoid thoughts. To die, to risk seeing the dawn just for a violin, seemed to him a strange way for his story to end. He had a feeling––one that would never go away––that he would not die to the sun. Not him, the undead King of a sunkissed land. Still, just because he was somewhat-certain about himself not dying, he had you to worry about. You didn't understand the whole 'sun will kill you' thing all that well, and you had no fear regarding the morning. He would have to keep an eye on you the later into the night it got.

The stars, once clogged by streetlamps and busy restaurant lights, shone brighter in the suburbia sprawling out across the land. Very slowly the tall buildings began to fade, and the homes grew less and less frequent till each one had a personality of its' own. Grass and overgrowing flora took the place of wide, car-lined streets, and eventually the short brick walls flanking either side of the train tracks fell away to show the whole of the land.

Ahk didn't need sleep. You didn't either, but the two of you nonetheless curled into one another, dozing in the warm light as the others conversed quietly. He overheard little (considering he didn't care to listen), but the others seemed to be in good spirits despite the loss of an apparently valuable violin.

Brakes screeching outside brought him to stir, dazed eyes landing first on the pale sky, and then to you, completely zonked out. He chuckled but had no time to comment on it before Phillip was rushing the five of you out, grabbing the few coats you kept in the top rack and coralling you down the hall.

The air here had a certain taste; that was what Ahk first noticed upon exiting the train. Although the sky was already beginning to lighten, it was clear the sun would not come for a good several hours, as the stars still shone in the darker pockets of space. Rolling hills and jagged mountains surrounded him, framing the tiny train station that remained entirely unoccupied save for him and his friends. Down the grass-filled valley lay a town whose houses consisted of wood, painted dull colors but decorated with flowers, petals of red, yellow, and purple lining the brick roads. Very little light from the horizon reached the town.

Phillip hit Amy on the side. "There," he said, eyes trained on the distance as he pointed across the outdoor station, "tree groves. Looks like pine."

"Indeed it is," she said with a smile.

"Is that what we need then? A pine tree?" Ben asked.

"Well... sort of," Phillip said, shrugging.

He scanned the train stop, and in less than a second he began to go in the right direction, headed for the tall bridges that crowned the railroad. The others followed quick behind, though Ahk had to grab your hand and pull you away from the alluring lights of the town.

"Hunng..gry," you whined, stumbling over your feet as you tried in vain to escape Ahk's grasp.

"Crayon, you can't go down there," he said, feeling more and more as though he was taking care of a child. "Come now."

You whined again but made no more attempts to refuse. Once you caught up to the rest of the group, the sudden loss of speed in Ahk's step had you bumping into him again, but once your head rested on the back of his shoulder you stayed put. Each time you rested yourself on him in any way, a fluttering light would suddenly overtake him with a blush. This was only strange because you did that a lot––each night, multiple times, you would put your head on his shoulder, lean on his chest, rest your hands in his lap. Another charm of yours.

Freezing damp surrounded his feet, open to the coming breezes since he never wore anything but sandals. His state of being mostly-undead kept him from feeling a good deal of the cold, there was still a tingling numbness, apparent in all of his fingers and the tip of his nose. For the first time he shivered, helpless to the vibrations pulsing through him.

"Ah, careful here," Phillip said, slowing the pace to make way for a long, stone fence ranging all the way down into the village. "The rocks are still very wet, so..."

Amy floated on over the wall, materializing her hand to help Phillip step over. He took it with a thank you, balancing himself on her, and soon helping Ben and Ahk over as well. Even Winchester got over, his large paws landing on the stones before jumping back down into the mud and grass. Unfortunately, you were still on the other side and incredibly confused. Your head tilted to the side, brows furrowed deeply as your mouth hung half-open.

"Take my hand, dear," Ahk said as he held out his own hand, which you gingerly took.

Your grip remained as gentle as you could manage, a habit you grew after accidentally hurting Ahk, but the habit had you nearly slipping and cracking your skull further.

"Woah there," Phillip said, instinctually zipping over to catch you. "Just – sit on the rocks."

Although you didn't understand, Ahk made sure to motion to you, and you reluctantly sat on the rocks. Your face scrunched up as your pant soaked from waist to ankles. With a little help, you swung your legs over.

"Alright, good?" Phillip asked the group at large, looking to each of you. When he received all nods, he continued onwards to the nearing grove of trees, searching carefully for any dips in the terrain.

"How are you, my dear?" Ahk asked to only you, his voice a murmur in your ear. He leant in to speak more secretively, an action that made you giggle, which in turn brought a smile to his face. Of course you couldn't verbally respond, so instead you gently headbumped him in the shoulder.

The same questions as always rang in his head as he watched you, wondering if you understood any part of him at all. It was clear by now there was something in your head––you had learned the word for hunger, and you showed affection to him specifically. Was that because he was a safe space, or because you loved him? He tried to never contemplate it, as it was likely he would never get answers, even if he wanted nothing more than that.

"Alright, so, we're looking for trees that can support magic. It's relatively easy to test it," Phillip said, ducking beneath the unavoidable branches to continue through the grove. "Just concentrate your magic into the tip of your finger and put it to the tree. If it leaves a burn mark, it isn't magic, but if the light flows through the bark, it works with magic. It'll look a bit like glowing veins."

"You'd know all about that," Amy mumbled beneath her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," she said, and he didn't pry further.

"Um, Phillip?" Ahk said slowly, raising a single brow as he scanned the forest. "How do we, um, consecrate magic?"

"Concentrate," Amy corrected.

"What? I thought you could. You're a cursed mummy, why wouldn't you have magic?" Phillip said with a frown.

"I don't have it either," Amy said, raising her hand slowly, reluctant to meet his eye.

"You're – okay, alright, it's fine. I suppose I'll... just have to check myself," he grumbled, cursing under his breath as he turned back to the woods.

"So how do we do the magic?" Ben asked quietly once Phillip had left earshot.

"Unless you come from sorcerers, we don't," said Amy.

"What's sorcerers?" Ahk asked, and although he hadn't meant to, Amy began to grow irritated.

"A type of person who uses magic. Come on, let's catch back up," she said, expertly pulling the conversation off of her, and onto the path ahead.

He didn't remember when you stopped touching him, or when Winchester had disappeared from sight, but as he looked behind him panic filled his lungs. You were not there. Actually, you weren't anywhere in sight––you, and your cat, had run off.

"Amy!" Ahk said, eyes widening as his face paled. "We've got to find Crayon!"

"Wh- you let them run off?!"

"I thought they were still with me!" Ahk cried, holding his head in his hands as dread dripped from his eyes like tears.

"Ben, go find Phillip. We have to find Crayon," Amy said, and with that Ben sped off, and Amy floated above the trees. "I'll try and find them in this direction. Go fifty paces that way and then come directly back, it won't work if you get lost as well."

"Um – what's paces?"

"Fifty steps or something," she said.

"I'm.. really sorry, what's fifty?"

She sighed but floated back to the ground, patiently taking the time to write it out in Egyptian numerals in the dirt.

"Ohhh," he mumbled. "Thank you."

"Of course. Now go," she said, pushing him back to it.

Paranoia pounded in his heart as he walked, carefully counting the number of steps he took, and carefully keeping in the right direction. Much of his concentration stayed in keeping the right path, but the good rest of it was absorbed in looking for you. He was easy to spot in both day and night with his golden robes. You, on the other hand, blended in nearly everywhere. Perhaps your cat would give you away, but he didn't rely on that happenstance.

Throughout his search he remained in high alert, paying special attention to each of his senses. As much as he wanted to run through the forest, looking for you at every turn, it would do no more than waste his energy and get him as lost as you. So he kept to his pace no matter what his instincts told him, and retraced his steps once he hit 50.

"Any sight of them?" Ahk asked once Amy appeared from among the twisting branches.

"No," she said with a curt sigh. "No sign of the cat, either."

"Damn," he cursed. "Where would they have gone?"

"I don't –"

"AMY??!"

Phillip's voice nearly echoed with the strength of it. Amy just sighed, again, but took off in the direction of the yell. He followed quick after, following her ethereal form through the pines. The two of them soon came to find Phillip and Ben standing beside a tree that, as expected, had glowing tangles of string lining up and down the bark, much like veins.

"Find it?" Ahk asked, panting slightly from the exertion of running.

"Yes, but we've run into a horrible problem," he spluttered, clearly overwhelmed by the whole of the night.

"What's that?" said Amy.

"We forgot the ax," Ben said, hiding his face in his hands in such a way that his voice came out muffled.

"Oh... fuck," she said.

Muffled grumbling dragged him out of the conversation, though seeing as no one else turned, Ahk assumed he was the sole listener. For a moment it sounded like a wild animal, and his heart began preemptively racing in its' cage. Then came movement––the rustling of bushes and trees, footsteps sloshing in the mud as though something was being dragged.

Thick, clotted blood ran down from your mouth, streaking down your shirt and staining both of your hands. Flecks of it had landed all across your torso, coloring the dull mud caked onto the shirt. Winchester stood at your side, looking lovingly up at you, and on your other side you clutched the leg of a creature long-dead.

"Crayon," Ahk whispered out, and the conversation behind him fell silent, all eyes turning to you. No one moved, entranced in the strained breaths heaving your chest up and down.

You made your way forward, passing Phillip and coming to the tree, whose veins still held the eerie glow. Ignoring the sharp needles and branches, you grabbed the trunk. With a mighty shout and a horrible cracking that likened far too much to bones for anyone's comfort, the tree came crumbling down, a victim to the uncontrolled strength of the aggravated undead.

The four watched on in great surprise and mild horror as you turned back around, looking as though you'd done no more than picked up your cat.

"Ahhk..m," you mumbled past blood-soaked lips, shuffling forward. Halfway to him you dropped the leg of what was now clearly a sheep, and soon you bumped into him, leaning part of your frail weight on him.

He didn't react, too flabbergasted to do so. A number of things had him petrified, and all together it was too much––you going missing and then returning, covered in blood no less, and then the part he didn't know what to think of.

You said his name. Out of all the words you could have learned, you decided his name was most important; second to hunger, of course.

"Ummm..."

You hummed, satisfied, and wrapped your arms around Ahk, squeezing him. As much as he wanted to return the affection, you were still covered in blood that was now painting his stomach. Another horrid part was the smell––the raw meat you'd torn into and the half-dry blood beneath your fingernails, paired with the corpse of the sheep, whose white coat was now soaked in both blood and clotted sludge.

"Well... at least Crayon's back," Amy said, gesturing vaguely when Phillip raised his brow. Both were at a loss.

"Sun will rise soon, we need to get the tree back. Ahk," Phillip said, motioning the Pharaoh over, who quickly obeyed.

Phillip stood near the trunk end, split open to expose the raw wood, and Ahk stood at the tip on the other side. Once both were situated, they heaved upwards to balance the weight on each man.

Rain began to pour as the five of you made your way back to the train station, you remaining adamantly at Ahk's side despite his pace being a little too fast. After your massive splurge of strength, your muscles ached, and your mind was beginning to slow. Amy suggested that perhaps you got stronger––both physically and mentally––when you had a decent diet of raw meat.

"Do you think we could get food to them more often, then? Obviously it makes them feel better, so long as you don't exert too much of it at once," Ahk said, eyes narrowing playfully as they fell upon you. You made no sign that you understood but giggled from his expression.

