#what if i NEED the little basket i found in the corner of the torture chamber maybe it is important eventually | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angstyclowns · 4 years

Text

Please don’t let me go.

Part 2 to this! Thank you all so much for 2K followers!

Katsuki Bakugo

Katsuki did not lose. Not in battles, not in competitions, friendly or not, and he would not lose you. He refused to. He would not let you go. He loved you too much. He was too selfish to let you go. He fucked up, he’d own that. He fucked up badly, though he wasn’t certain he knew how to fix it. He could hear your sobs throughout your den, making him whine.

You hadn’t done anything but cry since those blasted words left his mouth and he was beginning (Pshh beginning, he always worried about you) to get scared. Groaning, he shut off his phone, thanking any and every being out there an old friend of his was willing to take his shift (He had to send her a gift basket for her and Deku). His duffel landed on the ground with a thud before he was running to your guys room, opening the door with zero hesitation. You looked up to him with such heartbreak in your eyes. Fuck, his chest hurt.

Katsuki was never good with words, you and him both knew this, but he still had to make it right. He had too. Fuck his eyes were stinging as he approached you, making him collapse onto his knees in front of your nest. You watched him, not saying anything.

“Please, fuck I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. Any of what I said. You don’t deserve it-deserve it. You deserve so much better than me- But I don’t want to let you go-” He was crying now, making you cry as well. You understood he was stressed, and you probably weren’t making it any better. Both of you were stressed and anxious and- fuck.

This wasn’t healthy communication. You and him both knew it. You needed to fix this. With time you would. Right now though, right now you were focused on the arms wrapping around you, and thats all you would focus on for now.

---

“Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to talk about with this upcoming pregnancy? This is a safe space.”

Katsuki smirked at the therapist. playing with the ring on your finger as he held your hand.

“What is there to say? I’m pumped. The Bakugou genes live on and I’ve got my pretty omega by my side.”

While marriage counselling sounded terrible on paper, it wasn’t. It gave you both an outlet and coping mechanisms when hurdles appeared in your relationship, and made you both overall a lot happier.

You purred as you leaned on your alpha, making the therapist smile.

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m no longer needed here. You both seem to have impressive communication now, and I can’t see this changing when your pup arrives. Though, keep in mind when that time comes, you both will need to be top of your game.”

You watched Katsuki nod, completely entranced by the therapists words. If you would’ve told yourself about this Katsuki a year ago, when your huge fight broke out, you would’ve laughed in your own face. But now, watching Katsuki work hard to prove he was the alpha you deserve?

Your heart fluttered and the butterflies in your tummy grew restless. While a pup would be a big challenge, you and Katsuki were ready for it.

And he would be with you every step of the way.

Shouto Todoroki

His choice was made before his subconscious even had the chance to boot up. His throat closed up and his phone was crushed in his palm when it tried dragging his attention from the fact at hand. It was dropped with little remorse as Shouto quickly ran in the same direction you did, stopping you from entering your guys room. You chirped in surprise when he turned you around, pressing a searing kiss to your lips.

You wanted to fight him but Shouto didn’t let you. He didn’t let you go when you squirmed, he only tightened his grip (Not hurting you). He didn’t know when it happened, but tears were starting to drip down his cheeks.

Shouto didn’t get angry. But he got upset. He felt so guilty. Just seeing your heartbroken face replay on his mind was torture. Just knowing he had just did the same thing his father did to his mother. He was dismissing your worries and genuine concern because of his job.

“I-I don’t see how messed up this is. But I want you to tell me- show me. I want to be a better alpha for you. Bonding you wasn’t and won’t ever be a mistake to me. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I want to. I want to know why it’s such a big deal.”

You broke down as Shouto held you, not finding the words to explain anything just yet. You would need time to do so, and he would give you that time.

He just wanted to tell you he made his choice.

In fact, there wasn’t much of a choice at all, and he hoped-- prayed-- you could feel that.

---

“Shouto, we need you to start up the scenting again. You’re rep is dropping and-” His P.R. manager was halted with a finger, the half-and-half hero quickly dialing your number on a new-- not crushed-- phone.

“Sho? Aren’t you at work? Why are you calling? Did something-”

“Scenting things that aren’t for you, thats a breech of privacy and demeans our relationship, right?” Shouto cut you off, sending a silent apology to you.

You paused on the other end. “Yeah? We had this conversation a couple weeks ago. Are you okay?”

He smiled. “Fine. Just reminding myself.”

You both said your quick goodbyes before Shouto turned to his P.R. manager. “My omega said no.”

