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solo-pitstop-vibes · 5 months

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Rowing Pair - Part Two | Don Hume

Don Hume x Original Character

Hi! This is definitely not super edited and maybe a little rushed, but I wanted to post something so here we are! Enjoy part two of Rowing Pair! More to come from Allie and Don...

Part one here!

...

Don gets a little courage after the Huskies' first win.

...

The early morning breeze is chilly coming off the water. Rowing practice is in full swing, and Allie is standing with the other coaches. Bundled up in a thick sweater, her arms are crossed for more than one reason. Ulbrickson paces the length of the Varsity boat, shaking his head,

“34 strokes. You’re fine at 34 strokes. Anything higher and you fall apart. 34 strokes, you don’t beat Cal. 34 strokes, you don’t win at Poughkeepsie. You certainly don’t get to Germany. You know who you beat with 34 strokes?”

He throws his arm out, pointing with his notebook. “The JV boat. Maybe,” he says, turning to the JV crew lounging on the dock. “What are you guys waiting for? Get back in the boat.”

Scrambling to their feet, the younger crew hustles back into their shell. The last few days of practice had not gone well for either team. The Varsity crew was looking worse by the day, and the JV boat wasn’t coming together as it should. Another hour passes with the rowing shells making their way up and down the channel. No one is happy with the progression of the day. The coaches are climbing out of the motorboat, waiting for the two row boats to finish floating in.

Allie looks to Ulbrickson,

“Permission to speak candidly, sir?”

Al gives her a curt nod.

“I don’t think Glenn is a good fit for the boat, they need someone with more fire. There’s a lot of energy to wrangle in that shell, and I don’t think he can do it.”

Al’s eyebrows raise in interest, “Okay, then who would you suggest?”

“You know who.”

That statement gets Allie a pointed look from Ulbrickson without hesitation,

“We’ll talk about it later.”

The next practice, Bobby Moch strutted down the dock and straight into the cox seat of the JV shell. Three practices later, they were rowing like a well-oiled machine. Allie stood next to Ulbrickson and Bolles, watching from the dock. Allie couldn’t help the smug smile trying to break its way onto her face.

“Better?” she asked Al, hands clasped behind her back as she rocked on her heels.

That got her another pointed look, but this time followed by a small smile.

“Better.”

...

“They’re catching up!”

Joyce’s voice rings out amongst the cheering crowd, her hand gripped tightly in Allie’s. Their eyes trained on the two boats making their way through the water, even from far away, they can tell Washington is slowly making their way alongside the Cal boat.

Allie declined Pocock’s invitation to watch along the shore of the finish line, instead choosing to watch the race with Joyce on one of the observation boats. She clearly made the better choice with how invigorating it was to her and feel the crowd cheer around them. Allie and Joyce were only one of many yelling at the top of their lungs as Washington surged past the halfway point, swiftly passing the waning Cal crew.

“Oh, you’ve done it now, Bobby,” Allie mutters under her breath.

Bobby gives the opposing coxswain a taunting wave as they push ahead. The Washington crew's speed began building and paired with a synchronized technique, they were pulling away. Each crew member strained with each row of their oars, and their chests heaved. The crowd’s volume surged, and the announcer began shouting through the intercom as Washington pulled further ahead. Approaching the finish line, they were ahead by a full boat. Closer and closer to the finish line, pushing themselves to the limit.

“And there’s the flag! Washington has done it!”

Allie and Joyce grab each other once again, jumping in joy with their arms around each other. Joyce exclaiming,

“They did it! They really did it!”

As they glide to a stop, splashing surrounds the winning crew as they celebrate. They’re all damp by the time they come to a stop, with huge smiles on their faces. Don shakes hands with Bobby before looking up into the crowd. Catching eyes with Allie, his smile widens as he excitedly waves in her direction. Allie laughs at Don’s excitement, sending back a small wave and a massive grin.

…

The party was in full swing by the time Allie arrived, and she stood outside for a few moments trying to get her bearings. She was practically shoved out of Ulbrickson’s office an hour ago with a promise from Tom that they were done reviewing footage for the night. Allie was still standing outside, nervously smoothing out her dark green dress when Bobby’s smiling face appeared in the doorway. His jacket had already been abandoned somewhere; his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Leaning on the propped open door, he spoke,

“Scared to come in?”

Allie shook her head, “No, it’s just weird because I’m late and coming in alone.”

Bobby clicked his tongue, making his way down the steps to her with his hands tucked in his pockets. “It’s not weird, I’ll go in with you. This party is just as much for you as it is for us.”

She didn’t move, just giving Bobby a nervous glance. Bobby’s expression softens,

“Hey, uh, I’ve been meaning to talk to you anyway. Ulbrickson told me that I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you and that I wasn’t an option until you suggested me. So, thank you. I’m really happy to be back on the team.”

Allie hadn’t known Bobby long, but they had become close over the summer. While he was strong-headed and liked to act on his own fruition, he always valued Allie’s opinion. She was stunned when he was removed from the crew. Unfortunately, Ulbrickson had used Bobby’s punishment to teach the crew a lesson. Everyone is replaceable, he had said. That’s why he was so hesitant to bring him back and eat his own words.

“I’m really glad you’re back too, Bobby. It wasn’t the same without you.”

Allie meant it. Bobby brought out more in the JV team than he ever could have with the varsity team, and the potential was building.

Bobby knocked his shoulder against hers, flashing Allie a cheeky smile, “Come on, time to let loose. I bet you can get some schmuck in there to dance with you in the first five minutes!”

Allie smiled softly, shaking her head, “Oh, maybe I’ll just watch. I don’t want to dance with just anybody.”

Before she finishes her sentence, the coxswain is already nudging her towards the door encouragingly, “Well I’ll dance with you if you don’t see anyone who passes the test. Although I might have a suggestion or two myself on who to go for.”

His hand is firm on her back as they break through the doorway. Allie glances around, looking for another familiar face. She spots Don almost immediately, sitting on a bench alone with his hands tucked in his pockets. His cute little frown painted across his face. He hadn’t noticed her yet.

“There might be one good one in this bunch, but I might take you up on that offer later,” Allie gives Bobby a small smile, glancing away from Don before Bobby could catch on. Little did she know, Bobby already had plans in motion. While he couldn’t confirm her crush on Don, he sure could confirm Don’s crush on Allie. Having caught on to Don’s puppy dog eyes at practice the week prior, Bobby was determined for Don to make a move after their maiden win. There was no better time.

In the center of the room, couples were dancing to the big band music flowing through the speakers with others sitting at tables that hugged the sides of the room. Allie finds Joyce and Joe sitting close at a small table and notices Shorty slipping off outside with one of Joyce’s roommates. Noticing Allie, Joyce waves her over, gushing about how great she looks. Bobby dashes into action, scrambling through the crowd to Don. Joyce would hold Allie off for a few minutes, she was a talker just like he was. Bobby slides down the bench, settling beside his teammate.

“Whatcha doin’?”

Don shrugs, “I’m watching.”

Bobby glances around, Allie is still talking to Joyce. Good. “Why aren’t you talking to anybody?”

“I’m not much of a talker,” Don replies. His hands are still shoved into his pockets, no intention of moving.

“Oh.” Bobby nods, “Well, look over there. See her?” Motioning in the direction of Allie, who has now glanced up and caught the pair talking. Don balks, catching eyes with Allie and swiftly looking away, straight ahead. His throat is dry, and he blinks, “Y-yeah, I see her.”

“Allie said to me that she wasn’t going to dance with just anybody. Now, I’ve offered to dance with her if she doesn’t want to dance with anyone else but…,” Bobby turns in towards Don for emphasis. “Listen, Hume. Tonight, not tomorrow night, or next week. Tonight is your best shot.”

A beat passes, and Bobby thinks he’s convinced him.

“You go on. I think I’m okay.”

Bobby could smack Don Hume upside the head in an instant. “Christ sake,” he mutters, glancing again between Don and Allie. Don nods his head in quick succession, confirming he’s not changing his mind. Yeah, he and Allie had talked a good bit, and he had walked her to her dorm a few times after practice, but she had only kissed him on the cheek once. There’s no way that Allie liked him, he thought. He felt like she was just that nice to everyone. Defeated, Bobby huffs again, looking around the room. All the other guys were dancing with a girl. Well, Johnny and Roger were dancing together, but Bobby could still count that as dancing with someone.

A lightbulb goes off in his head, and before he could think again, Bobby shoots off the bench and towards the stage. Quickly cutting the music off, he steps up to the microphone.

“Hey, listen up!”

The crowd stops dancing and turns to the commotion on stage, Allie included.

“We got a musician in our midst. With a little encouragement, we might just get him to give us some live music. Don Hume! Get up here. Get up here!”

The crew rushes around Don and despite his protests, they drag him up by his arms and carry him towards the stage. As they’re settling him down around the piano, Bobby motions to Chuck, quietly telling him to go find Allie and to bring her upfront. Chuck dashes off, racing through the crowd before finding the young girl towards the back of the room. She gives him an odd look when he stops abruptly in front of her, slightly winded from his frantic search.

“Moch is requesting that you come up front,” Chuck makes a grand gesture of holding his arm out for her to take, which she does hesitantly. Bobby had something in play, and she was suspicious. In a way, Bobby thought that above all else, if he could get both Don and Allie to let loose with a little fun and music, then he could call his plan a partial success. He hoped, however, that Don’s little performance might give him some courage. Don settles in at the piano and looks out to the crowd, just as Allie steps into place between Bobby and Chuck.

He forces himself not to freak out with Allie front and center. He glances back at the piano then back to Bobby, then to Allie. She looked beautiful. Her hair is down, blonde curls falling down her shoulders, and right then and there, Don decides that dark green is his new favorite color. Her full attention is on him, and for those few seconds, he felt like he was in heaven. Tearing himself away, he turns to the piano fully and takes a few deep breaths. This is it, he thought.

Before he can second guess himself, he starts off the first tune that comes to mind- the same tune that Allie had been humming to herself at practice. Don played the first few notes and Allie broke out into a huge smile, recognizing the tune immediately. Soon everyone was dancing and singing along with the JV crew singing the loudest. Enamored with Don’s newfound confidence, Allie could hardly look away even with Bobby, Chuck, and Roger taking turns twirling her around every so often.

They could dance and sing all night, but as Don plays the final notes and the song comes to an end, the crowd erupts in cheers. For a few moments, Don takes in the cheers and applause before he turns to the crowd and bows his head, looking up with a smug smirk. Quite the opposite of his usual shy smile. Allie catches his gaze when he looks up. She’s hooked the second they lock eyes. She almost feels dizzy when Don’s smug smirk is accompanied by a quick wink in her direction. A deep blush rushes to her face, her lip taut between her teeth. Now, she’s the one in heaven.

When Don descends from the stage, he’s greeted by more celebration from the boys grabbing him up and patting him on the back with each telling him how great of a job he did. Others from the crowd doing the same. Allie stood aside, waiting her turn to congratulate him after all the boys did. Once the crowd had settled down, Don finally turned to Allie.

“That was amazing! You were amazing!”

Someone must’ve turned the big band music back on and turned the volume up because Don could barely hear what Allie was saying. All he could tell was that she was excited and had a huge smile on her face, his smile mirrored hers. He shook his head, raising his voice,

“What?”

She tried repeating herself, but between the music and the crowd they were stuck in the middle of, neither could hear each other. Allie huffs after another failed attempt and grabs Don by the hand. Dragging Don behind her, much like a lost puppy, Allie makes her way outside where it is quieter. Once they make it outside and she doesn't feel the need to yell, Allie turns to Don,

“Geez, It’s too loud in there after all that. I have been trying to say that your performance was amazing and you’re amazing! Where did you learn to play?”

“I’ve been playing since I was little,” Don shrugs, a smile still stuck on his face. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. That was a lot of fun, but uh don’t tell Bobby I said that. He’ll be dragging me up on stage at every party.”

Allie laughs, “I promise I won’t tell Bobby.”

A few beats of silence fall between them as they just take each other in. An idea spurs in Don’s head. The music from inside can be heard softly from their spot on the top landing of the steps just outside the doors.

“Do you want to dance? It’s too loud in there, but it’s not so bad out here.”

Allie nods eagerly, “I’d love to.”

Softly taking her hand in his, Don gently pulls Allie in towards him. Swaying gently to the music, neither of them breaks their comfortable silence for a few moments. Resting her head on his collar, the pair are closer than ever. Ignoring the fuzzy feeling in her stomach, Allie is the first to speak up. “You did really great today, Don. You and the whole crew. I have a good feeling about this year.”

“Thank you, today felt good. It was fun,” Don replies. “It felt nice to have someone there cheering me on too. I’d win every race if it meant you were at the finish line.”

“Well,” Allie smiles bashfully, looking up at Don, “Don’t go around telling the crew I have a favorite. They’ll all get jealous.”

Don chuckles, “I won’t tell.”

Even in the dim lighting, the two are fighting off a blush, hoping the other won't see. To distract them both, Don steps back and raises his arm, letting Allie twirl in place a few times. Her soft giggle fills his ears as her dress flares slightly, making Don smile. His voice is quiet, almost as if he’s saying it to himself,

“You look beautiful.” A beat passes. “You always do.”

Allie’s breath gets caught in her throat, as Don pulls her back to him. Her voice is equally as quiet when she looks up at him and replies,

“Thank you.” Allie hesitates after finishing her sentence, trying to find the courage for her next words. “Don, I-“

She can barely get Don’s name out before a familiar voice rings out,

“Hey, lovebirds! Might want to come back inside, they just brought out a cake with all our names on it!”

Huffing at Bobby’s rude interruption, Allie steps away from Don slightly, who rolls his eyes at the coxswain. He wants to pull Allie back to him as she steps away. He keeps their hands connected, but his eyebrows are furrowed, “You were saying?”

Allie shakes her head, smiling softly, “It can wait, let’s get inside.”

…

Eeekkk! I couldn't decide if things were going to go further, but I'm feeling a slow burn for this one. More chapters to come!

#don hume #boys in the boat #don hume x oc #don hume x original character #don x alllie #jack mulhern #don hume x reader

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gothicknightz · 2 years

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family ties pt. 2 | ethan landry

notes: IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS PART 2. YOU GUYS ARE GONNA LOVE IT. SCREAM 6 SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT.

Sam was shocked beyond words when she found all of this information. Her, she couldn't believe anything.

And the worse thing was, is that they were trusted.

“It fucking runs in the family, Sam-” She paused, breaking away from Ethan's hold, and pointed an accusatory knife at her.

“Did you even think for a second, that, I was behind all of this?” She chuckled in disbelief, taking a step back, “When I found out that my baby's brother got cut up by your whore hands-”

“I didn't kill him!”

“Yes you did, you motherfucker, you killed our brother!”

It was Quinn's turn to have an ironical stab at Sam with words, with tears forming in her eyes as she yelled, with the Detective holding her back.

