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fangirlshrewt97 · 1 year ago

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RWRB Fic - Living in a Snowglobe

So guess who totally fell for Tumblr going crazy over the upcoming movie of a queer rom com book and decided to check it out, only to read the book in a to day haze and fall head first into the fandom? Real life won't let me watch the movie for a bit, but if the gifs I'm seeing are any indication, it looks like a damn good movie.

Anyways, like I said the characters hooked me enough to write for the first time in months, and for the first time in a different fandom from the one I had been writing in for a year.

Here's the fic. (Read on AO3 if you prefer)

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The only sound in the brownstone was the background music of David Bowie drifting from the record player in the second floor. The house's three occupants were piled in the third floor, David (the dog), fast asleep and snoring in his bed in the corner, while his human companions cuddled on the large windowsill at the far end of the room.

Henry sat with his back against window frame, one leg stretched as far as the hollowed out seat allowed, one pillow pressed between him and the chilled panes. His other leg bent to support Alex's back. In his arms, curled up against his chest, was the heavy weight of his beloved.

Alex was dozing, breaths slow and long, with his eyelashes fluttering at each exhale. He had Henry's left hand in his arm, clutching it like a stuffed toy, while his right arm loosely held Henry's waist.

The hand Alex had not captured was lazily caressing him, Henry running his fingers up and down the length of the sweater covered bicep, his own eyelids heavy as the past few weeks worth of activity settled into his bones.

The last 2 months had essentially consisted of Henry and Alex being boats passing each other in the night as they alternated being in the city, with Henry traveling to London at his brother's behest, and Alex went to help his dad with his campaign. And even when they were both in the same city, between Alex's classes and internship, and Henry's shelter's expansion they barely had time for anything beside curling into each other at night. More often than not, one or the other woke up alone.

Now though, with an unexpected blizzard bringing New York to a halt, Henry and Alex used it to catch up on their time spent apart. Henry had worried about these type of conditions being when his shelter would be most useful but also most vulnerable.

Alex assured him that Henry had provided enough back-up generators and other contingencies the shelter would survive through the three days the blizzard was expected to rage. They should take advantage of the time when they literally could not be forced out of the house.

Alex had braved the cold to go raid their nearby supermarket for the necessary provisions and raced home, giddy as a kid at Christmas as he told Henry about how he'd snagged all the ingredients he'd need to prepare Mexican hot chocolate. The perfect drink for this weather.

Henry had grinned, equally affected by the infectious joy and the fondness that bloomed in his gut at getting to see Alex's happiness in person instead of through FaceTime. It had been exactly as good as Alex suggested, the taste rich and unfamiliar, but the ensuing kisses extra sweet. And now here they were, bellies warm and limbs heavy, just enjoying being next to each other.

Alex stirred, nuzzling into Henry's collarbone as he tamped down a yawn.

Henry chuckled, rubbing his nose against Alex's curls. "Hello, love."

Alex's lips curved into a smile before he opened his eyes, "Hey."

"Hey." Henry replied softly, nudging Alex's nose with his own before tilting his head to kiss him. One became two became three became uncounted kisses. There was no hurry to it, no fiery passion driving them to go further. It was instead the warm kiss of a deeper love, one that had settled into itself, made its home. The journey and goal all in one.

Alex raised his free hand to cup Henry's jaw, and Henry used his to brush back stray curls from Alex's forehead. When they parted, it was with soft smiles and twinkling eyes.

"Hey." Henry said.

Alex bumped his forehead against Henry's. "You already said that, Wales."

"Didn't realize there was a limit." Henry murmured as he leaned forward to press kisses to Alex's eyelids, his cheeks, his chin, and when they appeared, his dimples.

"There isn't."

Alex turned, melting further into Henry's arms as he moved a bit down and pressed his back to Henry's front, legs tangling with Henry's.

Henry tucked his chin over Alex's shoulder, pressing a kiss to the back of Alex’s ear.

"Did you sleep well, my love?"

"Hmm." Alex pressed a kiss to Henry's forearm before leaning against it as he was enveloped in those arms again.

"I missed you." Alex murmured. The world just consisted of the two of them right now, there was no need to raise their voices.

Henry squeezed his arms. "I missed you so much."

"This is nice."

"If I could stay right here for the rest of my life, I'd die happy." Henry confessed.

"I don't know Henry, I can already feel my leg cramping, forever might be a bit much-" Alex cut off giggling as he grabbed at Henry's hand to stop it from poking him.

"Stop ruining my heartfelt declarations."

Alex laughed, loud and unrestrained. It made Henry's blood sing.

"I can't remember the last time the streets were so empty." Alex said once they'd settled back down.

"Hmm, might have to do with the inclement weather, darling."

Alex elbowed him for the sake of it. "Now who's being pedantic?"

"It kind of feels like we are in a snow globe." Henry said as he saw it had begun snowing again.

"It kind of feels like we are the only people in the world right now."

Henry sighed, curling over Alex more. "I'm just grateful to have you in my arms again."

"Nowhere I'd rather be sweetheart."

"I fear we might both fall asleep in here again."

"That doesn't sound too bad." Alex said, speech already slurring slightly where he was beginning to drift off again.

Henry squeezed him before pulling away, making Alex whine. "Our bodies will disagree. Come on, the bed is 15 feet that way."

Alex grumbled and tried to snuggle back into Henry, trying to pin him.

Henry managed to extricate himself though, and looked at his boyfriend, hands on hips. Alex had curled into a ball, seeking out all the spaces heated by Henry's body as he pouted. Henry fought to keep from smiling at the ridiculously adorable tableau in front of him.

Henry cleared his throat and held out a hand to Alex.

Alex raised an eyebrow.

"Alexander Claremont-Diaz, would you please join me in bed?"

Alex scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Only if you carry me."

Harry laughed. "Is that all?"

And before Alex could ask, Henry had slid an arm beneath Alex's knees, and another behind his shoulders and picked him up in a bridal carry.

Alex yelped, instinctively throwing both arms around Henry's neck. "You dick! Warn a guy next time!"

Henry was not fooled by the protest though, not when they did a poor job of distracting from the two delicious spots of red now gracing his boyfriend's cheeks. "You asked!"

Henry paused five feet from the bed. "Would you like to walk the rest of the way then?"

Alex hid his face in Henry's neck, causing his words to be muffled. "Just take me to bed, your royal cheesiness."

Henry thought his smile would split in his face as he took the last few steps to their bed and gently deposited Alex in the middle.

Alex tightened his grip around Henry's neck when he tried to move away. "Where's my kiss?"

Henry smirked. "You are such a brat."

But he kissed him. Of course he did. He could not imagine what would ever cause him to not fulfill that particular request from Alex. He never, ever, wanted to find out. Alex's hands drifted the length of Henry's torso, landing at the hem of his cardigan to begin to tug it up.

Henry placed his hands over Alex's. "Give me two minutes love."

Alex whined. "Why?"

Henry kissed his cheek. "Let me just turn off the lights and make sure everything is locked."

"Henry." Alex dragged out the last syllable as his boyfriend slipped from his grasp and his reach.

"Two minutes. Time me. Get undressed, I'll be right back."

Alex sighed in defeat as Henry vanished from the room. He turned his head toward the bay windows where they'd been sitting. He could make out the light snow fall coming down. He was fairly confident he would wake up to a city blanketed in white tomorrow.

Oh well. He would get to spend the day in, with the love of his life.

Alex closed his eyes, hearing the sound of Henry moving around the house.

He smiled and moved to take off his sweater.

///

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please let me know what you thought!

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #alex claremont-diaz #Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor #firstprince #alex x henry #my writing #my fic

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salt-baby · 11 months ago

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prev said "elaborate", you ask I will deliver!

so what do premed and med students actually receive as ethical education?

my main grievances with basic medical ethics courses mostly has to do with autonomy and paternalism.

paternalism is essentially the concept that because doctors understand the medical science better than the patient does, they have a responsibility to guide patients through their medical care and towards the best treatments. In the same way a father does for their child, the doctor has authority to decide things if they think it's in the best interest of the patient.

The idealistic version of this is that a doctor is suggesting to a patient what they think will be the best medication or procedure, because the doctor is educated to think about things like niche drug interactions and how a patient's health may affect treatment efficacy and that sort of thing. Patients get told the basics of their diagnosis and the next steps, so as not to overwhelm them with the technical stuff.

However, this falls apart when it comes to things like informed consent. Patients have to understand what they're getting into when they accept a treatment. Overly paternalistic doctors may skip giving patients a proper explanation, telling them that "I'm a doctor, trust me on this". But doctors never have a full picture of all the things that factor into a patient's medical decisions, and patients often have other goals than achieving best health in pursuing medical treatment. Especially in the case of disabled people, who often aren't ever going to return to best health.

Newer medical ethics textbooks will include more autonomous models in place of paternalism, but it's not as ideal as it seems. Per those textbooks, the principle of autonomy obliges doctors to give their patients the freedom to make medical decisions, even against advice. But doctors aren't advised to do this in cases where they deem a person unable to make a decision, and this isn't based on the legal definition. If a doctor thinks a patient is unable to make a calm and rational choice, they don't necessarily have to respect a patient's autonomy. And how much doctors can persuade a patient varies from source to source.

Worth noting? The book usually associated with the introduction of autonomy in place of paternalism, "Principles of Biomedical Ethics" was published in 1980. Paternalism was presumably taught at least up until that point, and even if its not promoted anymore, it's still introduced as part of medical education.

Both of these principles can be seen in medical ethics courses, as seen in this reading written in response to the introduction of autonomy, which was actually used at my university. The reading is introduced by the textbook as follows:

"Respect for patient autonomy is distorted when autonomy is understood as mere noninterference, says Ackerman. On this prevalent hands-off view, "the doctor need be only an honest and good technician, providing relevant information and dispensing professionally competent care." But this approach fails to respect the autonomy genuinely, he argues, for it does not recognize that many factors can compromise autonomy, including illness and a host of psychological, social, and cultural constraints. At times, true respect for autonomy may require the physician to intervene, to deviate from the patient's stated preferences. The goal of the physician-patient relationship should be "to resolve the underlying physical (or mental) defect, and to deal with cognitive, psychological, and social constraints in order to restore autonomous functioning."

Think I'm kidding? Here's flashcards on this reading, and a student's essay on it.

Ackerman himself doesn't necessarily advocate for forcing patients into the choices doctors feel are best for their health at the expense of their free will. His point is more that beyond simply educating a patient on their condition and their best options, doctors should consider factors impeding a patients decision, like the opinions of their family members. The problem is that Ackerman asserts that illness itself can be a factor, and that the mental strain and sudden change in life habits or plans from adjusting to being ill causes patients to be less able to make decisions clearly. And he means ALL patients. This is an incredibly dangerous concept to be introducing.

This reading encourages doctors to second-guess a patient's decision, and is very firm in that illness can make a patient unable to make a decision, even if that illness doesn't affect cognition at all. It's true that the sudden news of a diagnosis, especially a chronic one, can be world-shattering. But that doesn't mean a patient isn't making a valid decision.

This reading has its purpose, and I don't totally disagree with Ackerman (obviously I do on the effects of illness). But along the way, a very risky concept has been introduced. This is why I say ableism is being taught in classes, because while the reading itself is useful, a very subtle ableism is introduced alongside it. If the ableism in this reading isn't named and discussed, then students often take the content as fact, because on the exam that's how it'll be treated.

Additionally, all of these concepts place the doctor in a clear position of power over the patient. I get the idea, that because doctors know more, that education places them over the patient. But in reality, when it comes to the core problem of diagnosing and treating the illness at hand, the patient is still bringing valuable knowledge to the table. The patient is the one who first notices something is wrong, the patient is the only person who can explain what's happening with their body, and the patient has the ultimate say with their consent.

And I don't believe these ideas are being critically engaged with by students. They're just learning the buzzwords and the right things to say in medical school interviews. Because the school has introduced this bias, the student now has to go above and beyond to unlearn it. Understanding ethical theory is important, but serious thought needs to be given to the language used and how concepts are presented.

Ultimately, when patients are judged to be incapable of a decision is governed by hospital or state policy, and so is who the doctor involves in patient care. Don't let me scare you here - your doctor can't just decide you're too anxious and force you into something you don't want to do. But these ideas still affect how doctors talk to patients in a more subversive way, and there's still real harm in that.

yes, doctors suck, but also "the medical ethics and patient interaction training doctors receive reinforces ableism" and "the hyper competitive medical school application process roots out the poor, the disabled, and those who would diversify the field" and "anti-establishment sentiment gets applications rejected and promotions requests denied, weeding out the doctors on our side" and "the gruesome nature of the job and the complete lack of mental health support for medical practitioners breeds apathy towards patients" and "insurance companies often define treatment solely on a cost-analysis basis" and "doctors take on such overwhelming student loan debt they have no choice but to pursue high paying jobs at the expense of their morals" are all also true

none of this absolves doctors of the truly horrendous things they say and do to patients, but it's important to acknowledge that rather than every doctor being coincidentally a bad person, there is something specific about this field and career path that gives rise to such high prevalence of ableist attitudes

and I WILL elaborate happily

#salt baby talks #salt baby reads #I can't cite the textbook i pulled the excerpt from because it was a pdf excerpt :(#ask questions if you have them - i enjoy them

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bordemm · 4 years ago

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𝐵𝑅𝐴𝑇(𝑈𝑆𝐻𝐼𝐽𝐼𝑀𝐴 𝑊𝐴𝐾𝐴𝑇𝑂𝑆𝐻𝐼)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs:sᴍᴜᴛ,ғᴀᴄᴇғᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ,ᴍᴀɴ ʜᴀɴᴅʟɪɴɢ,ʙʀᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ,ᴅᴇɢʀᴀɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴅᴏᴍ ᴜsʜɪᴊɪᴍᴀ

ᴜsʜɪᴊɪᴍᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:ʏᴏᴜʀᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴡʜᴏʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜsʜɪᴊɪᴍᴀ ᴘᴜᴛs ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ:2672

ɴsғᴡ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜᴛ

Large would be an understatement. There was something that lit a fire in Ushijima that he didn’t know he had, there's something about the way you looked so small standing next to him that made his pants a tad tighter than they should’ve been. Ushijima was not a small or gentle man by any means but when he was holding your hand as you two walked down the street his hand would cradle yours like you were made of glass. The stares you would get when seen together were obvious and anyone could read their faces. You looked like a small lamb next to the big bad wolf. You didn’t care for the stares they didn’t bother you or ushijima, the both of you were content in the small bubble you had.

“Toshi” you said looking up at your boyfriend tugging his sleeve a little, he looked down at you without a word waiting for you to tell him why you called for him

“Can we go home?” you asked looking around the packed venue, it was a party for the national team and of course Ushijima was invited and he spent all day fighting with the people up top to allow him to bring you, it’s not that you were unable to care for yourself or that you couldn’t stand to be apart from ushijima, no that wasn’t it at all. Ushijima knew he wouldn’t be able to get through this night without you by his side, you were an anchor to the giant. Something that brought him comfort, you could read Ushijima well because you had no other choice. Wakatoshi was a man of few words in front of others but with you he felt as though he couldn't stop his lips from moving, it was ironic truly, such a small thing like you couldn provide so much comfort to the tree of a man.

Ushijima looked down at you shaking his head no, you let out a sigh before trailing behind him as you guys walked through the crowd getting to the table. The organizers of the party let you come under one condition; you and wakatoshi would have to wear matching outfits. You didn’t mind but you weren’t expecting Wakatoshi to look so good in red. The dark crimson clashing perfectly against his tan skin and olive green eyes lit a fire in your belly. You wanted to go home not because you were bored, no you were wet embarrassingly so. The way his shirt was too tight showing off his muscular chest and his broad shoulders made you cross your legs trying to relieve the ache. Ushijimia wasn’t completely clueless, you two have been together for some time now, though he isn’t much of a talker it gives him the advantage, Ushijima can read you like a book.

You watched as Kageyama bounded over to you adjusting his suit jacket, you went to whisper one of the many dirty thoughts you were having only for wakatoshi to grip your thigh,dipping his head down to let his warm breath fan over your ear.

“Behave” is all he said but that six letter word made your pussy become even wetter than before. You squirmed in discomfort your panties sticking to your vagina like a second skin, ushijima squeezed your thigh harder as another warning as Kageyama came and took a seat at the table

“Hi (y/n) it’s good to see you” Kageyama said politely you nodded back giving him a sincere smile

“It’s nice to see you Tobio, how have you been?” you said making small talk with the setter to distract yourself from the oozing mess that you were sure is ruining your panties. Ushijima didn’t say anything or chime into your conversation as more people from the team came to the table, everyone sitting and talking.

“You know it (y/n) you’re spoiled!” Bokuto exclaimed making you giggle shaking your head

“I’m not! It’s not my fault toshi takes care of me” you said leaning into ushijima who just draped his heavy arm over your shoulders.

“Oh you take care of her ushiwaka?” atsumu teased making you roll your eyes

“I provide for (y/n) in any way she needs, as a partner should” he said taking a sip of his drink

“Well (y/n) if ushijima ever doesn’t provided for your more ‘personal’ needs i’d be more than happy to” atsumu said at this ushijima snapped his head back toward the conversation just in time to hear your response

“Oh really? How sweet of you Miya, i might have to take you up on the offer” you teased, wakatoshi knew what game you were playing and you knew just as well as him that if you didn’t cut it out you were really going to be in for it.

“Yeah? There has to be a closet round here somewhere” Atsumu said

“Watch it Miya” ushijima’s dark voice sliced through the conversation making Atsumu nervously chuckled and you sank in your seat

You didn’t let that stop you though, you continued to shamelessly flirt with Atsumu. Ushijima didn’t stop you wanting to see how far you’d dig your grave, deciding you’ve had your fun and now it was his turn, he stood up before standing you up from your seat by your arm with ease.

“We are leaving, let’s go brat” he said his voice uncharastically harsh, you became flustered strutting over your words as Ushijima dragged you away from the table, his grip nearly bruising. As you guys were making your way to the exit wakatoshi’s PR manager stopping you guys at the door pleading him to stay

“No i can’t stay, i have to teach this brat manners” he said, jerking your arm little as he openly referred to you as a brat in front of his manager, you knew you were in trouble by the lack of a filter he had right now. His poor manger stunned just stepped to the side letting you guys through

Timeskip

The sight in front of ushijima was delicious, you were sprawled over his lap your asscheeks an angry red color as his large left hand came down swatting you again making you yelp

“13, thank you daddy” you said placing your hand flat on the floor because of the force of ushijima’s spank sent you forward.

“Stop squirming slut” he hissed bringing you back up on his lap

“M’ sorry daddy” you whimpered hoping he would have mercy

“No you aren’t, not yet” he said spanking you again this time on the right asscheek

“14, thank you daddy” you said gripping onto his thighs to steady yourself

“Did you enjoy behaving like a cock hungry whore in front of everyone?” He asked, his voice booming off the walls of your shared bedroom. You shook your head no, earning you another spank.

“You can’t be that dumb, use your words slut” he said, his words going straight to your sopping cunt

“No daddy just missed you” you confessed which wasn’t a lie this was ushijima’s first night home in 2 months. Ushijima let out a sigh sitting you up so you were straddling him. He hand came up cupping your cheek his calloused thumb wiping away a tear

“So that’s why you were acting like a bitch in heat? Missed daddy?” he said his voice sincere you nodded sniffling nuzzling your head into his hand

“I’m sorry princess, i know i’m gone a lot” he said running his large hands up and down your spine making you shiver

“But you know better, and if i don’t punish you now you’ll keep thinking with that pussy instead of your head” he said gently before shoving you off his lap onto the floor in front of him. You looked up at him with wide eyes as he stood above you, if you felt small before, you were truly dwarfed in this position. The 6’4 man towered over you before giving you a nod allowing you to reach up to his dress pants with shaky hands unzipping them and pulling them down along with his briefs, his thick cock coming up and bobbing against his muscular abdomen.