“Who cares what your omega thinks?! Your-”

“I’m nothing without my omega. I care what my omega thinks and what my omega says go. If her word isn’t enough then mine will be. I said no.”

Silently, Shouto patted himself on the back as he turned, trying to leave for patrol. You would be proud of his newly shined spine.

“Your-”

“Oh, before I forget. ” Shouto turned, facing the manager who was red with rage. It made him smirk. “You’re fired.”

Keigo Takami

Patrol was rough. Brutal. He couldn’t focus.

He had told you he was more important. He wasn’t.

He was a broken shell of a man. Hawks was this fucking persona he put up, and in that moment those words came from him. Not the Keigo that you dug so hard for. Not the Keigo that you ached for late at night, just wanting to hold him in your arms.

He was blurring the lines between Keigo and Hawks, with Hawks breaking through as the dominant. He didn’t want that. Not at all. He wanted Keigo to still be there. Be there for you.

Fuck this.

He was going to be there for you. Fuck the hero rankings. Fuck the commission. Fuck anything that kept him from you.

Turning around, he ignored any calls of his name, soaring faster than he had all evening to get to you. He could see you through the windows of the balcony (You both lived on the top floor, enough enough ceiling to floor windows looked nice). You were looking ahead of you blankly, wrapped in one of his sweaters. Fuck you looked like you had gone through the ring. Hair messy and eyes blotchy.

You didn’t even look over when he tumbled through the door, literally crawling to you.

Keigo would admit he had never cried since he was six. He was twenty-three now. That was seventeen years.

He would also admit he cried at your feet. Angry, painful sobs that rocked his body and made him hurt. He didn’t care though. He’d do it all for you.

He tried pleading that he was nothing without you. Hollow and empty.

To be fair though, he wasn’t even certain he was doing anything other than incoherent babbles. When your arms wrapped around him and allowed his wings to cocoon around you both, he figured he made some sense.

For you, he’d go through all the pain seventeen years of hiding would bring him.

---

“Baby bird!”

Keigo didn’t normally call out to you like he found himself doing, but recently, he’s found himself doing a lot of stuff he never imagined himself doing.

Domestic life with you was such a nice feeling.

Having you in his arms every morning, working with you as he got ready for work, watching you yourself get ready for your day. Just you.

You were perfect in everyway and it made his chest tighten with love every time he saw you.

You turned the corner with a smile, waving to him before gesturing for him to follow. He did so with a quirked brow, following you to one of the ex-guest rooms. You were giddy, bouncing slightly in your place with your scent so happy and boisterous it made Keigo purr.

When you decided he wasn’t moving fast enough, you ran back, pulling him forward and into the nursery. His son was laying there, fast asleep in a makeshift mini-nest, bright red wings wrapped around himself as a blanket.

You cooed and held onto Keigo, watching as your alpha picked up your son, holding him to his chest. The young boy merely ruffled his feathers, quickly recognizing the scent and nuzzling into his dad’s chest.

While he went through seventeen years of pain in the span of two, he had you by his side. And now, he had his son. His son which you had gifted him.

He didn’t know what he was thinking back then, but truly no one was more important than you.

And he would take that with him until the day he dies.

#katsuki bakugo x reader #Katsuki Bakugō #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha katsuki #bnha katsuki x reader #alpha keigo takami #alpha hawks #hawks x you #alpha hawks x omega reader #Shoto #shoto todoroki #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto #bnha boys #bnha fanfic

651 notes · View notes

babylooneytoonz · 4 years

Text

The Vessel

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: You realize you've made a mistake of selling a part of your body to a certain Witcher and his Mage, Yennefer, in return for a lumpsum of coins.

And now, you cannot back out. Instead, you're drowning knee deep into your developing feelings for Geralt of Rivia who belongs to her.

Warnings: Will have 18+ content, and will not follow the storyline, I know that Witchers are sterile but forced pregnancy.

[My Masterlist]

A/N- You can also find this fic on my AO3 by the same name, my account name is @slutforcavill.

Pt. 1

You stared at the happy couple, jealousy brewing in the pit of your stomach. You felt deflated, hurt and angry, but this was how it was. You were just a vessel, for the Witcher, and his lover, the Mage, Yennefer of Vengerberg. You kept watching them, from the corner of your eye, yet you kept a safe distance, lest either of them saw the tears spurting down your cheeks at the sight of them, laughing together— though technically she laughed, and he just grunted, but you could see the not so hidden amusement in his eyes.

It hurt, nonetheless—

If a month back, you knew this is what you would be feeling; one month down the line; you wouldn't have landed yourself into this mess of a situation, just for a pouch full of coin. You would have steered clear from a certain white haired man, eyes bright and somber like the shining sun, perhaps even brighter, and his woman, one of the most powerful mages you had come across.