“Richie supported me and Ethan, he was helping us with our wedding when his girlfriend decided to cut up pretty little Tara here.” She blew a kiss at Tara, who, in retaliation gave her the middle finger.

“So is that your motive? You only want me dead because you believe I killed your boyfriend's brother?” Sam had asked, in disbelief that her reasoning was as baseless as the rumor that Sam was behind Woodboro.

“No...” She muttered, getting close up and personal, teasing Sam as she dragged the knife down above her chest down to her stomach.

“It’s much more than that.”

“Then get on with it already!” Tara yelled, clearly tired of the ever-long villain monologue, the ferocity catching up to her quicker than the shock did; everyone had trusted (y/n), but clearly, she was on their side. She always was, ever since day one.

(y/n) paused in her tracks, shooting a glare at the younger Carpenter sister before slashing her arm as well, yelling out in frustration as her speech was stopped. “Oh, you’re feistier than the book portrays you to be,” pausing to take a breath, (y/n) wiped the blade clean.

“But clearly none of you were able to connect the little dots. Even that unkillable cockroach Gale Weathers. I’m jealous that you got to do it, Quinn.” Looking up at her, Quinn sent her a wink before beginning to sink again.

“They weren’t the only ones grieving-”

Having enough of the speech, Tara swung one of the prop bricks at (y/n)’s head, causing her to go down, and for the Ghostfaces to attack, this one, in particular, being Quinn.

Tara swung another brick at Quinn, getting a two-for-one deal before heading for the fire escape-like exit the trio earlier were going to retreat to, with Sam downgrading and absolutely berating Richie to his father; that he wasn’t capable of anything, and that he had let his girlfriend do all the killing.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, before the Detective could attack, Kirby rose from the dead once again, firing her gun at the orchestrator of the Ghostface killings, only to be stabbed by Ethan.

“Recognize this?”

His victory was short-lived as Sam came up behind him and knocked him out with another stage brick, stabbing him several times before attempting to go for the exit, following her sister.

As the Carpenter sisters made their way around the very much aging railings, the place was falling apart, and when Tara got to a part that looked like it was in progress, she slipped, with Sam catching her sister right before she fell into the metaphorical jaws of Ethan below her.

“Sam,” Tara muttered, clearly afraid as the blood on her hands wasn’t letting her hold on any longer, “I can't hold on anymore; let me go.” She whispered, with Sam reluctant to let go of her sister, despite Quinn teasing her with the knife coming up. “No,” Sam repeated, despite the choices wearing thin from the siblings.

“We always wanted to stick something in you, Tara!” Ethan yelled, in reference to him and his girlfriend's bloodlust for the death of the younger Carpenter sister.

“Fuck you!”

Back to the Carpenter sisters, Tara once again asked her sister to let her go, Sam gives in and gives her sister a knife, and the younger Carpenter sister drops down and attacks Ethan.

That wasn't until he got a stab at her stomach, with Tara crying out in pain before taking the knife Sam had given her and stabbing Ethan in the Gullet, muttering on about he'll never get to go through with marrying (y/n), and twisted the knife.

After she pulled back, there was a satisfied smile on her face, and there was one on Sam's too as she told Quinn she was down another brother, not minding to leave (y/n) in the dark as the failed sister-in-law.

“Well, you definitely missed the fucked up blood she had. Must suck that she didn't get more of it.”

Quinn screamed out in anger as she charged at Sam with her knife, before ultimately getting shot in the head right in front of her father. Sam mentioned that you always have to shoot them in the head for it to work, before attempting to shoot the Detective with an empty gun.

The two charged at each other when they realized it would either be one or the other, with the two colliding and falling off of the balcony; the detective falling on a display case, and Sam falling on the ground.

The lights blacked out, ironically in the situation the two were in, which gave Sam the chance to dress up in her father’s old Ghostface robe and mask, just as the Detective wanted and called him.

“Hello, Detective Bailey, I’ve got one question for you.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

The detective chuckled as he walked up the stairs to the stage, not far from where his daughter-in-law’s body lay, still on the ground from Tara’s brick attack earlier.

“I’m asking because you’re in one now; you’re in my movie.”

Frantic, and on edge as ever, the Detective shoots at two mannequins dressed in Ghostface robes, and to his avail, Sam wasn’t behind either one.

He notices that the robe from Billy Loomis’ case is gone, and the recognition sinks in, “Oh,” He paused, looking at the case, “I see you’ve put on your true face; your birthright. Poetic that you’re gonna die in it.”

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Now you know the truth, huh? Murder’s in your blood!”

Sam continues to taunt the Detective as he impatiently awaits Sam’s arrival, pointing the gun in every direction before he smashes the phone; Sam subsequently shows up behind him and stabs him several times.

Before she gets to finish him off, a very much alive Tara shows up behind the curtain, glancing at the badly injured detective.

“My father was a murderer.” She paused, “No matter what you think, I’m better than that.”

Sam mutters something about messing with her family and proceeds to stab the Detective in the eye before the sisters recollect themselves and sit on the stage outside of the curtain.

As they recollect, the sisters are unaware that Ethan had survived his earlier attack, and got up, knife in his hand, fueled with rage. Unfortunately, he couldn’t fulfill his wish to kill both Sam and Tara as Kirby dropped the TV on his head that killed Stu Macher in the original 1996 killings.

“Saw that in a scary movie once.”

The police arrived not long after the defeat of the Ghostface’s and soon-to-be-killer, with Danny relieved that both Sam and Tara had survived, noting that he figured they’d need reinforcements.

Kirby and Chad were wheeled out, with Mindy arriving not long after, her injuries not stopping her as she complained that she missed the reveal once again.

“I know who the killers are- it’s Ethan and Bailey!” She ran in, exasperated and out of breath.

“And Quinn and (y/n),” Sam added.

“(y/n) too? Did I miss the monologue again?”

“Yeah, they’re wheeling out her body right now. She and Ethan were engaged, and planned this whole thing.”

Mindy’s jaw dropped before mentioning that they had put her on so many drugs and proceeded to climb into the ambulance beside Chad.

The group’s attention was turned on to each other, with the body of (y/n) and Ethan wheeled out together, a body bag covering only Ethan.

“They died right next to each other, it was poetic, I guess,” Tara muttered, the group still unaware of what was unfolding behind them.

A group of paramedics tended to (y/n), who was still unconscious and with a pulse, as the nurses discovered.

“We’ve got a weak pulse!”

The nurses also found some sort of identification on (y/n), which was her driver’s license, and it read her full name:

(y/n) Freeman.

(ahhh!!! part 2 is finally here! what do you guys think of a prequel? ;)

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starcrossedxwriter · 1 year

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Built for Love Part 11 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

Warnings: a bit of angst, lots of fluff, NSFW

A/N: I don't wanna give a single thing away about this chapter so I'm just gonna say enjoy!

“What are you doing outta bed?” Michael paused scrambling eggs on the stove to throw her a glance that matched the exasperation and annoyance in his tone. “I told you I’d bring it to you.”

Charlotte’s slippers made scuffing noises across the hardwood floor as she made her way to the kitchen island.

“Thank you but you’ve sequestered me in that bed since Saturday and I didn’t fight you on it once. It’s Wednesday and if I lay there for one more second, I was gonna lose my mind. I’ve slept enough for a lifetime.” She glanced down at the kitchen island, heavy laden with breakfast. She spied breakfast potatoes, bacon, sausage, fruit, and biscuits. “Now who is all this food for??”

“You,” he responded simply. “You needed sleep and now you need calories. You’ve been losing weight since we moved here and that stops now.”

Charlotte could not deny that was true. It was unintentional but her soft curves had certainly lost much of their curviness since she moved to New York. She was not at her skinniest by any means, but the rigorous performances and practices, her regular workout routine, and the stress caused the pounds to shed without her even realizing it.

She popped a piece of cantaloupe in her mouth as she walked up to him. “This is very sweet and everything smells delicious. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now go sit.”

Charlotte moaned. Dr. Jordan was the strictest fake doctor she had ever met in her life. He barely gave her a chance to stand and stretch her legs.

“Babeeeee,” she whined, wrapping her arms around his midsection. Her forehead rested on his back. “I can stand for a few minutes. He fucked up my upper body, my legs still work just fine.”

“You need to rest and relax, Charlotte. Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “Worst patient I’ve ever seen.”

“How many girls have you nursed back to health from near death, babe? Damn, I thought I was your first for once,” she joked. However, when it fell flat, she grimaced. “Too soon?”

“Wayyyy too soon, baby. How’re you feeling?”

“Fi-” she started to say but remembered her promise. It included this. She pressed her lips to his back, his taunt and bare muscles flexing at her touch.“B-better. Nightmares weren’t so bad last night… just a couple so that’s progress… torturously slow progress,” she added. “And I made an appointment with my old therapist. We’re gonna do virtual sessions till I get back to LA.”

Michael turned from the stove, still in the grip of her arms, to face her. He gave her an encouraging smile. “That’s great, Els.” He was proud of her, he knew how hard that was… that she likely felt as if she was backtracking or starting over. “Why didn’t you wake me last night?”

“You need to sleep too, Dr. Jordan. All this taking care of and fussing over me, I know you’re not resting.”

“I’ll rest when those heal.” He lifted her chin lightly to look at the bruising on her neck. He knew they would get worse before they got better but his eyes glazed over with rage every time he looked at her bruises, particularly the ones around her neck. He could make out exactly where his hands were, a temporary brand to what he tried to do.

Charlotte rubbed his arm, an attempt to soothe the brewing emotions she could feel inside him. She always admired his emotional intelligence, how he was able to reign in his emotions and rage even when he so clearly wanted to find the nearest punching bag or Shaun’s face and have at it. “I’ve had worse. It always looks way worse than it feels. Well, that’s not true. The first day, it felt worse than it looked. But it’s not too bad now. I promise. And I’d rather you rest now. I really am ok.”

Despite her assurances, she could tell he did not believe her. She sighed, wondering when she would earn his trust again. That was honestly the hardest part in all this for her, knowing that her actions had caused her to lose it in the first place.

“How long is it gonna take for you to trust me when I say that again?” She asked quietly. She wasn’t angry, there were consequences to her actions and this was one of them. But it did break her heart. She hated the idea that he did not trust her words. This was their first real issue as a couple, the first time she had to contend with them not being on the same page.

Michael sighed, his hand going to scratch the scruff of his beard for a moment. “It’s not a question of trust, Els. Because I do trust you. And I’m not tryin’ to hold this against you. But this taught me that for better or worse, your default is to deal with your shit alone. To hide and, if needed, lie to avoid bothering or worrying other people. And I get it, I understand why. But I won’t lie and pretend like this shit didn’t shake me up a lot. Being stuck in LA knowing something wasn’t right even though you promised it was. Seeing you after the show shaken and scared and not knowing why… seeing you nearly dead on the floor when I was one room over. That ain’t shit I’m gonna get outta my head anytime soon. When you say you’re good, I wanna know that’s true. But I also know it’s gonna take a lot more than a promise and a few days for that to happen. You gotta work on trusting me with your problems and your pain and that shit takes time. And in the meantime, I’m gonna work on taking you at your word but I might also just need… some reassurances that you’re really ok.”

She understood why Michael was being so protective. She could tell he still felt guilty, though he shouldn’t, about not being there to protect her in the first place. And now, he acted as if she needed to be wrapped in bubble wrap at all times. He barely let her out of his sight and if it was not an absolute necessity, he barely let her out of bed. She understood the impulse. If it made him feel better to fuss, she would not deny herself or him that.

“I understand. I didn’t think about how all of that would affect you… scare you. And I am sorry. Whatever reassurances you need and fussing you wanna do for as long as you wanna do it, I won’t fight you on it. Promise.”

“Thank you.” He kissed her nose, her face scrunching up a bit. “How’s the pain?”

“Manageable. Head is still pounding, everything’s a bit stiff but I feel like I can get up and move around a bit. Or at least move from the bed to the couch for a change of scenery. Maybe convince the best and sexiest doctor in New York to take me on a walk after breakfast so I can breathe some fresh air?”

He eyed her suspiciously. “You sure you're up for that?”

“Probably not up for a long one,” she admitted. “But even if it’s just 10 minutes… the cameras and reporters have finally moved on to bothering someone else. We could escape for a bit. I’m going a little stir crazy, Bakari.”

“Fine. Just for a bit then Avengers on the couch?”

“Thank youuuu.”

She ate quickly, finishing two plates at Michael’s insistence.

As they went into their bedroom to change, she raised an eyebrow in shock as Michael handed her one of his favorite sweaters. She had stolen quite a lot of his clothes in the last few months, in which they basically became her clothes and he never saw them again. However, this coveted sweater had always been out of her grasp. He had always made it clear it was one of the few items that were off limits because he knew he’d never get it back. However, she had tried it on one or twice when he wasn’t home and it was like wearing a cloud, so insanely soft.

“Wow… so this whole time all I needed to do was almost die to get this?? Chile, I would’ve done that months ago to get this sweater,” she joked. Though she could see the corner of his mouth twitch, he did not laugh. “Still too soon?”

“If it was too soon 20 minutes ago, it still is, Els.”

“Sorry, Jackson wasn’t a fan of my dark humor about dying the first time either. But it helps to find some humor in it… somewhere. And you gotta admit, it is kinda funny…” She remarked as she pulled on a pair of leggings. They still had to bundle up, one thing Charlotte did miss about LA was the perfect weather year around.

“Ain’t a single humorous thing about any of this, babe.”

“I dunno… I mean no, it isn’t funny. But also, it’s kinda crazy… Since I met him, Shaun’s gone out his way to try to kill me twice… and each time, I’ve survived. Like he is really bad at murder… terrible. I mean, not complaining… Thank God for it. But I would just stop trying if I was 0/2 with the same person, you know? That’s embarrassing??” That did make a small chuckle escape Michael’s lips. “See!! It is kinda funny when you actually think about it.”

“I’m ignoring you,” he called as he went into the closet to pull out their winter coats, baseball caps, and shades. Thankfully, the press and paparazzi surrounding their building had started to dissipate. They had gotten a couple glimpses of her family and Michael coming and going but none of her, thankfully. That was the only thing that would have made this whole ordeal worse, her bruised and battered form thrown across the front page of every newspaper. She knew it was still a possibility, pictures of her injuries from the hospital could leak. The downside of fame, nothing was truly private.

She shrugged as he helped her pull on her coat.

“I’m just saying he’s bad at killing or I am just that good at surviving,” she muttered. “Maybe they should cast me in Black Panther too?” At his confused stare, she smiled. “Cause I clearly have 9 lives like a cat? I could be like your sexy evil accomplice… The Golden Cheetah?”

That did make him laugh for the first time in several days. His hands grabbed her jacket to pull her close to him. “I’ll talk to Ryan about it, how about that?”