“Now make yourself useful,” he commanded. You immediately took the head of his cock into your warm mouth and quickly enveloped him as you suckled on his tip, never taking anymore than that into your mouth. Ushijima rolled his eyes before cradling the entirety of your head with one hand slamming his length down your mouth the tip ramming into the back of your throat, you squealed around him sending vibrations up his cock making him groan.

“suck” he said, you followed his instructions hollowing your cheeks around him bobbing your head around him and pumping what couldn’t fit in your mouth in your hands that dwarfed around his thick cock. Ushijima allowed you to keep this pace for a while before placing both of his hands on this side of your head making you look up at him your swollen lips around the middle of his cock

“Don’t forget to breathe, and tap me twice if it becomes too much. Blink twice if you understand me” he said dominant persona dropping for a second. Your heart swirled with love over his tenderness with you. You blinked twice letting some tears fall.

Ushijima regained his dominance snapping his hips forcing more of his thick cock down your raw throat. His pace was relentless as he spewed filth telling you how much a good whore you were, asking if you had gotten what you were begging for. You couldn't respond only allowing a stream of whimpers to leave your throat.

Ushijima finally pulled out, leaving a string of saliva connecting your bruised lips to tip his heavy cock, you gulped down the air greedily huffing and puffing. Ushijima allowed you to collect yourself till he picked you up easily before tossing you down on the bed.

“If i were to put theses fingers” he said suckling on his fingers before pushing two of his thick digits into your pussy making you moan

“In here and press here” he said curling his fingers to effortlessly pushing against the spongy spot inside you making you moan even louder

“Would you cum for me?” he asked, taking his other hand rubbing your clit making you writhe and squirm under him the white hot pleasure building faster and faster leaving you unable to catch up cumming all over his fingers.

“Looks like you will,” he smirked, his ego stroked by how easily you came undone for him. Your legs trembled as you came down from your high.

“Shh shh it’s all good little one deep breaths the fun hasn’t started” he said laying down and pulling you on top of him, your dripping cunt lubing him up without trying as his cock laid heavy on his toned abs

A quick smack on the ass brings you back down earth letting the gravity of the predicament you put yourself in weigh on you

“You were so desperate to get your needy little pussy filled, take what you want” he said resting his head back against the plush pillows watching as you lined yourself up with cock with shaky hands. You let out a groan, feeling him stretch and fill you to the brim, your pussy feeling impossibly full.

“Atta girl” he praised smacking your ass again making you jolt forward

“Now bounce” he commanded and you followed his orders not wanting to push him more than you already have you grounded your hips against him feeling his cock stir inside you till you got up and began bouncing on his cock.

Ushijima watched closely as you began to shameselly bounce whining and moaning about how full you were and how good he felt. He gripped your hips slightly, guiding you brows furrowed in pleasure.

“Daddy s’ too much!” you exclaimed hands coming up to tweak your hard nipples with a moan that turned into a scream feeling ushijima slap your clit

“You can and will take it,I'm giving you what you asked for no?” he said, giving you a harsh thrust in particular making you throw your head back. Ushijima loved this, loved the way you shamelessly used him to get off, no regard for his pleasure just yours it made him feral. Before you could cum he flipped you guys over remaining inside of you. He lifted your legs putting them on his shoulders before he began thrusting into at an unforgiving pace making you scream

“Just like that baby so fucking good for you, daddy gonna stuff you full is that what you want?” he asked as the tip of his penis kept tapping your cervix

“Yes yes yes yes daddy so good so good” you mindlessly babbled as you began to cream around his cock a white ring of cum forming at the base

Ushijima looked down at you as your eyes rolled into the back of your head and your tongue lulled out of your mouth the pleasure overwhelming your brain.

“Your brain oozing out of your sloppy little pussy too?” he said referring to your fucked out state, he asked but didn’t expect a response knowing you’ve been fucked stupid

After you came for the third time without a break overstimulation began to set in making you push your feet flat against his shoulders trying to push him out with weak legs

“Too much daddy!” you screamed as he continued to mercilessly fuck you. His big hands swatted your legs off his shoulders before wrapping a hand around your throat

“Whos. pussy. Is. this?” he asked punctuating every word with a thrust that sent you to your building orgasam

“Ts’ yours toshi all yours!” you shouted knowing your neighbours could hear your boyfriend fuck your brains out.

“Then let me use MY pussy as I please” he said his thrusts becoming inconsistent as he came close to cumming. Knowing your boyfriend was close you began to clamp down around him wanting to him cum hard inside of your fluttering walls

“Fuck you keep squeezing me like that im gonna cum, but that’s what you want huh? You cum slut” he said thrusting into you. You nodded looking up at ushijima like he was a god, tears freely flowing down your cheeks from the immense pleasure your boyfriend was giving you. That face. That’s what sent him over the edge. There is nothing more he loves, eyes glassy with tears, lips red and swollen, little hiccups and moans leaving you as your pussy shamelessly sucked him in more.

“Gonna fill this pussy with my cum, stuff you full” he said thrusting so hard like he was trying to funnel his cum directly into your womb

“Yes yes yes yes yes” you chanted like a bitch. Wanting nothing more than your boyfriend’s hot cum spilling into you marking you in the most lewd way possible. With one final thrust and a throaty moan ushijima came inside of you painting your walls white with cum.

You moaned at the warm feeling of his cum filling you to the brim, you whimpered as more of his cum came out overflowing from your pussy on to the sheets of your shared bed

“So full” you whimpered as ushijima slowly rocked his hips fucking his cum into you before pulling out

“Your such a good girl” he praised stroking your hair lovingly looking down at you like you hung the moon and stars in the night sky

“Thank you toshi sorry i was being a brat” you sniffled his cum still flowing out of your pussy

“Shhh it’s okay baby just relax i’ll go get your bath ready” he said placing a sweet kiss on your temple on your temple walking to the ensuite.

You dreamily sighed tilting your head to the side ignoring the ache in your legs and focusing on the love swirling in your heart.

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #ushijima smut #ushijima wakatoshi #ushiwaka #ushijima x reader #haikyuu!!#anime #hard dom ushijima

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fandom-puff · 4 years ago

Text

Mating

Pairing: Remus Lupin X Reader

Requested by: anon

Summary: you’ve done a good enough job of covering up your attraction to your new colleague... that is until the moon cycle heightens his senses...

AN: I’m getting there with these requests! I’ve been going through them at my own pace- sorry if I’ve rejected your request though- id rather not write it if I don’t have the inspiration to do so 💖💖💖

Also I went to TOWN on this one, so feedback is greatly appreciated !!

Gif creds to owner as usual x

Warnings: rough, possessive sex, swearing, breeding kink , werewolf tricks (scents, mating, knotting)

Drawing your robe tighter around yourself, silently cursing Severus for putting people in detention. You had agreed to take over his patrols for the night, when in reality, you wanted nothing more than to go to bed. Sighing, you held your lit wand out in front of you, walking up the corridor, occasionally nodding at a passing ghost, telling Peeves to bugger off, greeting snoozing portraits...

The silence of the dark corridors allowed you to mull over your thoughts, figure out some lesson plans, what you would get people for christmas the next time you visited Hogsmeade, but as usual, your train of thought wandered, soon landing on a particular Professor. Smiling dumbly to yourself, you pictures him in your mind, from his grey-flecked hair to his shabby, patched robes; his kind, tired eyes to his light stubble and moustache; his trim chest to his long, elegant fingers...

Shuddering slightly, you tugged your lip between your teeth. What that man could do with his fingers, you mused, remembering at dinner earlier that evening, watching as he wrapped his hands around his goblet- you came to the conclusion that those fingers would look much better wrapped around your throat...

You were so lost in your thoughts that you bumped headlong into the object of your desires. How did you know it was him? Was it his gentle hands grasping your arms to stop you falling backwards? Was it the gentle words he uttered asking if you were okay? No. It was his scent, of all things, which lingered on his comfy knitted jumper- tea and books and... the forbidden forest... you couldn’t help but inhale a few gulps before mumbling your apology, making to move past him. Those hands grabbed your arm again, stopping you dead in your tracks.

“Why not walk with me, YN? Your patrol won’t be as lonely,” he said kindly, smiling down at you. You could see a slight glint of his white teeth in the wandlight as you nodded. Together and in relative silence, you strolled the corridors, occasionally murmuring to one another- yes the weather had been a bit rubbish lately, that book is excellent, no I didn’t know it’s the full moon in three days...

You knew about remus’s condition, as everyone on the staff did. Why was he bringing it up? Did he think you were scared? Did he think you would run away once it clicked? You didn’t care that he was a werewolf, of course you didn’t. If anything, it often made you wonder what he was like in bed before the Full moon. He seemed tired all the time, but you had read about mating- would mild-mannered Remus Lupin evolve into a primal beast? Would he dig his nails into your skin as he got carried away? Would he fuck you from behind like an animal? Did he have a deep-rooted urge to fill you with his seed and watch you swell with his pups...?

“YN? You aren’t listening to a word I’m saying, are you?” Remus’s voice shook you from your depraved thoughts.

“Hmm?” You asked, letting out a shaky breath. Your knees were wobbly and you could feel heat and wetness pooling in your knickers. You would most certainly be fucking yourself tonight thinking of him.

“I said we’re at my rooms. You’re very welcome to come in for a cup of tea if you like? Might have something stronger in a cupboard somewhere for a nightcap,” he said, smirking slightly. Were your eyes deceiving you or did he just lick his lips?

“I... Er... yes please?” You said, nibbling your lip. Your midnight masturbation would have to wait tonight it seemed. You took a seat on one of Lupin’s armchairs as he pottered about the kitchenette, fixing tea for you both. He soon carried it over and sat opposite you as you sipped at your drinks, once again silent. Remus inhaled deeply through his nose and leg out a soft sigh, before fixing you with a stare, his eyes flashing amber- or was that just the firelight playing tricks?

“God, I wish I was a legilimens,” he hummed. You frowned, cocking up your eye brow and setting your teacup down.

“Why’s that?” You asked, leaning forward, your lips slightly parted.

“Because I’d be able to figure out what’s got you so aroused,” he murmured. You gulped, biting your lip hard as you stared at one another before your lips were smashed together in a messy, desperate kiss. Your teeth clashed and you were both grabbing handfuls of the other’s hair as Remus pulled you into his lap, moaning lowly. “I guess that answers that question,” he grunted as you tipped your head back and sighed.

“H-how did you know?” You gasped as his teeth scraped right over your pulse point.

“Your eyes glaze over when you daydream,” he grinned, nibbling your earlobe. “And do you want to know a lesser-known fact about werewolves?” You nodded eagerly, your nails scraping over his scalp. “Around and on the full moon, our senses peak. Touch, hearing, sight, taste... smell... I could smell your arousal before we were even on the same corridor, YN... now tell me... was that all for me?”

You shuddered as his growl vibrates through your throat. “Yes!” You whimpered, trying to grind on him, but there were too many layers between you both and you whined out dejectedly. “A-all for you, Remus, f-for ages now!” Remus grunted and licked at the blood vessel at the side of your neck, you pulse throbbing against his tongue.

“I know, darling. Moony knows...” you sighed softly, eyes rolling back as you felt gentle hands on your waist, stilling your movements. “If we carry on, YN... Moony will take over. He will claim you as his mate, eternally. If that is what you want, I am more than happy to oblige, but if you are even a shred unsure, please leave my chambers. We can discuss this after the moon when it is safe-”

You pressed a tender kiss to his lips, pulling away and resting your forehead against his. “I want this. I’ve wanted this for ages... please, remus, I’m yours. I’ve felt... drawn to you since we met. It makes sense,”

He smiled weakly. “You understand what you are getting yourself into, this close to the moon? Our first coupling together will not be tender. Passionate, most certainly, but by no means gentle,” you could feel his hands trembling from the effort of keeping control.

“I’m yours, remus,” you whispered, bringing one of his hands down to cup your soaked, clothed heat, biting your lip hard. “I want this. Please, remus, mate with me,”

It was as if something snapped inside him. Without the aid of your hand, he pressed his hand into your heat, feeling how slick you were even through your knickers, attacking your neck with feverish kisses as you rutted against his hand, the heel of his palm mashing into your clit in the most deliciously searing way. Reluctantly, remus pulled his hand away, kissing away your whimpers of protest as he carried you to his bedroom, flinging you down on the bed and hovering over you, his thumb and forefinger tracing the hem of your shirt. “Take it off, remus,” you begged, and he was all too happy to oblige, soon stripping you to your underwear. Gulping, he looked you in the eye as he trailed one finger up your navel, grinning as you shivered and arched your back. “Need to feel you, Remus, please!” You pleaded. Normally, remus would be unwilling to undress fully, ashamed of his scars, but this close to the Moon, he had only one thing on his mind. Almost comically quickly, he tugged his jumper, shirt and trousers off, kicking them aside, practically pouncing on you to kiss you again. You pouted at not being quite able to see his erection straining at his boxers, but were quickly consoled when you felt it pressing hard against your thighs.

“Remus!” You moaned, trailing your hands up his strong back, your fingertips dancing over the silvery ridges of his scars, clutching onto him as though your life depended on it. You could feel the heat radiating off him, hear his pulse quickening just like your own, hear him panting above you. You were so close to him, yet so far, your underwear providing an unbearably wide wall between you both as you longed to feel him against your most sensitive parts. As if reading your mind, remus briefly pulled away and with a flick of his wand, you were both completely bare. Mouth ajar, you eyed up his cock, feeling your cunt clench around nothing at just the thought of accommodating his throbbing length and girth. Sensing your worry, remus nuzzled his face into your neck and kissed your pulse point gently. “I won’t hurt you, darling,” he whispered. “Nor will Moony,” nodding, you spread your legs. Remus groaned as he inhaled, already getting drunk off the scent of your soaked nether region. “Another time, my dear, I am going to drink from your cunt until you can’t come any more,”

You shivered and nodded, biting your lip. “That had best be a promise,” you moaned out, pushing his hair out of his face, breathy gasps and moans escaping you as you felt the bulbous head of his cock tapping against your throbbing clit. “Please, remus,” you begged, your legs moving instinctively to wrap around him.

Your begging was all he needed. He pushed his thick cock into you, stretching you out, grasping your hips to stop your wiggling as he revelled in the soaking heat of your clenching channel, soon moving his hands to grasp your thighs and hold them further apart. “I am going to mate with you, yn,” he growled. “I am going to claim you as mine, and I will be yours. I will fill you with my seed until your swollen with my pups. And when I come, you will feel my cock swell inside you to make sure my seed takes root,”

The filth spewing from his lips had your head reeling, and you bucked your hips up eagerly, begging him to do all of those things as he began fucking you relentlessly, the sounds of skin slapping and the wet noises of your coupling filling the small room as you gripped onto eachother. Remus’s lips found yours and you moaned loudly into his mouth as his tongue collided with yours before he sucked on it gently, sending jolts of pleasure sizzling through your every nerve. You had never felt more alive, more full, more worshiped than you did in that moment, your nails dug into remus’s arms as his thrusting became sloppy as he neared his end. “P-please don’t stop, Remus! Don’t pull out, please! Need to feel you fill me up properly!” You cried, your head resting on his shoulder. Remus grunted and nodded, his hips snapping hard against yours as he neared his peak.

“Bite my neck, YN, love!” He grunted. “Mark me as your mate while I do the same to- Ah! Fuck! Good girl!” You sunk your teeth into his pulse point, sucking harshly. Instinctively, you knew just where to bite, and you gently licked over the wound, moaning lowly as you felt the base of his cock begin to swell as he stilled inside you, the first spurt of cum painting your walls as his groaned out lowly. He basked in his orgasm for a brief moment, before leaning down to suck and bite your neck the same way you had.

You screamed.

The bite to your neck caused a white-hot surge of pleasure to rip through you as you felt your trembling body come undone, your stretched walls clenching tight around Remus’s swollen cock, milking every last drop out of him as you panted, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sobbed from the overwhelming pleasure and the rush of hormones your mating had caused.

Cooing gently, remus lowered you carefully onto your side, facing him, his cock still swollen inside you for the time being. The slight movement had you whimpering and Reaching up to kiss him messily. “I love you,” you moaned, hiding your face in his neck as your body relaxed.

Remus smiled gently and kissed your head and face over and over, pushing your hair out of your eyes. “I’m sorry it was so intense, darling. It’s not always like that, I promise,” he whispered.

“N-no... I loved that. The connection, both emotional and... physical,” you reached up and stroked the tender bite at your throat, shuddering as it twinged. “I am yours,” you murmured, reaching to kiss him gently.

“And I am yours,” he responded, stroking your hair. “My beautiful, beautiful mate, I love you,”

Soon, his cock softened enough to slip out of you, and you groaned softly, already very achey from your coupling. Remus smiled apologetically and spelled away the remnants of your pleasure, tugging the covers up around you. Instinctively, you massaged your lower belly, although you knew it was unlikely that he had knocked you up so soon, especially as you were on wizarding contraceptives. You frowned slightly, a sad twinge rattling your innermost instincts. Remus laughed gently.

“Soon, sweetheart. Soon you will swell with my pups. Just not quite yet,” he said gently, knowing that your mating would have unlocked something deep rooted in your instincts, something rather maternal. You pouted a little but nodded, curling into his side. He was right. There would be plenty of time for breeding later. Before then, you and your mate had some catching up to do before the full moon...

Tags: @a-hopeless-fan @lotsoffandomrecs @justanotherwildstar @rai-strangebr @zodiyack @haphazardhufflepuff @dumbfuckinslytherin @severuslovebot @darkthought15 @rabeccablake @sambucky8 @eleven-times-lively @talksoprettyjjx @extra-trash77 @rangerelik @dracosbbygorl

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husbandohunter · 4 years ago

Note

Dottore with short drabble “You only ever brought me pain and I’m sick of it.”

Something angsty pls? Thank you!

Tainted Glass [Dottore x Reader/Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: Can you escape the prison you made?

(A twisted Cinderella story. The girl was covered in cinders because she was fatally addicted to drowning in flames.)

Warnings: angst, emotional abuse, violence, death

(A/n): To be honest anon, I didn’t know what the word ‘drabble’ means until I googled it. I uh...hope you don’t mind the length :>

-----------------------

You fell back against the cold hard floor with your arms bent and head turned sideways. The stinging pain spreads across your cheek. It burns. But your mind was still trying to register what had just came into fruition.

Why?

The thought was so foreign somehow as if you could hardly believe he was doing this. But then the scene plays in your head again. You froze, your gaze enlarged and clueless while staring at the pale ground as it slowly begins to darken in the seeping movement of his menacing, haunting shadow.

"Insolent woman, you wretch!" He spat in a disgusted tone, "How dare you speak to me in such demanding manner? Have I already told you, only talk when you have something important to say?"

You didn't respond, rather you merely let the strands fall in front of your vision as you gingerly pressed your hand against the place where he hit you.

I…don't quite understand…

Dottore glowers down at your hunched form. He was never a man known for the virtue of patience. This man, the one who calls him your husband, you learned a long time ago to not meet his eyes as they would signal a hint of dominance amidst his authority, especially during moments like these. You came to feel his eyes instead, they were usually intense and full of wrath, sometimes crazed and curious while looking at his finest creations. He always loved experimenting in his labratory. After all, it was the only thing that could truly make the madman smile.

