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anashins · 2 years

Note

hi!! love your work, do you take requests?? i saw a post on ig and i literally need this with idol!taeyong and supermodel!reader 😭😭😫😫 i don’t want sm to be the bad guy cause they’re literally so supportive of their artists like when chen got married and had a child; while citizens were so angry, sm they supported him all the way😭😭😭 but don’t worry if you’re not interested

Pairing: idol!Taeyong x model!reader

Genre: fluff, secret relationship

Word Count: 1k

Summary: You and Taeyong coincidentally join the same fashion event, giving you some private time away from home. Only that it might not have been a coincidence at all, because your boyfriend can be really persistent.

A/N: We all know how SM treats Taeyong, but let's imagine they're good in this au, because they also can't without him, that's a fact 🤓 Hope you like it 💖

“You’re up next.”

“Got it.”

The stylist went with the makeup brush over your cheeks and nose one more time, dabbing off all last remnants of oil that had surfaced on your skin. In the spotlight, every flaw was visible, and you had to look perfect during this fashion show.

And not only because your boyfriend was in the audience today too.

It was a funny coincidence that he had been invited and allowed to join this brand’s fashion show for which you were walking during Fashion Week. He was an ambassador, sure, but his group was currently preparing for a world tour, so it must have been quite a hustle to fly to the other side of the world for this event only.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, go.”

The coordinator gave you a little push, and you stepped into the spotlight, donning a silky black dress that reached to the floor, hair flowing down your shoulders in the same, elegant manner. You were one of the very last walking, but also not ending the show, so you believed the majority of the audience was already paying their attention to somewhere else until the designer walked out.

But one person, you were sure of, was still looking attentively.

You clearly felt his eyes locked on you when you took one deliberate step after another since the dress was an inch too long and the shoes a size too big. This was not your first catwalk, so you still managed though, prompted by your boyfriend’s mesmerized gaze that you clearly felt fixated on you. It caused you to get a bit nervous, and you usually never felt this way as an established professional in the branch.

When you reached the end of the catwalk to pose, you dared to blink through the lights and let your eyes waver over the crowd for only the break of a second. You didn’t spot his face as the moment passed by too quickly, but what you noticed from the corner of your peripheral vision, was a red dot in a sea of monochrome outfits.

A red rose.

_____

“Great walk today, the dress looked so good on you!”

“Thank you so much!”

You bowed to the person who gave you this compliment, another one among many that you had received so far. Apparently, the majority had paid attention despite all - or was it only because you had walked especially confidently today?

“Are you not staying?” one of your model friends asked. “The after party is only about to start. And there are so many cute guys waiting to see us!”

“I’m sorry, I’ll pass.”

“We’re in New York, y/n! You cannot just pass on the afterparty!”

You shrugged and smiled apologetically. “I have other plans for tonight.”

Her look fell upon your handbag where the head of a red rose was peeking out. You hadn’t wanted to squish it in and ruin it when he had risked everything to get it delivered into the styling room, right at your place where it had greeted you upon your return.

“Do the plans involve the mysterious sender of this rose?”

With a grin, you only put your index finger on your lips, winking at her. “See you tomorrow.”

On your way out, you brushed someone with your shoulder. Before you could apologize, you then felt warm fingertips slightly touching the back of your hand in the secrecy of the shadow your two bodies casted.

“Excuse me,” a manly voice whispered that let goosebumps run down your spine.

“Don’t worry.”

You went in different directions, but when you reached the exit, you saw the person outside again, slipping into the safety of a black car. Not much later, your car arrived as well that would bring you to the hotel. To be entirely sure though, you let the chauffeur drive two more rounds around the block.

Entering the hotel’s lobby after getting out, you walked past the reception and straight to the elevators since you had gotten the floor and room number beforehand already. Your heart was already thumping heavily against your chest, excitement almost turning into anxiety since it had been two weeks since the both of you were last together in private.

When the door opened, you didn’t even have time to greet your boyfriend properly. His hand immediately wrapped around your arm and you got hauled into the room with the door closing shut behind you in nearly the same breath.

Light kisses got peppered on your lips that slowly turned into long, more passionate ones, the pent up longing no more deniable, and you finally didn’t have to hold your feelings back anymore.

“I missed you so much,” Taeyong muttered against the side of your neck, sucking on the thin skin that made you tickle lightly.