"I don't know, raw meat can –"

"Crayon can just eat my leftovers," Phillip said, grunting as he adjusted the tree beneath his arm.

"Leftovers?" questioned Ahk.

"I get most of my blood from raw meat that you can get from a butcher. The meat'll be a tad pale, but it should work. Might even be less messy," he said.

"/Anything/ would be less messy than that," Ben said as he gestured to you.

"Don't bother about him," Ahk said, swiftly kissing your forehead. "He's just jealous you're stronger than him."

While Ben and Amy stood right outside the train station, guarding the tree, Phillip took you and Ahk down to the town down in the valley. The walk down was long and rainy eough that by the end of it, there was no need to go wash off in the river. Most of the mud and all of the blood had washed away. The only problem left was Ahk's clothes––to remedy that, Phillip gave him his long, sunproof coat, just for the morning.

Warmth finally enveloped him as the three of you entered the tiny hotel, glowing with yellow light but occupied by only a ticking clock and a woman behind the counter. Much of the rainy streets outside were blocked by the overgrowing flowers lining the windowsills. Phillip, using his human skills and human money, booked one of the five rooms available in the whole of the small hotel.

"Don't get much business here, do you?" Phillip asked as he rooted around in his wallet.

"Do, actually," the woman said with a sigh. "Ever since the castle got refurnished, that's the only place people want to stay. Plenty of customers, no business. Been here 50 years and that hasn't changed."

"... my apologies, ma'am."

The cheaper room happened to be the one with no windows which, for Ahk and Phillip, was a win-win. While Phillip could make do in the sunlight, wearing long coats, gloves, and bearing umbrellas, Ahk would not have that freedom. The two of you would have to stay in the little town with your tickets back until the next evening. Phillip left you there to rejoin Amy and Ben, hopefully to find Phil's grandfather and recarve that special violin.

"Nice enough room," Ahk commented once the two of you were left alone.

It wasn't anything grand––of course it wasn't, but it had that certain charm that made it feel quite cozy. An electric heater sat behind the door, and beside it stood a table, two chairs tucked into it and a small clock atop it.

He sat on the bed and you followed, fingering the scratchy blanket placed above soft, worn sheets.

"Don't wander off like that again," he said softly in his native tongue, concern in his tone as he raised your head to look him in the eye. "I get horribly worried about you."

Slowly you raised your hand, coming to rest your palm against his cheek. Your dull eyes, rimmed with red, told him of a sadness you couldn't quite articulate. In its' place you gave what would best substitute the words––a kiss on the forehead so carefully gentle he barely felt it. The way you moved, slow and cautious, made him feel as though he were made of porcelain.

"I feel as though we are the only sane people in the world," he admitted with a smile, blushing from your affection. "That's silly of me, isn't it? For the undead Pharaoh to think he and his undead friend are the sane ones. My old self would find this hilarious."

"Ahhk," you mumbled out, moving attentively till your arms wrapped around his shoulders and neck, your cheek squished against his head. You kept moving, moved to your knees, and soon you were pulling him down to lay on the bed. He laughed and held you back, keeping your fragile form comfortably on top of his chest.

"You are, undoubtedly, one of the kindest creatures I've met," he said, whispered against your temple. Energy was beginning to leave him––/life/ was beginning to leave him, as the sun rose hidden behind the hotel walls.

Since you couldn't manage any more strength for words, you kissed the top of his head once more. As numbness filled his limbs, he tried not to think of the coming hours, how the two of you would be no more than corpses in a bed.

You were the first to stop breathing.

In the next evening the two of you snuck back onto the train, enjoying 10 hours to yourself before you were racing back to Cambridge. The sun would rise soon enough, and neither of you had money for a cab home, thus leaving only one option: sprinting.

The two of you collapsed with laughter as you slammed the door of the library shut behind you, the light of the sun already peering over the horizon.

"Gott sei Dank, you're safe," Phillip said, greeting the both of you with a smile and outstretched arms.

"Phillip, my friend," Ahk said, laughing, "thank you for your jacket. I don't think they would've let me without it."

"Of course!"

"And of the filing?"

"The what?"

Soft violin came from around the hallways of bookcases, filling the room with music just as the fireplace filled the room with warm light. Ahk took your hand, and the three of you made your way to the hearth, Ahk taking his seat on the floor with you, cradled in a swath of blankets. Above the two of you Ben played, dressed in a fitted black and white suit that accentuated the strength of his chest and his lean waist.

"You two have a fun evening?" Amy asked, careful to keep her voice below the volume of the violin.

"Wonderful," he answered for both of you. You nuzzled further into him, and with your head tucked below his chin, the two of you finally relaxed back in your home.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader #rami malek character

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alice-beaumont-ravenclaw · 4 years ago

Text

Feliz Ano Novo!

A/N #1: Finally! Fic #4 of my Brazil series! In this story, the gang celebrate New Year’s Eve in Rio.

Brazil series: Hottest Spot South of Havana (Part 1) | Hottest Spot South of Havana (Part 2) | A Wonderful Surprise | História

Word count: 3688

Alice’s outfit | Playlist (The last songs (starting with Carioca) are mostly bossa nova, except for the very last ones, while the ones at the beginning have more of a samba beat)

“Have you seen Alice?”

Andre had just barged into the boys’ suite, looking slightly panicked.

“Isn’t it more likely she would be in the girls’ room?” pointed out Diego.

“I come from there! I wouldn’t be here otherwise. Charlie, do you know where your girlfriend is?”

“Last I saw her, we were all by the pool this afternoon when the concierge called her over, and she said she had to go fetch something. Haven’t seen her since,” replied Charlie.

“Ugh! I’m supposed to get her ready for the reception this evening,” said Andre, raising his hand to his forehead in desperation.

“Alice needs help to get dressed? Is she sick?” asked Barnaby, raising an eyebrow as he looked toward Andre.

“What? No! It’s just that I am in charge of the way she looks, and if it’s not perfect, it will look bad on me. My reputation will be ruined!” exclaimed Andre, falling on a nearby sofa.

“Don’t you mean you made yourself in charge of the way I look?” asked a voice coming from the doorway. “Not to mention no one in Rio knows that you are in charge of my look.”

“Alice!” exclaimed all four boys when they saw the Ravenclaw standing there, her arms crossed as a smile played on her lips.

“I thought you had a deadly disease!” said Barnaby.

“Where were you?” asked Charlie, noticing the plastic bag she was holding.

“Will I have a dance with you this evening?” chimed in Diego, ignoring Charlie’s glare.

But before Alice could say anything, Andre took her arm and started pulling her toward the girls’ suite. “No time for that! You can answer them all later. Time to get you ready for the reception!” he said before his head popped back into the doorway. “That also goes for you, gentlemen. Stop messing about and get ready!”

As the boys started to get dressed in their room, the girls’ room looked as if a hurricane had passed through it. Clothes were all over the living room as if Tulip’s and Tonks’ luggage had exploded. Which, in fact, they had.

“What happened?” exclaimed Andre and Alice, looking at the scene before noticing Penny. She stood silent in a corner, her eyes wide.

“Tulip brought magical firecrackers with her, and they exploded,” said Tonks, pointing her finger at Tulip.

“Jae Kim is untrustworthy. He sold me defective firecrackers!” grumbled Tulip.

“That does not explain why Tonks’ suitcase also seems to have exploded,” said Andre as he picked up a charred t-shirt, wrinkling his nose before letting it drop to the floor.

“I may have hidden some in her suitcase…” said Tulip, looking away, her lips pursed.

“My autographed Weird Sisters t-shirt!” exclaimed Tonks, holding up the remnants of a t-shirt.

“Why does Penny look shell-shocked?” whispered Andre.

“Exploding pillow incident?” wondered Alice, though she had her doubts.

“No,” said Penny as she walked over to Alice and Andre. “It just hit me that my vacation would be way better without these two.”

“Come on… They’re not that bad,” said Alice just as Tonks turned Tulip’s hair purple.

“You were saying?” said Andre.

“Ugh… Alright. Andre, close the door,” said Alice as she dropped her bag on a chair and took out her wand. “Silencio!” she said, pointing her wand at both Tonks and Tulip. She then cast a spell on all the clothes in the room to put them back in the suitcase. “Good thing Flitwick taught us that packing charm two years ago,” she said as she watched the pieces of clothing neatly get inside the bags.

“I love watching that spell at work,” said Andre as he turned Tulip’s hair back to its bright red colour.

“Honestly, I’d rather if we didn’t have to use any of these spells. Can’t you two ever be quiet?” said Penny as she sat on the sofa, glaring at the currently mute girls.

“Well, they currently are…” pointed out Alice.

“That’s because you used the Silencing Charm on them. As soon as it wears off, Tonks will scream bloody murder about her Weird Sisters t-shirt. Tulip will just say how boring we are for preventing her from destroying the hotel,” said Penny, massaging her temples.

Alice turned to her two silent friends, who were both looking down at the floor. “Look… I know your definition of fun may differ from mine or Penny’s,” she started saying, “but I think we can find a way to compromise so that we can all enjoy our vacation. But first, let’s deal with the situation at hand. Tulip, if you have anything else that goes BOOM, let me know so that we can dispose of them without creating a mess. Tonks, I’m pretty sure we can repair your Weird Sisters t-shirt, and worst-case scenario, I’m pretty sure that getting another one won’t be too hard considering they are all still at Hogwarts. Now, apologize to Penny.”

“Alice… they can’t speak,” whispered Andre before making his way to the bedroom.

“Oops, sorry, forgot about that. Finite Incantatem,” said Alice, flicking her wand.

“Sorry, Penny,” said Tonks and Tulip.

“Great! Now that that’s over, time to get ready for the party. Alice, I placed your outfit on the bed. I’ll go back to my room to get changed and come back for your hair and makeup. Chop chop!” said Andre as he left the girls’ suite.

All four girls looked at the door closing behind Andre when Tulip turned towards Alice. “Alice Beaumont?” she asked. “Why is Andre Egwu always planning your outfits?”

“I… don’t know, actually. I think it all started with the Celestial Ball. I asked him to create an outfit for Rowan and Ben, and he then wanted to take care of my look.”

“Wait… he actually planned one of your outfits before that. Remember when we went to the Proms?” said Penny.

“You’re right! Either way, beats being thrown fashion magazines at,” said Alice, rubbing her head.

“And if we don’t want him to throw the magazines he brought for this trip at our heads, we should get ready before he comes back,” pointed out Tonks.

About 40 minutes later, the girls came out of their room, preceded by Andre. Tonks was wearing golden flared pants with a black off-the-shoulder top, along with sneakers, to Andre’s chagrin. Tulip wore a short halter-neck dark blue dress with a raven motif on it and bronze flat sandals. Penny had a yellow midi-length dress with a cowl neck that was a little form-fitting, paired with black sandals with stiletto heels.

Finally came Alice in a green A-line dress made from layers of floaty silk organza with a draped bodice. Her feet wear adorned with a pair of high-heel golden sandals with a golden sequin rose on the side of the ankle. Her accessories remained simple, with a vintage gold necklace with a charm in the shape of a heart around her neck, a gold ring with a beautiful indigo blue quartz stone on her finger, and a golden headband of overlapping hoops in her softly curled hair. The look was completed by a small clutch embellished with golden mirrored beaded embroidery.