If only, someone had warned you before—

It didn't help; the fact that you were already struggling to feed yourself, have three meals a day worth grain at your shack, that you called a home [back at Redania].

It all started when one day, Yennefer of Vengerberg, as she introduced herself, ended up at your doorstep, asking for your help, in return for a massive pouch full of coin.

Coin enough to last you for almost two years—

You found yourself lost in thoughts— when a month back, you were tending to your sheep, rearing enough wool so you could knit yourself a blanket warm enough to last the Winters. You didn't know where she came from; it was only later you found out that she was a mage, and she could use portals to go anywhere in the world. What you didn't understand then, and could not understand till date was why they chose you.

Maybe the Mage could feed on your desperation— knowing how badly you were looking for a steady job so the coin could keep flowing. And then, there was a fact that you were a virgin— not yet ruined by any man, and this was exactly what she was looking for.

"Can I help you?" You asked the woman, eyeing her from the corner of your eyes, your eyesight trailing over her richly clothed form. She looked divine and exotic, draped in rich princely colours, red and gold.

She looked right at you, her lips curling into a devious smile. She nodded to herself, although satisfied, and took her own sweet time to finally respond, "You can help me. And I can help you. I heard from the villagers that you are looking for work. Isn't that right?"

You nodded, placing the wool into a basket.

"Well then, I'm here to offer you a job."

A job she did offer, only you didn't know what to think of it. She sat there by a chair next to your fireplace [ that so obviously needed more wood ] , her left leg elegantly draped over her right leg, her posture poised and regal, her eyes scanning your face as it contorted into a series of emotions— shock, numbness, anger, hope.

The job that she so generously offered to you was the job of a vessel. What she wanted of you was your womb, a vessel that she could use to grow her child.

Hers and Geralt of Rivia's child—a spawn that was to be created of her magic.

Neither Geralt, nor Yennefer were fertile. They couldn't conceive, biologically, but magically, this was possible. Yennefer told you everything— how she could finally become a mother, a yearning she had buried into the pit of her heart ever since she had buried the little princess, Queen Kalis' daughter, into the sand that day.

It wasn't until she met the white haired man, and an attraction flared, did her desperation for a babe began strumming into her heart. And she passed on this desire of hers to her lover, like a contagious disease until the two of them wanted nothing more than to bring a babbling young half Witcher half Mage into the world.

Her spell, although, could fertilize the Witcher's seed, turning him potent for this once, however, it wasn't enough to turn her own barren womb into a vessel that could carry their child. They needed a woman, a human— untouched— so Geralt could ruin her, and she could give them what they desired.

Yennefer also knew that no woman would agree to this, unless she offered something of value.

It was easy for you to agree.

Neither did you have a family, nor a lover. Besides, an opportunity had walked up to your door yourself, and you couldn't push it away.

But now, a month later, you regretted it.

When you saw them together, and it felt like your heart was being sliced through, slowly— torturing and burning you from the inside.

“Behold, what a fine view you have here, don’t they look beautiful together?” Jaskier was the first one to have decided to intrude into your private space, so suddenly, you were forced to pull your gaze away from the two of them, and crane your neck to your side so you could subtly wipe your tears away.

“Define beauty, Jaskier.” You grumbled under your breath your words barely audible, and you felt the Bard sit down next to you, his arm now brushing against yours as he swallowed a mouthful of ale before turning his head towards you.

“Like.. my songs? Although, they’re much beautiful than those two over there,” he almost began, but you cut him off abruptly, pushing yourself up to your feet, looking down at him.

“Can we not talk about this, Jas’? I’ve got better things to do.”

“Like what, [Y/N]? Sit in a corner and cry a river like you were doing a few seconds back? Don’t think the bard a dumb brute, I see things.”

Your lips parted in surprise. He had caught you. You sheepishly blinked, running your hand absentmindedly through your hair, shaking your head as you denied it, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He sighed, but didn't make an attempt to stand up. Instead, you watched him sit back, trying to get more comfortable as a smile broke out against his lips, "If I were you, I'd tell him how I really feel. Now I know you've got competition, a pretty fierce one, might I add, but what's the fun if you get everything handed to you in a silver platter, and you don't have to work for it?"

"Jas—"

You had barely begun speaking when a fight broke out in the tavern, between two men that you didn't know, right across from where you were seated, and Jaskier's attention was flung away. You watched, in exasperation, as he began cheering all of a sudden, and Geralt, a few tables away, clenched his fists and pursed his lips in annoyance, leaning and whispering something into her ears.