“I missed you too.” Your fingers curled around the hair behind his ears while he gently pressed you against the door. “You were sneaky at the show, do you know? One of the other models noticed the rose.”

“I had to subtly drop a hint that you’re mine. I couldn’t stand the gazes of the other men sitting with me in the audience. But I was very proud as well. Of you, because you were amazing, and of me, because you’re mine.”

“Lee Taeyong, I didn’t know you had kind of a possessive side to you.”

“Oh?” He raised a brow, grinning. “Didn’t my performance in the bedroom already assure you of that?”

You chuckled. “I meant outside of the bedroom.”

“How else do you think I got here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Right before a world tour, joining a fashion event… I went to hell and back, negotiating back and forth with my company and the brand to be able to be here today. Away from our daily lives, just to spend two days with you. Luckily, they treasure me so much, I could have asked for anything at this point.”

You looked at him with softened features and all the love you had for him. “You’re really amazing, you know that?”

With one swift motion, he helped you jump, hooking your legs around his waist before turning to the bed. “Let me prove to you that this was absolutely worth it.”

#taeyong #lee taeyong #taeyong imagines #taeyong scenarios #taeyong x reader #taeyong x you #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct x you #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop x you #kpop x reader #requests

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kmackatie · 3 years

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Intimacy+ 28/58/72/101?

I hope you have a good day!

Hello! I am thank you, hope you are too! Here we go with the first one of these. I'm sure I will get around to the others eventually I am sure!

Thank you to @mllekurtz for reading over this one prior to posting, it is a little longer than my 1k limit.

request a prompt from this list here

28 - brushing the other’s hair shadowgast, post canon, 1495 words, cw: non-sexual nudity

His fingers worked soap through the ends of Caleb’s hair, massaging gently and lathering up in the damp. Caleb sat in the large tub, water dripping down his back while Essek perched on the edge, feet submerged and tucked around to keep Caleb stable. A bit of dunamancy was helping him stay upright, with his pants rolled up to knee to protect them, tunic gone with his arms bare dressed in just his sleeveless undershirt.

“Tip your head back for me, sevgilim.” It was accompanied by his fingers gently guiding, carding through the damp strands.

Caleb did as he asked, eyes still closed and breathing deeply. Collecting the small bowl from the floor, Essek dipped it into the water before lifting it and tipping it slowly over Caleb’s hair. Working his hand through it, Essek methodically repeated the process, until all the soap had rinsed free.

“There we go.” Essek was talking to himself as much as he was Caleb, voice deliberately soft so as to not affect the calm peace Caleb had settled into. “First one done. Hmm, lavender, or your usual one with honey? Do you have a preference?” He leaned down, hands still in Caleb’s hair and placed a kiss against Caleb’s forehead. “It is more than fine if you don’t.”

He paused for a moment, to see if Caleb would respond, hands gently massaging through the strands.

“Lavender. Want to smell like you.”

Essek’s lips quirked into a brief smile, before he extracted one of his hands and tipped Caleb’s head forward.

“Lavender it is.”

This one was the closest Essek could find to his favourite conditioner from Rosohna, similar in scent though his was sure made with different plants. Lavender was a luxury, a symbol of status due to how difficult it was to grow. This one was sold for an exorbitant price in Nicodrans, reported to actually be from the Dynasty. It reminded him of home, a pang in his chest he couldn’t quite get rid of every time he opened it, and was the one indulgence he kept with, even now.

Scoping out some of the cream, Essek got to work, hands combing through and massaging into the roots. He moved methodically through it, making sure to capture each of the strands, before repeating the rise motion. There were little words between them, just the sound of Essek’s movements and water splashing, with the odd hum or subconscious muttering breaking it.

Before long, Essek was encouraging Caleb to rinse, and he took the moment to submerge fully while Essek rinsed his hands.

Breaking the surface with a gasp, Caleb leaned backwards and connected with where Essek’s knees were resting inside the tub. His head tipped back against them, and Essek smiled, shifting slightly on his seat to widen his legs to give Caleb more room to sit comfortably. He can’t help but return his hands to Caleb’s hair, enamoured as ever with the multitude of colours buried in there.

Even soaked and dripping, it was still stunning, the hues darkening to a deep russet and ochre that was found in some of the caves near Asarius. Some would call it muddy, and not a colour worth noting, but those people had not seen Caleb Widogast in a tub of water. It had gotten longer in the last few months, rivalling the length of Essek’s before he cut it off.