“Are these… the colour of the Brazilian flag?” asked Alanza, who was waiting in the corridor with the other boys in a simple white dress and silver gladiator sandals.

“Oh, Merlin, you think it’s tacky, right? I told Andre…” started saying Alice, ready to head back in her room.

“What? Oh! No! It actually looks lovely! I mean, it’s usually reserved for football matches here; otherwise, we don’t really wear our flag’s colour, but it’s very subtle in your outfit,” tried reassuring Alanza.

Unfortunately, both Andre and Alice looked mortified and ready to crawl under a rock.

“Alanza just said Alice looks great,” said Charlie, as he wrapped his arms around his girlfriend’s waist from behind. “So let’s go have some fun and celebrate New Year’s Eve before the party ends.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear! Let’s go have some fun!” exclaimed Tonks, running to the elevators.

“By the way, what’s the drinking age in Brazil?” asked Tulip.

“TULIP!” yelled all her Hogwarts friends before Alanza could answer.

As they entered the Copacabana Palace’s reception room, they were dazzled by the decor, fellow attendees, and the live music. After being shown to their table, the girls headed straight to the dance floor, attracted by the lively music. The boys chatted about various topics, until someone caught Diego’s attention.

“How is Tonks dancing?” asked Diego as he observed the girls.

Tonks was squatting, swaying her hips as she gyrated her fist above her head.

“She looks like she’s about to throw an invisible lasso,” said Andre. “And… yup, Tulip just decided to join her.”

“At least neither seem to care about the looks they are getting,” commented Diego.

“Alanza really seems to be enjoying herself,” remarked Barnaby.

“Indeed. She and Penny are really graceful on the dancefloor. As for Alice,” added Diego, glancing toward Charlie, “her dancing skills have really improved since I first taught you two how to waltz for the Celestial Ball.”

“I honestly never thought we’d get through that without falling flat on our faces,” said Charlie, sighing as he remembered that evening.

“I heard you two nearly kissed that night…” said Diego, smirking.

“Good thing they didn’t, or we might never have had that kiss on the Quidditch pitch. If it wasn’t for that kiss, I wouldn’t even be certain these two were dating,” said Andre.

“Don’t forget the glow they both had coming out of that field last summer,” said Penny as she sat down. “That’s more evidence they are an item.”

“Penny...” said Alice through gritted teeth, daggers shooting out of her eyes as the other girls sat down and Charlie’s face turned a bright shade of red.

“Sorry, sorry. But Andre’s right. It’s not like you two act like a couple around Hogwarts,” pointed out Penny.

“It’s called being discreet,” replied Alice.

“Jae Kim did tell me he once caught them asleep on a sofa in the Gryffindor common room,” said Tulip.

“Did he?” said Penny, a glimmer in her eyes as they fell on Alice and Charlie.

“Oh, look! Our food is coming!” exclaimed Alice, ignoring Penny as Charlie took a big gulp of his champagne.

As the waiters placed the plates in front of them, Penny’s gaze remained on Alice, the corner of her mouth quirking up.

As they started to eat, Penny cleared her throat, “So―”

“We were studying and fell asleep,” interrupted Alice, not looking up from her plate. “Nothing worth alerting the press. On the other hand, Beatrice mentioned something about you snogging a certain someone instead of helping him study potion.” Alice’s eyes looked in Diego’s direction before slowly looking up at Penny’s face.

Penny’s cheek turned a light shade of pink as she stared at Alice, ignoring everyone’s gaze on her. She wouldn’t, would she? Then again, when push comes to shove, Alice wasn’t the kind to necessarily take the high road. No one could know Diego Caplan had once successfully seduced her. “The food really is delicious,” she finally said.

“Talk about a segue,” pointed out Tonks as she looked between Penny and Alice.

From then, the conversation took different direction, from Alanza’s time at Hogwarts to last summer’s Quidditch World Cup. Diego tried discussing samba techniques with Alanza, who revealed she had no idea how to dance a proper samba. She just danced to the beat of the music. Alanza seemed to enjoy listening to Barnaby talk about magical creatures. Andre was looking around at the other guests’ outfits, relieved they weren’t the only one in colourful clothes. Tulip and Tonks were whispering to one another, which made Penny down her champagne flute.

“By the way… How come we have a champagne bottle on our table? I thought Alanza said we had to be 18 to get alcohol,” said Alice, finally noticing the golden liquid in the flute next to her glass of water.

“Ah! I only said the legal drinking age was 18. But it’s not hard for teens to buy it,” corrected Alanza.

“Not to mention we do have someone who is 18 at our table,” said Andre, looking at Charlie.

“Oh! That’s right! Charlie Weasley is the oldest one here! Thanks for the booze, dear elder!” exclaimed Tulip from across the table, raising near-empty her glass.

“Don’t overdo it, Tulip. Champagne gets you drunk faster than you think, not to mention the hungover...” warned Alice.

“You got drunk on champagne?” asked Barnaby, taking a sip from his glass.

“No, it’s just something I heard my parents say,” Alice said, shrugging.

“Come to think of it… I never saw you drink alcohol. Not even firewhiskey at parties,” noted Tonks.

“That’s because she got sick as a kid because there was alcohol in a cake she ate,” explained Charlie.

Everyone stared at him.

“You… remembered that story I told you?” asked Alice, her hand over her chest, her eyes blinking quickly.

“How adorable!” said Penny, clapping her hands together before resting her cheek on them.

“It’s sickening,” said Tonks and Tulip.

Charlie’s face grew hotter as everyone was looking at him. Why was it so impressive that he remembered something Alice told him? He didn’t like everyone looking at him like he had discovered a new species of dragons when all he had done was remember a story. Taking Alice’s hand, he said, “Let’s go dance,” pulling her out of her chair.

“But… dessert?” said Alice as she followed him.

“Not really hungry anymore.”

As the couple made their way to the dance floor, everyone else at the table looked at them.

“They are so cute together,” gushed Penny.

“How long before he proposes?” asked Tonks, smirking.

“Well, according to Jae Kim, many have bet that―” started saying Tulip. She realized all eyes were on her and said eyes were all wide. “It was a rhetorical question, wasn’t it?”

Tonks nodded.

As everyone else shook their heads in dismay, Barnaby looked confused. “Who’s betting on what?”

“Come,” said Alanza, gently taking his hand, “let’s go dance.”

Back on the dance floor, Charlie and Alice were swaying to the bossa nova music playing. Alice’s mind seemed elsewhere, as she kept frowning as she looked at something over his shoulder.

“Is everything alright?” asked Charlie.

“Mmm? Oh! Yes! Sorry… It’s just that I’ve been thinking about what Alanza said,” replied Alice.

“What Alanza said?” echoed Charlie, his eyebrow quirking up.

“About my outfit’s… colour palette,” said Alice, looking back at whatever was behind Charlie.

“Alice, I already told you. You look amazing in your dress.”

“I know, but look around. I’m the only one wearing all the colours of the Brazilian flag.”

Charlie did as Alice asked. He noticed that many were wearing white like Alanza, while others were wearing various colours. Alice was right. She was the only one wearing the colours of the national flag.

“Maybe if I removed the ring…” muttered Alice, removing her hand from Charlie’s shoulder.

“What ring?” asked Charlie, returning his attention to his girlfriend.

“That ring!” said Alice as she stopped dancing, trying to pull the ring off of her finger. When she finally did, she looked around. “Left my clutch at the table, be right back,” she said as she started to walk away.

Charlie grabbed her wrist. “Wait. I can put your ring in my pocket,” he said, pointing to his pocket.

“You don’t mind?”

“Of course not. Unless your ring weighs a ton, I’ll barely notice it.”

Alice chuckled and gave him the ring. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he said, tucking the ring in his pocket before placing his hand back on the small of her back while the other took her hand. “You know I’ll always be there for you, right?”

Alice raised her brows. “It’s just a ring, Charlie.”

Charlie shook his head.“Yeah, no, I meant in general,” he said, looking into her green eyes, “I’ll stand by you, no matter what.”

Alice stared back at him, looking into his warm brown eyes. “Charlie…” She started to lean forward when―

“And I'll never desert you,” sang Tonks in a whisper as she stood next to them with Tulip. The couple hadn’t noticed them dancing nearby, too focused on one another.

“I’ll stand by you,” completed Tulip, before they ran off.

“Tonks! Tulip!” exclaimed Alice, ready to run after them, but Charlie pulled her closer to him.

“Let them. My own fault for sounding so cheesy,” said Charlie, a corner of his mouth quirking up as he rolled his eyes.

“It wasn’t―” started saying Alice, only to notice Charlie raising an eyebrow at her. “Ok, maybe it was a little, but most romantic things could be considered cheesy in some way.”

“You thought it was romantic?”

Alice nodded. “I was actually about to kiss you when these two interrupted,” she said, her face becoming slightly red as she looked down.

Charlie let go of her hand and used his finger to gently lift her chin up. “Were you?” he said, leaning forward to close the distance between them.

As their lips were about to meet, Alanza arrived beside them, pulling Barnaby behind her. “Come on, you two! People are making their way to the beach for the countdown,” she said before disappearing into the crowd with Barnaby.

“And people wonder why they never saw us kiss in public,” grumbled Charlie as he took Alice’s hand.

“We keep getting interrupted,” said Alice with a little laugh escaping her lips as she took her clutch from the table.

They made their way through the crowd toward the doors that led outside. The horde was getting denser, and Alice could feel her pulse quicken and her shoulders getting tense. She needed to get out of that crowd. Now.

She let go of Charlie’s hand. “I… I think I forgot something in my room. Be right back,” she said before she started walking in the opposite direction.

Charlie looked at her silhouette disappear into the crowd, puzzled until he remembered her running out of the Celestial Ball. And her taking his hand after that concert. And at the Quidditch World Cup…

He spotted Andre and shouted, “I’ll just go back to the room with Alice. I think she’s not feeling well.” After Andre nodded to indicate he had heard him, Charlie made his way through the crowd to the elevators.

There were a few people around the elevators, but Alice wasn’t there. She must already be upstairs, thought Charlie to himself. He got onto an elevator, and when he arrived at the Penthouse floor, he went straight to the door of her suite and knocked. No answers. He knocked again. Still nothing. Maybe she was on the balcony. He got into his room and made his way to the balcony. He turned to look over at the girls’ suite’s balcony. There she was, quietly sitting in a chair, looking down at the crowd on the beach.

“There you are,” said Charlie, smiling.

Alice looked up, her eyes wide. “Oh! Charlie? You startled me.”

“I’ll come and join you,” he said, making his way toward the balustrade that stood between their two balconies.

“I’ll go and open the―” started saying Alice as she got up from her chair.

“No need,” said Charlie, jumping over the railing. As he landed, they heard something metallic fall to the ground.

“What was that?” asked Alice, looking around.

“Your ring!” said Charlie, a look of realization in his eyes. “Don’t move. It probably didn’t fall too far.” He looked around until he saw something glint on the floor. “There it is!” he exclaimed, raising the ring from the floor.

His eyes suddenly widened as he realized the position he was in. He was on one knee with a ring in his hand while Alice was standing in front of him. He blushed, but the darkness of the evening prevented Alice from seeing it. She simply stared at him, blinking. Did she realize what this scene looked like? Charlie decided to try something.