“That’s all I ask.” She stretched on her tiptoes to kiss him before he took her hand to lead them outside.

Their walk did not last too long as Michael knew it would not. Not because Charlotte was not up for it but because neither of them wanted to be out in the cold long. But she still appreciated his willingness to acquiesce to her small request. A walk was really the only public thing she cared to do, at least, until all the bruises faded. And she did appreciate the activity, she wanted to keep her limbs from going too stiff. She’d be back on stage next week, the one thing she did have to fight Michael on. Chris was on the verge of an ulcer every day she was out. He called to check on her everyday. She knew he actually cared about her but she also knew he wanted his leading lady back… ASAP. She already felt guilty ruining his opening night, the least she could do is not send him to the hospital from the stress.

But Michael did not push back too much once she promised to have security with her, given that Shaun was officially out on bail. Restraining order or not, she and Michael were not interested in testing whether Shaun would adhere to it. She let Michael pick and vet the guy, who came highly recommended.cHis accolades included knowing more than an acceptable amount of ways to kill someone with his bare hands so she could not deny she would feel more safe in his presence. And the theater security and box office had been alerted and prepped to ensure her ex did not step foot on the premises again. And he no longer, thankfully, even had a legitimate reason to, Chris letting her know he had been fired from his investment firm immediately after the news broke.

Charlotte knew she would not know real peace or be able to fully move on until he was behind bars, which the DA warned could take a year given the docket unless he accepted a plea. But she would accept the small wins and forms of justice that she could get, she knew it was far more than many in her position would ever see.

As she pulled her outer layers and hat off, she got a glimpse of her hair in the mirror.

“Ugh.”

“What?”

“My hair… How can you stand to look at me like this? I look like a troll doll. I’m gonna have to go to the salon or pay someone to come and wash it. I look crusty as hell.”

“How about we relax in the bath and I’ll wash it for you?”

Her face lit up. She remembered when they talked about a similar scene in Creed, the intimacy of helping Bianca do her hair. Her heart swelled at the idea of recreating such a moment. The role of victim and caregiver over the last few days had stripped a layer of emotional intimacy the pair was accustomed to. She knew it would come back eventually but she hoped, perhaps, this small act would speed things up a bit.

“Really?”

He gestured toward the bedroom, taking her hand to get ready for the tub.

Soon, she found herself resting against Michael’s chest in the bath, bubbles surrounding both of them. He did all the work, his fingertips softly massaging shampoo and conditioner in her tresses, Charlotte could’ve fallen to sleep right there.

“Can I ask you something?” Her soft voice breaking the silence between them as Michael worked diligently and carefully to avoid causing her pain. It had been on her mind since they got home, stationed at the forefront for the hours and hours she spent resting or recovering in his arms. Several days removed, the shock had worn off for both of them, she felt like enough time had passed to finally talk about things unrelated to what happened or her safety. They could talk about the future, one she prayed to God she did not completely destroy.

“Shoot.” He took note of the nervousness in her voice. He did not know what she could be about to ask him, what could cause her to be nervous. He was an open book.

“At the hospital… you said you wanted to marry me…” her voice grew quiet, one of her legs drawing into her chest. “Did you mean that? Do you still mean that? Or was it just, you know, you caught up in the emotion of everything?”

His massaging stilled for a moment before he answered, “Yes, yes, and no.” Simple and to the point as he resumed his task.

He could feel her body relax against him again at his answers.

“You don’t wanna elaborate on any of those answers?”

He laughed. “Nah cause it’s pretty cut and dry to me. I’m pretty set on spending the rest of my life with you.”

And that was not him just trying to assure her, it was the truth. He knew in his soul Charlotte was the end game for him well before they went on their first date. He had just been waiting for her to catch on. And once she did, every step he had taken since, including this move to New York, was with the intention of spending every day of the rest of his life with her.

“Even after all this? After I lied to you?”

Michael knew she still felt guilty. Between the two of them, there was much guilt to go around in their household over the last 72 hours. Some of it was fair and some of it was not. But just as he was trying to work through his own guilt, he did not want Charlotte to continue to hold onto hers when he had forgiven her.

“Els, I meant it when I said I forgive you. And when I say somethin’, I mean that shit. Stop beating yourself up over it. I’ve loved you since the moment you walked into the studio for our screen test. And I’ve just fell more and more in love with you with every passing day. All of this changed nothing for me, except reminding me that whatever time we have together, I don’t wanna waste it.”

Her hands played in the tall bubbles of the bath as she contemplated his words.

“That been on your mind since I said it?”

“Yea,” she admitted. “You know, all my time in bed gave me lots of time to ruminate,” she chuckled lightly. “It’s just… I mean we just have never talked about marriage a-and the long-term stuff. I mean and I get it, we haven’t even been together a year. But w-when you said that, it made me really happy because I feel the same about you. B-But then I just… you know, obsessed over it for the last three days wondering if all this changed your mind or made you question whether I’m the person you wanna spend the rest of your life with.”

“Nah, I would’ve married you after our first date if I could’ve.”

Charlotte chuckled and shook her head, small droplets of water spraying everywhere. “We would’ve been skipping about 10 steps there. I want a proposal,” she laughed. “Knowing you, it’ll be something sentimental that makes me break down in tears.”

Thank God she could not see the giant smirk that fell on his face.

“And a big wedding, I assume?”

Charlotte tilted her head as if to contemplate. She knew he expected the answer to be yes, after all most girls dream of a grand wedding. But that had never been her. “Honestly? I was never the girl to dream about the big princess wedding… just the prince,” she teased.

Michael ran a comb through a section of hair, working to detangle it. He was trying to be as gentle as possible, knowing her head still hurt, which meant the whole endeavor took longer than it should have.

“Am I living up to the childhood fantasy?” He asked.

“My wildest dreams couldn’t have conjured you up.”

“I aim to please.” He kissed her shoulder.

“I don’t even really care about planning it. I had to endure J and Lauren’s wedding planning and whew… miserableeee. And they couldn’t even enjoy the day that much. I dunno, I don’t want to be more worried about whether some elaborate affair is going according to plan instead of actually enjoying my wedding day? I wanna be celebrating our love and the first day of our life together. I mean yea, I want a wedding of some sort but it could have 25 people in your backyard. As long as I’m in a drop dead gorgeous dress and you’re waiting on me at the end of the aisle, I honestly don’t need or care about anything else. I’d be fine with a big one if you want one but someone else’s gotta plan it.”

“I’ve never put much thought into my wedding so you won’t get much argument outta me. I would push back on the backyard thing though. Maybe a small destination wedding or a small venue in LA, something like that.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Speaking of destinations,” he mentioned, shifting gears of the conversation. If they went too much farther down this road, Michael would find a wedding planner to plan a small intimate ceremony for next week. “I think we’ll both finally have some time off in September when you finish here. Let me take you on a trip.”

“Oooo you tryin’ to fly ya girl out?” Michael rolled his eyes at her antics. “Where would you want to go?”

Michael immediately shook his head. His sweet girl was the opposite of decisive. She would let Michael make every decision if she could. And this time, he wanted to go where she wanted to go.

“Nahhh ma, it isn’t to celebrate me. It’s for you. Where do you want to go?”

“It should also be to celebrate us both… a bit delayed sure but we never really did anything to celebrate Creed. That’s your first big leading man blockbuster.” She flipped the script on him.

“Fine, it can be to celebrate us both but you still need to pick.”

“I really hate you,” she laughed. “Well, at least, help me narrow it down. What kind of vacation vibe would you want?”

“Preferably somewhere relaxing where I can have you naked or only in a bikini for most of the trip.”

She could not hide the sly grin on her face at his words, the heat that rose throughout her entire body. She forced the feeling to dampen. They had not had sex yet and given how the other night went, she imagined Michael would pump the brakes again. She understood, but she did not want to deal with the rejection again.

“The Caribbean is an option but September is dead in the middle of hurricane season, so we’d have to be ok with it being canceled potentially.” Michael smiled, he was never one to consider weather patterns before traveling. He barely checked the weather before he stepped outside each day. But of course, Charlotte would think about that. “We could do something like a spot along the Mediterranean? Or something like that. I’ve been wanting to go back to the Amalfi Coast but maybe we should go somewhere we both haven’t been?”

He learned something new about his girl every day. “When did you go there?”

“My first birthday after Shaun… My family surprised me with a vacation there. I had spent most of that whole first year miserable and in bed. The first six months were the hardest. But by the time my birthday came around, I was starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel but still wasn’t there. I was in therapy and still struggling to find me in all of it? And I was just really depressed so the trip was supposed to cheer me up a bit. Lauren, Jazz, one of our other friends, Chelsea, and I all went. And we had a ball,” Michael could feel her entire body light up as she spoke, as if the mere memories of that trip were fuel and power.

“We just ate and drank and ate some more and swam and went on boat rides and just… lived. God, it was the first time I felt uninhibited happiness and relaxation in years. It was kinda my Eat, Pray, Love moment as corny as that is,” she admitted. “One morning, I got up super early and went down to the beach by myself while we were in this town, Ravello. I had this necklace he gave me for my last birthday. Hideous, gaudy silver thing I’d never pick or wear myself. But I couldn’t let it go and clung to that stupid thing since the break up. Anyway, I watched the sun rise and I realized that I’d never be me again. The me before him was dead and gone. But I also realized that maybe that wasn’t a bad thing? Cause the me before him needed that necklace as proof that someone loved me, no matter how hideous and awful that love was. The me before him and during him needed any type of love, no matter the cost of it. And that part of me needed to die. So, instead of trying to resurrect the old me, I decided I would reconnect with the things that made me happy and forge something new. And then I ran into the water and tossed that terrible necklace into the sea. And then I regretted polluting the sea with something that was definitely not biodegradable,” Michael’s deep baritone filled her ears with laughter. “So long way of saying, it just represents new beginnings to me in some way. So even if we don’t go this time around, I’d want to go back with you at some point. But I’d honestly be fine with anywhere as long as I’m with you. So why don’t you just surprise me?”

“Fine. Don’t think I don’t realize you’re using my love of surprises against me.”

She turned and winked at him before he helped her stand and get in the shower to effectively rinse out all of the products. Their afternoon of hair styling continued as she sat between his legs on the couch, Avengers playing on the tv as he moisturized and styled her hair. She savored the help, she hated dealing with her mane of hair. And the intimacy it had created was exactly as she had hoped. And he did an excellent job. Though she could tell his arms were exhausted by the time he finished tying her scarf around her clean and moisturized curls and coils into a pineapple on the top of her head.

“You could’ve been a hairstylist in another life.”

“You didn’t tell me it was such a work out. Boxing didn’t hurt my arms this much,” he laughed.

“Well when you’re prepping for Creed 2 and wanna help me with my hair for extra arm training, let me know. I quite enjoyed not dealing with it for once.”

Her injuries made it difficult to cuddle on the couch as they wanted so Charlotte laid with her head on his lap, his hand resting on her arm as they watched the movie.

“Can I ask you something?” This time it was Michael’s turn, a question that had been on his mind for longer than a few days. He did not know if now was the right time or if there’d ever be a right time. And he did not expect an answer but he wanted her to know he would listen if she was ready to ever share it.

“Of course.”

“And you don’t gotta answer if you don’t want to. But you never told me… what made you finally decide to leave? Was it whatever you dreamed about that night you got sick?”

Charlotte’s eyes clenched shut. It was always a delicate balance. What of Shaun’s brutality to share and what not to. But she knew this was one of those things, the things she needed to learn to trust Michael specifically with. He was home and home was where you could bare it all… your whole soul. He asked and she would answer, no more hiding.

“There’s a lot I haven’t told you about him. I mean a lot of it was the same old same. But somethings, I said I’d never tell anyone, Jackson, Lauren… even you. A-and that nightmare, it was bad, don’t get me wrong. Definitely made the ‘the CIA couldn’t get this out of me,’ shortlist. But the breaking point was, he saw me talking to a reporter after a show one night and thought I was cheating, God he accused me of cheating like twice a week, which just made me so upset. We argued all the way home. He asked me if I wanted to leave him a-and in my frustration and anger, I told him he wasn’t giving me many reasons to stay. Looking back, it was a real stupid thing to say, like pouring gasoline on a fire. But I w-was just so tired, tired of feeling like I was killing myself every day to be perfect and love him and getting so much pain thrown back at me. When we got home, he beat me. T-that wasn’t the bad part, that was par for the course. But then… he dragged me out onto our 11th story balcony. He picked me up and threatened to throw me off until I swore I’d never leave.”

She watched as his entire body stiffened, his fists clenching with anger. She wanted to offer him some assurance, something to ease the feelings that brewed but there was not really anything that could be said. That story and her life just were what they were, upsetting and enraging and all.

“He played God with my life for a few minutes, though it felt like an eternity, my body balancing on the railing like a rag doll with only him holding me there. There was one point, I tipped so far back, I actually thought he had let go and I s-saw my whole life flash before my eyes. I always thought people were being dramatic when they said that. But it’s true. Like a movie in fast forward and all I saw was every mistake that led me to that moment. When he was satisfied that I had begged for my life enough, he let me down and drug me back inside to finish the night. He knew I didn’t have much fight left in me after that,” she whispered, her hand wiping a tear. “Ugh,” she could not contain the groan of frustration at her own emotions. She hated that he still had this effect on her. “I don’t know why I’m crying over this o-old shit,” she shook her head. “He doesn’t deserve it. A-anyway, I decided that the next day that I had to leave or I’d d-die. I made a p-plan and left a week later.”

“I’m sorry, honeybee.” There were no other words he could offer, though those sounded inadequate in the space. With every story she told him, he felt like a layer of the complex onion that was her peeled back. “I should’ve killed him,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. And it was true. The fact that he still drew breath was enraging, another thing he felt guilty for. For not ending the monster that haunted her.

Charlotte reached over and grabbed his hand, their fingers interlocking. “Your soul is too good to be tainted by him. Besides, you did quite a number on him from what I heard. I didn’t know you had hands like that in real life, baby Creed,” she teased, thankful her joke caused a small smile to grace his features. “God, I wish I could’ve seen it… Saying that makes me feel like a terrible person,” her head fell into her hand, propped up against the back of the couch. “But j-just to see him, for once, feel a fraction of what I felt. Feels like a bit of justice for it all.”

“That doesn’t make you a terrible person. You’re far from a terrible person. If he dropped dead tomorrow, you would be justified if you threw a damn party. Hell, I would throw a party and I only met him once. You’re allowed to want justice for all of it.”

“Thanks.” She shifted, bringing her feet under her. “You know what’s crazy about it? I always regretted him… Regretted meeting him, agreeing to that first date, staying through all of that. B-but the last couple days, I’ve been thinking about my life right now… the last few months are the first time that I’ve felt like I was at home, like I know who I am and my soul is at peace. It’s pretty damn good. A little damaged around the edges, sure, but still so amazing that… If I had to go back and do it all again, I know in my soul I-I’d walk that same jagged path through all the pain, a-and landmines, and everything else if it was what I needed to do to end up here again, if it meant I would find home again.”