“Have you ever braided your hair?”

There was a huff of what Essek assumed was confusion or surprise as Caleb shifted under his hands, head twisting around slightly to look at Essek.

“Hmm?”

“Braiding. Have you ever let anyone braid your hair?”

Caleb blinked, processing the question before nodding.

“Jester, once. I never learned how.”

“May I?”

It was posed as a question, even as his hands started to divide the hair, designs and ideas in his mind. It would always be a question, the asking of permission to cross boundaries, to check in and make sure it was welcomed. It was something they had come to agree on, the need for consent and for it to be checked in on frequently.

Caleb nodded, eyes flicking closed as he sunk down a little further in the bath.

He lost himself in his task, hands that were a little out of practice finding their rhythm.

Section, weave, join. Pass over, pass under, join.

It was meditative in it’s own way, as his mind focused on getting the patterns right. He paused, one hand with sections of hair cradled between each finger as he carefully turned Caleb’s head, checking on the progress. This style, it was that screamed Dynasty, and was a modification on one he used to weave into Verin’s hair, before they fell out. More intricate than normal, it was difficult to achieve on your own. There were a few strands that he gathered, tucking back in before continuing.

Section, weave, join. Pass over, pass under, join.

The style when complete, included four separate braids: two in a lattice style from the front center of Caleb’s head with the ends weaving into the traditional Thelyss-waterfall style, before morphing into smaller intricate braids that joined in a knot at the back of Caleb’s head. He fussed with the ends, tweaking a few places to get it to sit just right, before he sighed, hands dropping down to Caleb’s shoulders and squeezing gently.

“It’s done?” asked Caleb, voice low and rumbling.

“Mmm, canım, it’s done.”

“You seem practised at that.”

“It has been a while, but it seems there are some skills you do not forget, no matter how long it has been since you used them,” said Essek, hands now rubbing small circles into Caleb’s shoulders. “I used to braid for Verin. Back… well. It’s been many years since I’ve done that.”

A hand raised and covered his, squeezing his fingers gently.

“You are welcome to use my hair at any time, Schatz.”

He chuckled, flipping his palm over and linking his fingers with Caleb’s.

“Thank you. It’s nice to know I still remember them.”

“Explain them to me?”

Lifting his free hand, Essek tapped lightly against the first braid, before drawing his finger down and back against it.

“This one, this style is called ışık, it’s one unique to Den Kryn, though I have cut it through with a general Dynasty style. Very traditional, used by high-ranking officials, generals, members of the nobility.” He felt Caleb nod under his hands, following the explanation. “It honours the Bright Queen, and you’ll find most of the Dens use this one day to day. These ones here though”—he drew Caleb’s attention to the lower two, tapping gently and drawing his finger across them—“these ones are Thelyss braids, unique to our Den. Each one has them. Mostly special occasions, formal dinners, religious ceremonies, weddings, that’s when you see these ones.”

Caleb was quiet for a moment, his thumb running circles into the back of Essek’s hand.

Essek tapped his hand on the delicate knot that draws the braids together, considering. He had been indulgent, when he wove this one in.

“This one, mmh. It’s, well. It is considered a kur yapmak, a gesture of courtship and intention. With a few adjustments, it is what I would have expected to be wearing—if I had the hair to do it with—when a marriage union would have been finalised.”

There was heat in his cheeks as he finished the explanation, and a sudden lurching of his heart. How would Caleb read this, the liberties he had taken?

Maybe Caleb felt something, his fingers still wrapped around Essek’s and brushing against his wrist, but he moved from between his legs. Water splashed over the sides, and Essek would have been annoyed if he hadn’t already sacrificed these pants to being drenched, but as it was he just leaned back and waited for Caleb to settle.

They were eye to eye now, Caleb kneeling with water running down his chest between Essek’s legs, hand still grasped in his hand. There was a look of quiet joy on his face, a light that danced between his eyes as he reached a hand out to cup Essek’s cheek. He can’t help but lean into it, Essek’s eyes dropping closed for a moment.

“That is an elaborate way to ask, Liebling.”

Essek chuckled, fondness colouring his tone as he smiled.

“You haven’t yet said no,” he pointed out, turning his head to kiss Caleb’s palm briefly. “But it is not a proposal. I… if that is something you are interested in, then we can talk about it.”

