elmaster09

[maluminspace]

This is all because of you! and you make me feel so small with Calum please.

A37 “This is all because of you!”

A22 “you make me feel so small”

You’d always promised yourself you’d never let anyone reduce you to this. Somehow, though, Calum fucking Hood had managed it.

No one had ever meant enough to you, before, that a simple jealous argument would cause you to try and drown your sorrows in a bottle of cheap vodka.

Calum had stormed out hours ago. He hadn’t called or text you since he’d sped off in his beloved sports car. You know he’s probably just crying to Michael or Ashton about what a nightmare you are but it infuriates you nonetheless.

The last swig of vodka you down burns your throat, making you wince but your pour another measure anyway. Some of the alcohol sloshes onto the coffee table as your aim becomes clumsy. It’s a clear sign that you shouldn’t drink anymore but you’re hoping it’ll help you pass out soon so you don’t have to sit here crying over Calum for the rest of the night.

Wanting your boyfriend to come home has barely resurfaced at the front of your mind when the sound of crunching gravel on driveway draws your attention. A few seconds later a car door slams and footsteps make their way towards your front door.

As much as part of you wants to jump on Calum and apologise while he wraps you in a tight hug, the rest of you kind of wishes you’d put the chain on the front door so he can’t get back in.

When your boyfriend slopes into the hallway closing the door behind him, he immediately turns towards you. Calum must have noticed that the lights were still on in the living area when he’d pulled into the driveway.

“Didn’t expect to see you back here tonight.” You slur, scoffing in an attempt to seem uncaring.

“Yeah?” He asks, looking far too tired to be mad anymore. “Well I didn’t fancy sleeping on Ashton’s sofa so...”

You let out a humourless laugh. “I knew you’d you go crying to your boyfriend about this.”

Calum shakes his head, toeing off his converse before padding across the living room towards you. His eyes linger for a moment on the half empty bottle sitting on the coffee table. When his usually soft brown eyes finally meet yours they betray the anger still simmering beneath the surface.

“Are you drunk?” He asks incredulously.

You shrug as you down the glass of vodka you’d poured just a few moments ago. It doesn’t sting your throat as much as the last time. “What do you care?”

Calum rolls his eyes, an angry blush rising in his cheeks. “Of course I fucking care!” He replies, the effort he’s using to keep his voice steady is painfully evident in his tone. “If I didn’t care I wouldn’t have come back in the first place.”

“Whatever...” you scoff, picking up the bottle again.

“Seriously?” Calum asks, the exhaustion written all over his face as well seeping into his voice. “Are you gonna just keep drinking until you throw up everywhere? Is that your plan?”

There’s still a part of you that wants to resolve this argument and just go to bed. It’s tiny voice is given strength by the pleading in Calum’s eyes as he watches you slosh more vodka into the glass in your hand and into your lap. “‘M not planing on the puking part...” you reply, trying to keep the fire of your anger alive over the desire to just apologise.

“Well that’s where your heading!” Calum insists, “and I’ll end up having to clean that mess up too, like everything else you fucking touch!”

You drain your glass and slam it down on the table along with the bottle. “I’ve never asked you to clean up my messes!” You retort, “I’m a fucking adult, capable of sorting out my own shit!”

Calum rolls his eyes impatiently. “Yeah, it looks like it.” He snaps back, gesturing sarcastically at the items you’d just returned to the table. “You’re really acting like someone who has their fucking shit together, aren’t you? I leave for a few hours and come back to this...”

Your irritated boyfriend gestures a little too hard and knocks the half empty bottle of alcohol onto the floor. It smashes into several pieces, its contents seeping over the wooden flooring.

“Well done, Calum!” You snap, “you’re such a fucking idiot.”

Instead of sniping back at you as you expect, Calum simply leaves the room. He returns a moment later with with a roll of paper towels and a bin bag. Without so much as a glance in your direction, he drops to his knees next to the puddle of vodka and broken glass.

Your drunken brain finds it hard to comprehend why Calum’s suddenly gone all quiet. For some reason it makes you angrier as you drop down next to him. “Don’t ignore me, Calum!” You command, keeping your bleary eyes on him as he carefully wraps the broken glass on a few layers of the paper towels. “You’ve already done that enough, tonight!”

You can tell that Calum is annoyed by your words but he continues to concentrate on wrapping up the dangerous shards of the broken bottle.

“Do I really mean that fucking little to you?” You demand, your tone of voice betraying just how disgruntled you are by Calum’s lack of communication.

Your words seem to strike a nerve with your boyfriend as he snaps his face towards you, his brown eyes filled with the sad sort of anger that would usually break your heart.

Unable to tear your gaze away from Calum’s, you’re fully expecting a barrage of vexed words but all that escapes him is a pained yelp.