“May I?” he asked, taking her left hand. He slid the ring on her ring finger before looking up to see her reaction.

Alice raised her hand, looking at the ring on her finger. “I think,” she started, staring at the ring,” I was wearing it on my right hand.”

“What?” said Charlie, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes… see, it’s a bit loose on that finger, but I think it fits snugly on the other hand. See, fingers are…” started explaining Alice.

Charlie couldn’t help but chuckle. Of course, Alice had not realized what the situation had looked like. Romantic gestures usually flew right over her head unless they were obvious. That was part of her charm, really. Lost in those thoughts, as Alice explained the difference between fingers, he suddenly realized the music on the beach had stopped and that the DJ was saying something that got the crowd excited.

“Alice,” he said, interrupting her monologue.

“Yes?”

“I think they are about to start the countdown.”

“You think?” she asked.

Before he could answer, they heard the crowd on the beach shout, “DEZ!”

“I think you're right,” said Alice as she walked to the railing to get a better view.

“NOVE!”

Charlie got up from the floor and walked over to Alice, hugging her from behind.

“OITO!”

Alice looked up at Charlie, smiling softly.

“SETE!”

“I love you,” she said.

“SEIS!”

Charlie looked down at her, his eyes wide with surprise. It was the first time she had ever said this to him.

“CINCO!”

Seeing the tenderness in her eyes, he smiled back.

“QUATRO!”

“I love you too,” he said.

“TRÊS!”

He leaned down.

“DOIS!”

She closed her eyes.

“UM!”

Their lips were about to touch.

“FELIZ ANO NOVO!”

“Happy New Year,” he whispered before his lips covered hers.

As he felt Alice melt into his kiss, Charlie couldn’t help to think back at that moment when he had slipped that ring on her finger and the warmth he felt as he did so.

A/N #2: I hope you enjoyed this fic! Next up: Ipanema!

#alice beaumont #charlie weasley x alice beaumont #charlie weasley #Charlie x Alice #charlie weasley x mc #hphm #hphm mc #hphm fanfic #hogwarts mystery #jacob’s sibling #penny haywood #andre egwu #diego caplan #barnaby lee #alanza alvez #nymphadora tonks #tulip karasu #copacabana palace

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botheredbuck · 4 years ago

Note

49 ☺️

49 - “I don’t wanna screw this up.”

Today has to be perfect.

They deserve it, after everything.

But Callum’s mind is going back and forth over everything that could possibly go wrong today, every little thing that maybe hasn’t been taken care of or that he could’ve missed. Everything that could possibly make today somehow not perfect, as if just what’s happening alone doesn’t make it so.

Because it’s finally happening. They’re finally getting married.

It’s been months of going back and forth over whether they really wanted something big, months of Ben trying to convince him that they should just elope, get drunk and hop on a flight to Las Vegas (and Callum had had to remind Ben that they definitely didn’t have the money for that). Months since Ben had whispered the question across the table on a random night out in the Vic, surrounded by family and probably one too many beers on Callum’s part-

“Marry me.”

Callum froze, beer halfway to his lips and it feels like he can’t possibly have heard it right. It’s just a normal night in the pub and Jay and Lola are there, along with Lexi tucked into the corner. She looks as though she’d been falling asleep a little before but her eyes shoot open at the words, because she’s always awake for something that could possibly involve her getting a new dress. They’d been talking about nothing, just relaxing after it’s been a long week for all of them and Ben’s been quiet for a while, watching Callum with eyes that are so undeniably in love. There’s been no warning, no sign before now that Ben’s been planning this and maybe he hasn’t, but either way he looks so sure of himself. It feels so perfectly them, just something on impulse but it throws Callum off completely.

“Wh-what?”

“Marry me,” Ben replies, confident and louder this time, and the silence at their table is so instantaneous that even the people from the couple of tables near them start to turn around. “I want you to marry me. If you want to.”

Lola’s looking between them with her hand over her mouth, a clear smile underneath but she waits, eyes darting back and forth, looking for any sort of clue like there’s even a decision to be made.

Callum’s been sat in silence for a while but it’s not indecision, just shock.

“Look, I- I didn’t wanna screw this up so I didn’t really plan it or anything but,” Ben starts, putting his bottle down on the table and standing up. “I wanna marry you, Callum Highway.”

He reaches into his back pocket and produces a box and it’s one that he recognises straight away. It’s that same red velvet one that Ben had put a key in, all that time ago, except Callum’s answer is bound to be much different this time.

He opens it up, and there’s a simple silver ring sat in there, a little heart engraved onto the front and it’s easily the best thing Callum’s ever been given.

“So, what do you say, Highway?” Ben grins, and he looks so damn happy that it makes Callum’s heart race.

“You’re an idiot,” he replies with a smile and he can’t even be bothered to try and hide the fact that he’s crying. He stands up and leans across the table to press a kiss to Ben’s lips.

When they pull away, Ben laughs a little. “That a yes then?”

“Of course it is,” Callum says and leans in again. He’s distantly aware of Lola almost screaming behind him along with Lexi, who’s definitely not tired any more- she’s stood on her seat instead, jumping up and down.

The memory still doesn’t fail to make him smile and he thumbs over the ring where it’s sat on his finger, the cold silver grounding him somewhat. It’s this comforting reminder that Ben loves him, has promised to love him, and that this is really happening. He takes a breath in the mirror, catching his own eyes and straightening his tie. It’s a nice blue, matching with Ben’s (a blue that he’d picked out because it matches the other man’s eyes) and it suits him- or that’s what Ben had said. When he looks back into the mirror something catches his eye, just in the corner and he turns around. There’s a familiar picture on the side, one that he’d left in what’s now Stuart’s apartment when he moved out. It’s from one of their first dates. They feel like two completely different people now and it’s like a reminder of how far they’ve both come since all of that, because they’re getting married. He walks over and picks up the frame in a gentle hand, and suddenly the thought of marrying the man similing back at him doesn’t feel nearly as scary.

(sorry this took a little while, but i hope you like it anon, thank you so much for the request <3)

#ballum #ballum fic #eastenders #ben mitchell #callum highway #answered asks

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oftenderweapons · 5 years ago

Text

The Calm After the Storm - maknae line

Pairing: maknae line member x reader

Wordcount: 1.1-1.2k words each

Genre: smut, fluff

Rating: 18+

Hello jell-o to everyone again! I usually try to publish by Sunday night but it’s exam season so I’m a bit busy with uni. Also, Jin’s part was super difficult to start but then boom, it turned out to be the longest, so every delay is due to that and I refuse to postpone again so I’m publishing it unedited. Might reread in a couple days and actually edit the post. Every piece is about 1100-1200 words (they’re getting longer and longer!)

The original theme for the week was going to be aftercare, but me being a chaotic mess made me go a little bit wilder than just aftercare. I tried to adjust every scenario to how each boy would approach intimacy with his partner, and how each couple would recover from different types and degrees of interaction, It also depends a lot on the kind of ideal girlfriend I imagine for each of the boys.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: ahem. It’s very descriptive, some parts more than others. So, let’s get this started. Oral sex galore (highly recommended if you’re a fan of being eaten out yay!) crude language, unprotected sex within a safe and established relationship (please be careful guys, use condoms and dental dams I can’t recommend it enough), voyeurism, overstimulation, biting, spanking, some bold PDA, cockwarming (you know who that is), sex toys (more specifically ben-wa balls), slight angst/insecurity/trauma due to toxic masculinity

Member disclaimers: Jimin is a brat and we all know it, can actually dom but need aftercare afterwards, I love him loads, he’s my squishy and I’m gonna protect him for life. Taehyung is an art freak and an overall freak whoa yeah, let’s move on (also, Where, When and How pt.2, The Return of The Sex Toys). JK goes from soft boy to hard dom to soft boy again in 0.2 seconds and I still don’t know why or how. He’s young and wants some fun and loves his girlfriend because she’ll always embrace his softer side and have fun with his naughtier/playful side. Enjoy!

Here you can find the hyung line

And here you can find my masterlist

Jimin

“Who’s been a good girl?” He teased, the tip of his sex resting on your entrance.

“I have.” You beamed, satisfaction filling your voice as he smiled down at you, his spare hand gently reaching for your cheek, caressing your face and slipping his thumb in your mouth.

“You have, my princess, indeed.” He pushed the tip inside. It was the loveliest shade of pink, pillowy and thick where it attached to the shaft. You knew it very well since you love looking at it and you were just done having it in you mouth for almost forty minutes. You had provoked him endlessly, keeping him on your tongue without moving, just the tip laying there, your lips wrapped delicately around it. No suction, no friction, just there. In the meantime his hand had started toying with the hem of your panties, finally moving them aside, letting one of his fingers rub on your skin.

“Please, Jimin. I’ve been so good.” You dragged your vowels as you breathed out, getting adjusted to the feeling of him inside you. His size was all you needed, not too much and not too little. His dick was the most beautiful you had ever seen, the colour, the texture and the dimensions making it look so pretty you didn’t feel the usual embarrassment or fear that you usually felt while approaching your previous partners.

“It’s all yours, love.” He said with a small grunt. He got relatively more quiet and whiny as he kept pushing in and out of you, staying close to you, the position so intimate you felt like he was becoming your whole world, his hips working their magic on you.

“Are you gonna cum for me, princess?” He asked, his hips keeping up the pace.

“Yeah, so close.” You gritted out of your closed teeth.

“Good.” He moved his mouth to your chest, your left nipple engorged in his pretty pout.

“A little faster, please.” You asked.

“Such nice manners. You aren’t giving me any reason to punish you, princess. Such a good girl.” He praised you again.

This kind of role reversal didn’t happen very often, but sometimes Jimin liked taking care of you, reminding you that he is both your boy and your man. That he can be whatever you want him to be. He needs to feel like you could never do without him. You addressed this sense of inadequateness of his, every now and then, reassuring him and helping him state his own self and his needs.

“Do you like it? That I’m doing exactly what you want me to?” You asked, but you both knew you were asking whether he felt like being harsher and punish you.

“You like obeying me, pet?” He asked, his voice dripping in sugar as he pronounced your nickname.

“I love you, Jimin.” You said softly.

He almost mewled at that, reassured by how that sentence, that feeling meant that he was at your own level, how much of a praise it was to be your equal, to be strong enough to match you, to own you.

“Are you close?” He asked, his thrusts becoming more intense. “I want to take you from behind but if you’re close I can keep going.”

“From behind, please.” You squealed, already eager to change position.

He grinned and slipped out of you, the shift happening so quickly you felt a bit dizzy when you realised your face was pressed on the pillow, your ass up in the air as he entered you again. He started slamming into you his hands pressing your ass against his hips, the sound warning you that the whole attitude had changed too.

“You like it like this, princess? You like getting it all dirty and rowdy?” He groaned, his voice anything but his usually loving and obedient self.

You emitted a muffled ‘yes’ as your hand reached your clit.

“You touching yourself, ____?” He said, using one hand to turn your face towards him. “You better come quick or else you’ll have to lick me till I’m hard again. You’re not gonna cum without my cock inside you, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” The title riled him up enough to get his pace a bit faster, sending you miles deep into pleasure.