“And where’s home?” his voice was quiet as if he was worried the answer would not be what he expected, as if he were afraid to hear it.

Charlotte tilted her head to study him, her hand going to cup his cheek, the scruff of his beard tickling her palm.

“You.”

Waves of guilt crashed over him, causing a tear to fall. The first one he had shed since the hospital. Charlotte whisked it away with her thumb.

“Not feelin’ like I deserve that right now. You were in trouble and I didn’t even see it till it was too late. I never should’ve left you here. I couldn’t even keep you safe. What kinda fuckin’ home is that?”

The guilt in his voice broke her heart. She moved, slowly and stiffly, but moved to slide into his lap. Her hands rested on his shoulders as she looked at him.

“Look at me.” It was her turn to demand as he so often did, demand that he overcome the guilt and shame that forced his eyes away from hers. She knew it was difficult, had struggled to find his eyes too many times for fear she would see confirmation of her guilt, her shame, her unworthiness. But it was never there and he would not find that in her eyes today either.

“Every single time I’ve ever needed you, you were right on time. This was no exception. The truth is, you’ve been keeping me safe since the day I met you. I was so lost before I met you. I-I had healed my heart a-and my mind and my body as best I could. But my soul, I had vowed never to let someone so close to it again, had boarded it up with walls so high it would be impossible to let someone in again. To let someone see me again. And that was fuckin’ lonely,” she admitted. “A-and exhausting to force myself to keep my guards up like that, to deny everything I’d always wanted… a partner who saw me in my entirety and loved me for all of it. But I did it b-because it w-was better than the alternative. A-And then I met you. And you instantly knew the me I hid from everyone, you knew my soul and what it needed to finally mend. And you slowly but surely broke down every wall and barrier I had fought so hard to keep up so you could ensure I got what I needed, a safe place to land. And every day since, you’ve seen my soul in its entirety, all its light and darkness, its hopes and fears, its permanently damaged pieces and those that’ve healed. And you’ve loved me beyond my wildest dreams for it all. You are my peace and my solace and my safety every moment… that is the best home I could’ve ever hoped for.”

She wiped her tears that fell before offering. “He w-wanted me to deny t-that. Before he…” she lifted her own eyes to the ceiling as she re-lived that moment. “Told me it was him or no one, wanted me to tell him I would c-choose him. And I couldn’t. It’s insane,” she acknowledged. “And I knew you’d p-probably tell me just to lie to save myself. But I couldn’t deny what I’ve known to be true since we kissed in your apartment in Philly. You are it for me. You are my choice every day, every time, no matter.”

His lips crashed against hers, his arms wrapping around her tightly to pull her into his chest. Michael knew the depths of Charlotte’s love for him without a doubt. And he loved receiving a tear-inducing speech about it as much as he enjoyed doling them out on her. However, to know that, even in what could’ve been her last moments, she chose to love him loudly and unapologetically, hit his soul harder than he had ever experienced before.

No more words passed between them, each touch was a silent declaration of love between them that they did not have the words to capture. The day had laid them both bare in a way they had never experienced before or expected. And it was not their trauma guiding them, it was pure love. A desire and need to connect mind, body, and soul.

“You want… need me to stop?” He whispered as she sucked on the soft skin of his neck. In his heart, he knew the answer before the words left his mouth. He could tell in her movements that stopping would be near impossible this time. But he had to check, had to double check before they went down this road.

She immediately shook her head. Charlotte’s brain was mush, a complete fog of desire, need, and pleasure as she kissed every inch of exposed skin she could find. She had never yearned for a person as much as she yearned for the man beneath her. She wanted everything, all of him. She knew now, in hindsight, that the first night, she had wanted him for all the wrong reasons. And she was grateful that he, once again, saved her from herself. But now, in this moment, she wanted to feel him, feel his gentle touch and caress, and savor every moment of his love for her. And she wanted him to feel her, not her brokenness and fear, but the life pumping through her veins, the love she held for him, that he was her choice.

“No,” she whispered back, he was thankful to hear that word leave her lips. “Do you wanna stop?”

“Not this time.”

“Good.”

Michael immediately wrapped his hands behind her thighs and hoisted her up to carry her into their bedroom. She let him guide her to their bed, laying her down gently as he removed both of their clothes. Charlotte instinctively wanted to shrink up and cover herself, hyper aware of the bruises that littered her form.

Sensing her thoughts, Michael immediately leaned over her and started to press his lips to each one, gentle and lingering kisses on every cut, scrap, and bruise that sent jolts of electricity through her form. A silent but touching reminder that she survived and told her he did not care how they looked. He worked his way down her body slowly but this time it was not the usual teasing he liked to do. He simply wanted to savor every second of it.

He handled her with such care, as if she were perfectly sculpted glass that would shatter if he pushed too hard, too fast. She was not fragile, he knew that. She was strong and powerful. But her wounds were fresh. Fresh enough that he used every moment to assure her that his touch was different, would never hurt her as he had, and would never treat her body and soul with such pain and callousness. It had taken great restraint not to taste her or bury himself inside her the last few days, to be as close to her as he could, feel the life pumping in her veins. But she needed time and so did he, to reckon with what they both almost lost.

He could feel the frenzy beneath him as he worked, her body writhing with silent pleas that begged for more. But he did not want to rush. He remembered their first time, slow and measured as he took her apart piece by piece. He understood the impulse to rush but they had time, he kept reminding himself. Time with each other.

He returned to her lips, a quiet directive to slow down landing on her ears.

“Slow down, baby,” he muttered, “Slow down.” Their foreheads rested against each other as he forced her to take a breath.

“I need…” her words trailed off as she whimpered, her fingers twisted in the soft fabric of his t-shirt as if he’d turn to dust before her eyes if she let go of him. Her eyes searched his for understanding, that he knew exactly what she so desperately needed.

“I know, I know.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek, her head leaning into it to find his lips again. “Hey, hey. Look at me.” Their eyes connected, brimming with tears as she took in his undying love for her. “We’re both here, safe and sound, and no one’s going anywhere. I promise. Let me take care of you.”

At her nods, he resumed his touching until he found himself at the treasure trove between her thighs, her flower dripping and begging to be touched by the man she loved. And that was all he needed as he spread her legs and wrapped his lips around her bud.

Charlotte’s back immediately arched off the bed as he feasted on her. It had only been days but she had missed the feeling of his tongue on her and inside her. He spelled out his love for her in gentle caresses that made her head spin.

She melted against his mouth like chocolate, her cries of pleasure crescendoing with every movement of his skilled tongue.

“That’s it baby, let me hear you.” He slid two fingers inside of her, increasing the sensations that already threatened to overwhelm her.

Charlotte felt as if her body was in overdrive. Her hips rocked to meet every thrust of his hand, her thighs clamped around his head as he feasted on her. It did not matter how many times his mouth found its way to her core, he managed to reduce her to a mewling puddle begging for more, every time.

And usually, she let him stay between her thighs as long as he wanted, pulling out as many climaxes as he could. But this time, she needed more. She knew he wanted to take his time, take her apart and put her back together. But she could not wait. Her soul could not wait. She needed to feel him inside her. So much had been taken from her, so much had left her feeling empty in this life until Michael. Michael filled her up where her past and present trauma only drained her. And right now, she wanted to be filled. The emptiness ached and she wanted to be filled to the brim and overflow.

She pulled him from between her thighs, bringing his lips to hers. She relished in the taste of herself but only for a moment before she whispered.

“I need you. Inside me. I c-can’t… can’t wait,” she panted. “W-we have all night b-but I need to feel you now.”

He acquiesced, the vulnerability in her voice more than enough to forgo his original plan.

He kept her eyes on his as he thrust inside of her slowly. Charlotte moaned at the delicious stretch he always provided. Months, it had been months since she first felt that stretch and it still caused a gasp to escape her lips, her eyes to see stars, and every thought in her head to shatter.

“J-Just like that,” she whimpered, all her senses squarely focused on him and the pleasure he graciously provided. All she could feel was the sparks of bliss at the end of every stroke and the trail of fire that marked where his hands roamed as he explored her body. All she could hear were the symphony of their moans, his deep grunts as he fucked her and her screams of pleasure. All she could see were his brown eyes, a look in them that made her own eyes mist with tears. She did not know why she was crying, whether it be from the intense pleasure or the look in his eye, a look that no man before him had ever given her, a look she would have never deemed herself worthy of. The look of pure love and adoration.

Michael’s hips drove into her over, a primal growl escaping him as her muscles clenched around him repeatedly as he curved into her g-spot, their bodies made for each other. His eyes never left hers with every push forward and retreat.

As he pulled out every trick he could think of to please her, pour his love into her, Michael could not help but think about how he almost lost this. How he almost lost her. He had plans for this insanely beautiful woman beneath… plans to grow old with her, to celebrate every milestone and moment of his life and hers together, to build a life and family with her. And all of it could’ve been gone. He had never experienced this before, a year ago he could not even convince Charlotte to go out on a date with him but now? He could not fathom his life without her. And that brief moment where he had to consider such a life… it had shattered him in ways he never knew a person could be shattered.

“I love you,” his voice shook as tears sprang to his eyes. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

“I-I l-love… you,” she moaned back, her words choppy and broken between her pants and moans.

His mind drifted to the ring that he kept stashed in his bedside table, hidden in a box he knew Charlotte would never bother to open or examine closely. A ring he had started to design the day after that gala, the night she told him about her ex and decided to overcome her fears to choose him.

He knew she did not believe him when he said he had known he wanted to marry her since then. It sounded far-fetched, he recognized, to know that so early. Afterall, his friends called him foolish for designing and buying a ring for a woman who rejected him mere months prior. “Take your time,” they had all cautioned. “Make sure she is what you want.” But Charlotte was the one thing, the only thing, in this universe that he did not need time to consider, that he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he wanted. And he used this moment, every second spent in her sanctuary to show her how deeply his love for her ran, past his mind, past his heart. He loved her with every fiber of his soul.

“You know how beautiful you are?” He asked as he draped her legs over his shoulder and leaned over to rest his forehead against hers. Charlotte gasped at the angle, he had not changed his pace one bit but this position allowed him to reach the depths of her pleasure center. Those tears she had kept in now spilled over as his words filled her heart and he filled her body with every stroke. That ache of emptiness? Gone. She was overflowing. “Do you know how much… I love you?”

She cried out, unable to form real words or thoughts beyond obscenities and his name, which flowed without thought from her lips.

“I’ll spend every day of my life loving you, keeping you safe. There’s nothing in this world I won’t do for you, Els. Nothing. ” His word was punctuated by a particularly deep thrust that turned Charlotte into a babbling mess as she came. “That’s it, baby. Cum for me.”

“More. Harder. Everything you have, please,” her voice was strained, trying to speak while her body calmed down again. She understood his gentleness, appreciated it. But now, she wanted to feel him in the depths of her bones. She was his and she wanted to feel that in every ounce of her being.

Michael helped her flip over onto her stomach, this time instructing her to hold onto the headboard so she did not have to lay on the bed. He allowed her a moment to situate herself in the position he so enjoyed. He still practiced some restraint, refusing to unleash his usual power onto her still healing body. But he loosened the reins just enough to give her what she wanted and needed.

There was nothing slow about how he rammed into her, her body thrusting forward with every delicious slam of his hips into hers. She was thankful he thought of the headboard, giving her the leverage laying face down on the bed would not have and protecting her bruises.

“Yes! Y-Yes! T-thank you,” she moaned out as he fucked her with abandon. She surrendered to the pleasure, her screams bouncing off the walls as he made her cum again and again and again.

He took her in any and every position that would not cause her pain. He buried his face between her legs and feasted off of her before plunging into her again, Charlotte allowing her body to be at his mercy. They had all night and all the time in the world and she wanted him to use every moment of it.

***

When Charlotte stirred again, she glanced over to find Michael sound asleep next to her. It was still dark outside, the clock reading 4:30 am. She laid there for a few moments, letting the soft sounds of Michael’s soft snores fill her ears. She turned and watched him for a few moments, the steady rise and fall of his chest. As she listened to him, the final part of a song she had been writing swelled in her heart. And when the pen called her, she did not dare ignore it. As quietly as she could, she climbed out of their bed and wrapped herself in her robe.

She tiptoed out of their room and into the living room, grabbing her pen and notebook before retreating to the balcony of their apartment. She had rarely been out here, her own fear of them and the frigid New York winters keeping her from enjoying this one feature of their home. But tonight, not even her past or the cold chill could send her back inside. She curled up in a blanket in one of the chairs as she listened to the bustling sounds of the city fill her ears.

It did not matter what time of day it was, New York City was always awake, always moving, always alive. Her lungs breathed in as much of the frigid air as they could before she breathed it back out. She knew she could not stay out there too long, it was freezing. But she also knew this was the only spot her singing would not wake up her sleeping boyfriend.

Baby, the sound of you

Better than a harmony

I want you off my mind

And on me

Holding me closer than we've ever been before

This ain't a dream

You're here with me

Boy, it don't get no better than you

For you, I wanna take my time

All night

She closed her eyes, curled in a small ball, as her siren song filled the night sky though she knew no one but her and God would ever hear it. But that was fine, she preferred it. This was just for her, just for her to commemorate the love she found and was grateful to God for.

I wanna love you in every kind of way

I wanna please you, no matter how long it takes

If the world should end tomorrow and we only have today

I'm gonna love you in every kind of way

Give you all, give you all of me

Her eyes only opened at the faint creaks of a door, surprised to find Michael standing in the doorway of the balcony as she finished the last line. However, as she started to stand and finish singing, he shook his head.

“Don’t stop. I wanna hear you.”

And so she continued, this time, her eyes on his as she finished her song, the second verse she had been struggling with flowing from her lips as if it had lived in her heart all along.

When you need it

'Cause I need it

I wanna fall like your favorite season

I'll never get up

Stay here forever, babe

It don't get no better than this

Your kiss

I wanna love you in every kind of way

I wanna please you, no matter how long it takes

If the world should end tomorrow and we only have today

I'm gonna love you in every kind of way

I wanna love you in every kind of way

I wanna please you, no matter how long it takes

If the world should end tomorrow and we only have today

I'm gonna love you in every kind of way

When she was finished, she sat up in the chair and glanced at him.

“I’m sorry, thought going out here wouldn’t wake you.”

He shook his head. “Bed’s cold without you, went looking for you and heard your voice. Wanted to hear you.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you heard it… it was about you anyway,” she winked. “Back to bed?”

“Umm… before we g-go,” he stammered slightly, Charlotte surprised to find a nervous energy suddenly surrounding him. He was usually so confident and assured, nervous was a rare emotion on him. “I have something for you.” He meandered to the balcony railing, standing directly in front of her before he pulled out the arm that he had bent behind his back, a small black velvet box in his hand.