You watched as the beautiful mage slowly rose from her place, and fixed her gaze on you until she was on her way to where you were.

"How are you feeling, little pet?" She raised an eyebrow, and you bit your lip, almost too hard, the taste of metal strong against your taste buds. Oh, how you fought the urge to bark at her and send her back to her beloved, who had his eyes, unmoving, on the two of you.

"Fine." You muttered, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at her.

You didn't understand why you hated this woman.

No, you did— but you didn't want to acknowledge it— it was because of a certain white haired man, who still had his gaze stilled on you, and you couldn't help but feel like your insides were on fire aching for his touch. You wondered how one look from him was enough to weaken your resolve, what would you do if the man ever brushed his hand against you, or even breathed in a close proximity as the Mage was now in?

Stop thinking about this, [Y/N]. He isn't yours to think of.

"Come on, it's time we keep moving, can't afford to waste two hours as the Sun's already up."

You blinked, cursing yourself for feeling so flustered but what could you do? This was the first time you had heard the Witcher say more words than the occasional hums and grunts directed towards you.

You and Yennefer began walking out of the tavern, Jaskier following the two of you, while Geralt was ahead of the two of you, as you began continuing your journey to the Great Mount in Aedirn, a journey you had been on with them now for over thirty days.

For once, you couldn't stop your racing heart from thinking of what was going to happen between you and the White haired man once you reached this Mount.

#geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia #the witcher x y/n #the witcher #the witcher x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill x y/n

457 notes · View notes

sunflowerdarlingx · 4 years

Text

Fred Weasley - “Fred doesnt date” 2

Hi everyone, I hope you’re all okay <3

Here is part two to “Fred doesn’t date”, please let me know what you think, I do have a part three idea ready but wont post it unless some of you want it.

PART ONE

Female Reader

Warnings: none

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

Some might say Fred Weasley was scared to commit, some would say he enjoyed the player lifestyle and others would say he was some sort of sex addict who just enjoyed multiple partners but not all at once.

The truth was, Fred was indeed scared. He felt that the people close to him were he only ones he could trust, the only ones he could truly open up to. He was very happy with his life and his relationships, those he chose to build were stronger than most. He never expected to be drawn to Y/N, he also never expected to develop the feeling he did.

He was utterly shocked at the way their relationship progressed, he had never felt this before, the butterflies he would get when he saw her or the way his heart fluttered when their skin made the slightest contact or the undeniable feeling of love he had when she fell asleep in the common room all cuddled up into Fred’s chest after a night of her homework and him planning pranks.

This is why Fred Weasley didn’t date. It always got complicated. Feelings of anger, hatred, sadness filled him up and he couldn’t take his eyes away from the scene in front of him. Cedric placed a kiss on Y/N’s jawline before placing one on the corner of her lips. Soon enough his lips were on hers as his hand moved down to her waist whilst the other supported the back of her neck so he could pull her closer.

Fred knew he should look away, he knew he was torturing himself watching the scene in front of him unfold.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to go over there and pull Cedric as far away from Y/N as he could. An overwhelming need to break his hands for even touching Y/N in such away creeped inside his body and his fists clenched at his side.

How dare he.

How dare he stand there and touch her, kiss her, do all the things that Fred should be doing with her.

Surely he had heard the rumours. He knows how close they had been getting. How dare he interrupt that and take her away from him.

Tears pricked at the corner of Freds eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. He knew he couldn’t stay there, so he didn’t. He forced himself to look away form the two and turned to head back to his dorm.

He thought Y/N liked him, he thought she felt the same way he did. Why did she kiss Cedric if she knew?

He was angry with himself, he was so stupid to let himself get attached to her in the first place, he knew it was a bad idea but she was so bloody addictive. Every little thing about her drove him mad but in the best way possible.

As Fred walked down the corridor the tears started to fall freely from his eyes, scared someone would see him he ran as fast as he could up to his dorm. A few girls saw him and tried to stop and speak to him but his feet carried him straight past them. His top teeth were embedded in his bottom lip to stop the sound of heartbreak escaping his mouth.

Even after what he just saw, no other girl could take his attention away from Y/N. He made it to his dorm, he was greeted by a smiling George who soon had a look of fear paint his face.

“What’s wrong Freddie?” his voice was laced with concern as he walked over to his brother. He had never seen Fred in such a state. His eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks were wet with tears and his lip was bleeding slightly. It was obvious this wasn’t from a fight so what had gotten Fred so worked up?