Caleb leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the tip of Essek’s nose, his cheek, before leaning in and capturing his mouth. Essek raised a hand, covering Caleb’s where it still rested against his cheek. It was a slow kiss, gentle and patient, and Essek savoured it.

They drew back, foreheads pressed together, and Essek felt Caleb smile.

“We can talk about it.”

#shadowgast #critical role #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #critical role fandom #the mighty nein #my writing #my fic #non-sexual intimacy prompts #hwinia #katie replies #ask katie #ficlet #cr: fanfic

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rainy-rose · 6 years

Text

So I did a thing!

Disclaimer, trigger warning etc:

I haven’t written anything longer than 1k words in years and even then they were in Romanian because it is the language I am the most comfortable with. The following short story has almost 4k and it was initially written for one of my classes, but I decided to post it here as well. That being said, if anybody reads it and has any kind of constructive criticism to offer, please write it as it is both needed and wanted!

TW: mental health - possible depression, character death, self harm

Fragile

The morning light made its way through the window, slowly bringing the old furniture in the small room back to shape. The drapes were slowly moving due to the light breeze. On the dark wood table a half empty bottle stood next to a glass, a bit of amber liquid still left on its bottom. The birds were chirping happily in the trees in the garden, their songs invading the room and inevitably waking up the sleeping, curled up figure on the couch. The man’s eyebrows were slowly forming an annoyed frown as his mind was leaving the land of dreams behind. With a groan he turned around, hoping to block both the birds and the light. Somehow he had forgotten to close the window and the drapes last night and was just now being painfully reminded of his mistake.

His arm moved under his head, a makeshift pillow. A futile effort as soon he would have to embrace consciousness. He tried moving again, wanting to run from the real world. He was happy in his dreams, only there. His stiff back protested, another groan escaping the man’s lips. But alas, he was stubborn, refusing to open up his eyes, although the rest of his body was already awake and ready to face the day. His eyelids were shut tight wishing for sleep to come back and drive away the beginning of what was sure to be a pounding headache.

A child’s cry of joy came from outside. His neighbors, the other occupants of the one story building, whose company he rarely sought, must have left their toddlers outside already so they could get fresh air and ran after the stray dogs and cats that always seemed to find their way in the garden. Together with the noise made by the children, a restless one that he knew way too well. In the small barn his horse was wide awake, hungry and grumpy. The two sounds made him realize that he had spent way too much time on the uncomfortable couch. The outside world needed him, especially today since he had places to go and people to see. More like a person, Liam, the young lad eagerly waiting for his bimonthly visits in his small room in the mental asylum located on the road, just about a half an hour from the city. Hmm, maybe he could visit the blacksmith after that as well. He groaned again shutting his eyes tighter. Now was not the time to think about Cedric, or his baby, or the fond way his beautiful blue eyes had followed him across the room the previous evening. No, definitely not the right moment.

With a final displeased sound, followed by a heavy sigh he rose from his accidental bed. Sleeping on the couch was not something he was doing deliberately, but sometimes, when the world was to overwhelming and his mind was running, he would end up there, usually after drinking a few glasses of brandy, which was exactly the case this time.

The water in the pitcher by the window chased away the final remnant of sleep from his face and changing his wrinkled clothes with a set of fresh ones from the dresser made him feel more human. Unfortunately nothing could be done for his headache, he would have to endure it, but luckily he was used to them by now.

The next half an hour was spent taking care of the horse’s daily needs, eating and packing his bag. Conrad was no horse show champion, he had brown-reddish hair that ended in white socks bellow his knees. Hector had bought him as a calf five years prior when it became apparent that walking everywhere was no longer a viable option. He had never been interested in riding a bike and automobiles were too expensive for the little money he made as a librarian and since he had not published any of his poetry books at the time, Conrad was the best option.

Riding always had a pleasant effect on him, taking his mind of things. It was just him, the almost clear road, the strong animal whose every breath he could almost feel and the wind running through his curly hair and making his soft dark brown coat fly behind him. At a crossroad he had to correct Conrad’s course with a strong pull at his rains. The animal was still used to going towards the blacksmith’s workshop as Hector used to visit the man on a weekly basis. Almost a year ago the man was the sole reader of his poems, but that was before, before he got stuck in a loveless marriage.

“Duty be damned!” The rider cursed pulling again at the rains, using a lot more force than necessary and making the horse go faster.