“You didn’t need to get me anything,” she offered with a small smile. If he had not been so nervous, he would have laughed at how she missed the obvious. The size of the box really only lent itself to one thing and she had not picked up on it yet. “Though I’m sure it’s beautiful.”

He slid the box into her hand, Charlotte expecting to find a necklace or pair of earrings or something small nestled in the luxury box. However, all the wind seemed to knock out of her as she opened to find a sparkling and mesmerizing engagement ring, a giant pear shaped diamond set in the center with elegant but subtle diamonds nestled in the rose gold band around it. It was simple and yet, the most gorgeous ring she had ever seen in her life.

She glanced up from the box to find Michael in front of her on one knee. Every question that rose to her lips immediately vanished, caught in her throat as shock swept all of her senses. Her heart was beating so hard, she wondered if it was possible for it to beat straight out of her chest.

“A-are you serious? I-If this is j-just a dream…” she whispered, her eyes moving to the sky as if she was talking to God.

“N-No, this is real. Charlotte, I’ve loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you. Every day, you love me with your whole being. You support my dreams, however far fetched and foolish they may seem, you push me to be the best man I can be. Not just for you and my family but for myself. With you, I’ve always been right at home. Falling in love with you is both the greatest decision of my life and the easiest one I’ve ever made. And every day, I thank God for bringing you and your beauty, your laugh, your spirit into my life. I don’t know what the future looks like, I don’t know how much time we have with each other. But I know that I want to spend every moment of my life loving you and being loved by you. So, this is me being sentimental and making you break down in tears,” he joked to their earlier conversations. “Charlotte Elsbeth Bennet, will you marry me?”

Charlotte’s breathing was choppy as she took in his words. Tears flowed earnestly as she tried to form a sentence.

“M-Michael… God I love you so much. B-But are you s-sure about this? I k-know with everything that’s happened… W-we haven’t even been together for a year. Are you s-sure I’m what you want?”

“I’ve had this ring for months… I started designing it the day after the gala last summer. I was waiting for the perfect moment, wanting to plan the perfect proposal for you back in LA. But what happened reminded me that I don’t want to waste our time planning perfect or ideal moments. I just want to live in all those moments with you, by my side. All day, something kept pulling me to this ring, telling me that this was our moment. And I think it’s because our best moments, the realest ones for us, are just us… being us, comfortable and safe with each other. No planning, no overthinking, no obsessing. Just being home with each other. So here I am, unsure about so much, the future and where this life will take me and us. But this moment,” his hand rubbed her knee, her face covered by both her hands as she quietly cried. “This decision is the surest I’ve ever been in my life. I am sure about you. I’ve never been so certain that you were the woman for me. Marry me.”

Charlotte immediately launched herself from her seat and into his arms, the small box still wrapped tightly in her hand as she held him.

“I love you so much,” she whispered before kissing him, her body resting on his bent knee.

“I love you too…” he paused, realizing he never actually heard the magic word. “So is that a yes… or?”

She let out a watery laugh. “A million times, yes! Yes, yes, yes!” The box fell in her lap as she cupped his face in her hands. “ Now you’re really stuck with me, Mr. Jordan.” she teased as her hands wiped the tears that flowed earnestly from her eyes.

He took the box from her and slid the ring on her finger, his heart swelling at how she admired the piece. She was not much of a jewelry wearer so he went for a ring that was simple, one she would not mind wearing every day, but was worthy of her hand.

He wiped a tear from his eye and chuckled. “Good, that’s what I was hoping for. Mrs. Jordan has a nice ring to it.” He pressed his lips to her ring finger. His deep baritone filled the cold air as he let out an excited yell, standing and spinning Charlotte around. “Wanna go to the courthouse tomorrow?”

“Slow downnnnn. Another surprise this week might actually kill me,” she laughed. “Anndddd I wanna be my usual flawless self for our wedding photos,” she gestured toward her bruised face.

“You’re always flawless to me.”

“Alright I already said yes, don’t lay it on so thick,” she offered in jest, causing him to pepper her face with kisses.

“Well how about I take you back to bed and warm you up and I can make you say yes a couple more times?”

She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, “I think I’d rather you make me scream it.”

“Oh that was always the plan.”

And before she knew it, Michael had her on her back, their hands interlaced on the pillow as he made her scream that beautiful word over and over again until the sun came up.

Tag List: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings @pipsqueak-98 @miyuhpapayuh @passionxwrites @gopaperless @injerafiend

A/N: Our babiesssssss!! I went back and forth on the proposal scene for a while lol and this just felt right so I hope you all enjoyed it! Every Kind of Way by HER is one of my favorite songs. This is not the end of our story buttttt we are getting close. Just three or four more chapters to go.

Drop a comment and let me know what you think/let me know if you want to be tagged!

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #michael b jordan x reader #creed 3 #black panther #michael b jordan fanfic #adonis creed #creed iii #mbj fanfic #mbjedit #michael b jordan smut

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ravenelyx · 1 year

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Since I dont think it'll be ready tonight, here's a work in progress <3

Arranged Heartbreak - Sebastian Sallow x Fem! Reader

(not edited yet)

Taglist is open

This is now finished so:

LINK TO THE COMPLETE FF

The first time Sebastian truly realised his feelings for her was during their sixth year.

He sat in the dorm with Ominis, the latter immersed in yet another book about feminism: the only books he had read since the disagreement.

Not that he had much choice, because as soon as Sebastian noticed the pages running short in the blond’s alabaster hand, he would go and fetch him yet another book from the same section.

“Do it for me.” The brunet always said, and Ominis had no idea what exactly that did for him.

Nor did he know if the world-weary sighs coming from his fellow Slytherin were directed at how slowly he was reading this last book or at something else entirely.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” He finally asked, putting his own red-glowing-and-not-in-a-knot wand down and closing the book.

“Nothing.” Said the other boy nonchalantly, as if his suspires hadn’t become gradually louder in an attempt to annoy the blond enough to make him pay attention to him.

“Is it her?”

Ah, of course he knew.

“No.”

But Ominis knew exactly what he was getting at, and frankly was done with his antics, so he decided to ignore him again.

Sebastian’s eye twitched at the silence, until he let out a loud groan. “Fine. Yes.” He yielded, letting his hands fall loudly on the mattress for good measure. “It’s her.”

“What about it?” The Gaunt boy asked tiredly, expecting Sebastian to go on a tangent on how she had bested him at Defence Against the Dark Arts again. But Sebastian’s mind was too preoccupied to care about his reputation as the best duellist in the school.

“I want to court her.”

Ominis stopped in his tracks, his pearly eyes widening as his friend’s words sank in.

"You... you want to court her?" he asked, his heart skipping a beat.

Of course, he knew that the Sallow boy had shown some… softness around the new student. And that he seemed to think of her with higher regard than others. But never would he have imagined the words ‘Sebastian Sallow’ and ‘courting’ in the same sentence — unless he thought of him as best-man for his sister Anne.

Still, despite the seemingly distressed state of his friend, he couldn’t help but tease him as good mates usually do. "After seeing how you two interact, she'd chew you up and spit you out, then curse you for not having done better. Still, I suppose it's the thought that counts.” He said with a smile in his voice. “I won't dissuade you from pursuing her... just maybe think twice before you do, alright?"

"Well... thank you, it's good to know you have my back." Sebastian scoffed sarcastically. "Are you sure you're not trying to dissuade me from having her so you could woo her yourself? I thought I had your blessing.”

Ominis couldn't help but give an amused laugh at his statement. "Not even I can play that dirty, Sebastian. If that's what you want, I won't stop you; I'm just warning you not to set your heart on it if you can't handle the rejection. Not only is she beautiful, according to your words, but she's smart and quick-witted, too: not an easy combination to win over."

“If my attempts at romancing her are anything like your attempts at getting her forgiveness, then I’ll surely be sporting that rejection soon.” Sebastian sighed loudly once more. “What should I do? Should I buy her flowers? Chocolate?”

“Flowers usually do the trick,” Ominis replied thoughtfully. “Perhaps you could get her something sweet as well.”

"But... But what are her favourite flowers? Or worse, what if she doesn't like flowers, or chocolate for that matter? What if she prefers white chocolate and I get her milk chocolate?" Sebastian was clearly starting to panic, and Ominis’ lungs couldn’t help but replicate those weary sighs, too.

"Does anyone really dislike flowers?" Ominis asked rhetorically. "I'm sure even if they're not her favourite, it'll show you're putting in effort. As for chocolate, I'm sure she'll forgive a little mistake. Just pick the best you can afford, and you'll do just fine. But," he added, a smile returning to his face, "you should try to get to know her tastes a little better first before you bring her any kind of gift. Have you not learnt anything during all this time you've been friends?"

“We don’t usually talk about flowers.” Sebastian replied indignantly.

“Right, right. You’re more keen on blasting each other to pieces in a duel. Both mental and physical.”

Sebastian smiled fondly.

“Or, to be precise, she blasts you.” Ominis added, amused.

Sebastian’s smile disappeared.

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fandom #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow x mc #harry potter fanfiction #sebastian sallow fic #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #wizarding world

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fromthepinnacle2thepit · 6 months

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cervi e consumo

hannibal lecter x reader

chapter 2: il sentiero

well you made it though your first session with Dr. Lecter! how will the second go?

a/n: song inspiration for this chapter: lacrimosa by mozart

hello!! i just wanna say thank you so much for reading. just a warning: this chapter contains descriptions of a panic attack and brief descriptions of a car accident with an animal. if this is something that might bother you i recommend doing what’s best for you mentally. enjoy!!

tags: @flow33didontsmoke

chapter 2: il sentiero

Your first session with Dr. Lecter had gone well. You were still a bit apprehensive as to what you might show the man so far, but he had given you lots to think on.

He truly impressed you so far. From what you could gather, he not only was incredibly intellectual, but also a man of philosophy. You could admire that. Hell, you already admired him. He seemed good at his profession. Already, he’d referenced the work of Dante.

“The path to paradise begins in hell, as Dante put once. Just as you right now are in low conditions in your mind, I have to imagine that we always have brighter places to work towards.” he had said, his deep voice rang clearly across the room.

You had thought about it, and he had been right. You’ve got to start somewhere, even if it’s hell. Though you felt dramatic for calling your current situation “hell”. You appreciated how well-read he was though. It had inspired you.

An hour later you were sitting with a copy of Dante’s Divine Comedy in your lap, weighing down on your legs. The cover had a painting behind the title and other writings on the cover. You scanned the faces that were shown, and in interest, made out two figures, staring at legs coming out of the ground. For such a classic renowned book, it sure did have a strange cover. But the wisdom in your psychiatrists words had inflicted a curiosity upon you that was deeper than any unsettled emotion.

The evening after your session wore on, and in time, you had fallen into a deep sleep.

Days passed slowly, and the pages of the book turned with your continuing progress. It took patience to get through. Both the days and the book. Your job flooded you with responsibilities and when you came home and opened the heavy book, you were faced with words that did take some effort to decipher, but soon you found comfort in the word-laden pages. You tried listening to his advice about how the path to paradise begins in hell. What could paradise have in store for you? How long would this path take? Why couldn’t you have just started halfway? What if this wasn’t hell, and your journey hadn’t begun, and things would only get worse? Anxious questions seemed to constantly flood your mind, attacking any means of traveling on said “path.” Throughout the next few days, when the questions occasionally became too much, you would think back to Dr. Lecter’s rich voice, the distinguished air of his room, his analytic chestnut eyes. And the thought that soon you’d be there again. All hope wasn’t lost for you. You had Dante, Dr. Lecter, and this so-called path to paradise. You’d been through a lot to even make it here. You would try this. You had to.

Before you knew it, you were once again in the refined waiting room. Music once again played softly and the receptionist seemed to be in the exact same nervous state she was in yesterday. This time as you sat you allowed yourself to study your surroundings a bit more. Your eyes focused more clearly on the paintings that adorned the walls, you allowed yourself to breathe in, the air smelling of books and something you couldn’t quite name. You allowed yourself to gain a less tense position than last time, though your hands fidgeted slightly in your lap and you couldn’t help but notice the pattern of your breathing and your heart. You were nervous. You usually were before sessions, it wasn’t something you were unaccustomed to. You knew though that as time went on, you would relax into things more, just as you had already.

“He’s ready to see you now,” the receptionist spoke suddenly. A pleasant smile was plastered on her face. You nodded at her and stood, crossing the waiting room to stand in front of the wooden door, just as you had the week before. You looked back at the receptionist. Her face was now turned back to her work but her eyes still held the smile from the moment before. The nervous energy that had encompassed her not too long ago suddenly seemed a lot less nervous. Maybe it was simply energy. Maybe she was simply passionate about her work. She didn’t seem unhappy. This made a smile begin to grow on your face too. You made a mental note to talk to her more next time.

Sounds from the other side of the door interrupted your thoughts. It sounded like footsteps against the wooden floor, heading towards you. And as if on cue, the door in front of you opened to leave you smiling at the face of your psychiatrist.

He looked about the same as the last time you’d seen him. The same well-styled earthy hair, paired with the earthy eyes, the charming smile. The one different thing about him was his suit. The one he wore today was a brown plaid one.

“Good evening,” he spoke and a part of you relaxed at hearing his soothing voice, “How do you do? Please, come in,”

You smiled and stepped past him, walking into the large tranquil office. It felt reassuring, in a strange way, to be back here. The quote about the path flashed through your mind.

“Good evening to you as well, Doctor,” you replied to the man and turned to give him a smile as he followed you through the doorway, “I’ve been quite well. And you?”

“I happen to have been the exact same,” he replied. Just as last time, he gestured to the two chairs in the middle of the room and you both made your way over to have a seat. Once again, your thoughts danced around how intimate the setting was. You appreciated it. His eyes studied you, and it now felt like a common thing to get the feeling he wanted you to speak. This time, you took the opportunity.

“I’ve begun reading The Divine Comedy, as you quoted it in our last session,” you said. For a moment, you wondered if you shouldn’t have said it. You weren’t sure why. It just felt personal, deep. You knew it was meant to though. You also couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment you were feeling or if it was the strange feeling of being open. Your eyes suddenly focused again on Dr. Lecter and for a brief instant you thought you might’ve seen interest flash across his features before he spoke.

“What a keen memory you have,” he replied. The way your last name formally slipped from his lips at the end of his praise made your lips quirk up in a slight smile, “You must tell me your thoughts on it,”

“It’s fascinating. I love finding the meaning in such complex words. It all gives me so much to think about. While I have not read too much of it yet, I do intend to continue,” you remarked.

“I must admit, I quite agree with you. The meanings and knowledge woven into such works are intellectual delicacies. It does one much good to take a bite,” he responded.