You glance down to see a trickle of blood running down from the pad of one of his fingers. For a split second you forget your anger, feeling only concern for the love of your life. You instinctively reach out to him but he immediately shies away. “Leave me alone.” He mutters, struggling to his feet. “This is all because of you!”

And just like that your anger is back. You watch through narrowed eyes as Calum strides off towards the kitchen.

It takes you much longer than it should to struggle to your feet. That’s probably unsurprising, given your inebriated state, but it’s still frustrating. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, stumbling after your boyfriend.

Calum doesn’t reply. He simply turns on the cold water tap and holds his bloody finger under it. The way he winces in pain kind of makes you want to hug him but your drunken brain reminds you that your still pretty angry with him. “Are you ever going to answer me?”

Your boyfriend finally turns to face you. There are tears brimming in his beautiful eyes, you’re not sure if they’re a result of his pain or frustration but either way it hurts to see him like this.

“I can’t do this with you now.” Calum concedes. “Please can we just talk in the morning?”

You shake your head, stepping a little closer to your boyfriend. “I didn’t wait up all night just to go bed without resolving it anyway.”

Calum scoffs impatiently. “Yeah getting shit-faced was a great way of showing me you want to work this out.”

Even in your drunken state, you know Calum has a point and you feel the shadow of something like embarrassment or shame. “Well I had to do something when you just ran out on me!”

Calum turns off the tap and steps over to the draw where you keep your little first aid kit. “I left because you hurt my feelings.” He confesses. “I know I’ve been distant lately, but you didn’t have to say the things you said.”

Sober you would have agreed with him in an instant. Perhaps you had actually been a little harsh earlier. Drunk you is still angry, though. “I don’t know what I’m meant to think, Calum!” You argue. “You’ve been sneaking around, acting shifty and nervous all the time...”

Calum grimaces again as he places a plaster over the cut on his finger. You’re not entirely sure it’s the tiny injury that causes the physical reaction, though. “I’m not cheating on you.” He sighs, exhausted and obviously just done with this whole argument. “I could never...”

The sincerity of Calum’s words almost seeps through your inebriated brain... Almost. “Then give me an explanation, Calum!” Bursts from your mouth as you sway on the spot.

“Not now.” Calum replies, his voice quiet. “Not when you’re drunk.” He insists. “Not when you make me feel so small, like this!”

Your boyfriend’s last sentence kind of hurts but you manage to stop yourself from uttering a venomous reply by literally biting your tongue between your back teeth.

Calum doesn’t say anything else as he returns the little first aid kit to its drawer before heading back into the living room.

You follow him, but only to the doorway. Your brain is slow to think of a reply other than ‘I’m sorry’ and you’re not quite ready for that yet.

As Calum cleans up the rest of the broken bottle and mops up the spilt vodka, you find yourself absently watching him. Just as you open your mouth to demand an answer, something falls out of the pocket of Calum’s leather jacket. The tiny item turns out to be a black velvet box. Initially you’re a bit confused. It’s only when Calum opens the little lid, that you realise there’s an engagement ring hidden inside.

Suddenly everything makes perfect sense, even in your alcohol soaked brain. Calum’s been distant and shifty lately because he’s been nervous to ask you marry him.

All of your anger and suspicion suddenly melt away, leaving a knot of guilt in its place. You want to run over to Calum and apologise for being so oblivious and tell him how stupid you feel for ever thinking he could be unfaithful.

Before you can do any of that, though, your boyfriend closes the box and shoves it back into his pocket. He wipes a tear from his face as he throws the last vodka-soaked paper towels into the bin bag and carries it outside.

As much as you want to tell Calum that you know the real reason why he’s been acting so strange, you know that he was completely right about now being entirely the wrong time to talk about ‘the truth’.

Instead of giving things away, you decide that you’ll act surprised when he finally asks you. He at least deserves that moment of knowing that he’s chosen the exact right way and moment to ask you.

In the mean time, you’ll stop being so paranoid and start making him feel like the amazing person he is. Starting with an apology as soon as he walks back into the house.

Masterlist

[scribblehoneybee]

“can’t you stay a little longer?” fae au or siren au

There are some rare ingredients that only exist so deep in the forest that not even the most powerful warriors and wizards dare to seek them out. They are useless to all but those practicing forbidden crafts, so few would even be willing to pay the price. And those who would often know better.

Henrik just thinks they’re cowards.

He travels deeper into the dark woods, paying no mind to the branches snagging at his robes. They would not damage, only distract, and he has to keep his mind focused on his destination. It is far too easy to get lost in fae territory. The trees here are so dense that he has to swerve between them, the canopy of leaves blocking out nearly all sunlight. If he hadn’t been keeping careful track of time passing, Henrik would have sworn it was the middle of the night, not just before noon.

The crystal around his neck begins to hum and pull to the left, and he follows. He must be getting close.

Suddenly, the air becomes heavy and Henrik’s mind fills with static. The world around him spins, growing darker with each passing second. A soft giggle echoes through his mind. He blinks hard, clutching his crystal and forcing his magic outward like a shield.