What is it that I'm missing? Where did I go wrong?

And you would do anything to obtain at least a fraction of the love he had left in his heart.

He marches onward with heavy footsteps, paying no mind to your well-being, "Tch get out of my sight. I don't have the time to entertain with anymore these theatrics."

At the sound of him leaving you darted your attention towards him, "Wait, come back. Come back, " you plea softly, "Hector…" But he ignores your call. The back of your fiance disappears behind the door and slams it with a resounding thud. He was gone. You couldn't save him.

"No," As a result, you burried your face into your palms and cried.

“I'm sorry.”

…

What is love?

Being raised in one of the most prestigious bloodlines of Fontaine, a life filled with riches since your parents were well known scholars throughout Teyvat, they provided you and your family with everything you needed. From exquisite dishes to priceless jewelry, yet even among those riches you never did find an answer to your question. They were tangibles and short-lasting, eventually leaving you with nothing until the glass of your heart was filled empty. They seemed to have cared more about their fortune along with the brightest child of their family line, your brother, a male heir, someone who fulfilled their expectations where you couldn't do so. And because he was able to give them what they wanted, he was loved.

I see, love is conditional.

Realizing that you possessed no talent to achieve what your brother had accomplished, you came to accept that you were undeserving of their love. Love was for the smart. Love was for the gifted. Love was for everything you are not. There was no place for your kind and thus you locked yourself up in your bedroom chambers along with your fragile heart where no one would try to find you, picking up the books upon the shelves and getting lost in their fantasies.

They told you many beautiful things about the world and many reasons why it was so tragic. Because they weren't real. The story begins with a princess who was a kind-hearted soul, deprived from the care of her evil stepmother and dreams of marrying a prince from a land far far away. They often end on a happily ever after with the princes finding her one true love. You've never seen anything like it. Where two people, despite the struggles they went through, loved each other unconditionally.

Unconditional love only exists in dreams.

Or so you thought to believe.

One day a man marched right at the doorsteps of your mansion. He was a student coming all the way from Sumeru Academia and had high hopes of building a business partnership with your father. The man was declined of course, you watched from the garden bushes as he was sent off back into his carriage. He stops abruptly and turns his head ajar to catch your figure, his inquisitive eyes were both striking and sharp. Like thorns of a rose that was ready to prick anyone who dares to come close. Even so, they made a very lasting impression.

Red eyes.

It was the first time that someone had looked your way.

Couple of months later, the government had arranged a grand ball where all nobles would gather and commit to building their social circle. Useless events. There was no reason for you to engage. While your parents were occupied with the latest gossips and your brother surrounded by fathers who were eager to marry their daughters to him, you snuck outside to the balcony and hid away from the crowd. Quiet at last. And as things should be. The moon was your only friend because she was just like you; half empty. Maybe that was why you still had a glimmer of hope for the other half to be filled.

Part white, you inquired, pristine and untainted. From far away it looked similar to snow.

"My, how pleasantly surprising."

While the other part was stained with black cinders.

You glanced over your shoulder to see a man leaning against the pillar. His mint coloured bangs were slicked back in a trendy fashion, complimenting the white suit he adorned himself with. The golden chains hanging around his ebony boots dangled and clanged with each step he took forward until the light finally reveals his face.

"You seem familiar," you say while squinting your eyes, "Are you the person my father rejected back in February?"

He quirks one brow and you were afraid if you had offended him. But before you could utter an apology, the man splits his lips into a toothy grin and bursts out into a maniac-like laughter. He was completely insane, you thought to yourself. Though he paid no mind to your discomfort and continued to dwell in his amusement, "Hahaha straightforward, I like it! So what if I am? Is it a requirement to be a noble for me to simply have a chat?"

"And if I may ask why?"

"Hmmm, why?" The man reaches for the balcony and presses his back there. He threw his head backward before drilling his ruby gaze into yours, "I too am not fond of annoying crowds. Those snobbish fools thinking they're above everyone else just because they have a couple of mora when that is all they are worth. It's almost too hilarious for my own good."

You could tell there was disdain in his tone. Mainly towards your father who were one of the many unkind nobles of Fontaine and was only liked because of his success. Gripping your hands upon the stone railings, you looked down at the distant trees below while the wind rustled them apart, "I can't deny that," you say dissapointedly, "It's common for nobles not to associate with lower classes as it could potentially ruin their image. Though I may not have been there but I'm sure you had much to offer in terms of your brilliance, erm, Mister…?"

"Hector," Hector placed a palm on his chest with a polite bow following suit, "Hector Dufour-Lapointé. It is a pleasure to make you an acquaintance Lady (Y/n)."

"You know my name?"

"How could I not?" Hector smirks lazily as he danced around you, "I saw you before hiding behind the rose bushes back in your estate. Quite curious why you didn't attempt to say hello."

He even remembers that too. You fiddled with the fabric of your dress, "My apologies. I'm not use to socializing so much."

“Is that so? I think you're not giving yourself enough credit," he complimented while shrugging, "This is much more entertaining than hanging in that insufferably crowded room, it was an unexpected occurence to meet you here of all places. However, I must say time can fly if I'm able to enjoy myself."

You shifted away from his stare, "You flatter me. We've only been talking for a few minutes."

"I have yet to realize it then" Hector's cheerfulness remains at stance despite your gloomy response. He leans forward like a curious child and tosses you a question, "Then allow me to ask, what brings you out here Lady (Y/n)? I don't see any reason when your family are such highly respected people of Fontaine."

"I'm not like them!" You retort instantly, causing the man to glance at you with skepticism, "I mean, I have nothing to do with them and they have nothing to do with me. That's just how it is. They already have Clement after all…"

Why am I telling him this?

"Ah your brother I assume. Yes so I've heard much about his genius mind. There were a few instances where he and I collaborated at Sumeru Academia," Hector speaks as if regarding to his unpleasant memories, "Although he never said anything about having a sister."

"We're not that close. And I'm not very fond of him," you confessed bluntly.

"Neither am I," Hector agreed with a scowl, "He claims his position using the knowledge derived from history books but never tries to think beyond the norm. That ignorant mindset of his will surely be his downfall one day."

"Ignorance can lead to anyone's downfall. If they turn a blind eye to the truth, so much can be taken from them," you paused shortly from rambling too much, "That's what I read in books at least."

"As expected of your lineage," he sighs whimsically, "Such avid readers."

"Well my family prefers documents and research. I've gone through them too but I will always love reading fiction."

"Ha! Seems you really are trying to be different from the rest of your family."

Seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours, you had already forgotten about the cold breeze despite your dress being less than ideal for the outdoors. The man, although he can be a little to blathering at times, was more than what seemed to be on the surface. At first you thought of him as someone here to take advantage of your relations to your father but he seemed so sincere when listening to your stories, so eager while expressing his thoughts and even made you laugh a couple of times. You didn't realize that the clock had already struck twelve as the guests were preparing to leave but you just weren't ready to do the same.

"Until next time (Y/n)," he takes your fingers and pressed a kiss on top of them, though you were more struck by how he addressed you without honorifics, "I look forward to speaking with you again."

A warm smile graces your lips as you cursty, "Likewise Hector. Thank you for listening to me. I know I must have taken a long time."

Hector sneered but you already learned that it was simply his way of expressing amusement, "Hardly. I was thoroughly entertained."

When your parents found out about your meeting with him, they made it clear that you would never see him again. Hector Dufour-Lapointé is what he calls himself but the real name behind this man was Hector Valliere who came from a village hidden in the west of Fontaine. Rumours said that he was chased out of his hometown by an angry mob, claiming him to be a madman conducting unethical experiments on humans. Shortly after his arrival in Sumeru, he abandoned his past identity and replaced it with a new one in order to enter the academy under legal supervision. Associating with a man of a suspicious reputation would only cause harm to your family's name. Though you could barely care much about their reputation. There was nothing for you to benefit from it.

Few weeks have passed and you evetually gave up on the thought of hearing from Hector. They were only fleeting moments, nothing more. Your routine would stay the same as you kept on plucking more books off the shelves, killing whatever time you had. However the activities you used to enjoy somehow lost it's flair and there would be a slight pain in your chest whenever you turn to a page with the princess as she is surrounded by her friends. What exactly changed? Your family still treated you the same. Did you suddenly grow bored from doing the same thing everyday? Why is it that you feel much more lonelier despite being alone for so long? It was hard to tell in a singular perspective. If only there was someone here to give you some insights on things you couldn't see…

A silver bird lands by your front window and you nearly fell out of your chair as it flapped their wings violently. A machine?! They dropped what seems to be an envelope within the thick bushes before taking off and buzzing into the evening sky. You switched off the lock and lifted the glass within a single movement, snatching the piece of paper so that the wind wouldn't blow it away. Hastily you opened it. Both curious and cautious of why would anyone send you mail in such a discreet approach.

Chère Mademoiselle (Y/n),

I can only imagine the shock of your expression once reading this letter. I'm only writing to you since I assume that your father had already told you those nasty rumours about my past. No matter. I trust that you have a good head on your shoulders to not prejudge people using such miniscule details. I wish to speak with you again. Unless you have other plans staying in that stuffy room of yours, meet me behind the clock tower at 11:00 p.m. Don't be late.

Bien à vous,

"It really is him!" The happiness spreads all across your features as you clutched the letter to your chest. For some reason, your heart wouldn't stop racing. It was a simple yet thoughful action on his part but despite how short his greeting was, every word held the weight of a thousand sparks, "I…I can't stop smiling."

And without hesitation, you prepared to leave. No one noticed your absence.

-------

It was only halfway where you realized that Hector didn't give many details redgarding why he planned this sudden event. You caught sight of him standing under the roofs with his hands hidden behind his back. He had on his signature lopsided grin, brows uneven as he glanced at you casually.

"How very punctual, were you so eager that you couldn't wait?" He teases.

"I was surprised when your bird knocked upon my window," you inform, "Is it something urgent?"

"Not at all. I merely wanted to catch up with old times," Hector tilts forward to emphasize his suggestion, "Care to indulge me for a bit?"

You crossed your arms, "Then what is it that you're hiding behind your back?"

"Hmm?" He hums, "You mean this?"

"Ah!"

Roses. A bouquet of bright red flowers were presented to you, nicely wrapped in fabric. In the language of Fontaine, recieving them could mean multiple of things and you couldn't help but feel hesitant despite his thoughtful gesture, "Why are you giving me this?"

"Is it so wrong for me to be a gentleman? I thought it would be best to prepare you a gift after you put all that effort to come out in such a late hour," Hector mused to himself, "Especially when you had to make sure no prying eyes would catch us."

You let out a small laugh before accepting the bouquet, "I wouldn't go as far to say that."

"Oh?" Although it was hard to see, Hector managed to catch a glimpse of your flushed cheeks hidden behind the flowers. A darken smirk climbs onto his face at the inviting thought of what it could mean, "Tell me more."

The whole night you both spent walking around the empty plaza with only the stars as your guide. They paved a silver path reflected in the horizon above, free flowing like one of the many watercolour paintings hung in your chambers, uncertain where they may lead but you followed them regardless. If it weren't for Hector's inivtation you might have never known about the parts of your city due to the restricted lifestyle you lived. He listened to every one of them. The stories you had to tell when there was no one for you to talk to and the complaints about your brother whenever he wanted to snitch on your actions just to get the praise out of your father. You expressed your frustrations when speaking about your incompetences, joy after reading a good fairytale book written by your favourite author, there was so much to say that you were worried if Hector soon grew tired from them.

"Go on. I'm listening."

And your heart flutters again. Suddenly everything felt so light with each step you took, it was as if you walked across the stars in the sky rather than the heavy pavement of the ground you called your home. But even if happiness was a bliss, it tormented you. Because companionship made you realize how poor your were all along. That you had everything yet you had nothing, slowly withering away like the roses you held in your hand. Convinced that your existence was worth nothing more than nothing itself. Doomed to be dismissed and forgotten. Rotting away...Hector stays by your side as you cried softly into the night.

From a distance the bell rings and echoes just like the time before during Fontaine's grand ball. Hector shows you a secret route so that no one could find you.

"Will you write to me again?"

The request was so innocent, purely from genuine intentions and devoided of anything he had in mind. Hector would always laugh in these situations when things have gone unexpectedly yet pleasingly his way but held back knowing that it would be foolish to waste such a priceless opportunity. And so he gave you his smile, one full of secrets where you had mistakened it as a promise, "Of course my dear."

Every night you could no longer fall asleep since he had occupied your thoughts completely. Sometimes you'd dream of him and their tales would unfold similarly to the ones you have read. It gone to the point where the maids would have to wake you up during late afternoons due to the dramatic change in your sleep schedule. Though, you didn't care what they did to you. As long as no one found out about your secret rendezvous.

You never thought that there'd be a day where you would voluntarily give up reading your beloved fairytales. They were now replaced by a stash of his letters that have been accumulated over the past few months. You read them each day, pacing back and forth within the walls of your room, whispering his sentences as if he were the one saying them to you. He made you feel special. You were addicted to this feeling. Eventually you managed to memorize his words by heart.

The pages of your diary were filled with notes. Like your very own fairytale carved into reality. From the rose petal, now dried, to the hairpin he snatched from a distracted merchant and a single strand of his hair you found within your cloak after a warm embrace, all of these items, a remnant of the man you loved were taped up in these pages. Sometimes you could even feel his prescence because it was all you needed. It didn't matter if Clement threw insults about how worthless your existence was, your parents could lock you in this prison if they wanted to but they shall never take away Hector from you. Never. You swear it. He was your whole world and the prince who saved you from a life made of aching emptiness. You would do anything to keep him by your side. Anything to gain his affection.

Anything.

"I had a feeling that you were the culprit dear sister."

Your arms stutters as they clutched tightly on the scrolls you took off from the shelves. The light crept into the room like arms reaching out to clutch around your ankles, warning you for trespassing. You turned around dreadfully to see Clement pressing his shoulder against the doorframe with his arms folded and a wicked expression aimed at your pitiful state.

"Why…Why are you still awake?" You say in disbelief, "I thought everyone was asleep."

"Please. Not only are you shameless but hypocritical as well. You truly are a dissapointment to our family."

"Wait," taking a step forward, you stopped him before he makes his exit, "I'll put them back. Just don't tell father about this."

But like your parents, your brother was unkind. Clement doubles over and hugs his torso, cackling through his teeth, "Is that how it is?" He swipes his arm up and you see a parchment paper held between his fingers.

"No!"

"Ma chérie (Y/n). I must say all this tenacious effort of sneaking in my letters to your window is becoming more and more tiresome. But of course, you are an exception. I want the scrolls you've mentioned the other day at my lair tomorrow evening. Make sure no one discovers this. I'm counting on you. Cordialement! Hector."

"No…" you whispered, feeling the weight of the world fall upon your shoulders as it shattered apart. Hector. If possible, you hoped that the pieces could just crush you right then and there. Your knees felt weak and a fright takes over but despite your turmoil, Clement didn't show a shred of sympathy.

"So this is why you've been acting odd lately. Pathetic," he flaps the paper tauntingly in his grasp, "I can't decide if I should be impressed or baffled by your actions. A secret romance with a criminal and the bloodline of Fontaine's most respected government associates? Even though you've hit rock bottom, you still decided to dig deeper."

"Clement you don't understand!" Stumbling upon your footsteps, you desperately tried to convey your predicament even if it meant feeding his ego, "Hector is not the man you think. He was shunned by the people of his hometown, treating him as if he were nothing. They…They ignored him! All this time he needed someone to recognize his brilliance, someone to understand." Shakily, you brought your tensed arms to your chest and screamed a silent whisper, "Someone to listen but no one did. He must have felt so alone…"

Clement flinches when you suddenly clutched onto his biceps. When he looked into your eyes, a shiver ran down his spine.

"Hector is counting on me. I'm the only one who can save him. No one else. He needs me Clement, he needs me!"

"Tch."

An ear-splitting scream of his hand against your face echoes across the room. It knocked you out of your stance and you bumped into the table, grunting while the scrolls to tumbled to the floor.

"Crazy woman, I'm embarassed to be related to you!"

While you were still trying to regain your balance, your brother had already ran off. It wouldn't be long before he alerted your parents, the clock ticking away like sand until the final hour leaves you with nothing but an empty glass.

"No," despair swallows the strength away from your legs and you crawled towards where he used to stand, "Don't take him away from me…I need him…"

I can't live without him.

Tears begin to form by the corners of your eyes as you clenched your teeth. This was no time to cry. Balling your fists, you sprinted out of the room, pushing whatever stood in your way as if you were running for your life.

And if you considered everything else, it wasn't that far from the truth.

-------

"Hector! Hector are you there?" After arriving upon his house, you began knocking on his door aggressively. The lock clicks and you were greeted by an evidently annoyed man gnawing his teeth together.

"Tsk. There better be a good reason-"

"They're coming for us! We have to go. Now. Before it's too late. My father is probably already waking and making arrangements for you to-"

"Enough, I can't even catch what you're saying," He pinches the bridge of his nose while you were still stuck in a frenzy state. He takes a step back and opens the door wider, gesturing for you to come inside, "Get in already. I have a feeling that this will be a long night."

Hector observes intently at the words you tell him.

Not out of concern but akin to the way he watches the insects react when he exposes them to a different environment.

He was a scientist after all. A madman in which you deliberately fell in love with, so much to the point that he was able to feel pity for once. How you trusted him wholeheartedly with all of your vulnerabilities, emotions and secrets like handing him your parts just so he could put you back together again. Tinkering was always one of his favourite hobbies and he couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of pride at the thought of you being completely wrapped around his finger.

Perhaps that was the reason why he loved you. Because he didn't love you. He loved you in parts.

"It was only a matter of time," Hector sighs. He sneaks his grasp into yours, knowing how much it affects you and puts on an invisible mask of deciet, "I already knew this day would happen long before anyone could have predicted it."

"You did?" With worried eyes you gazed at him, "What shall we do then?"

Knowing he hit the target, his lips begin to curl up towards his ears, showing his sharp white teeth that shone against the dim-litted room. Hector asks, "Do you love me?"

A silly question. You didn't hesitate to answer, "Of course I do. I've said it many times."

"Prove it to me," Forcing his forehead against yours, Hector commands in a dangerously low tone, "Kill your brother and only then you can truly be mine."

Your brain sutters, trying to absorb what he had just said. Kill? As in to take a life? It sounded wrong. But...was it wrong if the life belonged to someone who ruined yours?

Dumbfoundedly, you glanced into the bloody orbs of your lover, his black pupils thinning into knives while burning in the hellfire of his true colours. Hector runs a hand from the scalp of your hair, down to your cheek before gingerly sliding his fingers at your jawline. He pulled you close and whispered into your ear.

"Are you scared?"

Ah, this wasn't about your feelings. This was about him and your future and there could be no future you without him by your side.

You let your eyelids drop and leaned into his touch, "I could never be scared of you Hector. Whether it is within my power or not, I will make sure no one gets in our way. I swear it."

"Good," he continues to have you feed on his affection, "I knew I could count on you."

-----------

The news of your brother's death filled every headline Fontain had to offer. He was driven off a cliff while making a trip towards Sumeru. No one survived. The remains were so crushed to the point that authorities had trouble identifying their bodies. The only explanation they could come up with by observing the leftover tracks was that the horse must have gone out of control and ended up dragging the carriage along with it.

Ha. Serves him right.

Food poisoning. The vial Hector made was very effective. You made sure to bury it away from your mansion.

With no other choice, you became your family's next heir. Hector notifies you that he would be away for several months to solidify a unique connection with a man hailing from Snezhnaya. You didn't think he would arrive at your doorsteps with so much authority. Fatui soldiers followed from behind as the staff paved a way for them to enter. Your father was clearly displeased by his outrageous approach but he knew he was in no place to deny.