As the session carried on, you did your best to comprehend his thought-provoking words. It only made you want to read the book more. Your mind wandered back to it, even as the conversation had steadily drifted away from that topic a while ago. In between the continuing banter, the appealing idea of curling up with the book when you got home became a thought that was growing in prominence. You might light some candles, settle into bed, maybe get something to eat or drink. You pictured the how the world would look from your window. The way buildings would be soaked in shadows of the navy night, the way wind would trickle through leaves in quiet susurrus. The night would be pretty to drive home in. Stillness protruding from the trees around the roads that led to your home. The idea of such a pleasant evening was incipient in your head.

Your attention was about to return to Dr. Lecter, when a sudden memory flashed through your thoughts. Headlights on a dark road, the shining eyes of the deer, the sudden franticness, a sickening jolt of the moving vehicle, a gut-wrenching scream. The recollection instantly made your stomach drop in the most dreadful way. You felt as if you were back in that moment. Your heart began to race, an execrable gut-churning feeling of pure terror took place in your abdomen and stomach. Unbeknownst to you, your hands had begun to fidget in your lap. Your eyes fixed on one spot on the floor. The emotion of panic felt like it had taken over your entire being. The moment just kept replaying in your mind. You saw it, even worse, you felt it, over and over in your mind. You silently screamed for a way out, feeling desperate. Your breaths became short as you felt increasing horror in your chest, laboring your breathing with pressure. You just wanted to make it stop. You were scared. You wanted a way out. Stop. Stop. Stop. Please get me away from this.

Abruptly, something began to intrude on your distraught and terrified state. A voice began to make its way through your racing thoughts. It was a deep and rich voice, dusted with an accent. Taking a moment to hurriedly try to identify the voice, it was Dr. Lecter’s. He was saying your last name in that formal way he had a habit of saying it in. Your eyes darted to him, seeing that he was now crouched next to your chair. That calm demeanor was still on. He felt so far away, the memory playing over again in your mind. You felt your mind begin to delve back into the state it was in before. You faintly heard your name off his lips again.

“Look at me,” he firmly instructed. You felt like you couldn’t, as if you were frozen in your memories. Your name left his lips once more. “I must ask you to try and listen.”

You wrenched your eyes away from the spot on the floor, turning to him. Though your eyes were on him, you felt as if your mind was a million miles away. For an instant, with the help of his voice, you felt more stable. You tried your best to keep your eyes on him.

“You are safe, you are in my office. No harm will come to you here. No doubt you feel overwhelmed right now. Try to focus on your breathing, in and out,” with his words, you began to break through the wall of panic that had settled in your mind, “I assure you, your mind cannot immure you.”

The world around you slowly became present to you again as he spoke. He continued, and you listened, fighting away the emotion. Occasionally your eyes would squeeze shut and your abdomen would tense in fear, but Dr. Lecter’s voice would always pull you back to where you were. You focused on him, the comforting words that continued to leave his mouth, the way he pointed out things in his office to distract you. He spoke softly about some of the paintings, your eyes caught occasionally on the strokes of the paintbrush that had created images with swirling emotion. Like the state of your mind.

Eventually, your focus was more on him than it was the memory that had resurfaced. Parts of your face were still tinged with worry, and you didn’t feel all that comfortable with your posture, but it was better than you had felt minutes before. You didn’t notice the doctor had been silent until he spoke, your name leaving his lips in that formal way before he finished his question.

“I take it that what just occurred was quite an intense panic attack. Might I ask if you know what triggered it?”

“A memory,” you spoke, you watched as he gently rose and stepped back to his chair where he took a seat, “It’s not important now.”

You wished so badly to be able to tell the man about the memory, but felt if you got into it, you might get stuck in that well of emotion and never come out.

“What has the ability to bother us to that extent is of great importance.” Dr. Lecter replied smoothly. You noticed the way his eyes silently searched you, as if deciphering you like an ancient language. The man was perceptive. You wondered what exactly he was searching. Your body language, your mind, signs of another panic attack. At this thought, you took special notice of his own body language. His legs were crossed as they usually were and his chin was tilted upwards ever so slightly. His hands were folded neatly in his lap. Even after witnessing such a paroxysm of emotion as yours, he managed to stay calm and unalarmed. You couldn’t deny that it was impressive.

“Could I talk to you about it at our next session, Dr. Lecter? Extreme emotions like that seem like too much to handle at the moment,” you felt bad saying that, and worried it came across as rude. But at least it gave you something to plan for leading up to the next session.

“If that is what you feel will benefit you the most,” he said with the slightest nod of his head, “Though, never be afraid to feel. It is much more than a mortal burden. Emotions allow us to have such a scope of remarkable experiences. Those of us filled with vehemence are bestowed with one of the best human gifts and burdens. Do not be afraid of it.”

The formal concluding niceties occurred as you were left ruminating on his words. He had a point. Of course he did, he knew this stuff.

Eventually, you had both risen from your respective seats in the middle of the room and were beginning your walk to the door you would be exiting from. He opened the door for you, but you paused. Looking back a him and giving him a soft look you spoke.

“Thank you.” you said, you saw a spark of both pride and slight confusion glow in his eye, accompanied by a slight turn of his head.

“I’m your psychiatrist,” he said, your last name leaving his lips in that formal way you’d grown used to, “It’s my pleasure.”

You stepped out of his office and before you knew it, you were back in the chilly air of the night. You looked at the building you had just exited, seeing warm light glow from the rooms inside, a contrast from the dark sky overhead. Part of you wished to be back in his office. Bach playing softly in the background, surrounded by art and literature from times far passed, the doctor’s sophisticated and accented voice ringing clearly through the room.

You could get used to this.

And now, you had Dante waiting for you to read when you got home.

Your journey on the path had begun.

#hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter #pin’s fics #cervi e consumo fic #hannibal #nbc hannibal x reader

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tadpolesonalgae · 1 year

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Chapter 7

A/N: Please defer to warning section in Chapter 1

-Chapter 6- -Chapter 8-

At first, Cassian was surprised when he found himself in a bedroom rather than a dungeon. Almost relieved. But he was well aware of Azriel’s nastier streak, and knew to keep his guard up.

But now his shadows have him tied to a chair, all because he was too preoccupied by how he could still taste you and hadn’t been paying the Spymaster a sensible amount of attention.

“I don’t see why you’re being so pissy about it. She’s fine. And more importantly, she liked it,” Cass insists, subtly pulling against the shadows binding him. Better to try and thaw him while Rhys isn’t there to encourage him. The male isn’t much better when it comes to you.

Azriel glares at him from across the room, making the darkness tighten around Cassian’s chest. “You acted recklessly,” he says, voice deceptively soft, warning enough it has the hairs at the back of the Warlord’s neck raising. But he won’t back down.

“I made progress. You’re just jealous that it was me who did it. That I was the first to get between her legs.” Cassian makes a show of getting nice and comfy in the seat, spreading the stance of his legs ever so slightly. “You’ve never learned how to curb that envy of yours. And look where it’s gotten you.”

Azriel gives him a look of warning—he shouldn’t be pushing the Shadowsinger right now, but he can’t resist the challenge. “It’s thanks to you, you know,” he drawls softly, matching the quiet lilt of the Spymaster’s voice, edged with possessive fury. His brother goes still, attention piercing in on the General. “When she admitted she liked the idea of someone dragging her down an alley? All it took was a little force on my part, and she was practically pleading for more.”

He throws the Shadowsinger a smug grin, one he knows he should keep to himself if he doesn’t want to make it worse, but he’s too caught up in the memory of having you release on his tongue that he doesn’t care. “She’s so sweet on the outside, and tastes even better, but you should have heard her. The things she was murmuring to herself, imagining she was begging me to stop?” He laughs, meeting Azriel’s icy gaze. “Maybe I’ll get Rhys to share the memory with you.”

It’s the last straw for the male, and Cassian stiffens, finally regaining an ounce of self-preservation when he steps forward into his shadows, vanishing.

Only to reappear at his back. Directly between his two, large wings.

“You want relief, Cass? Want it enough that you lost your cool and acted without thinking?” Azriel snarls softly, shadows skating up the muscles of his back, keeping the General still. “I can give you relief.”

Cassian jerks in the seat when he feels the Shadowsinger’s fingers dance along the sensitive membrane of his inner wing, hissing at the contact. His hands clench into fists as his side, gritting his teeth against the sensitivity. He can practically envision the vicious joy in Azriel’s eyes, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

“Like that?” The Shadowsinger murmurs, dragging the pads of his fingers along the dip beneath the peak of his wing, making Cassian inhale sharply. “Wish it was her? Wish she was the one touching you like this?” His hand wraps around the General’s throat, tipping his head back against the padded chair so he can watch his reactions clearly, hazel on hazel.

“Want to imagine that for me, Cass? Imagine she’s the one who’s got you tied up, all nice and ready for her?” His eyes flick to the Warlord’s lap, the clear outline of his arousal prominent. He hasn’t had a chance for relief since having his head between your thighs, and Azriel is fully capitalising off that little fact. Using it to his full advantage—exploiting it in every way he can.

“She’d probably like to see you like this, so torn up.” Silky shadows brush against the General’s wings, and he snarls at the taunting touch. “Such a greedy little vixen, isn’t she? Tell me, did she reach for you once you were done, or was she content to bask in her own pleasure and leave you starving?” Azriel asks pointedly, weaponising the information against the Warlord.

But Cassian grits his teeth, refusing to fall for it. And it’s then Azriel realises he’s being kept in the dark. There’s something the General doesn’t want him to know—something important, if he’s making such a valiant effort.

He halts all attention to the male’s wings, watching as he slumps a little in his chair, panting softly, colour high on his cheek bones.

Azriel settles his free hand over Cassian’s broad shoulder, leaning over him as he deftly drags it down the male’s chest, just shy of his cock. “You can tell me now, and avoid causing any more grief, Cassian.” He tightens his hold on the General’s throat, a quiet warning. A polite courtesy he’s extending, paying respect to their centuries of friendship. “Or I can make this difficult for you. You’re telling me one way or the other. Choose your path carefully, soldier.”

“I’m gone for not even the lesser part of an hour, and this is what I come back to?”

Both the males eye their High Lord warily, though for different reasons. The easy grin Rhys was wearing slips from his face as he takes in the scene, “what is it?”

Azriel straightens, and Cassian doesn’t know whether to be relieved or despairing the touch has left him. “He’s holding out on us. Have a look.” The General tenses, gritting his teeth as violet eyes land on his own. “Is that true?”

Maybe it would be better for him to cut his losses. They’ve all been after you for a while now—he shouldn’t try to monopolise you like this. You’re going to be theirs. Belong to all of them.

“She told me to take her,” he admits. “Tomorrow night. Even if she screams, and protests. She told me I should drag her away,” he breathes, “and do what I like.”

He doesn’t miss the look Rhys and Az share over the top of him. Because now they have a date for when to put their plan into action. And it’s much sooner that they could have even wished for.

#dark!poly!batboys smut #Pleasure over Morals #[***]#dark!fic

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disventure-rewrite-takes · 22 days

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Something that’s always annoyed me is that we literally never saw Emily actually do her job before she got fired. In episode one, they said her job was to create drama between the contestants and use the confessionals to do that, which she then.. never does??? I feel like it’s such a missed opportunity that they never really used her for this, especially when all the characters just jump to conclusions and create drama on their own which just makes them unlikeable most of the time. For example, she could’ve told Jake things about Tom and Aiden (even if that plotline sucked), made the Jake and Ally plot worse, Connor and Riya, Ellie with the villains alliance, etc.

Plus, I could be misremembering, but I’m pretty sure we never find out WHY she even helps Yul out in the earlier episodes. It sort of makes sense for his manager to contact her out of all the staff since she’s the newest, but why exactly does she decide to help?? How does it benefit her at all to do something that could (and did) get her fired for the sake of his reputation? Just because the manager would pay her?? It makes no sense to me.

I don’t think ONC had any idea what they were doing with her character for this entire season. Like, what the hell was the POINT of spending 5 episodes straight building up a friendship between her and Trevor that was clearly good for both of them, just to fuck it up for the sake of Trevek. And again, we have no idea what her plan to “ruin the show” even is. I’d assume that she intended for the scorpions to seriously injure or even kill one of the contestants so the staff would be in a lot of trouble, but. How did they NOT consider this as a possibility. They (or atleast Trevor and Derek) knew about the scorpions since season one, they’re in the same caves, and it was probably them who locked them in that cage in the first place. Plus, Trevor seemed to know exactly what Emily was gonna do and just didn’t.. try to warn anyone or say anything at all? Ok. Emily I’m so sorry for what they did to u queen, you deserve to be in a better show than this

every single character deserves to be in a better show, because i can truly get behind why characters like riya or even fucking YUL can be nuanced. TRULY, they do have potential, just not under ONC.

but EMILY??? they did her DIRTY. i don't get anyone saying it's in-character or out-of-character because guess what, her character is barely fucking established. it is SURREAL just how BAD her writing is. if you did a proper character analysis for her you couldn't say shit because there's so many contradicting things to say!! and this sucks!! because she could've been great!! but in ONC's eyes if a character is queer they're interesting enough who cares about actual development that makes sense!!!!! they're so progressive you guys!!! don't you want to watch disventure camp because they show up in those '_ rep in shows' slideshows from tiktok?!!?!?! don't you !?!?!??!?!?!?!!!

#maybe in another universe i'm not CURSED to only like SHITTY MEDIA!!!!!!!!!!!#looking at you yansim dsvc & total drama #EVEN YOU TOTAL DRAMA!!! EVEN YOU!!!!!!!!!! LOOKING AT YOU TDAS & TDPI #disventure camp #disventure camp all stars #emily disventure camp #not rewrite related #asker rant #mod rambles

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lupins-hehim-pussy · 1 month

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Just speed consumed all of addison lee very much enjoyed I am waiting with my popcorn for next chapter! I did have a wonder while reading, what is Wriothesley's scope of vision? Is it like this needs to be 3 inches in front of his face? Can he see faces clearly if he's close enough? Loving the fic, keep writing!

The short answer is:

No matter how close he gets, it's still gonna be unclear. It's not quite like myopia/short-sightedness where the blurriness can change with glasses/distance. His vision is more like looking through foggy glass. If something is pressed right up to the glass, you can see it more clearly, but it will still be foggy. Additionally, the guy has always been red/green colour-blind, so that doesn't change even after his war injuries, but because his vision is worse in general, he can barely tell colours apart lol. Unless it's bright blue.

LONG ANSWER UNDER THE CUT.

HAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA HEHEHHHEHEHHE WHUAGHAHA sorry. I like to infodump about my fics.

Not kidding when say this: I have a document that have notes on every single year in the 10 years between the Celestia war and current INGITAL events.

Unfortunately this was all planned before Sigewinne release, so I didn't have her canon birthday (AND I DON'T CARE ABOUT CANON ANY MORE I'm burying my head in the sand.) but it accounts for every year that Sigewinne grew up and some other random lore bits. "What does this have to do with my question?" you ask. Well, I have the 10-years progression notes specifically to keep their life events in order and Wriothesley's and Neuvillette's healing progress consistent KJNDSKJNSANSKJHASDJNJSNDKJNASJNDSAJNKSAKJ.