“Anti, stop messing around. I’m not in the mood for games.”

A shadow appears in the branches above him, any details obscured by artificial darkness. Its eyes flash bright green as it rolls them. “You’re no fun.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call being knocked unconscious fun.”

“Yeah, but you’re a boring old fuck. You look good like that, though,” the shadow says, cackling. His voice grates on Henrik’s ears.

“Like wha- oh never mind. Do you have the ingredients I asked for?”

The shadow looks down at him, unblinking, “Maybe. If you have what I want.”

Henrik simply nods, pulling out a small silver dagger. He admires it for a moment - a gift from a past lover, and an incredibly powerful tool - and then slashes it across his palm.

The shadow darts down from the branches. It grabs Henrik’s hand, its long tongue greedily lapping at the wound. He can feel his magic being drawn out of him with each bit the shadow consumes. Henrik fights back the sound threatening to rise from his throat at the sensation.

When Anti finally pulls away, his eyes are shining even brighter and his form seems a bit more solid - Green hair so dark it could be mistaken for black, sharp features, and long, pointed ears. A long tail whips forward to wrap around Henrik’s leg. The grin Anti shoots at him is so familiar that it sends a jolt through his heart, but he can’t seem to place it.

Henrik winces as his magic surges to heal the wound on his hand. The white light pulls out of his skin, dragging another patch of pigment out with it, then curls down his arm to fill the gaping cut. After a moment of stinging cold, the glow fades, leaving no trace of the injury.

Anti’s forked tongue darts out to lick the remaining blood from his lips. He lifts Henrik’s hand and stares at it, something like awe clear on his features. “Damn, are you sure you’re human?”

Henrik laughs dryly, “I’m honestly not too sure I qualify these days. But you got your magic, now where are the ingredients?”

Anti rolls his eyes but relents, waving his hand and causing a small burlap bag appear. The bottom of it seems to be soaked through with some dark, viscous matter. “This shit was a nightmare to get - I should’ve charged you more. But a deal’s a deal.” He hands over the bag, scrunching his nose in disgust.

Henrik opens the bag, immediately reeling from the sight and smell. Yeah, that’s it all right. “And the coins?”

“Oh, yeah. Here.” Anti digs out seven gold coins, each stained with blood. “What the fuck kind of spell are you doing, anyway? I had to dig these things out of some poor bastard’s stomach. Not that I minded, but his screaming made my ears ring for the rest of the day.”

“That’s none of your concern, Anti,” he says, inspecting the coins before shoving them deep inside his pocket. “If it goes well I’ll need a few more things, and if not I’ll simply try again. Either way, I’ll be back after the full moon.“

With that, Henrik turns to leave. These exchanges were purely a matter of business. He gives Anti some of his strange magic, and in return Anti brings him spell components most witches and alchemists could only dream of getting their hands on. A few of many perks to working so closely with the fae.

So he’s more than a bit surprised when he feels a slender hand wrap around his wrist.

“Can’t you stay a little longer?” Anti asks, his usually grating voice gentle enough to send a shiver up Henrik’s spine. He turns back around, staring into the creature’s glowing eyes.

“What is the catch?”

Anti takes a step closer, his tail once again curling around Henrik’s leg. “You really trust me that little?”

“I don’t make a habit of trusting fae without good reason.”

“Okay, fair,” Anti snorts, “Here, a vow of protection and safety. I won’t do anything shifty, and you’ll be out of the woods and back home before sundown tonight.” He holds out a blackened hand, and it almost seems to buzz with magic.

Henrik eyes it suspiciously, but the creature seems sincere. “Three hours, no more. And nothing is allowed to follow me back.”

Anti’s smile splits into a wide grin. “You’re such a paranoid bastard. Deal.”

There’s a flash of pale green light as their hands clasp together, and the matter is settled. Henrik flexes his fingers for a moment before looking back up. “So, what are we doing?”

“I don’t know, just wanted some company I guess.”

Henrik scoffs, but a grin creeps onto his face. “You’re a strange little creature.”

“Piss off,” he says, “I want to show you some new places I found. You can even blabber the whole time. I know how much you like talking to yourself.”

“How-”

“It’s not important. Now come on, we’re wasting time. I only get three hours, remember?” he says, grabbing Henrik’s hand and beginning to pull him deeper into the woods.

Henrik knows he should be weary even with the deal in place. A murderous fae is dragging him into an unknown part of the forest, and he’s just going along with it. It could be a trick, a trap - he could lose his life or worse, his freedom. Any sane person would pull their hand away and run screaming in the opposite direction.

But Henrik had never done things the proper way, so why start now?

He turns his hand to weave his fingers with Anti’s, and grins when the creature’s eyes widen for a moment. A wave of giddy anticipation washes over him as the forest swallows him whole.