"Upon the agreement between Fontaine and Snezhnaya, Lady (Y/n) will become Harbinger Il Dottore's wife," the Duke announces, "This news will be publicly announced at the end of October."

Dottore? Is that what he calls himself?

As if claiming his victory, Dottore shoots your father a devilish smile. You could feel the dining table shake when he kept pressing his fist against the smooth surface, begrudingly congratulating you both for the new engagement. Your mother bursted into tears.

Was it worth it?

You watched both of your parents mourn silently in their own manner. Perfectly knowing that you were the main cause. But you weren't able to feel any sadness because in the end, you now had everything you've ever wanted.

The inheritance.

Their attention.

But most of all, him.

And when you were convinced that this was your happily ever after, that fairytales were not just beautiful lies for the sake of comfort, you didn't realize you were already living a life made of beautiful lies conjured by your own mind for the sake of your own comfort.

"You're nothing without me."

Dried and calloused hands squeezed around your throat as you flailed your legs against the soft fabric of the carpet floor. He encases you in a straddling position, enjoying the sight of your tortured and clenched face. Hector…no, Dottore hated it when you disobeyed him. He despised it when his creations don't work the way he wanted them to and he had no use for things that are broken.

"G-hka--k..-"

"How many times do I have to remind you to not use my birthname. Do those ears of you even function properly? Or must I fix them myself?"

You gasped for air when he relaxed his grip. Vision a blur, you coughed a few times before he pulls your arm so that you lay flushed against his chest.

"Don't forget who saved you dear (Y/n). Because of me you were able to escape that miserable life you've despised for years. I expect the utmost gratitude on your part at all times, it is only fair that I punish you for not meeting my requirements, don't you agree?" Dottore lifts his hand up to pinch your cheeks, pulling your head to stare at your eyes, "After all, there is no one else in this world who can put up with you…but me."

His words were poison in which you drank like a woman starved. It made you feel numb to the pain the more you drowned in their alluring scent, the taste was sweet, a remedy for the bitterness of reality where the man of your dreams was nothing but a cruel monster. You came to believe that the reason why he treated you so harshly was because he was scared of losing you. You were caught in the trap of what seemed to be love and devotion when truly, you were just a toy to be used at a means end. He breaks you and he puts you back together, over and over again, filling in between the cracks formed in your glass heart with the phrases you loved to hear. Just like how he filled the other holes of your life where no one else did. You called it kindness. He saw it as entertainment.

Most people pay attention to the flower's beauty but they never acknowledge the thorns hidden beneath it's blossom. That is why they bleed. They get hurt. Though, you didn't mind shedding blood if it was for his sake.

Because you would do anything for him.

You would do anything to bring back the memories of Hector Dufour-Lapointé and save him from the Harbinger that ruined his life. Your life. It wasn't his fault. You knew you could change him to what he was before because you were in love with him, that he might still in there. Somewhere.

Right?

…

Please come back.

Time continues to flow like the tears of your dying heart despite yearning for it to turn at the past. Dottore already left the room a long time ago but you didn't. Raising your head away from your hands, you peered at the door in front of you, begging desperately through a chanting record of despondence.

Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back.

Images, they slipped through your fingers, slowly becoming more distant until your mind began to see them as illusions. Dreams. Things that were not real. Telling you that your life was a lie.

"Come back to me…Hector."

Because the man you loved was withering in your memories and you couldn't do anything to save him.

A dry croak robbed you of your breath as you turned to look in the mirror.

Worthless. You were always worthless, it was what your parents told you since birth. It was what you became when he wasn't at your side because without him, your existence was worthless. You lied for him, you stole for him you, took a life for him. You destroyed yourself for him to point that it was hard to believe you were even looking at yourself.

Worthless. It's who I am.

And despite it all, you couldn't obtain his love.

(Crack).

Worthless things don’t deserved to be loved.

(Crack. Crack).

But what if it’s because I’m worthless, that he won’t love me back?

(Crack).

Your eyes jolted open, causing you to gasp sharply. When the sweet lies dispersed in your head and cleansed you of deceit, everything started to make sene. You came to realize why your wish was impossible all along.

Dottore...no, Hector, the reason wasn't because he didn't return your feelings. Neither was it due to the fact that he hurt you through his actions. Nor when he made you cry or scream for help before feeding you with more lies, thinking he would never hurt you again. It was none of those things.

It was because the man you loved this whole time was someone who could love no one but himself.

"Ha...haha," sucking in your breath, a sinister laugh escapes your mouth, "Hahahahahahaha.....!"

Everything was worthless.

You grabbed a nearby hairbrush and threw it at the mirror, watching yourself shatter into a million pieces.

There was only one thing left to do.

------

"Ugh, where is it?!"

It was late into the night where every staff had gone to sleep. The Harbinger fumbles with his keys while standing at the door of his basement as he was too busy proceeding with his research rather than considering the thought of rest. Usually he acted upon them on his own will, performing various experiments for enjoyment. However, ever since the Snezhnayan court had requested him to look into the ancient arts of alchemy, Dottore was forced to carry it out before the deadline approached. Otherwise his position as Harbinger would be revoked.

"What a bunch of self-centered blockheads. Can't they understand that it take quality time to get quality results?"

Most of his important documents were stored on the otherside. Half of it came from his father-in-law's library. He had you to thank for that.

"Ah finally," he mutters, though still dissatisfied, "I should have a word with my butler for misplacing them."

Dottore shoves the key into the lock but instead of twisting the knob he noticed something strange. It was old and had yet to be fixed but somehow he didn't have any trouble adjusting his wrist. Then he saw there were a set of freshly made fingerprints upon the smooth metallic surface. However, the only person awake at this time would be him-

An intruder!

Dottore drops everything to the ground and yanks the door open. He skittered down the stone stairs while cursing under his breath. Using the delusion gifted by the Tsaritsa, the Harbinger activated his lazer-like pillars as he took advantage of their glow to light up the unlit room.

"What in the abyss...?!"

Except it wasn't dark.

"All of these scrolls, I recognize them," without sparing a single glance, you spoke nostalgically towards the bookshelves, "It brings me so much memories..."

Dottore clenches his teeth together as his eyes shone an angry red, you were holding a torch dangerously close to his hard-earned collection, "What do you think you're doing?!" He fumed, "Put that out, AT ONCE! Don't make me repeat myself!

"They're precious to you aren't they?" You finally shifted to face him, "More than me."

"What has gotten into you?" He was about to hurl at you until he saw your torch lowering, causing him to retreat. You were strangely noncholant and he couldn't help the feeling of disturbance. Accepting that he didn't have the upperhand, Dottore decided to use a different approach, "(Y/n)."

The sound of your name falls from his lips. You faltered.

"I'm sorry for what I have done. I know I was dishonourable to you, as your husband and lover, and that you didn't deserve to see me so aggressive. You have every right to express your anger, my dear. I was in the wrong."

It was only a mask. You knew it well. But seeing him with softened eyes and a tone so comforting, made you desperately wanting to run into his arms so he could wipe away your sorrows just like once upon a time. To live happily ever after.

Hector.

Dottore runs his fingers through his hairstrands in frustration and sighs, "However the Tsarista needed me to do something very important and I can't seem to fulfill her request no matter how hard I try. It angers me. If I don't finish this, there would be no place for us to stay."

"Hector..." you sniffled quietly. He looks so much like him right now.

"Can't you see I'm doing this for you?" He consoles, yet his weapons still remain, "I only intended to make you happy and there's nothing I won't do to achieve that. How about I show-"

"Enough."

Dottore froze upon your sudden command. He didn't sense a hint of subjugation and it seemed that you had perfect control of your emotions. How very inquisitive. Did you grow immune to the style of his voice? In such a short period of time? The facade he had on was now replaced with a growling animal-like expression. You looked at him dissapointedly. His Harbinger self returned. Hector was no more.

"Ha, you're the same as always. Even before the time you became a Harbinger. The same man that I fell in love with but it is me who will never be the same again," For a moment you averted your gaze as if trying hard to swallow your own words, "Remember when we first met at the balcony? That I told you my favourite books to read are fiction? I knew they weren't real but deep down, I wanted to believe in them anyways. And you know what? They did come true, to some degree..."

As the memories come flashing back, he defenselessly watches your expression contort from sadness to a calm contemplation and finally, enraged disgust, "But you only ever brought me pain and I'm sick of it!"

Swaying the torch to the side, Dottore flinches forward but he didn't dare to come close when your current state was unpredictable to him, "I JUST WANTED YOU TO LOVE ME," you wail, I just wanted to be loved, bringing a clawed hand against your forehead and trembling upon contact, "It's all that I ask for..."

Dottore narrowed his brows. Perhaps he may have gotten too far.

"But I know it's impossible. The world is a cruel place and there's no point in trying anymore. That is why I'm going to set us free."

"...What do you mean?"

You shut your eyes closed and tossed the flaming torch to the ground. A horrified expression takes over his features. It didn't take long for the fire to begin spreading amongst the room.

"NO!" Dottore yelled powerfully, he frantically darts his gaze at all directions as they continued to flicker and blend into his precious documents. You stood still and watched him grab the ones that were intact, savouring the most he could but they slip out of his arms every time he moved. Dottore glances behind him to see a rising cage of hellfire. Then he turns to you.

" 'Til death do us part!" you laughed maniacally.

The madman looked back with angry dismay, "You're out of your mind!"

Abandoning whatever he held in his hand, Dottore spins around towards the staircase. He covers his face with his sleeve and did whatever he could to prevent the fire from touching him. However, he accidentally stumbled on his footsteps and something fell off the heights, knocking him in the face. He grunts painfully.

"That will leave a scar," you smile while he clutches at his injury, "I can break you too.”

Just like how you broke me.

Knowing that you've managed to leave a mark of your existence on him in someway, you peacefully watched your lover wobble between the hell you created. But the hell you knew was not made of scorching heat and thundering flames. Hell was empty. Hell was a void. This feeling was far too gentle to be considered hell. If he can't return your love, then at least let these caging arms bask you in the warmth you’ve always desired.

Lifting your head, you looked towards the ceiling and closed your eyes.

Ah, this cannot be death.

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starcrossedkaiju · 3 years ago

Text

Kingslayer AU: Chapter Six

Finally. Onto the newer chapters. These’ll have a lot more character development and bonding. I wrote this about two days ago. So it’s hot off the presses.

I’m actually kinda proud of this one. Also I’m trying to make these shorter because I don’t wanna be writing a single chapter for three days straight anymore; it was burning me the hell out.

Tango readjusted his scarf, throwing the end of it behind him. It hit Scott in the face on the way down.

“Watch it,” Scott smacked the man in front of him on the shoulder.

“You’re annoying,” Tango replied from in front of him.

“Guys,” Impulse scolded.

They were approaching the end of the tree line, which would lead them right to the gates of Dogwarts. Scott had been looking at his feet for most of the journey, which is why he ran into Tango when he stopped suddenly.

Tango turned around and pushed him away, “Watch it,” he said with sarcasm.

The group chose to stop just inside the trees. Impulse drew a cloth from his pocket and wrapped it over Scott’s eyes. If he was the one making the plan he wouldn’t have himself as a kidnapping victim, it was a bit on the nose. Tango said it was just for looks.

Scott’s weapons were taken and stashed in Impulse’s Ender Chest, as well as his pager.

Scott sighed, “I still don’t understand why we can’t just get in there and…” he made a stabbing gesture to the air.

Impulse made a sarcastic attempt at looking shocked, “okay, first off, there’s six of them and three of us,” he pointed out.

“Second, that would be impulsive and stupid. They would all come back and hunt us for sport,” he said.

“Says you,” Scott said in the wrong direction, because he was blindfolded. Impulse rolled his eyes at the jape.

“Okay, you ready?” Tango put a hand on Scott’s shoulder. Eager to get a move on.

“As ever,” Scott replied. Then he was lifted off his feet by his accomplices, both of which were taller than him. A hand under each arm.

The trio left the trees and trudged up the mountain towards Dogwarts. Scott went over his life choices in his head while Tango and Impulse quietly argued over not dropping him.

Apparently someone was waiting for them, because Tango began exchanging words with a person standing in front of the gates. It was Etho, no doubt. They discussed the elephant in the room, Scott stuck to the plan and said nothing. Even when Etho asked him how it felt.

He did flip him the bird though.

When Scott was re-introduced to the ground he was on a set of wooden steps. Tango had gone inside, presumably to alert the boss of the situation. Impulse kept a firm grip on Scott’s forearm.

“You know what to do right?” Impulse asked.

Scott nodded. Hoping his acting skills weren’t too rough around the edges.

The door clicked open and a pair of hands dragged him into the main base, pushed him down in a chair, and pulled his blindfold off.

Across from Scott, standing over the opened book on the enchantment table was the Red King. A shiny new pair of sunglasses rested on his face, on top of a purple-tinted nose, and his arm was in a sling. The sight almost brought a smile to Scott’s face.

Ren clapped the book shut and stood to assess his guest.

“Well, what a pleasant surprise,” he greeted without a smile.

Tango put a hand on Scott’s back, “I think you’d be pleased to know he came to us,” he said.

An eyebrow raised from under Ren’s sunglasses. He reached out and pulled a chair from a table near the wall, positioning it in front of Scott.

Ren sighed and sat down, crossing his legs, “is that so?” he asked. Scott started getting uncomfortable.

Impulse made to speak up but was silenced by a hand.

“Let the man speak for himself,” Ren ordered, “come on now dude. Don’t tell me you’ve lost your voice,” he teased.

Scott cleared his throat, “I came to them. Yes,” he confirmed.

“Why,” Ren asked sternly.

Scott did his best not to squirm.

“I changed my mind,” he said, “I want except your offer. To join the Red Army,” Scott explained.

Ren laughed out loud. He threw his head back and leaned backwards. Scott bit the inside of his lip and looked away. Tango shifted on his feet.

“Really?” Ren asked, he was almost crying.

“Ren…” Impulse attempted to calm the king down but was silenced.

“No, no, by all means I want to hear what Major has to say,” Ren said with encouragement.

Scott grimaced, “Although I do not agree that kidnapping me was the best way to go about gaining my interest,” he started.

“Well it certainly gained some interest,” Ren said under his breath.

“I was already considering leaving my agreement with the Red Desert; and do not get me wrong I don’t appreciate anything you and your men have put me or my husband through,” Scott raised his voice. Assertiveness taking over, he stood up.

“I can see an opportunity when it holds an axe above my head,” Scott crossed his arms.

“I am willing to come to an agreement with you. I will join your army, I will act as a double agent, I will act under your orders, on one condition,” he held up a finger.

Ren slowly stood to meet his gaze, although he was a lot taller.

“Jimmy will not be involved,” Scott said explicitly.

The Red King turned away and went back to the enchantment table, he gazed into the book absently. Then tossed it back on the table.

“You’re on thin Ice Major,” Ren concluded and quickly left.

Scott expected a handshake at least.

“I’d say that went pretty well,” Tango said after the door slammed.

“He agreed?” Scott asked.

“Well he didn’t reject. So I’d say you’re hired,” Impulse provided.

“He thinks you’re a valuable asset. I don’t think he could afford to refuse your offer,” Tango leaned down and reassured.

Scott slouched down in the chair and rubbed his eyes. This was a bad idea.

His first orders came two days later. He was put in charge of the “chores”. Which essentially meant he was doing everything nobody else wanted to do.

Tango assured him that the Red Army was just sizing him up to see if he was actually serious. It was precaution, considering Scott had sort of blindsided them by joining forces. Nobody would look him in the eyes unless they were ordering him around. He knew he wasn’t meant to feel welcome there.

“They’ll come around, although I’m not sure why it bothers you,” he said.

“It’s just awkward,” Scott excused, “they act like I’m gonna pull a knife on them whenever there’s only two of us on the room,” he said.

“Well, after you showed them the door two weeks ago they’ve been a bit jumpy,” Tango replied.

Being the supply runner meant the sacrifice of his sleep schedule, except for his three “off days”. In order to operate effectively he had to do most of his chores at night when his husband was sleeping; and thank god he did that most of the time.

Most of the time.

The other times Scott packed a bag full of iron or wood and said he was running errands under the guise of not being able to sleep. It didn’t feel good to lie, but as far as Jimmy was concerned Scott only left the house on the nights they were both awake.

At the next meeting Scott complained to Tango over a bottle of mystery alcohol, “I may as well be an indentured servant,” he poured himself another glass.

“You know, Scott, you’re actually doing something pretty important,” Tango said from where he was lounging on a pile of pillows.

“Indentured servant,” Scott repeated.

“You’re the one in charge of all their resources. I mean they even have you doing farm work right? So you know like, everything about them,” Tango pointed out.

Scott put his head down on the table, “to the last stack of paper,” he deadpanned.

Tango sighed, he got up and pat his teammate on the back.

“At least you’re not on Nether duty,” he said.

“I’m leading a double life! I’m lying to my husband, I’m lying to my friends, I’m lying to the whole Red Army! Who am I?,” Scott shouted; and he meant it more than he’d like to under the alcohol.

“Okay, that’s deeper than I wanna go,” Tango replied. He sat back down and chugged the last of his drink.

“I mean I’m just sitting here, letting other people write my life for me!” Scott continued.

“Okay calm down,” Tango said.

“No! I won’t. You have no idea what I’ve been through,” Scott stood up, his chair slammed on the ground.

Tango shot to his feet, “then enlighten me, Scott. Enlighten me on how hard your life has been while you ignored the rest of the server,” he yelled.

“While you sat back and did nothing, watching the world fall apart around you?” he provided.

“You don’t know me,” Scott said with disgust.

“And who does, Scott?” Tango replied.

The other couldn’t answer, because Tango was right. Scott nodded curtly, picked up his drink, and left the room.

He finished his drink on the way out and threw the glass against the rock face next to the abandoned cow farm.

The shards exploded and scattered in the snow.

Impulse found him sitting on a bolder an hour later, sharpening a stick with a rock.

“I heard you had a disagreement,” he said without warning.

Scott turned around, then resumed his sulking.

“We had an argument, you may as well call it what it is,” he replied.

“Hm,” Impulse responded.

“He insulted me,” Scott complained.

“Does “insulted” mean he said something true that you don’t like?” Impulse asked.

Scott didn’t respond.

Impulse leaned on the side of the bolder and looked into the distance, thinking about his next sentences. Chips of wood fell near his feet.

“You know it would be a lot easier if you two could just get along,” he said.

“Okay dad,” Scott deadpanned.

“Don’t start with me now. I’m trying to help you,” Impulse cautioned.

“Sorry,” Scott apologized. He felt worse when he insulted Impulse than when he insulted Tango.

“I know he’s a bit of a handful, but so are you. I want to make this as easy as possible, and I know you’re not looking to make friends right now, but I think you would feel better-“ Impulse started, Scott rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“You would feel better if you just,” he gestured with his hands between himself and Scott, “let us in,” Impulse finished a bit dejected.

Scott stopped sharpening his dwindling stick. He sighed and dropped it in his lap, putting his head on his knees.

“Who else can it be Scott? Don’t shut down on us like this,” Impulse begged.

“Leave me alone,” Scott said without hesitation.

Impulse lingered next to him, then pat his hand on the rock and nodded. He walked away.

Scott raised his head and watched him until his head disappeared under the hill.