SO. Detailed answer is this:

At this point in INGITAL, if you stand 1-2 meters away from him and wave, he's gonna notice if he's looking at you, paying attention, and you're both indoors, or he's wearing sunnies. He's not gonna be able to recognise anything, though, he can just tell something is moving. He can sort of read regular text on a computer screen at about 2-3 inches (on a good day) using his better eye (left, so he always sorta lean that way when he's trying to look at something), but it's a struggle and he'd rather not do it. His right is worse.

There's also his field of vision. So like, his peripherals are pretty much gone, and he has some dark patches/blind spots. He's also light-sensitive, so everything's kinda painfully bright sometimes, but his vision is also bad in the dark, so he needs a happy medium, but that can shift from day to day.

Very rough idea of what Neuvillette might look like to him on a sunny day. Veeery rough idea. I'm not blind I just researched a lot.

And then, regardless of what he can actually physically see, if his eyes hurt or feel too sensitive to keep open, it's all moot anyway. And once again, usually that depends on the day.

When Sigewinne was born, he had functionally decent vision in one eye (had a corneal transplant on his right). Legally can't get his driving licence, but y'know, he still felt confident enough to drive (Neuvillette did not let him, though.) The transplanted eye deteriorates over Sigewinne's first few months, and so did his better eye. He got another surgery for his left eye (the better one) when Sigewinne was about one, and that lasted for a bit, but by the time she's two, he's pretty much considered legally blind. By the time she's four, he does most things on his own and his other issues are managed as well, which is why they decided to have a second kid, and they had Carole when Sigewinne was 5. But Neuvillette struggled a bit with that second pregnancy. I mean, his first wasn't exactly rose and rainbows, but he his mental health nose-dived with the second one for a while. It's because he's been so focused on keeping it together while Wriothesley recovers that he hasn't fully dealt with his own trauma until his second pregnancy. Because yeah, thinking your husband died while you're carrying your first baby was traumatic. They've both got PTSD. By the time Sedene comes about though, they're all good. Sedene's pregnancy was a breeze, there was just Covid lockdowns HAHAHAHA. And then, if I go through with another pregnancy at the end of INGITAL, well... That's for me to know and for you to ponder.

[By the way, Clorinde mentioned going over to their house for Wrio's birthday 8 years ago in Chapter 9, which is when Sigewinne was 3 and he was 28. His previous birthday (his 27th) was a disaster. Had a big fight with his husband. So that's another morsel of lore from the 10-years-of-plot document.]

There's a scene planned somewhere in all this, where Neuvillette shows him some of their photos on one of the days when his vision is better. Photos of eeeeveryone their kids and their friends and all. He printed them out and edited them to raise the contrast so Wriothesley can see it more easily. Wriothesley voice: Ajax is fucking ginger? [This is lore relevant. No spoilers though.]

#ingital #do not talk to me about my fics im not normal /j #....................................... PLEASE TALK TO ME ABOUT MY FICS #krill #ask #wriothesley #neuvilette #the amount of one-shots i can do from the 10 year document. scratching my head indeed. why am i like this #YES their claw machine adventures are also noted in there.#wriothesley considers himself lucky though. like genuinely. he's happy that his vision held out long enough for him to take care of neuv #in his last few weeks carrying sigewinne. And then he was able to handle things for the first month of her baby life while Neuv recovers #he even pushed back his PTSD to focus on sige. but yeah. Once things started to settle tho. everything went wrong JKLNSDKLJNAJSNJKNSD #because trauma has a habit of only unleashing when you're in a safe enough position to deal with it. yknow.#also why neuv's separation anxiety and his mental illness peaked during his pregnancy with Carole. bc he's safe he lets his walls down #wriothesley also struggled with like. bad agoraphobia. I think I mentioned him being unable to leave the house for a while #was rough #but everything is fine in the end! because life happens but it can still be a happy life #telling myself this every damn day man its how i survive HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH. FUCK ME.#neuvillette

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gladerwolfstarkimagines · 1 year

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Imagine you and Soren liking one another but him being worried he can't compete with the other man in your life...your best friend Callum

You were Callum's best friend and had been as long as you could remember. Your moms were close friends and you were born only 1 month apart so you went through everything together. When Callum's mother married the king and moved to the palace she brought your mother with her they were that good friends. Then when Callum's mom died, your mother tried her best to help keep her memory alive for Callum and Ezran and the King was always grateful for that.

Having grown up at the palace together you were also around Soren from a young age but only really noticed him as a teenager. That's when you realised he was totally hot. That was also when your realised you wanted to be a soldier. You got to participate in Callum's training sessions but quickly surpassed him. You remembered the exact date Soren first complimented your fighting style. You'd been sparring with Callum when Soren happened to be walking by. You decided to go extra hard hoping he was watching and he the was. You knocked Callum into the mud with the force of your strike which Soren found hilarious and he bounded over to tell you. "You should totally come to the intermediate classes I run" Soren said and you nodded "I'll be there!". Once he'd left Callum sighed "I know you fancy him but did you really have to give me a concussion?".

Callum was your best friend so it didn't take him long to realise you were into Soren but the man himself didn't quite get that. You quickly progressed through your classes to the stage where Soren was giving you one on one sessions which you both used as a cunning excuse to be alone together, unaware the other was doing the same thing. You even started staying in the palace as an excuse to bump into Soren more and the chemistry between the two of you felt amazing. However, Soren was worried about your friendship with Callum. Although Claudia assured him there was nothing going on there (she was stunned Soren couldn't see you had fallen for him hook line and sinker) he still couldn't shake away this feeling he was competing with Callum if not for your hand then at least for the first place spot in your heart.

You made it onto the King's Guard after years of work and Soren was determined to finally ask you out...but enter Rayla and her assassins. You were with Callum when he found her and escape with Ezran, Rayla and Callum with the egg. However, Soren had no idea you'd gone willingly and spent weeks pushing himself to the limit so he could rescue you. He promised, the second he saw your beautiful face he'd propose or something! Claudia told him this might be weird considering you'd never dated and so he agreed he'd ask you to be his girlfriend before wife. But then he found out it was all fake! You'd never been kidnapped by an evil elf but had gone willingly and just fed him that story because it was convenient. Soren felt betrayed and to make it all worse, you'd done it for Callum. So when Soren saw you again at the Moon Nexus, after Callum convinced Rayla to let them stay, he had a lot of feelings.

"What's wrong Sorbear?" Claudia asked him "you haven't said a word since Callum showed us to our room". Even Callum's name made him angry and he sighed "nothing". "Okay but it's clearly something so tell me or I'll tickle you until you tell me". Soren sighed "she left me, for him" and all the humour left the room at his tone. "Y/n?" Claudia asked and Soren nodded "I was so worried about her and now I feel so stupid. She always picks him and I don't know what else I was expecting. She became a king's guard for him. She ran away from all that for him! She lied to me and let me think she was kidnapped for him! He's her everything". Claudia frowned "yeah Y/n cares about him but they're best friends! That's all". Soren shook his head "she loves him Clauds, how do I compete with that?". Claudia tried to explain to Soren there were many different ways to love someone and one wasn't superior to another but he was too pouty and wouldn't listen.

When you found out Soren was here you were a mixture of ecstatic and nervous. When you'd left the two of you were close, pretty much an unofficially couple. Soren was training with you every night of the week and then he'd walk you back to your room. You'd go out together on Friday or Saturday evenings and Claudia had started calling you Soren's girl which made both of you blush but neither of you had stopped her. Seeing him again would be awkward to say the least but Callum could be an idiot sometimes and didn't think about this.

"So...Sorens back" Callum said smirking suggestively "you must be happy". "Wait you and that big lug?" Reyla asked. You went to deny it when Callum nodded "oh yeah they've had the hots for each other for ages! They used to train together just as an excuse to get close to each other. They were totally a couple just never made it official. We won't be seeing much of Y/n now with him around" Callum smiled. You shook your head " I don't know, he might be mad at me". "What? That's crazy!" Callum said but you shook your head "then why didn't he come and see me? You didn't force him to go straight to his room right?". Callum paused "well no...". "And you probably told him I was here right? What did he say". Callum frowned "well he didn't comment which I did think was odd but I bet he's just tired". "He's hurt" you frowned and Rayla frowned "why?" she asked in her typical brass way. "I'm guessing it's the whole leaving without telling him, faking a kidnapping and running away from him thing. He's hurt I never trusted him or went to him for help". Callum frowned "then just apologise. There's no way he can stay mad at you". You frowned but decided to give it a go.

So you made your way over to Claudia and Soren's room and just as you were about to walk up the path Claudia appeared. She saw you and smiled "hey y/n great to see you! You here for Soren? Just go on in!". "Are you sure?" you asked and she nodded "yep no need to knock" and walked away. You nodded and walked right in, to find a shirtless Soren. He'd clearly just come from the shower and looked amazing. He'd always been muscular and tall but add that to not seeing him in weeks plus the tension between the two of you and you'd never been more attracted to him.

Soren heard footsteps and turned "Claudia have you seen my..." when he saw it was you. "Oh..." he said and that jolted you back into reality. Soren always smiled when he saw pretty much anyone but especially you, so to see him so serious was upsetting. You nodded "Hi, Callum told me you were here and I just wanted to come and make sure you were okay". Soren shrugged "we're fine" and you nodded "it must've been hard travelling all this way just the two of you". Soren shrugged putting his shirt on "well you do anything when someone you care about is in danger...or maybe they're just lying to you about it". You sighed "Soren I'm so sorry for leaving without telling you. You deserved better than that and I never wanted you to follow me or worry about me. I just didn't get the chance to talk to you because Callum needed my help and I knew he'd had that run-in with Claudia". Soren shook his head "you know I'd worry about you Y/n and I'd always listen to you if you came to me as would Claudia but even if she didn't there's no way I'd just blindly side with her". You nodded "I know, I know, I'm so sorry everything just happened so fast and I was scared. I know I can trust you of course I do. It was you who encouraged me to go out for king's guard. You who got up early to run all those drills with me. You who vouched for me when nobody else would. You meant the world to me Soren and I'd hate for something like this to ruin all that!" you cried tears leaking down your face and Soren caved "hey, hey calm down it's okay!". "So you forgive me?" you asked sniffling and Soren nodded "yes I forgive you" and hugged you. You relaxed against him and it felt like you'd never left. You buried your head in his chest and felt him tighten his arms around you. This was the safest you'd felt since this all started and it was a while before Soren let go of you.

You spent pretty much the whole night together catching up and it felt so good to be back together. Neither of you had said anything so you still weren't technically a couple but Soren kept putting his arm around you and your eyes lingered on one another.

When you saw Soren again in the morning after a brief 2-hour sleep you blushed and Callum smirked "someone's got a boyfriend". You punched him making Rayla laugh. You took a seat next to Soren at the table and he shot you a huge smile that made you want to melt. "Hey Y/n! I saved you some breakfast, Claudia tried to take your bowl because it had more in it and she said you wouldn't notice...". "Did not!" Claudia cried but from her blush, you could tell Soren was telling the truth so nodded "thanks Soren" shooting him a big smile. Soren nearly melted.

However things weren't all sorted, Rayla still didn't trust the duo and with good reason. Although Soren was thrilled to be back with you he did suspect you'd been brainwashed. "I mean come on, what other reason would make Y/n side with an elf?". "Both Callum and Ezren also siding with her?" Claudia pointed out. Soren shook his head "no she's too smart just to get pulled along by them, I'm telling you she's been forced!". "Either way we can't let them leave with the elf that's for sure" Claudia replied.

You were outside the door on your way to go ask Soren if he wanted a walk. You rushed back to the others and sighed "Rayla you were right but I want to create the plan to leave Soren and Claudia behind. Not hurt them". "No problem" Rayla said "I'm just glad someone else has seen the light...or heard the light".

So you put together a plan. You'd make Soren and Claudia thought you were going along with them but it was an illusion. Rayla would lure Soren away and tie him up while you kept Claudia busy. Then you'd both escape on PhiPhi. You felt bad for lying to Soren but this time planned to tell him you were going.

So you did just that. After Rayla had tied Soren to a tree you approached him "Soren I'm doing with Rayla and I'm not brainwashed or being forced. I'm sorry to be leaving you again, I know it might seem weird to you but it's something I need to do and I need you to understand. I don't need your permission but I do want you to know I'm not leaving you and I will come back because I want you...I like you" you said. Soren hadn't looked happy to be tied to a tree but when he heard your explanation he positively grinned.

Soren smiled at you, his bright blue eyes sparkling "I like you too and have been waiting ages to hear you say that...I won't stop you, I mean I can't but you know that means I have to follow you right? As long as you're out here in possible danger I won't leave you". You nodded "I figured you might say that...and there's nothing I can do to deter you?". Soren laughed "not a chance" and you smiled "well it might be quite nice knowing you a few steps behind me". "Not many" Soren replied still smiling"you know I could always outpace you. Plus having you as the goal will certainly increase my motivation". You smirked "you always did like chasing me huh?" enjoying this when Rayla groaned "Y/n are you seriously flirting right now? We have to go!". "Oh yeah right" you nodded "bye Soren" and you rushed away. Soren smiled watching you go, he honestly wasn't even sad. He was just excited and when Claudia found him he was just grinning goofily.

Let the chase begin.

_________

So in honour of the new season of The Dragon Prince which I am absolutely loving, I had to polish off and post an old Soren imagine because he's just as great in the new season and he's still my favourite character.

#soren #soren fic #soren imagine #soren x reader #soren x y/n #soren x female reader #the dragon price #the dragon prince fic #the dragon prince imagine #the dragon prince soren #the dragon prince soren fic #soren the dragon prince #claudia #the dragon prince claudia #callum #rayla #ezran

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irkimatsu · 1 month

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God damn it, that art of Husk literally drowning in whiskey... my fucking heart...

I started talking about Husk's alcoholism and my hopes for its future portrayal and it got long and a little personal, whoops

I would like more focus in canon about his alcoholism, more than quirky "ha ha it's eight in the morning and he's already putting whiskey in his coffee, the silly old drunk". My feelings and history when it comes to alcohol are complicated. I've seen how it destroys people who are in denial about whether they have a problem. Middle schoolers should not have to take care of their wasted relatives whenever the family party has gone to shit again, and don't even get me started on my mother's drunken temper. (She's bad enough when she's sober.) I grew up thinking that sort of thing was normal, that I'd have to avoid alcohol entirely to not end up like my family, and that even then I'd be looked at as a failure of an adult if I didn't get plastered and pass out behind a Walmart somewhere at least once in my life.