His mind was spinning again. Memories drifted in and out, memories of strong arms holding him close, intimacy and a gruff voice whispering dreams that could never be fulfilled. He cherished them, held them close to his heart despite the pain, anger and crushing sadness that came with them.

“Damn it all to Hell!” he cursed under his breath repeatedly, his now white knuckles holding the reins tight.

He leaned forward, wishing, hoping that he could become one with the animal beneath him, that his small frame will somehow dissolve until he was no more. Until just Conrad remained, a free horse running without a break, forgetting the ways of the man and what he had been taught. Unfortunately, like all his dreams and wishes, like all their shared memories, his and Cedric’s and even Liam’s, they were destined to be crushed by the strong punch of reality. The world was cruel towards people like them and they were forced to fight with it Their fight was not easy. The weak rarely survived, but the strong? They were condemned to a future filled with lies, deceit, pretend and unhappiness. In this case weren’t the weak more fortunate, embracing death? Choosing release instead of the constant torture of this monstrous world that saw them as shameful, as sinners, as sick individuals that should not be allowed to live. Creatures that were less than human, condemned and confined, if they were lucky, in asylums? Sharing the same space with other people whose minds refused to help them?

Hector hated having this kinds of thoughts, especially before visiting Liam. But he could not control them. They were constant, coming and going the same why the fingers of his left hand always found their way to the improperly scarred tissue on his right wrist. He had caught himself doing this numerous times, sometimes stopping just before the blood started dripping, turning the ends of his white shirts scarlet. He started doing this now, holding the reins with his right hand and slowing the horse’s pace. He could see the building now. In less than fifteen minutes he would see Liam again. Just two years his junior, the boys towered over him and was hyper and curious the same way small pups are, and just as loving, eagerly offering bone crushing embraces. He missed him, missed his questions and his soft, almost shy voice and the carefulness with which he picked his words. Seeing him twice a month was not enough and again, probably for the twelfth hundredth time, he wondered if there was any way to get him out of there. He was not family, but since he was the only person who had been paying for the boy’s care for the past three years since he had been admitted in the facility, maybe, possibly, probably they would be more lenient. If only he could present his case right. If only he could get him out of there he would be closer to realizing his dream. But alas, he knew that was not possible. The same way he know that he was partly guilty for the boy’s current situation.

He had met Liam almost three and a half years ago while courting his older sister Grace. Hector was not in any way attracted to the woman, yet she seemed nice and kind. Maybe enough so he could fool himself into trying for the pretend game of the strong. It did not happen. While spending time with Grace he would occasionally spend time with Liam and he soon realized that he was not visiting their household to see the woman, but to see the boy. He was the one more than happy to see him. Desperate to share all the new and interesting things he learned in school. Eager for the older man approval and attention and clearly, at least from Hector’s point of view, clearly infatuated. Liam was a ray of sunshine, stubbornly poking his way through the dark, grey, heavy clouds that were a permanent fix on Hector’s sky. He found himself drawn to the boy, smiling at his antics which felt so strange. He had not smiled in years! But he did that, Liam did that and the librarian was grateful. But how did he show his gratitude? How did he repay him for the joy he was bringing to the surface? By ruining his life!

Hector bit his lip hard, remembering how he had destroyed everything. How foolish he had been, how stupid! His eyes were prickling with tears he refused to shed. It was a mistake! A mistake! A mistake! He repeated as a mantra trying to convince himself that it was not his fault. But it was and he knew it. He was the one who initiated that kiss. It was a chaste and innocent kiss, a mere brush of their lips. It was a simple gesture of affection for them. But for Grace who has discovered them on a hidden stone bench in her family’s yard, it was betrayal. It was sin, sickness and corruption and Hector was at fault. He was sent away all ties cut off and the courtship interrupted. Liam was sent to the asylum to get treatment. Or so they said. Hector had found him again by chance, a rumor heard from a work colleague. But the reunion crushed his heart and made him hate the world, their society even more. Grace and the rest of the family had just left Liam there, abandoned, scared and confused. Hector did not know if the so called doctors and nurses were treating him or not, but whatever they were doing did not help him. Liam’s mind, once healthy, beautiful and bright was slowly deteriorating, and so was his speech. Guild made him tremble with fear and anger. How could they do this? What gave them the right to turn this beautiful innocent and artistic boy into a shell, a shadow of what he had once been? They were monsters! All of them! Grace and her family and the so called doctors. Without thinking he took out the envelope that contained the salary he had just received and placed it on one of the doctor’s desk offering to pay for Liam’s care. That night he had drank himself to sleep, but not before breaking a few glasses by throwing them against the wall and making the first shallow cut on his wrist. The wound was small and did not bled for long, but it was just the beginning. Many followed, all too shallow to cause any serious damage. In the months that followed, the money earned him visiting rights, two times a month, on Saturdays for a few hours. The so called treatment was not helping him. Whatever they were doing to Liam his situation was getting worse and Hector’s money was no more than a bribe. But he had to keep doing this, he would not abandon him, not like him family did. He would be there for him even if that meant watching as his former somewhat lover, for whom he felt bond as to a brother now, was withering away both mind and soul.