#ACT 2 BABEY #kingslayer au #3rdlife #3rd life smp #3rdlife smp #scott smajor #me trying to remember who is in this #tangotek #impulsesv #rendog #ethoslab #barely but he is there.#mcyt #cas types

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cakesunflower · 4 years ago

Text

Fateful Commute [C.H.] One Shot

A/N: This was meant to be split up into 3 parts but it’s like 5.3k words long which, if you know me, is kinda short for me lmao dkjgndfjk so i just decided to put it all together. This idea kind of came to me at like 3 in the morning which is when i started writing it so like.....yeah enjoy hehe

#1: Silent Strangers

There was a man who always took the F train, same as her since she started her new job, without fail, and every time she saw him she wondered if it was possible to fall for someone from a distance. To never have said a word to them, to never have officially met them, but to just see them and deem it normal to feel a thrill run down your spine. She kept these thoughts to herself, feeling as though if she told her friends about the drop dead gorgeous man she saw on the same train every day when she was coming from and going to work and sometimes nearly missing her stop because she was too distracted by him, they would judge her.

So she kept her silent admiration as just that—silent.

She’d see him in the morning when she’d get on the train from Penn Station, always sitting with headphones in and with either a book to read or some kind of leather journal she’d see him write in, ring clad fingers always twirling a pen in between. He’d still be on the train when she got off at her stop on Rockefeller Center, and he’d be on it later in the evening, hopping off on a stop that came after Penn Station, since he’d still be on when she got off.

He was handsome which, admittedly, was the first thing that caught her attention. Dark brown hair comprised of short curls that brushed his ears and forehead, darker eyes that never left the book or journal he held, and full lips that were often victims of his thoughtfully chewing teeth. If he wasn’t chewing his lip, he was absently biting on the end of his pen, and there had been occasions where she’d caught him realize what he was doing, scrunching his face in exasperation as he eyed the end of the pen before going back to writing. It was those moments where she’d seen him be the most expressive. Otherwise, his features were delicately balanced in a neutral absentness, sharp eyes too busy tracking the words he was either reading or writing to focus on anything else.

Sometimes she’d sit with some distance between them on the opposite side of the train car, maybe towards the other end. Sometimes she’d end up sitting opposite of him, the music playing loudly through her earbuds to silence the echoing clanking of the subway car. Despite her attempts to look at the advertisements above his head or watch walls whiz by in the underground tunnels, her gaze would often travel back over to him, a magnet demanding her attention. That should be worrying, shouldn’t it? How every time they were on the subway together, he’s all she could look at, think of? She knew nothing about him and yet he occupied her thoughts more than her work to-do list.

On a Tuesday morning, there were significant delays in the subways, underground construction obstructing people’s commute to work. So the F train was packed to the brim, no places to sit and even fewer spaces to stand, but she couldn’t risk waiting for another train, so she pushed herself on.

Despite the air conditioning in the car, the packed bodies heightened the heat, and she mumbled soft excuse me’s to grasp a pole in the middle so her body didn’t jerk with the movement of the car. She found one nearby the door she would exit from, keeping her bag close to her body as she placed her hand right under a tattooed one. When the train started moving, she looked up, and the air rushed out of her lungs almost instantly.

Her handsome subway man shared the pole with her, his tall figure looming over hers, backpack on, headphones in and dark eyes staring blankly towards the window, paying no mind to the dozens of bodies packed around them. It was unlucky that they were crammed in such a tight space; she felt like she couldn’t quite breathe at their proximity, the closest they’d been, and she willed herself not to be such a pathetic mess. How could she let a total stranger have such an effect on her?

She did her best to keep her gaze away from, to look at the faces around her, except none were as gorgeous as the tall brunette standing right by her. They were so close—she could smell him. Faintly of cigarettes and old spice combined with a fresh musk that was a welcome change from the stale scent of the subway. God—he even smelled as good as he looked.

Despite herself, she chanced a glance up at him, catching the movement of his sharp jaw. He was chewing gum. One hand gripping the pole while the other remained buried in the front pocket of his hoodie. How was he not boiling in the heat of the train? She took notice of his relaxed expression, unbothered—almost bored. It was strange seeing him standing, no book or journal in sight, though she understood due to the packed circumstances of the train. She hadn’t realized how tall he was until she was standing next to him. Her heart was still drumming wildly in her chest.

Every time the train stopped at a station, she had to adjust where she stood, allowing for people to move off and on the train. She hated that she felt heat flood into her cheeks when she had to move in such a way that she was standing in front of him, hand still gripping the pole, to let people pass. Especially when he glanced down at her, taking a step to provide her with as much space as he could so she stood comfortably.

In doing so, however, he adjusted his grip on the pole, hand lowering slightly, enough for his skin to come in contact with hers. Her throat tightened at the sudden shock that coursed through her body at the touch, fighting to keep her eyes from widening as her gaze flashed to their hands. Had she imagined that feeling, conjured up by her damn near obsession with this guy? Was the universe playing tricks on her?

She glanced at him just as he moved his hand further up on the pole, his dark eyes locking with hers as one corner of his lips quirked into an apologetic smile as he mouthed, “Sorry.”

It was the smallest of smiles, barely even such, but it was so pretty.

She offered a shake of her head, forcing herself to push past her shock and mouth back, “It’s okay.”

Her stop came too quickly after that, and she clenched her teeth when the rough movement of the commuters all but jerked her body around, inhaling sharply as she pushed her way towards the exit to step onto the platform. She was a bit sad about not getting one last look at the subway stranger, but it was alright. She’d see him again later, hopefully.

She hadn’t noticed, though, that in the sharp movements of everyone around her, something valuable had slipped out of her bag in the train. It wasn’t until she was sitting at her desk at work, bag on her lap, did she realize with her heart sinking to the pit of her stomach that her planner was missing. She had left home with it, she knew. It was the one thing that kept her as organized as she was, kept track of every aspect of her life, even had pages where she’d write so many of her thoughts down. It made her feel like Katherine Heigl from 27 Dresses, but all jokes aside, that planner was her life. And it was gone.

#2: The 5:13.

It would be comical how frazzled she felt if it wasn’t leaving her on the verge of falling apart. She’d somehow, by some miracle, made it through the first half of the day getting whatever she could done. There had been many moments where she’d reach for her planner to try and see what else she had to do, only to sink in her chair when all she grabbed was empty air and her hand would touch the hard slab of her desk.

Her jaw had begun to ache from how tightly she’d clench it every now and then out of frustration, chastising herself for being so careless in losing something so important to her. The mere lack of her planner’s presence alone made her feel completely disorganized, which really spoke for her dependence on it, and now she’d need to buy another one and hope she wouldn’t be as irresponsible with it.

She tried to distract herself with paperwork—though, it was actually work that she had to get done—when her desk phone began ringing. It was the receptionist at the front desk in the lobby. “There’s someone here to see you,” Sylvie spoke into the phone. “Says he’s got something of yours.”

Her eyebrows knitted together, sitting up in her chair at that. She couldn’t imagine anyone who would come to visit her, but her curiosity piqued at the notion of this visitor having something of hers. Her heart jumped. Her planner? She’d written the address of her work on the front page, finding it safer to write down the building where there was security rather than her family home where she still lived in New Jersey.

Quickly, she got up and made her way out of the office floor and towards the lobby, reaching the receptionist’s desk and shooting Sylvie a quizzical look when she didn’t see anyone nearby. Sylvia met her gaze before nodding to somewhere behind her, and she turned around only to have her breath stolen from her for the second time that day.

Her—the, not her—subway stranger stood up from the cushioned bench he sat on as soon as his gaze met hers, and she stood, damn near frozen, as he made his way over to her. He wore his backpack with just one strap, allowing for it to swing forward to his chest as he unzipped it. His brown eyes met hers briefly before he dug his hand into the bag, and her eyes widened in both surprise and relief as he pulled out the familiar, beloved yellow and white planner.

“This is yours, I believe,” he said. And suddenly her excitement for the return of her planner was second to her momentary shock of hearing his voice. The tone of his voice was as low as it was quiet, a subtle drawl hinting towards an accent that wasn’t American. He held out the planner, a slight quirk in his lips. “I found the address on the front page, figured I’d return it.”

Her lips parted, mind running a mile a minute. The drumming in her heart returned as she looked up at him, his looming height not at all intimidating, and he patiently and expectantly returned her gaze. He didn’t quite look like the uninterested man she saw every day on the subway whose focus was only on the books he was reading, or the journal he was writing in. There was a pleasantness in his brown eyes, warm and inviting. The light pouring through the windows of the building seemed to reflect in his gaze as opposed to the dim lights of the subway they normally occupied.

“I—Thank you,” she finally kicked herself into saying, her voice breathy. She was vaguely aware of the few people milling around them, minding their own business. All she could look at was the man in front of her. Taking the planner from him, she briefly caught sight of the few silver and black rings he wore, noticed letters tattooed on his hands, wondering what they meant, wondered if he had any others. Hugging the book to her chest, she added with a grateful smile, “You honestly saved my life.”

He may have no idea how much she meant that. She could already feel some of her sanity come back—though, his presence in her building was already teasing that.

He was kind. She could tell by his act of actually showing up to her place of work to hand back what she had lost. He didn’t have to, he could’ve easily left her planner on the floor of the train where he probably found it. The fact that he didn’t warmed her heart. It made it pathetically easier to fall for this subway stranger.

He chuckled lowly, zipping his bag and wearing it properly, shoulders straightening as he peered down at her. “Yeah; I was gonna wait until I saw you on the train later but didn’t want to risk potentially missing you. Plus a book that thick, I figured it was important.”

She couldn’t help the way her eyes widened at his words, breath catching in her throat. Had he noticed her on the train, too, like she noticed him? Maybe not in the same manner as she did—it wasn’t a surprise she’d look for him every time she stepped into the car, always finding childish yet joyous relief when she realized they once again were in the same car every time. Still, if he knew there was a chance he would see her later on in their evening commute, then that meant he’d noticed her before, at least once, right?

Gathering her wits as quickly as she could, she smiled and said, “I really appreciate it. Thank you. . .”

She trailed off, an almost hopeful quirk of her eyebrows, and she watched as what she deemed as recognition flash across his face as he offered, “Calum.”

Calum. Subway stranger finally had a name and she had to stop herself from testing it on her own tongue just to see how it sounded. Still, she repeated, “Thank you, Calum.”

He nodded, lips pursing momentarily. “No problem,” he said, gripping the strap of his bag and taking a step back. Calum glanced towards the windows, squinting slightly against the bright beam of sunlight washing through, before looking back at her with a small smile. Much different than his usual uninterested expression she stole glances at. “I’ll see you on the 5:13,” he said before he departed towards the elevators.

She rolled her lips into her mouth, heart erratic. She wouldn’t assume that he was going to look for her, but his departing words still had her smile growing before she could fight it.

Later on that evening, when she stepped into a car of the F train, she immediately found a spot to sit against the wall and claimed it for herself with a huff. The train wasn’t as busy as it had been in the morning and so the air conditioning worked well to cool down her skin after waiting in the otherwise smoldering station. She let out a sigh of relief, eyes closing as she tilted her head back and enjoyed, for a moment, the coolness of the car.

As the train began moving, the clanking silenced by the music playing through her earbuds, she opened her eyes and looked straight ahead, only to find the handsome subway stranger—Calum, she now knew—looking right at her. He sat on the other side, backpack between his feet, and she straightened when he offered her a smile, like they were familiar.

And then, to her surprise, he stood up and crossed the short distance. She watched him, gaze never leaving his brown eyes, taking out one earbud as he gestured to the empty seat next to her and asked, “May I?”

Her lips parted before she nodded, bag in her lap as Calum took the seat to her right. In his hands is the familiar black journal she always saw him holding, a pen tucked into the spine. Even as he sat, he was taller than her, and her skin grew flustered as she wondered why he moved next to her, turning off her music.

“Do you think it’s odd we’ve been on the same subway car almost every day for the past two months?”

She looked at him once more, expression falling into one of surprise, her grip on her bag in her lap tightening at his question. Every day for the past two months. . . Did that mean he noticed, too? Noticed her? Her heart clenched in both excitement and nervousness; had he noticed the way she would stare at him? Was he creeped out? Shit, she never thought he caught her, always assumed he was too into what he was listening to or reading or writing to pick up on her stares.

Though, she figured, if someone was staring as heavily and intently at her the way she did him, she’d probably notice too. God, how embarrassing!

Desperately trying to ignore the heat creeping up her neck and pooling into her cheeks, she let out a short, albeit nervous, laugh before responding, “A little bit, yeah.”

Odd, lucky—the sentiments were interchangeable.

Calum chuckled, chin lifting, and she caught a glimpse of a silver chain around his neck. It matched the bracelet peeking out from under the sleeve of his hoodie. “What about fate?” he asked, smooth voice musing as he tilted his head. “Do you believe in that?”

She looked at him, doing her best to keep her gaze on his eyes and not dare travel any lower. It wasn’t difficult. His intense brown eyes kept her trapped in place, though she would never try to escape, she realized. His question about fate stirred something in the pit of her stomach, fighting the tightness in her throat as she found herself returning, “Why do you ask?”

A small, boyish smile played on the corner of his lips, charming beyond belief. It really did take a moment for her to adjust to such a pretty sight, so used to seeing nothing but neutral, sometimes thoughtful, expressions on his face. “I’m thinkin’ you forgettin’ your planner was some kind of act of fate. Maybe the universe got tired of putting us on the same subway every day and us never doin’ anything about it.”

She gaped, lips parting yet no words coming out. He thought they were supposed to do something about it? She wanted to laugh out of incredulity. Was Calum telling her all those days spent admiring him from afar could’ve been spent maybe actually talking to him a lot sooner than today? Her head was spinning and there was only one stop left until she had to get off. Damn it.

Finding her voice, she cleared her throat lightly before asking, “If we were meant to do something about it, why didn’t you?”

“I was waiting on you,” Calum replied easily and her grip on her bag tightened. He let out a small laugh, deliciously raspy in sound. “Didn’t want you to think I was some kind of creep.”

At that, she let out a gentle laugh of her own, raising her eyebrows in amusement. “So it was okay if I looked like the creep?”

He grinned in response, a full on smile that was blinding and breathtaking all at once, softening sharp features and glimmering in his dark eyes. And despite her heart beating excitedly, she couldn’t help but note the otherwise calmness she felt. Talking to Calum seemed so easy, so effortless. Like she knew him enough to feel so comfortable. Maybe it was him, maybe it was her days admiring him silently from afar, or a combination of both. But she welcomed it.

His smile remained, genuine and sweet, voice hinting at an accent she craved hearing more of. “You could never.”

#3: Finding Home

The subway car lurched and she bumped backwards into Calum’s chest, left hand shooting out to grab the pole next to the seat to balance herself on her feet. But Calum was quick to react and used his right arm to drape around her collarbones, right hand gently grasping her shoulder to keep her in place. Her lips quirked up at his hard yet warm chest against her back, leaning into him and his touch as the car kept going at a speed that prompted inexperienced subway goers to lose their balance every now and again.

It was past midnight and the subway was filled with people, all of whom were leaving the Halsey concert she and Calum had just attended at the Barclays Center. For a moment, she closed her eyes, her heart finally calming down after attending one of the best shows of her life, skin still warm from all the jumping, throat dry with a satisfying burn due to screaming lyrics alongside the performer and thousands of people in the crowd.

The two of them had been looking forward to this concert for weeks after Calum managed to end up getting tickets, and she felt a content blanket fall over her as she stood in the train with him in the aftermath.

Over the buzz of the bustling passengers, she heard Calum murmur in her ear, “Tired?”

She hummed in response, offering a single nod, focus going to the thrill that shot down her spine at his warm breath fanning against her skin. This friendship was not one she had seen coming, but it had been nearly three months since Calum had returned her planner and they were still in each other’s lives. Three months of being friends, of getting to know one another, of going from strangers to anything but. Three months of her distant attraction to him growing into something so much more real and intense.

No longer was Calum the cute boy from the subway she saw every morning and every evening. The stranger who sat with a book or journal, lost in the world of words or the music he was listening to instead of showing an ounce of interest in the world around him. Now he was her friend, a close one at that. He was someone she had been as attracted to as a stranger could appropriately be to another. Months later, Calum had shown her parts of himself, his heart and mind, that deepened whatever physical attraction she had felt and allowed her to genuinely, truly, fall for the man she had come to know.

The more she knew him, the more she liked him.

She knew his coffee order and liked when he surprised her with her own on their morning commute. She knew he enjoyed watching documentaries of all kinds and liked when he told her about them to stimulate her own interest. She knew his love for dogs and liked when he invited her over just so she could play with Duke. She knew he never left his home without his beloved leather journal and she liked him for divulging in her the poems he wrote, taking her breath away with how passionately and beautifully he articulated himself.

Every day she was given a new reason to like him, to feel comfortable in his presence and safe next to him. Not knowing how he felt was all that was preventing her from letting him know how she felt, afraid of ruining something so good if he didn’t return her feelings. This friendship was a surprise, but it was one of her favorites. Still, she found herself wondering, hoping, if he was falling for her the way she had for him.

“My throat hurts,” she found herself saying, her voice a bit hoarse to emphasize her statement, head leaned back against Calum’s collarbones.

She felt him chuckle as much as she heard him, the sound tantalizing. “I know. I don’t think I’ve heard you scream so much.”

She couldn’t help but snort as she responded, “That’s what she said.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Calum muttered, the amused exasperation making her grin, biting her lower lip when she felt his mouth press to the top of her head. His familiar cologne enveloped her, and she reached her right hand up to grip his arm around her, not wanting him to let go.

Glancing at the watch he was wearing, she noticed that there were still a few minutes until they reached the 14thstreet station, which is where she and Calum would go their separate ways. He would get off to head home, and she would remain until she reached Herald Square before transferring trains to head to Lexington Avenue to her brother’s apartment, who’s offered for her to spend the night instead of being at Penn Station by herself to go back home.

“Y’know how before Halsey performed Bad At Love, she told everyone who was there with someone to kiss them?” Calum asked and her throat worked, hoping he hadn’t felt her still against him. She kept her gaze on the shoes of the people standing around them, all too busy with their own lives to notice them.

She tried to keep her tone light, remembering that particular moment too well. “Yeah, when you very sloppily kissed my cheek,” she returned, a teasing tint creeping into her voice as her lips curled into a smile. His kiss had taken her by surprise, his stubble tickling her skin as he gave her a playful and wet kiss. She had laughed, but her heart was threatening to burst out of her chest.

Had she just heard him swallow behind her? Was he nervous? With a slight breath, Calum quietly admitted, “I was overcompensating, I guess.”

She didn’t turn to look at him, despite feeling the desperate urge to do so. His arm was still around his, embrace still warm and welcoming. What did he mean? What was he talking about? Licking her lips briefly, she dared to ask, “For what?”

His hand was still on her shoulder and his thumb brushed against her skin, exposed by the tube top she chose to wore that night. An electric shiver coursed down the length of her spine when she felt Calum’s lips brush against her ear. “Not being able to actually kiss you.”

His confession shook her more than the rattling of the subway car, her eyes widening and heart stopping so her brain could efficiently process Calum’s words. He was quiet, giving her the time she needed to reject what he said if she wanted to—when in actuality, that was the absolute last thing she wanted to do.

Goosebumps raising on her skin, she turned in his embrace until she was facing him, their fronts pressed together as she peered up at the tall man. He was blonde now, curls short and soft, having dyed it some time back. She missed the dark hair, but she would be lying if she said the blonde didn’t work well on him. Too well. Exceptionally well.

But it was his eyes she was focused on right now. Dark brown eyes holding every bit of their intensity as he gazed down at her, trying to gauge her reaction, her skin heating up as he took in every inch of her face, gaze lingering on her lips. He was fine with her knowing he was staring. She was fine with him staring.