His cry echoed yours, signaling his own orgasm. After taking a couple deep breaths he slipped out of you, removing the condom and getting rid of it quickly. He was in your arms again a couple seconds later, laying by your side, one leg entwined around yours, his arms hugging your middle, his head nuzzling in between your breasts.

“You alright sweetie?” You asked.

“I feel so good when I see you that happy. Fills me with joy.” He kissed your breastbone, then, as you lifted his chin with your forefinger, he pressed his lips to yours.

“Do you need anything? Some water? A snack? Shall we get in the shower?” You caressed his hair back, looking at how sweaty he was.

“A shower would be amazing. But I want you close.”

“Would you prefer a bath?” You kissed his forehead. He was all small smiles and fidgeting with your fingers.

“Yes, please.”

“Such manners, always so perfect.” You almost snickered at the contrast between him right now and the man he’d been a few minutes ago.

“Let’s go.” You said, sitting up before he got too tired to get out of bed. “You look amazing, babe.” You couldn’t help but comment, looking at him sprawled on the covers.

He smiled, his pupils disappearing behind his crinkled lids, then he stood up, thinking whether he should wear something or not and feeling insecure for a second, but then following your cue he decided to stay naked.

As you slipped into the tub you let him slide in with his back against your chest, hugging him to you, your nose nuzzling the top of his head. “Is it to your taste?”

“Yes, thank you babe.” He replied. “I really like your bath soap.” He yawned, smiling some more as you caught him. He looked ten times lovelier right now. You felt that fuzzy feeling in your stomach intensifying, and you began rubbing the tense muscles on his back out of fondness and gratitude. “That's truly amazing.”

“You are truly amazing.” You kissed his nape and continued with your caregiving, washing his hair, rinsing him, helping him out of the shower, drying him and applying some lotion over his skin, smiling at him with your eyes through the reflection on the mirror as you brushed your teeth while sharing the sink.

“I love you,” you whispered in his ear as you hugged him under the sheets.

“I love you, too.” That’s bliss.

Taehyung

“Don’t you dare move, you little demon.”

With a forceful hammering of his hips against your bottom, Taehyung slammed into you at an impossible pace, finally snapping forward as he lost his regular rhythm and bent down, his head propped on the back of your neck, his breath fanning out along your spine before he grunted the manliest sound you had ever heard.

You were shocked: laying there, ass up, your boyfriend collapsed on top of you with his exceedingly long dick planted inside you, its girth becoming slightly less bearable as the high of your climax ebbed away.

“Tae, it’s so good.” You moaned. “Too much.”

“Stay put, love.” He helped you lay down, without any intention of parting from you.

“We can’t stay like this forever.”

“Watch me.” He replied cockily.

The whole night had been wildly unusual. It had all started in the afternoon. You had been to an art gallery where the whole exhibition verted on photographs of naked bodies painted into art. He had held you tight, his hand gripping your waist, his thumb fooling around the hem of your jeans, tentatively trying to slither under the fabric. He had asked you about your favourite, pointing out pieces he was very enthusiastic about. You had looked at him baffled as he pointed out the picture of a woman with two big breasts and a Virgin Mary painted on her belly, the model’s pubic hair painted a strange rainbow mesh of colours as if simulating a cloud from which the painting was emerging.

You had been slightly uncomfortable standing before it, but the rest of it hadn’t been that extreme. Well, except for another couple pictures.

One had also attracted your attention. In the back of the gallery one very explicit picture had sparked something between the two of you. As you walked in you thought it was just an empty room but as you turned around you saw a giant poster of a vagina, every detail so precise that you asked yourself what kind of lens and camera could take a picture with such impressive high quality. On the women's thighs seven lines of paint mimicked two branches of a rainbow leading to the model’s inner labia, while a sun — or a halo — surrounded the clit. The poster occupied the whole wall, at least three metres tall and five metres wide.

You were standing in the middle of the room, taking in every detail, seriously impressed by the piece. You were as tall as her slit, for God's sake…

"It looks like you really like this one." Taehyung said, hugging you from behind, his nose toying with your earlobe. His voice made your insides tremble.

"I really get it." Taehyung said. "I would do that too." Silence stretched as he got caught in his thoughts and fantasies. "Your pussy's so good I would take an absurdly high quality picture of it and have it printed as if it were wallpaper and installed in a private room in my apartment and simply sneak in sometimes and stand in front of it and just admire it."

You kept looking ahead, too caught by the luscious way his hips pressed against the small of your back. "Your cunt is art, babe." He whispered and pressed some more into you. "Literally paradise. I'd lick it for days and fuck it till I can't even get hard anymore."

You tried to get your mouth to salivate again. He was playing it dirty. And the fact that you had to go back home and get ready for a nice dinner together and a night at the club with Jimin and his girlfriend made you even more tense. You knew you would have to wait for some relief.

As you reached your apartment Taehyung decided to pick your clothes and have you get ready right in front on him. He settled on the bed, sitting, as you rolled on your stockings and wore a suspender belt that matched your underwear. Slowly you let your deep green silk slip-on dress roll down your body, and you felt his hands stretch towards you, grabbing you by the waist. You stood at the edge of the bed, his chin propped on your belly. "My dove, I have a question for you."

"Yes," you replied, your hands pushing his hair back.

He showed you a blue velvet pouch and you smirked. "Do you want to?"

"You wanna help me wear them?" He nodded.

And that's how you found yourself grinding on him desperately in the club after he had fed you chocolate-covered strawberries for dessert. Not that you complained about that. But the Ben-Wa balls heavily rolling and rubbing against your g-spot were making it difficult for you to fully enjoy your night out. Especially since every time you closed your eyes you saw Taehyung's lips wrapping around them and lubricating them before he helped you insert them.

It didn't take long for the two of you to get too desperate to care about decency, but since you needed to think about Taehyung's reputation you decided to call it a night and feign tiredness in front of Jimin's eyes — who called both of you out on your state of arousal and blessed your intentions for the rest of the night, letting you go home without making too much of a fuss.

When you arrived at the apartment you were both too impatient to reach the bedroom and used the sofa to dull the edges of your needs, Taehyung staring at you wide eyed, kneeling on the floor between your legs while you rubbed yourself passionately. As you reached your first high he dove in between your thighs, his mouth landing on your clit, sucking on it devotedly, eyes fixed on yours. Overstimulation hit you hard, the geisha balls still moving inside you. He made you cum again with his tongue lapping and lashing at your wetness.

He carried you to the bedroom in silence, his gaze dark and desperate, completely oblivious to the way his long and heavy sex strained against his linen slacks. Laying back, you let him tower over you, teasing the underside of his erection as he took off your dress definitively. "You're so beautiful." You whispered religiously.

"Are you talking to me or my cock?"

You chuckled lightly. "Mostly to you."

"Mostly…" He mused.

He pressed his hand to your belly, removing the silver spheres from inside you.

"Mostly, uh?" With that he entered you violently, thrusting in with one smooth, powerful stroke.

"Tae—" You whined. He kept doing you like that, with evenly paced, blunt thrusts. However, since you kept teasing him with the firm squeezing of your inner walls encouraged by your own fingers brushing your clit, he pulled out of you, flipping you around and pushing your backside up, entering you once more. It didn't take long for him to get lost in his own rhythm, for his hand to come up to your tender spot and rub you until your legs gave out.

And now heavy with the sleepiness of bliss, you questioned whether your boyfriend was intending to get out of you. "Tae, baby, we should get cleaned."

"Let me stay inside, love. Please. I feel like I'll want to go at it again in a while, just let me stay in." He muttered, his hands pressing against your hips to keep you close.

"You sure you don't need anything?" You asked again, knowing how needy he could get when he gets sleepy.

"Just you pressed up and around me. This is heaven."

A small laugh. How could you deny him?

Jungkook

You had loved every second of it. The gentle way he had kissed you on the sofa, and how he had carried you to bed. How delicately he had touched you and held you, how he had made love to you. It had all been amazing. Until the initial feelings of fondness and devotion gave way to a hunger deeper and more desperate. Then he had pushed you around, sitting himself up on the balls of his feet, dragging you up with him in the process. You could still feel the echo of the beastly groan he had emitted against your ear as he let your back slide down his chest, his sex entering you and reaching so deep inside you. Your head had rolled back against his shoulder as one of his hands grabbed your breast and played with your nipple.

“You like it, don’t you? You like me so deep inside you.” He had stated, his tone so arrogant. “No wonder you can never get enough of me.” He picked you up by the waist, using you as if you were nothing but a cocksleeve, dragging you up and down his dick. “That’s it. That’s what you like. Being a lazy princess and making me do all the work. You love it when I force you a little, don’t you.” He dropped you down with exceptional violence, moving one hand to squeeze your breast, the other angling your face towards him. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” You replied, almost unconsciously. You were willing to do whatever could please him, make him start again.

“Yes what?” He grabbed your other breast, his hand heavy and possessive.

“Yes, I adore when you use me.”

“That’s my little toy. So mature and composed, but so dirty. You love that I get all those naughty things you like.” The way he propped his hands behind his back and leaned on them shifted the angle once more, his hips snapping back and forth with a mind shattering intensity.

“Come on. Get it how you like it.” He freed one of his hands to slap your ass. It didn’t take that long for the both of you to orgasm, especially after he moved the hand on your chest upwards, his fingers merely resting around your neck, without even needing to hold it, while his other hand worked your clit matching the rhythm of the contractions of your insides.

He clinged to you almost desperately when his high subsided, his hold almost too tight. You were trying to compensate for the lack of contact during the latest round, your hands struggling to find any part of him that you could hold, until your fingers intertwined with his over your left breast.

“I thought I would lose you during the last month. I was never home.” You understood his insecurities. You also thought he would find someone more suitable to his career, someone who could understand what it means to belong to that world.

“I thought anyone could make you see how much of a shitty boyfriend I am.”

You let him continue.

“I thought you would meet a smart university kid at campus, or that cute barista at the coffee shop at the end of the street. I thought of how they would court you, all the attentions, the pretty dates, the small gifts. I thought of them taking you out for dinner, of them taking you home. Trying to kiss you. Sometimes, late at night, I asked myself if you would invite them upstairs. It always got me so fucking mad. Once I almost hit my personal trainer because I was thinking of that. He got mad, told me to keep my head in the game.” He was still inside you, you could feel his shaft throbbing softly, as if it was his heartbeat. Maybe it was just an impression. His head fell to your shoulder.

“I would never, and you know it.”

“I know, but some part of me can’t help but go there. If you could only see the way men look at you when you’re not watching. And our relationship being private only means that they don't know that you’re taken. Makes them think that they’re allowed to look at you like that. I feel so hopeless whenever they act all bold. I can’t be like that. I can’t give you the time and attentions they can give you. Because of who I am, because of me being so fucking shy...”

“I love you.” You said, as if it were a magic spell that could fix all his insecurities. You turned your head to look at him. “And right now you’re inside me. You’ve made me cum twice tonight, with nothing but your body, the way you moved on top of me, behind me, inside me.” He blushed a bit at that.

You loved talking with him after sex. It was so common for the two of you. Sex was like a key to open a secret place of vulnerability and intimacy. All the confessions Jungkook had offered you in bed, laying close to you, protected by you, had very often come in the aftermath of bliss. “I am with you,” you continued, leading him to lay on your side.

“I wanna stay inside you, but I also want to face you, look you in the eye.”