So normalization of alcohol in general already tends to get me a little weird, even if I've gotten better about it in the past decade. Still not a fan of quirky "tee hee, I can't deal with my dumpster fire of a life without wine" Facebook mom memes, but I know responsible alcohol consumption is possible, which is more progress than I had as a teenager.

But even then, Husk is not responsible. He has a problem. He's traumatized, I do not blame him for that, and like Angel, he's seeking comfort in substance abuse because he has no easy way out of the main source of his stress. They have made some allusion to it being a problem and him knowing it - "You're not going to find answers at the bottom of a bottle, I've been looking for a long time" - but I want more focus on it. Call attention to the fact that making an alcoholic spend all day behind a bar is an awful idea, and possibly intentional on Alastor's part to keep him too drunk to fight back. (Between the alcohol and winning his soul in gambling, preying on Husk's vices really does seem to be Alastor's Thing.) Make note of the fact that unlike Angel's drug addictions, alcohol use is so normalized that Husk couldn't quit if he tried - how is he supposed to, with everyone else in the hotel drinking regularly? Charlie and Vaggie can drink as much as they want, but Husk takes one shot and suddenly he's the bad guy? I can see that not sounding fair in his mind, because he's ignoring the fact that everyone else knows when to quit for the night...

And what if he did try to quit? How is he going to deal with it? The stress he can no longer drown, the withdrawal symptoms? Like with Angel, if you take away the unhealthy coping mechanism but don't do anything to help him with what he's unhealthily coping with, you're just going to make his mental state worse... I get the feeling he's been drunk for so long he barely remembers who he was when sober, he doesn't know how to be sober anymore, it might freak him out to adjust to being what feels like a different person, his whole mind working differently than it has in decades when it's no longer clouded by drink...

Alastor might not like his tamed little pet going sober, either. If he's thinking clearly, he might have silly thoughts about things like how to save himself. That won't do. Drink some whiskey, Husker, it makes you much easier to handle.

...this got longer and more rambly than I intended. I just want to see more of Husk's mental state, more than "ha ha quirky drunk". Really get into his mind, his trauma, what it would take to save him, to convince him it's worth trying to save himself.

And maybe I just like seeing him suffer a little.

#irk blubbers about nothing #irk huskposts

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

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Aaron and Emily sickfic plzzzzz!!!

Hi bestie!!

here's one I was already working on <3

I hope you like it!!

-x-

A Life of Ease

One by one, the Hotchners come down with the flu.

-x-

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: None!

Read over on Ao3 or below the cut

Emily yawns as she paces the nursery, her eyes flicking to the clock on the wall that let her know it was almost 7 am.

It had been a rough night with very little to no sleep for her, Aaron or their flu-ridden 18-month-old son. Jack was the first to come down with it, bringing the virus home from school towards the end of the previous week. He’d recovered relatively quickly, cured by the meds he willingly took and cuddles that Emily was always willing to give, but had passed it on to his little brother and, if her hunch was correct, his father.

So far, only Emily and Hazel, their quiet and reflective four-year-old, were the only ones who hadn’t shown any symptoms.

Oscar had started showing signs in the evening. The usually energetic little boy lethargic as he leant against his mother when they all sat down to watch a movie. It had got progressively worse throughout the night, and Oscar had barely slept. Crying because of the pain in his head and throat and the upset stomach that had come along with it. He was only soothed by the baby Tylenol he could take every few hours and by Emily singing, or Aaron pacing back and forth with him in his arms. During the night, as both she and her husband were torn from the lightest of sleep by Oscar’s cries, she’d noticed Aaron’s skin was warmer than usual, that he couldn’t seem to clear his throat, and she knew it wouldn’t be long until there was another man down in the Hotchner household.

Oscar whimpers as he rubs his face into her neck, his skin warm against hers, and she shushes him softly, her hand running up and down his back as she continues to pace back and forth, singing quietly as she hopes that he’d sleep for at least a little while.

It takes another 30 minutes, but she feels her son get heavier in her embrace, his breath evening out across her skin. She tilts her head to look down at him and smiles when she sees he’s asleep, the same slack-jawed expression on his face that Aaron always had when he was sleeping, and she presses a kiss to his forehead. She places him back in his crib with the same gentle touch she would use if she was putting down an activated bomb, and she walks out of the nursery, ensuring the door is pulled closed behind her.

She’s barely a step back towards his bedroom when Jack’s door opens, his hair askew as he rubs his eyes, his mouth wide open with a yawn.

“Morning, Mom,” he says, smiling sleepily at her.

Even after all this time, there were still moments when it took her aback that Jack called her mom. It was a conversation he’d started when she was pregnant with Hazel, curious as to what his place in Emily’s life would be once the baby arrived. Her assurance that nothing would change, that she would love him in the same way she would love her daughter, had clearly gone a long way. Just a couple of days later, out of nowhere, he’d called her mom and they’d never looked back.

“Morning, honey,” she says, returning his smile, “Did you sleep ok?”

He nods, yawning again, “Oscar cried a lot.”

She winces, humming in sympathy, “He’s not very well,” she explains, “Neither is Dad so I think I’m going to have to stay home with them today.”

That was a conversation she knew she was going to have to have with her husband, but if he got sick as quickly as Jack and Oscar had she knows he wouldn’t be in the position to argue with her.

Jack frowns, his eyes going wide, “Did I make them sick?”

“Oh, sweetie,” she says, tugging him into a hug that he gratefully returns, “It’s not your fault these things just happen, ok?” She pulls back just enough to look at him, ruffling his hair in a way that makes him laugh and move out of her embrace as he agrees, any feelings of guilt long gone, “Good. Now I’m going to wake up your sister, would you mind getting the cereal and everything out for breakfast?”

He nods, always willing to help, and walks down the stairs to the kitchen. She turns into her daughter’s room, surprised as she walks in to find the light already on and Hazel standing in the middle of the room, clothes pulled out of her closet. Brightly coloured tutus that Penelope had bought her all lined up on the bed.

“Morning, Haze,” she says, smiling as the little girl turns around to look at her, her smile bright, her love of the morning something she had inherited from her father.

“Morning Mommy!” She replies, bounding over and wrapping her arms tightly around her waist.

“What’s all this?” Emily asks, tilting her head towards the bed.

“My outfit for school.”

Emily clears her throat to stop herself from laughing. She didn’t have it in her to argue with her daughter about whether tutus were appropriate for preschool, so instead she nods, brushing the little girl's hair from her face.

“Of course, silly mommy,” Emily replies, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

She leaves her daughter’s room and walks towards the master bedroom. As she opens the door she hears a groan from the bed, a sound that only gets deeper as she turns on the light.

“Turn off the light.” Aaron’s voice is rough, his throat sore, and he turns his head from where it had been buried in her pillow to look at her. The light is harsh against his eyes and he feels his lungs crackle as his breath catches in his chest, “I think I caught whatever Oscar has.”

She chuckles and walks over, “You think?” She says, raising an eyebrow at him as he throws the covers off of him as if he was getting ready to get up for the day, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Work,” he replies gruffly, not getting up yet as he tries to build up the nerve, well aware that the churning in his stomach would only get worse.

“You’re kidding right?” She asks, scoffing, “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Em-”

“Honey, we both know you’re too sick to do anything other than lay there, so let's just skip this whole part of the process, ok?”

It was something they had in common - they were terrible sick people. They often had to convince the other to stay home when they were ill like this, a strange ritual that had only got complicated as their family got bigger.

Aaron grumbles, well aware he didn’t have the energy to argue, “What about the kids?”

She smiles, “Oscar is having what I’m assuming will be the shortest nap on record, and Hazel is picking her outfit for preschool. Jack is being nothing short of an angel and getting breakfast sorted, and I’ll text Jess to ask if she can take him and Haze to school. And then I’ll call work to say you’re too sick to be there and that I need to stay here to look after you and Oscar.”

He sits up, grimacing as it makes his head swim, “Hazel’s ok?”

Emily nods, smiling as that’s the only part of what she had said he addresses. She sits on the edge of the bed as she forces him to lay back down, her hand firm on his chest before she places her hand on his forehead to check his temperature. She winces at the heat of his skin against hers, well beyond the usual warmth that always seemed to radiate off of him.

“Your fever is only going to get worse, I’ll get the kids sorted for the day and then come back with some Tylenol for you.”

“How come you and Hazel aren’t sick?” He asks, swallowing thickly against his sore throat.

She hums as she tucks the sheets around him like she so often did for their children, smiling as she cups his cheek he leans into her palm, “Clearly the Hotchner women have stronger immune systems than the Hotchner men.”

“You’re a Prentiss, not a Hotchner” he grumbles, and she has to stop herself from laughing at him, hiding the reaction as she leans in to kiss his forehead. She knows his irritation is more from the fact that he’s sick than because she’d never changed her surname when they married. He’d never asked it of her and she loved him for it.

“Maybe not legally, but I am at heart,” she replies, standing up and smiling softly at him, “I’ll be back in a little bit ok, try and get some sleep.”

She’s barely out of the bedroom when she hears something hit the floor downstairs and then scatter, followed by a loud gasp from her four-year-old daughter.

“Mom,” Jack shouts up the stairs, making her wince as he unintentionally wakes up his little brother, Oscar’s cries following only seconds later, “Hazel dropped the cereal.”

Emily blows out a breath and runs her fingers through her hair, giving herself a moment to herself before she turns to the nursery.

“It’s ok sweetie, I’ll come clean it up,” she replies, “I’ll be down once I’ve got Ozzie.”

It was going to be a long day.

___

Emily shifts from side to side in the bed, not quite stretching as much as her muscles need, before she settles back down. She had the TV on low, one the reality shows she loved on the screen as she laid inbetween Aaron and Oscar, both of them fast asleep. Oscar was on top of her, his congested sinuses making him snore in a way she found equally endearing and heart breaking.

She isn’t sure how much time had passed, how many hours she’s laid there between her sick husband and son, when she hears a groan from Aaron, followed by a sound that was close to a whimper. She turns to look at him and sighs as she watches him screw his face up in sleep, fighting off a demon she can’t see.

“Emily.”

Her heart aches at the sound of her name, of how afraid he sounds, and she knows this isn’t a normal nightmare. That his fever was making it worse, making it harder for him to escape. She gently shifts Oscar off of her chest and places him next to her on the bed before she shifts closer to Aaron. She runs her fingers through his hair, hoping to draw him back to her with her touch.

“Aaron,” she says gently, “Aaron, you’re ok, you’re having a nightmare.”

His eyes snap open, but she knows he’s still in it, that he’s still seeing whatever it is he’s dreaming about.

Although, she’s sure she has a pretty good idea.

“Not safe,” he mumbles, trying to sit up but she stops him, her hands against his chest, “Foyet.”

She shushes him and encourages him to look at her, “You’re ok,” she says, “You’re ok sweetheart it’s just a nightmare. We’re safe. Foyet is long gone. You made it safe.”

His chest stutters and he nods, the first sign that he was coming out of it, “The kids?”

She smiles and leans down to kiss his forehead, “They are ok. Jack and Hazel are at school, Jess is going to pick them up soon and take them back to hers for a little while,” she looks over her shoulder and checks on Oscar, still fast asleep on her side of the bed, “And Ozzie is right here with us. Fast asleep.”

He nods again but she can still see the confusion in his eyes, the fever making it difficult for him to know what was real. She lays down and then encourages him to shift towards her, his warm forehead resting against her collarbone.

“How about I sing you the get better song?” She says, keeping her voice quiet so she doesn’t wake up Oscar. It was something that had started when she first started dating Aaron and Jack was sick. He’d asked her to sing to her and she sang the first thing that came to mind, and it had become a family tradition of sorts. Something that each of her children would ask for if they were sick, grumpliy asking the “get better” song as Hazel called it. She feels Aaron nod against her and she smiles, turing her head to kiss the top of his, before she starts.

“In the town where I was born

Lived a man who sailed to sea

And he told us of his life

In the land of submarines”

She carries on until she reaches the chorus, only stopping when she feels Aaron laugh against her, the rumble of it passing from his chest to hers.

“I can’t believe you’re singing me a Beatles song.”

She chuckles, “I can’t help it that your kids seem to think that song makes them feel better.”

“Why are they always my kids when they do something you don’t like?” He asks, lifting his head to look at her, his eyes clearer now.

She cups his cheek as she smiles at him, “When it comes to liking the Beatles, they’ll always be your kids,” she leans forward and kisses the tip of his nose, “Are you feeling ok?”

He nods, clearing his throat, the noise painful as it catches, “As ok as I can be.”

She nods, encouraging him to lay his head back on her shoulder, “Try and get some more sleep, I’ll be right here.”

“You’ll get sick,” he says, as if she hadn’t been here all day. As if she hadn’t been the one who had soothed Oscar all of last night.

“Like I said earlier,” she replies, running her fingers through his hair again, “Us Hotchner women have strong immune systems.”

___

It’s only two days later when she wakes up feeling like crap. She’d gone to bed denying she had the start of the same flu that had hold of their home for the last several days, despite Aaron forcing meds into her hands before they went to sleep.

Her stomach churns as she rolls over to find he was already gone, his sheets almost cool to the touch. She groans as she buries her face in Aaron’s pillow, her head pounding as she listens to the boys downstairs.

“We’ve got another one for the sick bed.”

She pulls her face out from where she’d hidden it and is met with the sight of Aaron standing in their bedroom doorway, Hazel settled on his hip as she looks very sorry for herself. Aaron steps towards the bed and puts the little girl down, and she immediately crawls towards her mother.

Emily sits up slightly, just enough to open her arms out for her daughter, “Oh my sweet girl.”

Hazel settles against her and presses her face into her chest, “I feel icky.”

Emily smiles at Aaron over Hazel’s head, “Mommy feels icky too.”

Aaron clears his throat to get her attention, a wry smile on his face, “What was it you said about the Hotchner girls having stronger imm-”

She narrows her eyes at him and covers Hazel’s ears, holding her little girl's head to her chest, cutting him off “If you ever want to have sex again you won’t finish that sentence,” she whispers, her eyebrows raised in challenge.

Aaron nods, his eyes wide, “I’ll go make sure the boys eat breakfast.”

She hums in response, “Smart man.”

She keeps her eyes fixed on him as he walks away until Hazel shifts in her embrace, “I’m sleepy.”

Emily smiles and lays down, pulling Hazel closer as she wraps the cover around them both, “Me too, baby,” she says, kissing the top of her head, “Let’s try and get some sleep.”

Hazel murmurs, her voice slightly muffled by Emily’s t-shirt, “Sing me the get better song?”

It makes Emily smile as she thinks of just a few days ago when she sang for Aaron. Despite how sick she was feeling, and that it felt like she had swallowed razorblades, she starts to sing quietly, her fingers trailing through her little girl's hair as she lulls her to sleep.

When Aaron comes to check on them after Jack has gone to school he finds his girls both fast asleep, Emily’s hand still buried in Hazel’s hair.

-x-

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