This—this is what she had been waiting for; some kind of sign that his interest in her was at the same level as hers was in him. And this was as big, loud, and bright of a sign as any, and it made it all the more difficult to fight the smile threatening to quirk at her lips. Wide and giddy and true.

She tilted her chin ever so slightly, eyes locking with his, fighting the excitement as she steadied her tone and said quietly, “Unless you have a problem with PDA, there’s nothing stopping you from kissing me now.”

Calum’s eyes flashed at her words, a dangerously exciting glint in them, and her words were all the incentive he needed before lowering his face to close the gap between them. Her eyes fell shut as she instantly returned the kiss, the feel of his soft lips and tickle of his stubble drumming her heart and shooting electricity through every nerve in her body as her hands gripped the lapels of his leather jacket. Calum kept her just as close, free hand cupping her cheek, the cool metal of his ring wonderfully startling against her heated skin.

Not even the other passengers nor the consistent rattling of the subway car pulled their attention from one another as she pressed into Calum as he remained leaning against the door. He kissed her like he’d wanted to do so for longer than she anticipated, and she wasn’t any less eager. Her heart was erratic, her stomach a new home for the fluttering butterflies, and her lips constantly craving to taste his now that she knew what they felt like. She would never get enough, she knew.

God. How long had she waited for this? How fucking funny that their first kiss was in a train similar to the one she’d first seen him on?

What had Calum said, all those months ago, about fate? This felt like it.

They pulled away just as the subway car began slowing down, signaling their approach to the 14th street station, yet her eyes remained closed and nose brushing against Calum as they caught their breaths. The night was ending too soon for her liking, knowing Calum would have to step off soon. She wasn’t quite ready to let go of him. Not after that kiss. Not after what just happened.

The car stopped but they hadn’t pulled away. The doors opposite of them—not the ones they were leaning against—slid open and she was aware of people shuffling on and off the train. Calum didn’t make a move to pull away and leave, and so she reluctantly did, opening her eyes to look up at him. Breathlessly, she said, “This is your stop.”

His brown eyes were on her, always on her. Calum’s gaze flickered past her towards the open door leading to the platform and he swiped his tongue across his lower lip. It only made her want to kiss him again. Looking back at her, he said, “I’ll drop you home. Take a train after.”

Her heart jumped to her throat as his hand went from her cheek to her hip. There were less people on the train than before, and the doors would close any second now. She wanted to spend more time with him before the night ended, of course, but she still found herself saying, “You’re gonna waste money, Cal.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he shot her a look. His other arm reached up to hook around her neck, keeping her close once again. “Never a waste when it comes to you.”

This time, she didn’t fight the grin from spreading across her face, vaguely aware of the doors shutting behind them before the familiar ding sounded and the train started moving again. Calum easily mirrored her grin, tugging her close to press his lips to her forehead, and she closed her eyes and sank into his embrace, his heart a steady beat under her ear as he gave her a loving, comforting squeeze as the train rattled on.

She hadn’t really given the concept of fate much thought, but it wasn’t lost on her that the man who held her so close was one she’d see every day on the same train, who found something of hers on the floor of a train, and who had kissed her for the first time on a train. She smiled against his chest, arms tight around his waist, letting out a slow breath when Calum kissed the top of her head. The subway had only been a means of getting to work and getting home. Maybe fate played a part because it had so quickly become a way of finding home, too.

tags: @irwinkitten @softforcal @sweetcherrymike @loveroflrh @astroashtonio @meetashthere @loverofhood @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @highfivecalum @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @miss-saltwatercowgirl @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @mindkaleidoscope @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysidesblog @miahelizaaabeth @dramallamawithsparkles @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @wildflower-cth @bloodmoonashton @vxidhood @gosh-im-short @thesubtweeter @mycollectionofnuts @cthwldflwr @everyscarisahealingplace @socorroann @talkfastromance4 @calumftduke

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likeahorribledream · 3 years ago

Text

The One That Got Away

Chapter 5: Conditional Love

Summary: Parents are supposed to love and protect you no matter what, Charlie's didn't get that memo.

Word Count: 3.1k

TW: Angst, shitty parents

Charlie was running and crying. The conversation she just had with her parents played over and over again in her mind. She didn’t know where she was running to, she just needed to be anywhere but her home. When she finally stopped running, she was completely exhausted. Looking up, she realized that she had run to Steve’s apartment. With the little strength she had left, Charlie ran up the stairs and knocked on her friend’s door, praying to whatever God that was listening that he was home.

A few frantic knocks later, Steve opened the door. He smiled when he saw who it was until he noticed the tears that were still falling on her cheeks and how her body spasmed with every hiccup caused by the lack of oxygen in her lungs from both the running and the crying.

Steve stepped aside, telling Charlie to come in. His front door opened right into his living room and when he moved she could see into the room. That’s when she noticed the coffee table covered in a deck of cards and the man sitting on the floor, cards in hand from the game she had clearly disturbed. Bucky. When she looked at him, he had already been looking at her. It was the first time she saw him in almost a week and it wasn’t because he wanted to see her. After making eye contact with Bucky, Charlie started to panic.

Breaking eye contact to look at Steve, she slowly started to walk backwards.

‘’I’m.. sorry.. I.. didn’t.. know.. Bucky.. was.. here..’’ She apologized, each word followed by a hiccup.

Charlie turned around to walk over to the stairs, her heart beating so fast that the only sound she could hear was the blood rushing to her head. It’s probably why she didn’t hear the footsteps that followed rapidly behind her and before she knew it, hands were gently grabbing her and she was pulled back into a man’s chest, one arm wrapping around her shoulders and the other one wrapping around her middle, holding her. She let herself relax into his arms and her hands reached up to the arm around her shoulders. Being taller than Steve, Charlie didn’t need to turn around to know it was Bucky who was hugging her. She only started crying harder, overwhelmed with emotions from everything that happened in the past week.

Feeling that she was only getting worst, Bucky turned Charlie around in his arms. One hand cradled the back of her head, making her hide her face into the crook of his neck while the other, rested on her back, gently pushing her against his chest. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tightly like she was scared he might let go. He moved his fingers on her scalp in a reassuring movement and whispered in her ears to try and calm her down It’s okay. You’re okay. I got you. You’re safe. After a few minutes her breathing finally slowed down, her hiccups were gone and instead of sobbing, only a few tears kept falling on her cheeks at a much slower pace.

Steve was standing on his doorstep, looking at the scene in front of him. Seeing Charlie in so much pain was truly heartbreaking.

When she moved to leave, he hadn’t had time to try and stop herbefore Bucky was on his feet and chasing after her. As his best friend passed him, he caught a glimpse of his face and how worried he looked. Steve was relieved to see that Bucky still cared about her. He wasn’t the kind to hold a grudge and the fact that he hadn’t reached out to her at all since the incident had worried Steve.

Bucky moved to delicately cup her cheeks in his hands, his thumbs brushing away her tears as they kept falling while he leaned back to look at her. She kept her eyes to the floor, embarrassed and scared to look at him. He let one of his hands fall from her cheek to her chin, using his index finger to gently tilt her head up so he could finally meet her eyes. He felt a lump form in his throat when her blue eyes met his. There was so much pain in them, he had never seen her this way and he felt theneed to protect her, theneed to hurt whoever had hurt his Lily so badly. With his finger still tilting her head up towards him, he moved his hand to bring her face closer to his and kissed her forehead, lingering for a few moments.

Charlie felt her whole body relax at the contact of Bucky’s lips on her skin, letting her eyes close slowly and her hands tightenedaround him. He gave her another small kiss on her forehead before stepping back but never letting go of her.

‘’Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go inside.’’ He smiled at her, reassuringly.

She nodded and let go of him, expecting him to do the same. Except, he never broke away from her. His hand slid down from her cheek, to the crook of her neck, to finally wrap his arm around her shoulders while moving to stand next to her instead of in front of her. Steve was still standing there, looking at them fondly. Steve didn’t know if he he would have been able to calm her down the way Bucky just did.

Charlie walked in first, followed by Bucky and Steve was right behind them, closing the door. The 3 of them moved to Steve’s couch and sat down together. The boys waited for their friend to talk, not wantingto make her feel pressured totell them what had happened, both trying to hide how anxious they were to know who had hurt her while already plotting what they would do to make those people pay.

Bucky held her hand, his thumb rubbing the back of it slowly back and forth while Steve went to get her a blanket and gently put it on her shoulders and instinctively, Charlie snuggled into the blanket and silently thanked her friend.

A few minutes went by in total silence. Charlie had almost completely stopped crying, a few stray tears lingered on her cheeks. She cleared her throat and sat up on the couch, catching the attention of her friends.

‘’I...’’ She started but trailed off.

Bucky squeezed her hand gently. ‘’You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.’’

She shook her head slightly, squeezing his hand back and cleared her throat once more before taking a deep breath.

‘’My parents took everything from me.’’

***

‘’We need to talk.’’

She had a bad feeling about this, a really bad feeling. She put her books down on the small table near the staircase and looked back at her father. She slowly nodded, showing him that she was listening.

‘’Your mother and I talked about your little temper tantrum you’ve been having for the past week.’’

The conversation was off to a really bad start. She was already getting angry but decided against cutting him off and that it was best to let him continue.

‘’Avoiding us, not talking to us, you even went as far as ignoring us. You have been acting like a spoiled brat.’’

Maybe she should have sat down for this.

‘’But, it’s not your fault.’’ He continues.

Okay, that she wasn’t expecting.

‘’No, it’s not.’’ Her mother chimed in.

‘’It’s our fault.’’ Her dad added. ‘’It’s our fault for spoiling you and letting you get away with everything. We should have been more strict, more firm with you. We took it easy on you.’’

Her heartbeat picked up and her palms started to sweat. Now, she wanted to say so much but she couldn’t make a sound, as if her brain had forgotten how to talk.

‘’As long as you live under my roof, you will do as I say and there will be no talking back to me otherwise you can kiss this..’’ He waved around to him, her mother and their house. ‘’..goodbye.’’

Charlie started to feel nauseous.

‘’If you want to keep that stupid little job that Igot you, and that I have let you kept so far, you will do what I ask of you.’’

Mr. Mathews walked to the living room, his wife on his heels but Charlie couldn’t move. It was like she was paralyzed.

A ‘’Sit down’’ came from the living room. Loud enough for her to hear and stern enough to know it wasn’t up for debate.

Doing as she was told, Charlie walked into the living room and sat on the sofa, facing her parents. She kept rubbing her hands together, trying to make them stop sweating so much. Her heart was beating so fast and so loud, she was sure they could hear it from where they were standing.

‘’We are making some changes around here. First off, you are too old to be single. Girls your age are supposed to be married and have kids. We’velet you have your littlefun, you tried to find ‘’true love’’ but all that nonsense ends now. Your mother and I have 5 men, sons of our closest friends, who have the potential to be excellent husbands. Some of them are even too good for you.They all have the means to provide for you and the family you will have. You will be going on dates with each of them and if by the end of date number five you haven’t chosen who you are going to marry, we will.’’

Charlie’s eyes opened wider with every word he said, her heart started beating even faster and she could barely hear what he was saying. It felt like something was crushing her, keeping her lungs from expending properly to give her oxygen. She wanted to stand up and scream at him but she was so dizzy, she knew if she tried to get up she would fall right back down.

His last sentence completely broke her. Her vision was blurry from the tears that were rushing down her cheeks and she wasn’t sure if she was crying because she was sad or if it was out of anger.

‘’No, please.’’ She begged, barely above a whisper.

‘’You will be married by the end of the year. If for some reason, you aren’t, you will be forced to move out, I will make sure you lose your job and you won’t be allowed in this house again. Under no circumstances.’’

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It couldn’t be happening. Her parents looked at her, no emotions showing as if they had just announced her they had decided to paint the living room a new shade and not like they had just crushed her dreams and ruined everything she had been working towards. They knew how much it all meant to her and that she didn’t have the means to live on her own. They knew that she had no choice but to comply to their orders.

‘’Please, please, please don’t do this.’’ She cried out. ‘’Why are you doing this? You know how much all of it means to me.’’ Panic overtook her. A few minutes ago she couldn’t get a single word out, and now she couldn’t stop talking.

She should have stopped. She should have stayed silent. Because there was something that they hadn’t taken away from her yet, something she could have kept and when she realized what she had said, it was too late to take it back.

‘’I’ll do everything you want but not this, please. Is it because of James? Because you don’t like his family? I promise we are just friends. Please.’’ She kept begging.

She knew she probably sounded pathetic, spineless and weak as she was begging her parents to let her have the freedom to choose how to live her life.

Bringing up Bucky was a bad idea.

‘’Which brings us to our next point.’’

Everything in her started screaming, alarms were going off. You should have kept your mouth shut being repeated over and over again in her head.

‘’You are forbiddenfrom seeing that Barnes kid again. If I see him in my house again, if I hear from anyone that you so much as smiled at him you will be gone. Do I make myself clear?’’

In under 10 minutes, she had lost almost every single thing she cared about. They had taken everything from her. Even one of her best friends. She had been smart enough not to mention Steve.

At this point, Charlie was full-on sobbing. Her parents were still looking down at her, no emotions showing whatsoever aside from the disappointment that was burning in their eyes. Seeing that there was no point in continuing the conversation, her father just scoffed at her, shook his head, walked out of the living room and disappeared into his room. Her mom lingered behind for a few more moments and followed her husband.

Charlie stared blankly ahead, her cheeks and nose red from all the crying. So many emotions were rushing through her. Heartbreak, pain, betrayal, anger, grief and the overwhelming feeling of being absolutely powerless.

She had completely spaced out and when the world finally came back into focus, she had gotten up, out of the house and she was running.

The sun had set and the streets were only lit up by the porch lights that were still on, there was no one in sight and the only sound was her feet hitting the ground as she ran. She didn’t know where exactly she was running to, her legs knew exactly where to take her, to the one person she felt completely safe with: Steve Rogers.

***

Both men were silent as Charlie was finishing telling them what had happened. She had left out the part where her father had forbidden her from seeing Bucky.

Steve sympathized with his friend’s pain, her parents had crossed so many lines. Bucky, on the other hand, was absolutely furious. He kept thinking of the story she had told him about her grandparents and her locket, about how she wanted a love like theirs and the glimmer in her eyes while she talked about it.

The glimmer was gone and happiness had been snuffed out of her eyes.

His jaw clenched from the anger and his brows furrowed, making deep creases on his forehead.

‘’Do you want me to talk to your dad? I’m gonna go talk to your dad.’’ He didn’t even wait for her answer, he was already up and on his way to give Mr. Mathews a piece of his mind, using a language that shouldn’t be repeated out loud.

‘’No!’’ She almost screamed, freezing him into place.

She started chewing on her bottom lip when Bucky turned around to look at her. She had been speaking so softly ever since she had gotten here, none of them were expecting for her voice to come out so loud. Not even her. It made Bucky suspicious, as if she hadn’t told the whole story. He raised his eyebrow and when she did everything to avoid looking in his eyes, it confirmed what he had been thinking. She had left out something. Something important.

He slowly walked towards the couch and kneeled down on the floor in front of her, putting both his hands on her knees.

‘’Lily.’’ His tone made her flinch, it was clear that he knew she hadn’t said the whole truth.

She looked at his hands that were resting on her knees, but never into his eyes.

‘’Lily...’’ He repeated, his tone a lot softer. Almost a whisper.

She looked into his eyes and tears started to burn her eyes again.

Steve sat closer to her, wrapping his small arm around her shoulders on top of the blanket. He brought her closer to his side and looked at Bucky.

‘’What aren’t you telling us?’’ Steve asked.

“I don’t want to say...”

‘’Char...’’

‘’Please don’t make me say it.”

Steve simply gave her a light squeeze and kissed her cheek.

‘’You can trust us.’’ He tried again.

Charlie sighed and looked up at Steve, begging him with her eyes. He gave her a small smile, encouraging her to get it all out. She took a deep breath and looked down again, into Bucky’s eyes. They were so beautiful and so full of life. Guilt was eating at her. She grabbed both of his hands in hers and squeezed them hard which only made him frown more. Her eyes fell to their hands and she told them what her dad had said about seeing Bucky, but she had mumbled in such a hushed voice that neither Bucky or Steve heard what she said.

‘’You’re gonna have to speak up sweetheart, we can’t hear you.’’Bucky chuckled, trying to lighten up the mood.

‘’My dad...’’ She stopped, her voice breaking from the tears. She cleared her throat. ‘��My dad said I wasn’t allowed to see James anymore... Forbidden, was the word he used.’’

Steve was shocked, his jaw to the floor. His eyes quickly turned to his friend, worried about his reaction. He looked like someone had just sucker punched him. His expression was blank and he was staring into nothing.

Bucky’s mind was overflowing with thoughts. Was he that bad? That much of a low life that fathers had to forbid their daughters from being in contact with him? You’d have to be pretty worthless to have someone forbid their daughter from being friends with you.

Breaking from his trance, he lean backwards and got up, pulling on his hands to free them from Charlie’s but it only made her tighten her hold on them.

‘’Let go.’’

‘’James... Please talk to me.’’ She pleaded.

He tried pulling on his hands again.

‘’Let go.’’ He repeated.

‘’No.’’

‘’Charlie, let go!’’ His tone was harsh and he pulled harder, leaving her no choice but to let go.

He used her first name. He hadn’t used it since he had decided to call her Lily. His Lily.

She started to panic again, raising to her feet. She took one step towards him while he took a step backwards, trying to put some distance between them.

Her throat tightened, making it hard to swallow.

‘’James...’’ She croaked.

‘’Bucky. My name is Bucky.’’ His tone was dry, emotionless.

In that moment, Charlie swore that everyone in the room heard the sound of her heart breaking in her chest.

I don't even know if people are still reading this, but if you are I hope you like it.

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kikilefangirl · 4 years ago

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The Witch Who Won’t Part 3

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

(Word Count: 1626)

Normally, you tried to dedicate time specifically for reading your Gammy’s grimoire. It was history, filled with guidance from past witches and their spells.

Your time was cut short by none other than Marcel Gerard.

“We’re closed,” You said, running a gloved hand down the page before closing the book entirely.

Grimoires were for a witch’s eyes only, especially your Gammy’s grimoire.

“I need a protection spell.” He asked.

Marcel reminded you of Klaus. He had a twinkle in his eye and a habit of demanding things get done.

“Ask that little girl you got to do it for you.” You sniped offhandedly. You lug the grimoire back into

“I need a protection spell.” He asked.

Marcel reminded you of Klaus. He had a twinkle in his eye and a habit of demanding things get done.

“Ask that little girl you got to do it for you.” You sniped offhandedly. You lug the grimoire back into your bag.

“C’mon, Y/N. Davina needs a little more time to bake.” Marcel pleaded with you.

You’d been working all day and not one vampire showed up, but since closing they wanted to make an appearance. You frowned at the thought. Not even Klaus, who had been making somewhat regular visits, had shown up. You hadn’t seen him in weeks. You sighed and shot him an exasperated look.

“Who is it and where can I find ‘em?”

Marcel smiled. His dark eyes lit up, and his laugh lines were on full display.

“Thank you. She’s the blonde bartender, works at Russo’s.” For how old he actually was, Marcel looked like a kid in a candy shop. You didn’t want to get his hopes up.

“Don’t thank me yet. I need to assess. You ain’t got pull with too many witches. I’m only considering this because I’ve seen your record. All the good you’ve done for us.”

Marcel met your eyes and nodded, seemingly sobered by your words. He knew what us meant.

With a quick goodbye, he was gone.

...

You hadn’t been to Russo’s in a minute.

They had gotten new furniture and updated the light fixtures, but the lively atmosphere hadn’t changed at all.