“Same here.” You needed to see his face.

“And I also need a snack.” He considered. He took a long pause. You waited for him to formulate his thought. “If you ever realised you’re no longer happy with me, you would tell me, right?”

“Of course I would tell you. However, I think you should know I don’t think that could happen in this life or in any on the next ones.”

He giggled. “I can’t wait to get you away from anyone. We should do like Namjoon hyung and his girlfriend: get on a private island for vacation. Wear nothing all day. Stay in bed for how long we want. Swim when we want. Make love under the stars. God, that’s heaven.”

“You would miss the guys, you know it.” You smiled knowingly.

“Just a week or so. A quick getaway.” Some part of his mind was already plotting.

“I’ll see what I can do. But would you resist without working out?”

“We could workout together,” he mused naively.

“Yeah, yeah...” you conceded, voice dripping in irony.

“Can I carry you to the kitchen to grab a snack?”

“Maybe if you turned me around and I held on you like a koala bear?” You chuckled

“Do you think that if I lay on my back and you sit up and turn around I can get you to climb me like a koala-bear without me having to get out of you?” He asked, the honesty in his voice getting you to fully laugh out loud.

“I think that’s called corkscrew — it’s a corkscrew if you turn around me… whatever” You thought out loud.

“Let’s try! Ready? Three, two, one, Go!” You both laughed at your attempt, joy filling your hearts.

—————the following morning —————

“So, uhm...”

“No.”

“But—”

“No.”

“Please.”

“Guk, listen, I love you, but you’re not dragging me to the gym at eight a.m. on a Sunday morning after what we did last night.”

“But I love you. Like, a lot.”

“No amount of love will ever fix the organs you so thoroughly rearranged last night.”

“I’m sorry.” He looked like a scolded puppy. “But it’s not like you didn’t like it. You actually begged for it at some point.”

“So rude of you to remind me of that.”

“Sorry. I love you.” He kissed the tip of your nose.

“I love you too. Now go back to sleep.”

“Okay.” He palmed your chest lovingly and closed his eyes again.

#bangtan sonyeondan #bts imagine #bts reaction #bts #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin imagine #taehyung imagi #jungkook imagine

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years ago

Text

Eccentricity [Chapter 10: Stay, I Need To Be Myself]

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the fluffy times while they lasted. 😉

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “Where Were You When The Sky Opened Up” by The Dangerous Summer.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual references (not graphic), angstttttttttt.

Word Count: 6k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @youngpastafanmug @simonedk

Uninvited

“Hey, it’s our song!” Joe turned up the radio as he steered his Subaru down the Lees’ cobblestone driveway and into a parking spot facing the woods. We’d been back from Chicago for a full week now, and—with the notable exceptions of classes and the early morning hours when Joe soundlessly crept out of my bedroom window—were very rarely apart.

“And I would do anything for love

I’d run right into hell and back

I would do anything for love

I’d never lie to you and that's a fact.”

“Uh, this is not our song,” I objected, the soles of my shoes propped against the dashboard. “I was not consulted. A couple’s official song cannot be a unilateral decision.”

“But I'll never forget the way you feel right now

Oh no, no way

And I would do anything for love

Oh I would do anything for love

I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that

No, I won’t do that.”

“Oh okay, what are you, the relationship police? Alright, Chief Baby Swan, let’s hear your brilliant suggestion. Wait, let me guess. Something by The Killers. Vampire Weekend. My Bloody Valentine. Is there a band called Chipotle Veggie Bowl?”

“Never Gonna Give You Up?” I suggested.

He laughed, dragging me over the center console and into his lap. “Oh, you are the worst!”

I straddled him in the driver’s seat, cupped his face in my palms, giggled as I touched my lips to his, soft and cool and lithe and inviting. When I broke the kiss, Joe pulled me back in, knotting his fingers through my hair. The way my thighs fit perfectly around him; that sharp, instinctual, now so familiar ache of longing. “I want you,” I breathed.

He pretended to be scandalized. “Right now? At this exact moment? In my parents’ driveway?”

“Yeah,” I confessed.

He grinned, unbuckling his belt. “Okay.”

“Really?!”

“Yes. I’ve lost all sense of decency. I’m an animal. You’ve absolutely ruined me.” His hands travelled beneath my U Chicago sweatshirt and tore it over my head. Yes, he had converted me to Chicago apparel. It was very embarrassing. Let’s move on.

“I’m sorry,” I moaned softly. I lied. I wasn’t sorry at all.

“I think we might need to get our own place.”

“Why?”

“Because I love the way you ruin me. And I want you to do it...” He went on, kissing me after each word: “All. The. Fucking. Time.”

I yanked off his Cubs t-shirt in one vicious tug. “We’re okay out here?” I didn’t really care; I should have, I was aware of that. But I didn’t. The Lees, most likely, would not call my dad to report us for public indecency. I could imagine Scarlett’s voice in my head, warm with approval: Get it, girl.

“Totally. And we’re far enough away from the house, Rami shouldn’t be able to hear us.” Joe nipped lightly down the side of my neck: carefully, always so carefully.

“He’d only get your side of things anyway.”

“Well yeah, that’s what I’m worried about! Your thoughts wouldn’t be so intrusive. I don’t care if he knows I’m a fantastic lay.”

“Oh, are you?” I teased, grinding my hips against him. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Joe smiled as he unbuttoned my jeans, deliciously slowly. “Well let me...just...refresh your...memory...”

I kissed him, roughly and deeply, arching into him, biting his lower lip. Yes, yes, yes...

Joe pulled away, still smiling but blinking and dazed. “Wow, all the sudden I feel...like...really calm.”

“Thanks...?” A week of almost constant sex might do that to a person. Sure, maybe, what did I know? My lips found his again. My hand skated down his bare stomach and into the waistband of his boxers. Joe began to help me peel off my jeans; then he stopped.

“Wait wait wait, I know this feeling.” Joe lifted me off of him and pushed me back into the passenger’s seat, gently but stubbornly. I tried not to be offended.

“What—?”

“Shhh.” He grabbed the headrest of my seat and twisted around to peer out of the rear windshield. I followed his gaze. There was a new car in the driveway, parked up by the front porch: an anonymous black Honda Civic. The plate said California. It was probably a rental. “Oh fuck,” Joe whispered. His eyes were enormous, glassy, horrified.

“What is it?”

“Stay here.” He threw on his Cubs t-shirt, zipped his pants, fastened his belt. “Stay down, stay quiet. And no matter what happens do not get out of this car, do you understand me?”

“Joe, why—?”

“Do you understand me?” His voice was low but severe, so incredibly unlike him; his dark eyes were flinty. Just like that night with the apples in Mercy’s kitchen, that night when Ben almost...

“I understand,” I heard myself reply.

“Good.” Joe climbed out of the Subaru—smoothing his shirt and then his tousled hair—and rushed over to intercept the unsolicited guest. I peeked around my headrest to watch, my right palm braced against the center console, that feverish lust that had been rushing through my bloodstream gradually weakening, perishing, vanishing like seawater baked from the sand under a rising sun.

The stranger stepped out of the Honda Civic, and although I knew his face, it took me a moment to place him. It was like—I could only imagine, having never been myself—a child stumbling into their movie heroines and beloved stuffed animals come to life during their first trip to Disneyland, amazed and yet somehow gut-twistingly uneasy as they gawked up at that grotesquely inflated cartoon face, that mask of lipstick and rouge that didn’t quite match their recollections, that dreamlike mirage plucked from pages or screens and impelled into a physical form that suddenly swallowed up space and gravity and oxygen. I had seen this stranger before in the massive painting that adorned Gwilym Lee’s upstairs office.

Cato.

He was very tall and very beautiful, classically beautiful, Ben-level beautiful. Joe often jokingly referred to him as Idris Elba within the Lee household, and a mid-thirties version of Idris Elba was just about right. He wore an immaculately tailored grey suit and aviator sunglasses, which he removed to greet Joe, folding and then sliding them smoothly into the front pocket of his suit jacket. His face was solemn and observant; he had a closely-trimmed beard without a fleck of silver. He extended a hand, which Joe shook.

“Hey, Cato!” I heard Joe say, muffled through the walls of the Subaru. I couldn’t make out Cato’s replies; his voice sounded deep, rumbling, extremely level. “So nice of you to stop by! I didn’t know you were in town. Yeah, everyone’s doing great. Even Ben. Hahaha, yeah, you know how he is. You know exactly how he is. But it’s all good. Well look, I’m just gonna go run a friend home and then I’ll be back in fifteen, maybe twenty minutes and we can all chat. Okay? Awesome. Feel free to head inside, I’m sure Mercy would be thrilled to play hostess. There’s sweet tea in the fridge and a hummingbird cake on the counter and...oh, something else too...some weird type of cookies she baked this morning. Help yourself. I’ll be back before you can say ‘tyrannical vampire murder cult.’”

“Tyrannical vampire murder cult,” it looked like Cato replied without a hint of a smile. But he wasn’t paying attention to Joe anymore. His eyes had found the Subaru, and then me; he was staring with that intense, seeking bewilderment that reminded me of Rami and Lucy and Ben when I’d first met them, when they were still trying to puzzle out why my mind (and my mind alone) was a night-draped, silent ocean of the unknown.

He's trying to read me, I realized. He’s trying to read me and he can’t.

Joe was jogging back to the Subaru now. At last, Cato turned away from me and headed into the house. The carved pumpkins from Weber’s Farm still lined the front porch: Scarlett’s Thunderbird, Archer’s Vantage, Rami’s swooping bat, Lucy’s moon and stars, Joe’s moustached jack-o-lantern, my (but actually Gwil’s) snapshot under the sea, Ben’s miniature Lee residence complete with the winding cobblestone driveway. Joe swept into the driver’s seat, adjusted his rearview mirror, and spun out of the parking spot.

“Goddammit,” he hissed as we barreled down the driveway.

“Why is Cato here?”

“I have no idea.” Joe looked straight ahead as he drove, preoccupied, consumed with possibilities. His fingers drummed the steering wheel. “We have to pay dues to them, all the covens do. Gwil cuts a check. But that’s not until around the New Year. That’s almost always when Cato stops by. Collects the payment, interrogates us in a way that masquerades as conversation, hangs around town for a few days, reports back whatever we’re up to...which usually isn’t much. Holidays with the extended family, gotta love it. I don’t know why he would be here now.” Joe shook his head. “Maybe something to do with Ben. It would have to be Ben. There’s no other reason.”

“And you don’t want him to know about me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“But...Cato isn’t all that dangerous,” I said, not understanding. “Is he?”

“Not alone, no. But the people he works for are.” Joe sighed, glancing over at me as he drove, serious and sorry and sad. “There’s a lot of violence in my world. A lot of darkness. I’ve tried to protect you from that as much as possible. And maybe I’ve done too good a job, maybe it’s too easy for you to forget what we really are. Most vampires aren’t like Gwil’s coven. They’re not like me. They kill easily and unrepentantly. And I don’t want any of them knowing that you exist, that you’re a weakness of ours. I want them to know as little about you as physically possible.”

“A weakness,” I repeated. I didn’t like that.

He smiled faintly. “It’s a compliment to be somebody’s weakness, Baby Swan.”