The trip down memory lane did not do him good. It never did! He stopped under a tree in the asylum’s yard, scratching at his wrists. Small drops of blood found their way onto his shirt but he ignored them, pulling his coat’s sleeves to cover everything. He dragged his hand through his wild curls several times in an attempt to calm down him nerves. He did the same to his face in order to make himself look less tired and hangover. After he was done he left Conrad in the care of a stable boy and made his way towards the building, towards the front desk and soon, towards Liam.

“Good day, miss! My name is Hector Kook and I am here to see Liam Dunn” he addressed the nurse that was managing the reception.

He usually did not have to give his name as he was one of the facility’s rare visitors. However, the woman seemed new, it was his first time seeing her. She looked at him for a few seconds, probably assessing and judging his exhausted look. She flipped through the register and scribbled down his name, but when she was about to write the purpose of his visit she lifted her head abruptly, her big eyes questioning and uncertain. “Could you tell me again the name of the patient you are seeking, sir?” Her voice was betraying her, it was lacking the calm, polite indifference with which the other nurses were treating him whenever he came. Hector swallowed, dread reaching her long, sharp claws towards him, his headache intensifying.

“Liam Dunn,” he repeated, as clear as possible. His fingers found his wrist again, scratching, leaving small red marks on his flesh. Something happened, something surely had happened! The nurse offered him a small, sad smile. Pity? Sorrow? No! He must have been mistaken, his mind was tired and foggy, he was seeing things. Everything was fine and soon a male nurse in a white coat would lead him towards Liam’s room and the boy will hug him, laugh and play with his hair while making small indistinguishable noises. He had to calm down, no need to panic. He forced his hand down taking small breaths. “I am so sorry, sir! Could you please wait here a bit while I get his doctor? It is better to hear this from him than from me.” She gestured towards one of the uncomfortable, wooden chair and disappeared along a corridor before Hector could ask any questions.

What? Hear what? He was almost trembling now. Why was she getting the doctor now? That happened at the end. What could she not tell him? He swallowed and bit his lip, feeling the taste of blood on his tongue. No, no, no, no, no! He had to remain calm! Not think of the worst scenarios! Those did not exist! This was just a change of procedure! He was pacing now, scratching at both of his wrists. Liam was okay. He had, needed to convince himself that. He was okay and healthy, as healthy as he could be in that forsaken place!

“Mr. Kook?”

Hector head snapped towards the voice, his hands falling at his side, his breath heavy as if he had ran a race and climbed a mountain. The doctor, Andrew Colby, a fifty something, man, short, but still slightly taller than he was, and usually sporting and easy smile was beckoning him to come closer. The smile was gone, his expression serious, somber. Behind him the nurse was biting her thumb, her eyes watery.

No!

Hector approached the man, with heavy legs, barely aware that he was moving them. Colby touched his shoulder. It was meant to be comforting, fatherly, his tone steady and apologetic towards the man half his age. “Mr. Dunn died this morning, sir. In his sleep, natural causes from the looks of it.”

What?!

He flinched, putting distance between himself and the asylum’s personnel. His throat was dry, his hazel eyes ablaze with barely contained fury . Died in his sleep? Natural causes? Who were they talking too? He was not a child, he might have been twenty six but he was not fool, not their fool. “How dare you?” he growled curling his fingers inside his fists, his nails hurting his palms. “Natural causes on a case of confirmed homosexuality? Who do you think you are taking to! That pathetic story would work with his sister bur not with me!” He was almost screaming now, clenching and unclenching his fists. Tears were streaming down his face, he did not notice them and made no effort to stop them. He wanted to punch him, beat him up, make him regret everything he had done. “He was just a child you devil and you… you killed him! All of you!”