But when you spotted the bartender girl you’d been looking for, you wanted to hit something.

Klaus. He was there, flirting and going on and on with the girl. It didn’t take long before reality dawned on you. Marcel wanted to protect her from Klaus or whatever trouble Klaus brought with him.

You tried to fix your face into a calmer one. Vincent was always on you about your complete disaster of a poker face. You wore your emotions on your sleeve, but as a witch, you had no choice but to keep them in check. You guessed this was one of those times it came in handy.

You strut into the bar and take the stool next to Klaus.

“I’ll take two of whatever he’s having.” You said. Your voice is harsher than you intended it to be.

The woman replied, and went off to the other side of the bar. Klaus’s gaze burned with curiosity, but you looked straight ahead.

“Why won’t such a beautiful creature look me in my eyes. You wound me.” He told you. You resisted the urge to make a face. Klaus didn’t deserve the satisfaction.

“Why is an Original slumming it in a bar when I know you probably own the best booze in town.”

You knew the answer. But the blonde’s resurgence with your drinks stopped him from giving it. You downed both glasses, ignoring the fire building up in your throat. Bourbon.

You’d learned enough. You stood up, “He’s paying.”

You knew Klaus was too conniving to follow you out the bar with the bartender—Camille, Camille was her name—watching him. He would get creative, but payback for your snub was a problem for later.

Besides, you leaving Klaus was becoming a pattern for the two of you. He was used to it by now, no doubt.

...

Fine. I’ll do it.

You texted Marcel and turned your phone on airplane mode.

Pouring a hefty glass of wine, you settled on the couch. The TV was on, but you couldn’t pay attention to it. Your apartment wasn’t very large, but it was yours. Vincent and Eva had lived in Gammy’s house when they got married. Then the bitch tainted it. The very place Gammy taught you what it meant to be connected to nature and the supernatural world, was perverted. You’d only been back there a few times, and that was more than enough.

A single knock pulled you back to reality.

“Go away.” You muttered. You didn’t move to get up, and you weren’t going to. You took another sip from your glass.

A second knock came, this time more forceful and in rapid succession.

Your head snaps up. The alcohol dulled your senses, but your magic was under no such condition. You could feel his presence—the presence of an Original, standing just outside your door. You set your glass on the table.

“As someone with extra special hearing, I’m damn sure you heard the part where I said go away.” You quipped.

You stood a few feet from the door with your hand held out, just a hair’s breadth away from the door. You had just made up your mind to turn away when you heard his voice.

“You should’ve stayed longer, I believe it would’ve been more fun.”

Klaus spoke and you were ashamed to say you missed him. You closed your eyes, and flung the door open.

There he was, perched in your doorway. You could feel his gaze, trying to find an opening. You refused to face him head on.

“Invite me in, love. It’s rather lonely out here.” He told you with a crooked smile and raised brows.

“If you want something, the store opens at eight am sharp. Goodnight.” You said. You swallowed hard and grabbed the doorknob.

“You would leave me out here as if I am a stranger to you.” Klaus yelled out.

Your head snapped towards him, and for the first time you could see how ancient he was. All of the lifetimes he’d lived, all the blood he’d spilled, all the pain carried for a millennia.

The man in front of you was absolutely terrified.

And he was going to leave if you didn’t stop him. You scrambled across the threshold, and grabbed his arm.

“Klaus!” You called out.

“What did you come here for?” You hoped it wasn’t for that girl. But you needed to be sure you weren’t just imagining the little moments you shared.

Klaus glanced down at your hand and you quickly snatched it away. Straightening up, you purse your lips in preparation for whatever was coming out of his mouth.

“A warning.” The hybrid’s voice was hollow.

Before you could retreat back inside your apartment Klaus’s expression darkened. His once blue eyes were replaced by golden ones, and a web of veins appeared underneath them, distorting his handsome face. His true nature—his hybrid nature, had bubbled up to the surface.

He pinned you to the wall, your body landing with a soft thud.

Then his lips were on yours. They were warm and soft. You could feel his fangs recede as you kissed him back. When you reach up to grasp at the closely cropped hair on the back of his neck, something weight you down. Before you could fully register what had happened, Klaus shackled your wrists and pulled away.

No magic. You lurked forward, as if trying to reclaim the phantom heat Klaus provided. You blinked rapidly, trying to get your bearings. The heavy manacles tipped out weight, so had to step back.

You shouted his name, but your voice broke before you could finish. You searched his eyes for a reason, any reason.

“Klaus!” You called out again. He didn’t say a word.

The shock was gone and anger rushed through you. You raised your hands and tried to bring them back down. Klaus caught every single one of your wild swings—he moved mechanically. Detached.

There was no fire, no fight. He let you keep on, and you did. Klaus never said a word. He was in complete control.

Tired of fighting, you sunk to the floor and glared at him. No more looking away, Klaus was going to see his betrayal all over your face. You stared him down, and huffed.

He squatted and held his hand over your cheek. You bristled. He had no right to touch you. Not anymore.

“Elijah will release you in the morning.” He told you as he rose to his full height. He pulled you up with him.

“What do you need me out the way for?” You ground out.

The hybrid only dropped his gaze. He was going to do something else stupid, tonight.

“You wanted neutrality, this is what it looks like, love.” Something about his tone broke your heart.

He was disregarding you for whatever was going on in his head. The anger came back and swelled inside of you. Raw power hummed through your veins.

“I’m a grown ass woman! You think you can push me aside because you feel like it! You can’t!” You shouted at him, becoming louder after every word.

You were shaking as you chanted. No more holding back. You were done playing nice.

The shackles clattered to the floor. Klaus watched them fall wordlessly. His shocked expression didn’t make him back down, though. He drew his lips in a hard line and stared at you with watery eyes.

You stepped back into your apartment and picked up your drink. You chugged it down in one gulp.

Maybe the hybrid’s kindness towards you was in the moment, and the moment had passed. He let you keep your shop the way it was. You should’ve accepted his offer and went quietly into the night.

“Don’t ever come to me for anything, you selfish bastard.”

Klaus wasn’t the only one who could hurt.

#klaus mikaelson x poc!reader #klaus mikaelson x black!reader #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson #the originals #tvd fanfiction

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carewyncromwell · 4 years ago

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Hi guys! I thought I’d start this HPHM AU Ships Challenge, just for funsies! Feel free to steal and pass it along, if thou dost wish!

Tagging @dat-silvers-girl, @annabelle-tanaka-official, @angellazull, @lifeofkaze, @samshogwarts, @drinkyoursoupbitch, @kc-needs-coffee, @cursed-ice-spirits, @thatravenpuffwitch, @cursebreaker-lilith, @cursebreakerfarrier, and @cursebreakerelmswood! 💖💛💙💚

What HPHM characters (or MCs) could you see your MC dating, in an AU? What would their relationship be like? Why did you ultimately decide not to go with that ship, or do you still hold a torch for it?

My answers for my girl Carewyn are under the cut!!

(Sorry, I couldn’t resist starting with a recycled doodle of my canon ship, the HMS Carion. 🥰)

Andre Egwu

Alright, right off the bat, we should discuss Carewyn’s canon ex, Andre. Carewyn and Andre attended the Celestial Ball and dated until their fifth year, breaking up right after the All-Wizard tournament. Fortunately despite their break-up, they’ve stayed on good terms and still greatly respect each other -- but truthfully, I never intended for them to be a long-term match in any universe. If you’d like to read more about why Carewyn/Andre didn’t work out, you can consult this analysis, but to put it very simply, Andre was someone Carewyn admired deeply, but couldn’t ever be completely herself around. And from a personal perspective, my parents are one of those rare couples who remained friends even after divorcing, and I’ve always found their relationship really fascinating, as no one can deny they do still sincerely love and admire each other, even if it’s no longer romantically. Carewyn and Andre know each other in a way no one else does, so it gives their friendship a depth that it didn’t have before -- so unlike with a lot of relationships, their bond actually strengthened after they broke up, rather than falling apart.

Bill Weasley

In Carewyn’s canon, Bill ends up becoming Carewyn’s best friend. Although at the start, their relationship had much more of a surrogate big brother/little sister dynamic, over time the two ended up on much more equal terms, both as Cursebreaker partners and as unofficial “parents” for the rest of their friend group. Bill is Carewyn’s right-hand man both while dealing with the Cursed Vaults and while leading the Circle of Khanna, and even though Carewyn wants nothing to do with Cursebreaking after dealing with the Vaults, she’ll still drop everything to help Bill with his work, should he need her. Bill is the one who came up with the nickname “Carey” for Carewyn, and he’s also arguably the friend who understands Carewyn best after the death of Rowan, given the similarities in their personalities and how long they’ve known each other. I actually did write out a post guessing what a romantic relationship between these two might’ve been like if they’d become a thing, but honestly, I’ve never really shipped these two. Carewyn may not be entirely based on me (she’s got elements of my mum too), but one aspect of the wish fulfilment for me early on was that my girl could have a ride-or-die best friend like Ron was for Harry in the original Potter books. In the end, that friend ended up being Bill, Ron’s eldest brother and a character I loved when I first read the books and only became fonder of through the game. And honestly, we could really use more sincerely loving, but completely platonic male-female friendships that never bump up against romance!!

Talbott Winger

Talbott and Carewyn are truly “birds of a feather,” though one would never know it based on their respective masks. Talbott is the sort to put a gruff facade on to hide his more sensitive feelings, while Carewyn is the sort to put on a pretty face to hide her angrier and sadder feelings. Underneath, though, they both are stubborn, intelligent, and distrustful people with a strong desire to fight evil and a creative spirit. After becoming an Animagus, Carewyn would frequently fly around the school grounds with Talbott in robin form, singing songs for both herself and Talbott, and even though Talbott teased her about it, he did sincerely enjoy it. Carewyn loves reading Talbott’s poetry, and Talbott is also one of the few people who can get Carewyn to laugh a lot, since their senses of humor line up really well. Last but not least, they become a lawyer and an Auror post-Hogwarts, so they end up working together A LOT, especially post-War. I did write a prompt once about what a Talbott/Carewyn romance would be like, and I admit, I could see them being a relatively good couple, particularly since I headcanon both of them as being on the ace spectrum. That being said, though, I ultimately didn’t go with Talbott for Carewyn for two reasons. One, I thought they’d be too similar in a lot of ways (most notably, they’re way too friggin’ serious -- give each of these two some sunshine, will you??) -- and two, on a much more superficial note, Talbott was so popular that I kind of hesitated before having Carewyn ask him out. (Plus come on, for that date, how much of a b*tch would you have to be to break Andre’s heart and then snatch up an outfit he made for you to wear on a date with his dormmate?! Just -- COME ON.)

Chiara Lobosca

When I first started playing HPHM, I strongly considered shipping my girl with Chiara, once she broke up with Andre. From the moment Chiara and Carewyn met, Carewyn just knew she had to know Chiara better, and that ended up being because -- thanks to her latent Legilimency potential -- she could subconsciously sense that Chiara and she were similar in a lot of ways. Most importantly, Chiara was very lonely and desperately longed for a friend, which reminded Carewyn of how lonely her pre-Hogwarts life was, especially after Jacob disappeared. Once Carewyn earned Chiara’s trust, Carewyn proved herself to be a very loyal friend, even learning how to become a robin Animagus so she could keep Chiara company and cheer her up with twittered songs during full moons. Both Carewyn and Chiara are sensitive “Healer” type personalities (though Chiara is a bit more literal of one) who fight against their own crippling self-loathing to try to nurture others. This, in the end, though, is why I hesitated on making them official and why I’m ultimately glad I didn’t. Like Talbott, Chiara in some ways is too similar to Carewyn, and I think in a romantic relationship, they wouldn’t grow as much as people through their interactions. I did come up with quite a few ideas about what their relationship might be like -- but ultimately I couldn’t help but feel that Carewyn’s happy ending couldn’t just be about peace, but about finding someone who could challenge and contrast her.

Diego Caplan

This started off as a crack ship for me before actually gaining some legs and becoming Chiara/Carewyn’s main opponent, when it came to my debate with myself regarding Carewyn’s romantic future. In contrast to Chiara, Diego is pretty much Carewyn’s complete opposite. Carewyn is a planner. Diego is spontaneous. Carewyn is meticulous. Diego is flirtatious. Carewyn is serious. Diego is anything but. Carewyn is ace. Diego I headcanon as pan. And yet they both have their romantic and creative sides and are both seasoned fighters and loyal friends. Diego would definitely be able to bring some levity to Carewyn’s life, while Carewyn could bring some grounding to Diego’s. Diego even has a cute little nickname for Carewyn from their time in the Circle of Khanna: “general!” In short, these two would be perfect leads in a rom-com chick flick. But this, ultimately, ended up being why I hesitated on making them official and why I’m ultimately glad I didn’t. Diego/Carewyn is a ship that could really only bloom and blossom under fair conditions, and I had trouble seeing Diego being equipped to deal with Carewyn’s darker emotions or even her more intellectual bent. Just like with Chiara, I came up with plenty of ideas about how these two could be as a couple -- but I really felt as though Carewyn needed more than just “fun” as a happy ending. And ultimately, this conflict between peace VS fun ended up coming to an end when I discovered Carewyn/Orion, as Orion could provide Carewyn with both.

Jae Kim

Okay, honestly? When I first encountered Jae as a character, I didn’t think he and Carewyn would have anything in common, but in a weird way, they sort of subvert their respective house’s stereotype by exhibiting values from the other’s house! Gryffindors are seen as these rash, reckless, show-off hero types, but Jae showcases a lot of Slytherin-worthy cleverness, resourcefulness, and disregard for rules and what others think of him. Slytherins are seen as these cold, cruel, ambitious villain types, but Carewyn showcases a lot of Gryffindor-worthy courage, nobility, and selflessness. And so even though Jae is generally a rulebreaker and Carewyn is generally a rule-follower, when circumstances made it ideal for them to be on good business terms (namely, working in detention together and Carewyn needing an ally who knows Knockturn Alley and Jae needed an ally who was a Prefect), they soon found a lot of common ground. Add to that how much Carewyn encourages Jae’s cooking talent while respecting his privacy, and it’s little wonder that post-Hogwarts, when Jae opens up his own pub on the border of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, the two still meet up very frequently to swap news from their respective corners of the world. I admittedly don’t know how well Carewyn’s job as a magical lawyer would be conducive to her being anything other than friends with Jae, and I don’t think they’d ultimately have many interests in common, so I do much prefer them as friends, but their dynamic is full of fun contrasts!

Ben Copper

Hahaha, oh god. So. Obviously Ben in-game is still very polarizing, but in my canon, Ben and Carewyn’s relationship is really complex and honestly one of my absolute favorite friendships for my girl. Ben was one of Carewyn’s very first friends, so he -- like Rowan, Bill, and Penny -- knows Carewyn in a way few others do. He befriended her before she became known as the poised, perfect Slytherin “Mama Bear,” but unlike her other friends, he was a bit disappointed by her abrupt transformation between her third and fourth years. While those like Bill, Penny, and Andre saw it as Carewyn coming into her own, Ben noticed how much Carewyn put herself “over” the rest of her friends, becoming their protector more than their equal, and Ben lamented it, disliking how he felt like a responsibility to Carewyn more than her friend. But Ben kept those feelings inside, not knowing how to properly express them when he did still cherish Carewyn’s friendship. After the events in the Portrait Vault, Ben went through his own dramatic change, and Carewyn sure enough didn’t end up liking it any better than Ben had liked hers. But ultimately the two had a heart-to-heart and realized that they both had become very different people than the kids who’d befriended each other in first year. After Rowan’s death and the formation of the Circle of Khanna, the two reforged their friendship on more equal terms. I did actually write out an AU roleplay where Ben and Carewyn’s confrontation in Jacob’s room ended up hinting Ben/Carewyn, but I ultimately think that the people they ultimately become are way too different to be a great romantic match. It makes their friendship fascinating, as it makes you wonder how such a tall, suspicious, reckless Gryffindor ever befriended such a poised, methodical, lady-like Slytherin...but even if they do feel a lot of deep platonic love for each other and I personally headcanon Ben being on the ace spectrum like Carewyn, I ultimately think they’d have very different dreams in mind for their future and would each need something different in a romantic partner.

Barnaby Lee

Barnababy!! 💚 Yeah, Barnaby Lee is my personal favorite HPHM character, and yet I have never really shipped him seriously with Carewyn, even though I love their relationship and could see potential chemistry. Barnaby and Carewyn are both amazingly sensitive, loyal, and modest Slytherins with a love of magical creatures and a strong sense of honor, but they also contrast each other in some fun ways too. Carewyn may put on a happy face a lot, but she’s actually rather pessimistic. Barnaby’s unblinkingly optimistic and he wouldn’t even dream of putting on a mask to hide his feelings. Then of course there’s the fact that Carey-Bear is this tiny and rather physically weak thing, while Barnaby is a perfectly dashing tank. 😂 Barnaby and Carewyn are both protective of each other, as seen by Barnaby throwing himself in front of Carewyn to shield her from an Imperiused Rowan’s spell and Carewyn verbally tearing into Ismelda when she learned she planned to use a Love Potion on him. Barnaby was the one who really taught Carewyn about how deceiving appearances can be, and Carewyn was the one who really taught Barnaby about how generous and selfless friendship could be, so they both respect each other a lot. For all that respect, though, there’s a significant slant to their relationship. Carewyn supports Barnaby emotionally infinitely more than she would ever let him support her, so their dynamic comes across as very “mother/son”-like rather than complete equals. Plus, honestly, I think Barnaby and Carewyn’s dreams for their respective futures -- namely, to be a magizoologist traveling the world and to be a magical lawyer for the Ministry of Magic -- don’t match up in the least bit. I could also see Barnaby wanting a large family, and Carewyn has no interest in bearing children herself and would prefer a quieter home life.

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spencers-dria · 4 years ago

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Broken

Someone To Stay Ch. 22

Content/Trigger Warnings: mentions of physical and sexual assault/rape, depression, PTSS, trauma

Friday was a good day.

Two weeks. That’s exactly how many days Y/N had been in the hospital. That’s exactly how many nights I had spent in the hospital. Draining, that’s the best word for it, but absolutely incomparable to the recovery process she was now going through both physically and mentally.

She had absolutely refused to let me take the entire two weeks off work, so I returned on one condition. Paperwork days and local cases only. Every single night would be spent right by her side. This had only become an issue once, as the team was called to California for a few days but was quickly resolved as we all decided I could easily consult from Quantico along with Garcia. My friend had actually kept my spirits quite high with her optimism and never ending kindness. She has brought me baked goods no less than four times in the last couple weeks.

Now I sit in the dim, lamp-lit room in the latest hours of the night, watching Y/N sleep every once in awhile as I glance up from my book. It’s the most peaceful I ever see her now, when she gets a full night of rest uninterrupted by nightmares. And I’m grateful to see it.

Although I may have spoken too soon as she becomes increasingly restless, rustling around in the bedsheets. I want to soothe her, hold her, tell her everything is going to be okay, that I’m here and I’m not going to leave. But what if my waking her, my touching her, only serves to further her panic? I try gently calling her name but that calling her name but it’s no use. Any louder and it would certainly wake her in a panicked state.

We haven’t touched since that first day she woke up. And I’m fine with that. Of course I miss her touch, the feeling of her in my arms, but what was most important to me is her comfort, happiness, safety, and my touch didn’t provide that at the moment. How could I possibly blame or judge her for that after what she went through? I am more than willing to provide her with whatever comfort I can while giving her all the space she needs to heal. If she wants me to stay, I stay. When she needs me to go, I will. Luckily that time hadn’t come. Touch was the only thing keeping us apart. That and… the unspoken trauma, the giant wall that could only be cracked with words, talking about what happened. But I’m in no place to push. She is the only one who knows what she needs, what she can handle. I plan to let her determine just how fast or slow we will take the process, and I will be there every step of the way.