“I guess so.” The towering pine trees whipped by in a verdant blur. The sky above was thick and grey and churning. “You’ll be okay, right? Ben will be okay?”

Joe seemed to find that amusing, ridiculous even. “You don’t need to worry about us.”

“But I still do.”

“We’ll work it out, whatever it is. Cato is a reasonable guy. And Ben is definitely capable of...well. Advocating for himself.”

Capable of unparalleled carnage, he means. The memory of the first day I’d met Ben hit me like a hurled stone, illuminated my mind like a pulsing neon sign: the coiled tension in his muscles, that mindless, animalistic hatred in his eyes. Yes, he must be quite the monster when he wants to be. But he didn’t want to be anymore. I knew that completely, unquestioningly.

Joe pulled into Charlie’s driveway. The police car was gone; my 1999 Honda Accord and Charlie’s Toyota Corolla rested idly side by side. My dad would be working late tonight, until eight or nine at least. A pang of loneliness struck in my gut, just beneath the ribs; I had grown so accustomed to the absence of solitude, of quiet. The silence suddenly felt so loud.

“Don’t let it ruin your night,” Joe said as I got out of the Subaru. His words were affectionate; but his voice was still distracted, distant. “Don’t let it bother you. Everything will be fine, I promise. And as soon as Cato’s gone, everything will go back to the way it should be.”

“Okay,” I replied, not feeling very comforted at all. I don’t like the way he pushed me off him when he saw the car. The way he’s barely looked at me since. The way he called me a weakness.

Joe was already checking his mirrors, preparing to leave.

“Hey. Mob guy.” I leaned into the rolled-down window. “I love you.”

And the grin lit up Joe’s face like the sun. He crawled across the passenger’s seat, drew me into him by the collar of my brand new U Chicago hoodie, kissed me until that wild, interrupted desire was flaring up again in my arteries and nerve endings and everywhere else. The thunderous clouds in my skull split open. Everything’s still okay. It really is. “I love you to death. And then back again.” He retreated and shifted the Subaru into reverse. “I’ll see you soon. But maybe not too soon, I might be tied up with this family thing for a while. Don’t wait up tonight.”

“No problem. I’ll just call one of my other monster boyfriends to keep me company. The werewolf should be free. It’s not a full moon, is it?”

“No bestiality,” Joe retorted sternly. “That’s illegal, ma’am.”

I smiled and waved as the Subaru swerved out of the driveway and disappeared. Everything’s okay, I told myself, standing in the front yard under darkening skies. Everything will be okay.

And I kept telling myself that, again and again like Hail Marys, until I was dozing off in my bed alone six hours later.

Hit It And Quit It

I dreamed of the beach at La Push—my toes wriggling beneath the cold sand, the ricocheting cries of seagulls, the primordial growl of the frothing waves—and woke up with the ghost of saltwater in my sinuses. I grabbed my iPhone off the nightstand. Two new texts: one from Archer—Hey would it be distasteful or hilarious to dress up as Dracula for the Lee Halloween party? Asking for a friend.—and one from Jessica asking if she could copy my Marine Botany homework. Absolutely nothing from Joe.

When was the last time I didn’t have a text from Joe waiting for me in the morning? I struggled to remember, my mind still foggy with snippets of dreams. A week? Two weeks? A month? It felt like forever.

I tapped out a text to Joe with my clumsy, just-waking-up thumbs: I am resolved. No more nights with my werewolf boyfriend. Dude scratched the hell out of me and then barked at the mailman. Had to drop him off at the SPCA for neutering. See you soon! xxxx

I tried not to obsessively check my phone as I showered, got dressed, gathered my textbooks and notepads and pens. And yet still, I noticed: Joe didn’t text me back.

The rain poured from a grey sky all through my drive to Calawah University, Marine Botany class with Jessica, our frantic dash across campus beneath her hot pink umbrella to Forks And Spoons. My human friends had custody of me during lunchtime today. Angela was studying for a Computer Science quiz, Eric working on an article for the Calawah Chatterbox, Mike histrionically lamenting a sprained ankle coming just on the cusp of basketball season. Jessica bought me a chocolate chip muffin as thanks for texting her a picture of our Marine Botany homework this morning. Ah, the sweet taste of academic dishonesty.

I was relieved—more than I would have liked to admit—that all five Lees were at their usual lunch table, looking worn and tired but normal enough. Ben was hiding behind a pair of sunglasses and his black U Chicago hoodie that Joe and I had bought for him last weekend, sipping steaming tea out of a mug that he gripped with both hands. Scarlett flipped moodily through an astrophysics textbook. Rami repeatedly tapped the tabletop with a pen while Lucy knitted a lavender sweater, never raising her eyes from the jumble of yarn in her lap. They all murmured to each other in low, furtive voices, their mouths barely moving. Joe gave me a wave and a drawn smile; but only after I waved first.

Angela was now scolding Jessica for her lack of moral integrity.

Jess rolled her eyes, gnawing on a chicken finger that was burned black around the edges. “I’m here ostensibly to become an anthropologist and in actuality to find a hot rich husband, not to learn how to identify like sixty different types of algae.”

“Then why even take Marine Botany?” Angela asked, confounded.

“Calawah University forces every student to take at least two science classes, even if you’re a humanities major. Because they’re fucking fascists.”

“Oh, fascists, a big word for you!” I congratulated Jessica, patting her shoulder before returning my attention to my homemade veggie quesadilla and leftover slice of Mercy’s hummingbird cake. I was getting so good at this eating respectable meals thing. Joe would be proud.

Angela chuckled. “How’s that finding a husband thing going, by the way?”

“Awfully,” Jessica sighed. “I had this really promising flirtationship going with a frat boy in my Indigenous Peoples of the Arctic class. Ellsworth Jonathan Griffin, gorgeous blue eyes, blond man bun, his dad is a partner at a corporate law firm in Los Angeles. That’s the stuff dreams are made of. But I’m pretty sure he dropped out because I haven’t seen him in a few days. Also he would bring Absolut vodka to class in an Aquafina bottle.”

“You can probably do better,” I said.

“Well we can’t all end up with Lee boys, now can we?” Jess snapped irritably.

When it was time to depart for our afternoon classes, I met Joe in the doorway of Forks And Spoons, linked my fingers around the back of his neck, tugged at his dark, auburn-tinted hair.

“You okay, mob guy? You seem a little...” Exhausted? Edgy? Sad? “...Distracted.”

“I’m good. I’m great.” He kissed me briefly, fleetingly. No big deal; after all, we were in public. Right? “Are you cool to hang out later?”

“Absolutely. Can we go to La Push if it stops raining? I know it’ll be cold, but I woke up with the beach on my mind and haven’t been able get it out all day.”

“You got it. Can I meet you there? I have to take care of a few things first. Have to, uh, hunt.”

I stared up at him, feeling my stomach drop, feeling rapidly and jarringly off-kilter. Joe rarely mentioned hunting around me...not in a serious way, at least. It was one of those things that knocked me out of the fantasy of how compatible we were, how possible. It was a reminder of all those interminable differences that lived in the hushed space between us. “Okay.”

“I’ll...I’ll explain everything then. At La Push.”

“Okay,” I said again, very uncleverly. What’s going on here? What exactly did Cato say?

Joe smirked; finally a flash of playfulness, that contagious light he was built of. He smoothed my hair with one feather-light stroke of his hand, touched his lips to my forehead. “Don’t be late to Chemistry. I can’t have you failing out.”

“Of course not. How would I be able to get my Marine Biology PhD from U Chicago?”

But Joe didn’t laugh, didn’t even smile; he just left.

Ben was hunched over our table in Professor Belvin’s classroom, his arms encircling his notebook, the pen in his hand scribbling frenziedly. The window was wide open; the rain outside had weakened to a docile drizzle. He was still wearing his sunglasses. He didn’t acknowledge me at all.

“Rough night?” I asked, sliding into the seat beside him.

“Yeah.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“I definitely do not.”

“I’m sorry,” I told him. Ben glanced up, his thick eyebrows raised; they peaked just above the rims of his opaque sunglasses. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry.”

For a long time, Ben just looked at me; maybe wanting to say something, maybe just feeling that decorum necessitated it. “You shouldn’t be,” he replied at last. And he spent the rest of class paying no attention whatsoever to Professor Belvin’s lecture on the Pauli exclusion principle and instead scrawling untidy Welsh phrases into the formerly pristine pages of his notebook.

It was just after 5 p.m. when I arrived at La Push, the tires of my 1999 Honda Accord crunching over the gravel of the small parking area, the wind whipping ferociously. Joe had gotten there first; he was sitting on a rock down by the water with his back to me, peering out over the Pacific Ocean, tossing pebbles and shells into the waves. We had an hour of daylight left. The sky was obscure, grey, dim. Fine droplets of rain like mist sailed through the biting autumn air and clung to my skin.

When Joe spotted me, he leapt off the rock and watched me approach with his hands in the pockets of his North Face jacket. He wasn’t wearing anything Chicago-related today, which was highly unusual. I waited for him to touch me, to hold me, to tell me that everything was okay and always would be...at least for the next ten to fifteen years. He didn’t. “Hey,” he said instead.

“Hi.”

Joe nodded down the beach. “Let’s walk.”

I have never been especially good at mundane, monotonous rambling. That’s a Scorpio thing. And yet monotonous rambling is exactly what I did: I prattled on about my classes, Charlie’s bowling league, Renee’s new life in Florida with Paul, the ocean, the weather, anything to fill that space between us that all at once felt so enormously significant. I was vaguely aware that I was afraid to stop talking; I didn’t want Joe to have the chance to say whatever was on his mind.

Finally, Joe stopped walking. He took my hand, ran his thumb over the faint scar from when I accidentally cut myself in Mercy’s kitchen. His shoes sank into the wet sand, left imprints there like fingerprints. He turned to face me, pained, grave, and oh god, far worse: guilty.

“What?” I asked, terror swelling in my lungs, my bones, some inborn warning of impending ruin.

Joe gazed out over the crashing sea, then came back to me, like a dislocated joint popping back into place. “I am so sorry.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I...” He spoke slowly, haltingly. “I thought that this was something that was doable. But I was wrong.”

“What...?” And then a possibility occurred to me, a glorious possibility. Of course. A grin erupted across my face. “This is a joke, right? You’re joking, you’re always joking, this is just—”

He shook his head. He wasn’t joking. I wrenched my hand out of his and stared up at him in furious disbelief.

“It’s not fair to you,” Joe said. “This thing, being with someone like me. I can’t give you a future. I can’t give you an uncomplicated existence. I mean, come on, you have to worry about getting murdered around my own family—”

“Do you have fucking amnesia?” I demanded, incredulous. “Joe, we just talked about this. We just made plans to move to Chicago after graduation, we agreed that it was what we both wanted. I don’t want a normal human boyfriend. I don’t want normal human in-laws. I want you, Joe, and Ben, and Mercy and Gwil, and Rami and Lucy and Scarlett, I want the whole ridiculous Lee family package and there’s nothing you could say to make me decide that this isn’t worth it.”

“Look—”

“No, something happened, right? Something happened with Cato, or Ben, or someone, something happened and now you think that you have to do this but I’m telling you that whatever it is we can figure it out, we can figure it out together, isn’t that what you promised me?” He said he wouldn’t leave. He promised me he wouldn’t leave. All those things...all those things he said...