The nurse let out a yelp and covered her mouth with her hands. He was frightening her, he was making a scene and attracting attention. But he did not care! He was hurt, his heart was being constantly stabbed. His brother was dead, murdered at their hands because he was different, because he loved the wrong person. How could that bastard look himself in the mirror in the morning and not hate himself? How could he still offer pleasant smiles knowing that he was killing a boy, probably not the only one, and bribing another dry? He was shivering, he felt sick, his head was hurting harder than ever so he turned away and ran. Colby shouted after him, but he could not, did not want to hear. Liam was dead. One if the few precious people in his life, the few he felt connected to, his little ray of sunshine was gone.

The next few minutes were a blur, he did not remember entering the stables, getting Conrad and running towards the city. But he must have since now they were galloping, the wing whipping his hair and face, his tears still falling. They stopped shortly after that, Hector almost falling of the horse’s back in his haste to reach a tree and hide behind it. He bend over ad threw out the little food he had eaten earlier that day. With trembling hand he took a handkerchief from his pocket and whipped his mouth, face and coat. The tears did not stop. He waited but they kept on falling. He could not do this. He kept seeing Liam’s face in his mind, serene and happy. The pain was unbearable and he wanted to scream. Slowly he made his way a bit deeper into the forest beside the road, fell on his kneed and let out a howl, he cursed, and cursed and screamed and punched the ground until his hands were red, raw and bleeding. His shouts were not the same, Liam’s name turned into Cedric’s and back again, mixed with long shrieks and long streams of profanities addressed to no one and everyone. He kept at it until his voice became weak, until Conrad found him and nudged gently at the back of his neck, then at his cheek. He would have stayed there for hours but an idea started forming in his head. It was stupid and realistically it made no sense, but he wanted to do it, at least part of it. He need to see the blacksmith!

His legs were still shaking when he got back on the horse. He tied the handkerchief around his bleeding wrist and started galloping towards the city. He did not correct Conrad when they reached the crossroad, on the contrary, he wanted him to hurry!

The workshop was at the end of a street, a small yard with soft grass in front of it. Conrad stopped at his well-known place near a wooden bench and waited for his master to climb down before he started grazing at the thick, fat grass.

Hector ran inside the shop, startling the three apprentices. They stared at him, at his now dirty clothes, tear streaked face and red eyes. It was the first time they saw him like this and they were more than confused at his appearance.

“Were is he?” he asked his voice hoarse, but determined.

One of the boys let his hammer down and pointed a gloved hand towards a door in the back, Cedric’s makeshift office. Nodding his head towards the apprentice, Hector made his way between anvils and forges almost barging through the door. He closed the door behind him and threw himself at the man, not caring if he was making a mess of the work space.

“Hector what happened? What are you doing?” he asked with panic and worry in his voice. They had established long ago that their feeling for each other had to be kept a secret, that Cedric had a duty, Cecily needed him and now so did his child.

Even so, he could not ignore the trembling man in his arms, not when he was clinging to him for dear life wretched sobs and gasps escaping his mouth and chest. “Hector?” he asked again, concerned, his arms finding their way around him in a familiar embrace. One of his rough hands gently caressed his back while the other did the same with his hair in an attempt to calm the smaller man. Hector was not like this, he was a fighter, stubborn as a mule and whatever got him in such a state was scaring him. “Talk to me, please?” he tried again, his voice as gentle as his caress. He moved slowly, sitting down on the chair behind him and cradling the other man in his lap like a child that needed protection. He kissed his forehead tenderly, then his hair, and started wiping his tears, while still combing his fingers through rebel dark brown curls.

A mumble reached his ears, Hector’s voice to broken for him to understand. He kissed his forehead again, prompting him to repeat.

“He is dead!” Hector gasped between sobs. “Liam’s dead, they killed him! I do not know how, but they did!”

The blacksmith’s features hardened, his blue eyes flashing in anger. He had never met Liam, but knew how much Hector cared for the man, knew his story, where he was and the librarian’s fears. He held him closer, not trusting himself to speak, burring his face in his former lover’s hair. He heard him mumbling again, but he did not ask him to repeat. He did not need to. Hector’s wish, what he wanted since a long time ago was loud and clear. He wanted to leave, to run away and start somewhere where nobody knew him and he wanted Cedric to come along. But could he?

#short story #writting #mine #oc #mlm #trigger warning #possible depression #self harm #character death

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