I can’t help but to think about the rape and sexual assault survivors we have dealt with on cases, not to mention thoughts who have been stabbed or otherwise assaulted… I have my own share of experience, naturally. I know what it’s like to be violated, to be out of control, to have an experience that wrecks you so deeply that your body and mind are forever scarred, forever reacting to triggers without your own consent. To know that she will have to endure any of it, it’s something I would go through a million times over if it would only save her from it, from the hurt, from the darkness it brings.

As I watch the woman in front of me battle her darkest demons, I finally resolve to do the only thing I can to save her from fighting through the nightmares any longer. I gently intertwine my fingers in hers, rubbing soothing circles on the back of her hand. I am so mesmerized by the softness of her skin and just how wonderful it is to feel her hand in mine again, I completely miss the fact that she’s no longer fighting through her nightmare.

My head snaps up at the gentle whisper of my name.

“Spencer.”

I can’t help but smile at her, because she’s looking up at me with warmth and love and everything good in her. I go to withdraw my hand from her own, quickly remembering how sensitive she’s been to male touch through her recovery. Before I have the chance to pull away, she tightens her grip like she never intends on letting go.

Tears fall down her cheeks, in silence, as we feel the weight of the moment together with each squeeze of our hands. And with one glance, I know how much she needs me. What she doesn’t know is that I need her even more. Holding her hand after two weeks without her touch is like finally coming up for a breath of air when you’ve been drowning in the pain of watching the one you love suffer.

Later that evening she was discharged. It was exciting but also scary for her. The hospital was a place of comfort for her, and it’s all she’s known since the incident. Upon her request I took her to my apartment, and with my insistence she took my bed, while I slept on the couch.

When I had tucked her in, she had quickly faded, but not before smiling into my pillow, curling up with her stuffed animal and humming happily.

“Smells like you.”

That night there were no nightmares. Friday was a good day.

_________________________________

Wednesday- Wednesday was a bad day.

I was still spending time with Y/N at home. Even less at the office now, since she needed my help getting around, lifting heavy items, etc. Juneau had been a much welcome guest as well, but even bending over to grab the food or water bowl was excruciatingly painful on Y/N’s new wound.

She had resolved to let me dote on her. This included making sure she was well supplied with snacks (healthy ones as well as a few sweets for emotional well-being), lots of cozy blankets and pajamas, all of her most important stuffed animal friends, and help with anything and everything she might need. On occasion, I had to make trips to the store and such, leaving her alone, but she always assured me she was fine. She was always right, until today. Until Wednesday.

I went by the office simply to grab the paperwork necessary to continue my work from home. Now, as I enter my home I get a sickening feeling that something is distinctly wrong. The air is not full of the same joyous atmosphere we had created together in order to help her. There’s no music. None of her blankets are on the couch. My bedroom door is open and she’s nowhere to be seen. The only thing I sense is cold and silence, with something heavy weighing in the air.

As I step into my bedroom I find the bathroom door slightly ajar, giving a few gentle knocks before poking my head in. The sight in front of me wounded me so deeply, I felt tears start to build before I suddenly remembered, I have to keep it together. For her.

I slowly approach the tub, just loud enough to make my presence known, before sinking down to sit on the floor. She doesn’t move.

“Y/N” I try to call as gently as possible.

Nothing.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?”

She takes a deep breath, slowly letting it out, but still refusing to lift her face from its place, buried in her knees, legs against her chest, arms wrapped around them.

“Is it alright if I touch you?”

A soft but discernible nod.

I feel her tense as I place my hand on her upper back, but she starts to relax and as I trace my fingers across her shoulders. She finally relaxes enough and decides to brave lifting her head to look at me. Her eyes are bloodshot from crying, face stained with tears. She looks… like a ghost of herself. There’s no light in her eyes, no warmth in her gaze. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to bring her back to herself, and so I wait. After awhile I take a warm washcloth, gently running it across her back and her arms. Not pushing, not asking, simply just existing next to her.

She takes another deep breath, releasing her anxieties in the exhale.

“I feel…I am. Broken.”

I fight every instinct to pull her into me, to yell just how wrong she is. But this is her story. So I bite my tongue.

“What if I’m- what if I can’t-“

Sobs threaten to break through, stopped in their tracks as I begin running my fingers through her damp hair. The next time she speaks, it’s so quiet I barely hear the words that cut into the deepest part of my heart.

“I can’t even kiss you. What if I’m messed up for good… you don’t want- I mean, you deserve better. Especially later. You deserve to marry someone who can- who will never stop showing you how much they love you.”

As much as her words hurt, my heart leaps at her mention of love and implication of a future. Implication of her feelings-

“Hey” I whisper, resting my chin on the side of the large tub.

“You know I love you, right? Not because you kiss me. Not because I think it will lead anywhere else. I love you. I love everything that comes with you. Because you’ve loved the darkest, ugliest, most vulnerable parts of myself. And I know that’s presumptuous, I know you haven’t said it but- I knew. I feel it. You show me every day that you smile at me, laugh with me. If you think I need physical things to know that you love me, I promise that will never be the case. And I don’t ask for anything from you other than you do what’s best for you, what makes you happy, and that you try your best to accept my love for you, even when you don’t think you deserve it. I’ve known for a while I wanted my forever to be with you. And I know it’s scary, not knowing what that looks like. But I want to find out together. All your life you’ve needed someone to stay. Well I promise you now, I’m not going anywhere.”

Wednesday was a bad day- and that’s okay.

#spencer reid x reader #Spencer Reid #criminal minds #angst #hurt comfort #someone to stay #greg laswell #Spotify

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c-estmabiologie · 4 years ago

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nine terrible cups of tea (and at least one equally terrible cup of coffee) | the haunting of bly manor fic

Dani tries to master the art of making a proper cup of tea. It goes just about as well as you'd expect. (1987 - 1994)

Also on AO3!

One

“Really you could just throw a tea bag into your mug, pour some water on top, and call it a tea. But we’re better than that.”

Dani isn’t convinced but she tries her best to follow the steps as Jamie patiently describes them. She talks about making tea with the casual confidence of someone who believes that Dani can will a good cup of tea to exist. As if this isn’t the first time that she has tried to hold Dani’s hand through the process. Dani’s pretty sure it won’t be the last time either, but she tries to wield some of Jamie’s confidence as her own.

“If you want to be really proper, you can even warm the pot first with some hot water from the kettle and, you know, just dump it down the sink.”

Dani swirls the hot water around inside her teapot, feels it warm under her palms. It’s nice. Wasteful, but nice.

“What does this do?”

“No idea. Somebody probably decided that it makes the tea taste better.”

“Okay,” She drops two teabags in. One for herself, and one for the pot, according to Jamie who’s not leaving tea totally up to chance and Dani’s efforts; her arm is soft and cool against Dani’s as they stand shoulder-to-shoulder at their kitchen counter, each with their own pot of steeping tea.

“Now here’s where you might make a mortal enemy of a Brit: adding milk to your cup before or after the tea.”

“Does it have to have milk?” Dani asks, thinking Aren’t there people who drink their black tea black, like coffee? That’s a thing, right?

Dani can feel Jamie twitching a smirk beside her without having to look.

“It has milk if you’re making English tea.”

She remembers the looks she got from Hannah and Owen and even the children whenever she’d made an attempt at tea. She can’t remember when she’d added the milk. Jamie, for sure, must be exaggerating the offense.

"But which one’s the right way?”

“Hmm? Oh, I don’t really care as long as it’s the right amount of milk.” Dani realizes that Jamie’s already gone ahead and poured her own cup without her, milk and all, and she’s missed it. She pours her own tea and splashes in milk until its colour matches the tea in Jamie’s cup.

They look the same to Dani.

“Alright,” Jamie says, “let’s have a taste shall we?”

They taste the same to Dani, but Jamie’s brow furrows just a little as she takes the cup away from her lips. And then she starts laughing.

“Okay, how is that possible? We did the exact same thing!” Dani takes another sip from her own cup to prove her point. It tastes fine! It’s tea!

“I really have no idea, Dani,” Jamie’s still laughing. “You’re just shite at making tea.”

Two

Jamie's been trying to relax with a book in the bedroom when she hears the beeping coming from another room. Just three little beeps, then nothing. A minute later, the three beeps chirp through her focus again.

When it happens a third time, she finally puts down the book to shout.

“What is that?”

“What’s what?” comes Dani’s reply from across the apartment. Then the beeps make themselves known once more.

Then: “Oh. It’s the microwave. I got distracted.”

Owen had bought them a microwave as a housewarming gift. It was a convection microwave, he’d told them proudly, which apparently made it special because you could microwave your food on a metal tray if you wanted. The idea was that they could warm up their takeaway faster, or cook frozen dinners (Owen’s very generous way of chiding them for both being awful cooks). Jamie hated it. It was big and ugly and had faux-wood paneling on the side. She’d rather stick to making burned stews on the stovetop.

Dani appears in the doorway with a mug in each hand. She holds out one mug to Jamie.

“I made you tea.”

“What, in the microwave?”

Dani shrugs and sips from her mug.

“No.”

“It’s fine—”

“Absolutely not.”

Three

It’s a quiet-ish day at The Leafling and, to be honest, Dani is sort of enjoying the peace of arranging flower displays and curling ribbons. The sun is warm through the windows.

Jamie is laid up in bed with some sort of cold. She’s being a surprisingly big baby about it, too, Dani is surprised to realize. Her wife doesn’t like it when she can’t be useful.

Speaking of certain wives who shouldn’t be up, Dani can hear steps coming down the stairwell that connects the shop to their apartment. The shop’s back door pushes open a moment later and Jamie appears with jacket on and her curls stuff up into a hat. She’s pale and her nose is pink and tender-looking around the nostrils.

“What are you doing down here?” Dani demands in her most teacherly voice, but Jamie clearly has plans to go out, not back upstairs.

Jamie’s voice is raspy and hoarse.

“I need to go out to the shops and get some more milk. Ours is off.”

“I had some in my cereal this morning and it was fine.”

Jamie coughs into her collar.

“The date on it’s fine. But I add it to my tea and it’s curdled.”

“Oh.” Dani’d left the tea steeping for her before she’d come downstairs.

Then: “It’s probably the lemon doing that. In your tea, I mean.”

“There’s lemon in my tea?”

Dani nods. “There’s honey in it, too. It’s supposed to help with your sore throat.’

Jamie sighs, then sniffles, then seems to deflate a little.

“I’m gonna be honest: it sounds absolutely disgusting.”

But Dani insists that she at least give it a try (without milk), that it will make her feel better (it does, a little, admittedly), and that, who knows, she might like it (she does not).

Four

Summer heat hits hard, and The Leafling doesn’t have air conditioning. The ceiling fans do nothing more than push hot air around the shop. The plants slump in their pots (which annoys Jamie), and fat houseflies keep finding their way indoors, only to bang themselves relentlessly against the windows until they fall dead on the sills (which annoys Dani). Everything is slightly damp with sweat or condensation.

“This is something my ex-almost mother-in-law used to make,” Dani says, stirring the ice around in the pitcher with a wooden spoon.

“You know there’s probably a less complicated way to say ‘ex-almost mother-in-law’.” Jamie says. Her hair is sticking to her neck, and her gardening gloves feel like they’re being peeled off of her skin as she takes them off.

“She used to make it for my, you know, Eddie and me in the summer when we were kids,” Dani hesitated. “I don’t know. It just always reminds me of the best parts of summer.”

But when she looks up Jamie has a glass and is holding it against her cheek.

“You know,” she says, “I do know what iced tea is. It’s not exactly a foreign concept.”

Jamie is thoughtful as she drinks the tea slowly.

“So,” she says finally. “This is what makes Poppins think of summer.

“It’s kind of a funny taste isn’t it? Cold tea on purpose.”

Jamie gets up and pulls Dani into a hug that’s nice, but not altogether pleasant — their skin clings together and comes apart audibly in the heat and they both smell very strongly of themselves.

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” Jamie says into her shoulder.

“I’m going to go upstairs and put the kettle on.”

Five

“What is it?”

The gift sits on their kitchen counter, out of place and mysterious with its glass-and-stainless steel modernity next to their wooden cutting boards, cluttered and kind of oily spicy jars, and that obnoxious faux-wood panelled microwave.

“Owen says it’s a French press. He was really excited about some Danish company. Said it’s apparently great for beginners.”

Jamie makes a note to herself to somehow ask Owen to stop giving them gifts for their kitchen.

“I didn’t think Owen drank coffee.”

Dani looks thoughtful, “I don’t think he does.”

Owen’s gift doesn’t come with instructions, and neither one of them wants to ring Owen up to ask for help. Dani takes charge, grinding the coffee beans (which Owen had also generously provided) in the spice grinder… and then washing out the grinder and starting again when Jamie points out that the fresh grounds reek of coriander.

They aren’t sure if they’re supposed to give it all a stir once the water’s been added. Or when to press the plunger. Or how long it’s supposed to sit. Their first attempt produces faintly coffee-flavoured water. Their second, a grainy, chewable mess.

The French press gets relegated to a high shelf above the stove, behind a fern. Eventually it will pinch-hit as a flower pot and Dani will love how the glass reveals the root systems buried in the soil.

Six

“This tea tastes weird.”

It’s Dani who says it.

Jamie looks up from the arrangement she’s been working on. It’s wedding season and The Leafling has been swamped with orders for bouquets and table arrangements. Jamie’s been going back and forth on this particular order all week with a bride who seems unhappy no matter how precisely she tries to follow the bride’s vision. Frankly, it’s been pissing her off (the last time she’d come in and rejected Jamie’s work, Dani had sensibly stepped in to take over the conversation before Jamie could get their shop shut down for punching a customer).

“Are you sure you didn’t accidentally drink vase water?”

She picks up her own cup and takes a sip. The milk must have been added too soon and seized up the brewing. The tea tastes like nothing. Dani is watching her.

“Yeah, this is pretty bad.”

Dani says nothing.

“Oh shut up. I’m allowed to have off days, too, you know.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Dani says, but she’s smiling.

Seven

Jamie somehow manages to drink vase water.

Neither of them can explain how it got into her tea cup or where her actual tea had gone.

Eight

“Hey.”

The word is spoken into Jamie’s hairline and followed with a kiss. She smiles, half-awake, and reaches to pull Dani to her so she can kiss her properly. Her hand jostles a tray and something makes a precarious, jangling sound.

“What’s this?” she rubs at her eyes. It’s still mostly dark in the room.

“You’re up early.”

Dani’s at the side of their bed with a serving tray. She’s barefoot, still in her pyjamas and, from what Jamie can tell, still pretty sleepy herself.

"What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion.” Dani places the tray on the bed and climbs in next to Jamie slowly, careful not to tip anything on the tray.

"I just thought it would be nice to have the morning together. I bought scones.” Dani warps her voice around the word in a way that is definitely not the American pronunciation, but just as definitely not a passable approximation of Jamie’s accent. As Dani hopes it would, it makes Jamie smile.

“I see that. Scones.”

“Mm-hmm. And biscuits,” Dani never could manage that one without the secret sort of laugh that says that the Rich Tea biscuit that she’s picking up off a plate will only ever be a cookie to her.

It’s all lovely. The biscuits, the morning, Dani: lovely.

And then, of course, there is the matter of the tea.

A few problems that meet Jamie immediately as she takes a tentative sip. First, it’s cold. Second, even with what looks like an alright amount of milk (Jamie notes that Dani’s been getting better on this front)...it’s bracingly bitter.

She bravely takes another sip to avoid spoiling the otherwise perfectly cozy moment. Something solid dislodges itself from the bottom of her cup and hits her wetly on the nose. Jamie can’t help but splutter a little, and the thing plops back into the cup. It’s the tea bag.

“Uh, Dani?” Jamie realizes that she’s poking a bruise a little here, and Dani looks so happy next to her, breaking off pieces of scone with her fingers.

“How long was the tea left sitting?”

Dani’s brow furrows.

“I’m not sure how early you wake up these days,” she says. “I may have made it… a while ago. Is it okay?”

Jamie gently places the cup back onto the tray.

“It’s just a little on the cool side, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Dani tests the side of her cup with the back of my hand, as if to memorize what a little on the cool side means to Jamie.

“I can just warm it up in the microw—”

“ No. Let’s just enjoy our morning.”

Nine

“Does anyone who drinks this stuff actually enjoy it?”

They’re in bed, limb flung loosely over limb. On the TV screen, a woman sits tensely under a tree while another sticks her bare arm right into a beehive. Bees swarm up her sleeves and into her undone braid.

“I think it’s pretty nice,” Dani says, “It’s peppermint. It’s supposed to be relaxing.”

Jamie curls up against Dani’s chest. She cradles her cup between them, more for its warmth than for any interest in drinking it.

“It tastes like hot toothpaste.”

On the screen, the bee charmer has returned with a mason jar full of honey. She invites the other woman to have a taste.

“Do you think they’re gonna get together?” Dani says. Jamie considers the scene for a few seconds.

“Yeah. But it’s a little weird to go after your dead brother’s fiancée like that isn’t it?”

Her own mug empty on the bedside table, Dani picks up Jamie’s abandoned tea. It’s still warm and it’s left a warm spot on the blankets between them.

“I guess it’s a little weird. I still want them to get together.”

Jamie makes a sound that might be agreement, but her eyes are drifting closed.

She’ll fall asleep before the movie’s over. Dani will fill her in on the details she’s missed over breakfast, before they have to return the tape to the video store.

Ten

“It’s so nice to have someone cook for me for a change,” Owen says, pleasantly. It’s not often that he’s been able to come around to their place over the years (and lately it’s become even less often).

“You’ve always done so much for us,” Dani calls from the kitchen. Something clatters loudly into the sink. “We just want to return the favour.”

Owen glances at Jamie, who confirms with a nod that it was, of course, Dani who had had such a thoughtful idea.

“I’m just nervous to serve dinner to the accomplished chef and restaurateur Owen Sharma,” Jamie says. “I’ll have you know that if it were my idea, I’d have just gotten takeaway and arranged it artfully onto plates. Real plates, of course. Nothing but the best for our Owen.”

Dani comes in then with a tray and busies herself with setting up the table. Jamie clears away the half-melted candles and clutter to make room.

“I thought we could have some tea before dinner.”

The hesitation that hangs in the air is palpable mist off a pond.

Owen clears his throat and politely reaches for a cup.

“Did you make it, Dani?”

“She’s been practicing,” Jamie says, drawing one knee up to her chest and reaching over to get a cup for herself.

“She says I’m not allowed to be a judge anymore. Says I’m biased against her, but really my tastebuds are probably shot. So, you are her lucky new victim.”

They toast to friendships and loves that are never truly lost and gamely drink Dani’s latest attempt at a proper cup of tea.

“You know what,” Owen says after a moment. “It’s not that bad.”

“Really?”

“You hear that, Poppins?” Jamie says, with another half toast of her cup. “You did it.”

“Really?” Dani says again. She takes her own sip, searching the taste for what might have made this brew remarkable. It just tastes like tea to her.

“It’s good?”

Owen and Jamie both make non-committal sounds, but neither do they abandon their drinks.

“It’s not the most amazing tea I’ve ever had,” Jamie admits. “But it’s absolutely, absolutely a decent cup of tea.”

“You know what?” Dani says, “I’ll take it.”

#the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor fic #dani clayton #jamie taylor #jamie the gardener #dani x jamie #thobm

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