“Listen.” And now his eyes were stony. He didn’t call me Baby Swan. Oh, this is bad. This is so bad. “It’s not fair to me either.”

“And that’s what this is really about,” I realized. My voice was abruptly fierce, caustic. All those other women; those beautiful, graceful, immortal women. How did I ever think I could compare?

“It’s not personal.”

“It’s the most personal thing there is, Joe, it’s pasts and futures and love—”

“It’s not though.” He smiled, just barely. “Maybe we thought it was, but it’s not.”

It hit me like a brick, like a bullet; I couldn’t catch my breath. I was drowning in thin air, like a sawfish, like a shark. “Well I’m glad you figured that out on your own fucking schedule.”

“This was my fault,” he said. “All of it. And I am so profoundly sorry for the pain I’ve caused you, and I take full responsibility for it. I hope you’re able to move on knowing that there’s nothing you could have done differently. These are just the realities of my world. You’re better off in your own. And you’re going to make someone very happy someday.”

It's all so empty, so excruciatingly generic. “You’re a monster,” I seethed at him, tears stinging in my eyes.

“Yes,” Joe agreed softly.

“I hate you.” I wasn’t sure if I meant that, but I still said it. Maybe I could will it into being true, like how people find God after a particularly grim diagnosis; there’s no harm in trying to make it real. There’s nothing left to lose.

“That would be more than fair, given the circumstances,” he said. “I won’t bother you again. I’ll ask you to do the same for me.”

“Sure.” Tears were streaming down my cheeks now; my breaths were ragged, hitching. I need to get out of here. I need to get away from him.

A shadow of concern crossed his face, the first one I had noticed since yesterday afternoon. “If you need someone to drive you home, I’d be happy to—”

“I’d literally rather die.” And I left Joseph Francis Mazzello standing on the beach with the twilight wind in his hair and the sun setting behind him like time slipping through an hourglass.

I fled to my Honda, turned the keys in the ignition, covered my face with my hands and wept in raw, heaving shudders as Hungry Like The Wolf played from the mixtape that Joe had left in my cassette player. I ejected the mixtape, rolled down my window, tossed it out onto the rain-slick gravel. I couldn’t stand the thought of going home. Charlie would be at work until late tonight; Joe would never set foot in the house again.

I have to go somewhere. I can’t just sit in that goddamn bedroom. I can’t be alone.

I wheeled my car onto the main road and drove until I came to an unceremonious mechanic’s garage with a fractured concrete floor and cracks like spider legs across the windows. When I stepped out of my Honda, Archer raced over to meet me, beaming and wiping his hands clean with an oil rag.

“Hey, you know you’re not allowed to come here unless you bring Taco Bell with you...” Then he saw me, he really saw me. “Whoa, what—?”

And Archer caught me as I collapsed into his arms, sobs ripping through my throat like fangs.

Benjamin, 24 Hours Earlier

It was bad. Whatever this was, it was bad.

I knew because Rami could read Cato, and I could read Rami; the hazy wisps of color that unfurled from him were a hectic, wrestling electric blue: distress, grief, anxiety, denial. Cato’s own aura had always been rather unforthcoming—he tended towards deep, mellow greens and purples of congruence and contemplation—and forever tinted with an opalescent quality that spread like wildfire to the people around him, the people who were under his influence, that intangible calming and harmonizing effect, that irrational sense of wellbeing. Everyone in the room had that faint opalescence shimmering around them now, even Rami, whose unspoken turmoil remained a roiling rather than a storm. And I thought—not for the first time—that if Larkin was a spade that hollowed you out, scraped along the jagged snags of your split bones to empty you of any ambitions and loyalties that had come before, then Cato was the anesthetic that made the mangling go down smoother, the promise that you would someday still catch glimpses of innocence. Larkin was a purger, a purifier; Cato made you believe again.

There were pitchers of sweet tea and a heaping tray of butter pecan cookies on the living room coffee table. Cato sat on the neat white sofa, one leg crossed over the other, stoic, waiting. Rami stared vacantly from the loveseat; Lucy was beside him, her delicate bare feet tucked beneath her and her fingers laced through Rami’s, her brow knit into grooves of worry. Scarlett was next to me on the largest couch, her boots propped up on the edge of the coffee table, her hair in a long French braid, periodically cracking her knuckles. It was nearly the only sound. Mercy bustled around the room gifting everyone tall chilled glasses of sweet tea; Gwil stood by the virtual fireplace on the big-screen tv, his hands in his pockets, his lips pressed into a rigid line.

The front door opened, and Joe stepped inside, his car keys rattling in his fist. For as long as I’d known him, his color had so often been a bright and buttery yellow, his aura more visible and constant than anyone else’s. Lately, he was increasingly cloaked in the rosy pinks of love or the vivid, shifting, crimson reds of lust; and Rami and I bonded over our shared efforts to politely ignore that particular variety of thoughts.

Joe pointed to Cato. “What’s going on?”

“How long?” Cato asked him.

Joe feigned cluelessness. “Huh? What do you mean? Oh, car chick?! That’s nothing. She’s just a friend.”

Cato blinked. “Do you really think I just arrived in Forks today?”

It rolled through Joe like a wave: surrender, apprehension, dread. The realization that Cato had been watching us for days, weeks even, meticulously keeping just enough distance to stay out of Rami’s range of hearing. Joe’s now-opalescent aura dipped from cerise to an agitated mahogany. “Two months.”

“And she’s talented.” Cato’s voice was impatient, incredulous; How could you be this stupid? that voice said.

“No,” Joe flared, like shards of wood cracking in a fire. “No, she’s got nothing to do with you, with us. With our world. She’s got nothing to do with it.”

Cato circled the fingerprint of his index finger around the rim of his misted glass of sweet tea, meditative. “In one hundred and seventy years, I have never met someone who I couldn’t find if I wanted to. And yet the second I turned my back on that girl, she was gone. Vanished. The world was a blank map. How is that possible?”

No one said anything. Finally, Cato looked to Rami.

“You can’t hear her thoughts, can you?”

“No,” Rami admitted.

“And how many times has that happened in...how old are you now, the same as Ben? How many times in the past century have you met someone who made you feel normal, weak even? Who made you feel human again?”

“Never,” Rami conceded.

“You too, right?” Cato asked me. “You can’t see what she’s feeling. She’s nothing but white noise.”

I nodded reluctantly.

“She’s talented,” Cato said again, decisive.

“Oh god,” I choked out, burying my face in my hands. Now I knew what Rami had heard. I knew everything.

Joe shook his head almost violently. “No, that’s not fair. There’s no way of knowing if that would translate to life as a vampire or how it would manifest. There’s no way of knowing if she would survive the transition at all. And none of us are ever going to find out because she has nothing to do with our world.”

“She does,” Cato insisted. “Because you brought her into it.”

Scarlett shivered beside me, crossed her arms over her chest, clutched her leather jacket tighter. “You can’t be serious, Cato. You’re not a monster, you know she might not survive—”

“And that would stop Gwil. It would stop me, sure. When has it ever stopped Larkin?” Cato gestured to me. “With him? With me? With Akari or Araminta or Liesl or Rigel or all the ones who didn’t make it, who died screaming as they scorched from the inside out? It has never stopped him because he doesn’t care. He finds talented people. He covets them, covets them jealously, like jewels or money or lovers. And they either become one of his possessions or they become nothing at all.”

“No,” Joe whispered. “No, no, no...”

Rami was shrinking into the loveseat, overwhelmed by the emotions in the room that were dragging his aura into whirling greys, those desperate and dark thoughts; not even Cato could mute them entirely. Lucy tried to soothe him, laid the back of her fine-boned hand against his cheek. Mercy covered her gaping mouth. Gwil studied the floor, thunderstruck, absorbing it all.

“This is a courtesy that I’m doing you right now,” Cato told Joe, his large palms clasped together, his voice sorrowful and yet unyielding, almost pleading. “This is a warning. If he finds out about her, about what she can do...he’s going to want her. And he gets everything he wants.”

��He can’t find out,” Gwil said hoarsely.

“No,” I agreed. Death or a hundred-year sentence. Either way, a part of you dies. Either way, a part of you ends up in a box six feet underground and clawing for the sun.

“What can we do?” Scarlett asked Cato. “I mean...is there anything we can do?”

“You have to get rid of her. That’s her only chance. Get her out of your orbit, away from our world, away from where Larkin or anyone who serves him would ever cross her path. I won’t tell him about the girl. I’ll try to deflect his attention. If she’s already been spotted, I’ll tell him that she’s useless, just another one of Joe’s litany of casual liaisons. And that’s a risk I’ll take, I’ll do it out of respect for your coven, Dr. Lee, and for Ben. But there is absolutely nothing I can do for you if Larkin finds out for himself. I don’t think I’m the only one he has watching you.”

“Of course not,” I said bitterly. “I’m sure he has all sorts of eyes on me. The white whale. The one that got away.” This is my fault. It’s all my fucking fault.

“It’s not,” Rami murmured; and nobody else heard my side of it, but I think they understood.

Joe’s aura was now murky, sunless, almost black. It was a color I hadn’t thought he was capable of. His eyes were slick and bleary.

“Son?” Gwil prompted. Mercy was sobbing into a handkerchief patterned with roses. Mom, I ached instinctively, before pushing the thought away.

“I won’t do it,” Joe said. “You’re asking me to break her heart and I won’t do it.”

I begged: “Joe, you don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand! You don’t understand what this will do to her, what it’s going to do to her for the weeks and months and years that come after, she might never forget—”

“Do you want her to end up dead or in a hundred-year contract?” Cato shot back. “Do you want to see how much of that girl you care about so much is left after a century with Larkin?”

Everyone’s eyes fell on me. I could feel them, full of pity and horror. I’m what’s left. Someone gutted of everything but rage and bloodlust.

“No, of course not,” Joe said. Thanks a lot, brother.

Cato smirked without any humor at all. He had known. “Then the choice is easy.”

“Son,” Gwil said again.

Joe gazed back at him with huge, agonized eyes. His words were brittle, raspy, hollow. “Dad, I love her.”

“I know,” Gwil replied. His aura was a blue like cobalt: profound sympathy, compassion, mourning. “And that’s why you’ll do the right thing.”

Twenty minutes later, I was puffing on my vape pen as I paced back and forth across the wrap-around porch like a caged bear, watching the sun disappear behind the western hemlock trees that raked the clouds. Gwil, Rami, Lucy, and Scarlett were with Joe; Mercy was trying to convince Cato to stay the night in one of the guest bedrooms. I could hear her ludicrously gracious protestations through the walls. “We know it’s not your fault, dear, this...this...situation. We know you’re just the messenger. And you’ve been so important to Ben all these years, so kind. It’s really no trouble at all...here, let me at least wrap up some cake for you to take...”

The front door opened and closed. Scarlett appeared beside me, resting her forearms on the porch railing. She sighed, closed her eyes, said nothing.

“This is going to destroy him,” I told her.

Scarlett nodded, her face bathed in silvery moonlight, marvelous and yet forlorn. The aura that surrounded her was a deep, despondent indigo. It matched the sky. “Yeah.”

“And to think...” I exhaled heavily, nicotine-tinged vapor vanishing into the damp night air. Rain was coming; I could feel it in my bones. “I was just beginning to like it here.”

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