Fred stood still in front of his brother, he looked around the room before a broken sob left his mouth, George’s heart broke at the sound. George wrapped his arms around Fred and pulled him close. “Mate what is it? You know you can tell me anything”

Loud broken cry’s left Freds mouth as all his emotions bubbled over, chocked sobs and snotty sniffles filled the room as he collapsed against George. Though Fred and George loved each other dearly, they never really hugged, it wasn’t uncommon but it wasn’t something they did regularly. They usually hugged when something good happened, like when they got the money for the shop that they planned on opening over the summer or when it was their birthday. George couldn’t believe that the reason they were hugging was because Fred was, well heart broken.

“Digger kissed her, he actually fucking kissed her” Fred shouted as he pulled away from George. “How fucking dare he, who does he think he is” he pulled his shirt over his head and wiped his face with it before putting it in the wash basket.

“Fuck...Fred I’m so sorry” George had never seen Fred so angry, even loosing quidditch to Slytherin never had him this mad. His hands were in fists by his sides whilst his chest heaved with anger, jaw clenched.

“I should have asked her sooner Georgie, why the fuck didn’t I ask her sooner” soon the anger was replaced by sadness, which consumed Freds body as he lay in his bed. He’s never been so emotional before, his heart literally felt like it had been broken in two, he felt weak… hopeless

“Cmon mate, why don’t we go down to dinner, food will help and I’m sure we could see if the elf’s could get you ice cream, like what mum does when you’re upset”

Fred buried himself in his duvet, “nah I think I’m gonna stay here, don’t really want to have to sit and watch her and perfect Diggory be all over each other again”

“I’ll take you something back then, just please come and find me if you need me, even send one of the first years down and I’ll be here as soon as I can okay?”

Fred nodded “turn off the lights please on your way out”, George left the room and anger flooded his body. He hated seeing any of his family sad but the fact it was Fred, it was prankster Fred who was always laughing but now broken, angered him even more. He wanted Fred to be happy but after seeing the state he was in, it felt like it would be a while before laughing Fred returned.

“Ced, I really think we should go and find Fred, what if he’s looking for us” Y/N pulled Cedric by the hand towards the staircase leading to the Gryffindor common rooms.

Cedric pulled her back toward him, wrapping his arm around her waist “cmon you agreed to a snack first” he looked down at Y/N with his best pleading eyes. She rolled her eyes before grinning at the boy beside her “fine, only because I’m hungry”

They made their way down the corridor, “he’s probably off shagging some girl in our year, doubt he’s looking for you”. Y/N felt angry hearing that, she knew Fred had a reputation but they had been getting closer and going on dates and stuff, surely he wouldn’t be off seeing other girls when he was suppose to be spending the day with her George and Lee.

“I don’t think so Ced, he was suppose to be spending the day with us” her voice was quiet as she looked ahead of her.

“Oh cmon Y/N you can’t be serious, Fred doesn’t care about that, as long as he’s getting a shag then he’s happy” Cedric laughed. “What’s going on with you two anyway?”

“Fred and Me? Nothing...we are just friends” Y/N looked down at the ground, the thought of Fred with another girl upset her, Y/N had always hoped that the rumours going around school just now were secretly true. That Fred was finally settling down with someone. With her.

Cedric turned them so Y/N rested against the wall, “are we friends Y/N” he asked as he rested his elbow above her.

“Of course Cedric, why would you ask that?” she looked up at him, forcing a smile.

“Well if I’m honest, I’ve always liked you Y/N, obviously I figured it’s better to tell you now before it’s too late. Especially since I’m leaving at the end of the year.”

“Oh Cedric...I’m not sure what to say, I’m flattered really” suddenly her shoes looked very interesting.

“Cmon Y/N, I’m so much better for you than Weasley, he can’t give you the things I can, plus you know his reputation just as well as I do. Remember that time Lucy is my year came into the common room crying her eyes out because Fred said he didn’t want her? What makes you think you’d be different?”

Y/N couldn’t help but frown. Cedric was right, Fred did have a reputation for hurting girls, she never thought he would really mean to hurt them but what if he did? He’d led her on and now he was no where to be seen.

Why would Fred change for her? She was nothing special. Plenty girls at school were prettier than she was, smarter than she was. She was a fool for thinking Fred would want something more.

“We would be good together Y/N and you know it. Summers in Italy or at yours, your brother loves me already so we know he’d be on board with it us. Plus, look” he gestured down to his body “who could say no to all this”.

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle at Cedric, she had always found him quite attractive, though they really only started speaking last year, Y/N had lost all her puppy fat over the summer, her boobs had gotten a bit bigger and her arse and curves were more defined.

“Hmm summers in Italy do sound good” she teased

“I’d hope I’d get your attention more than just through the summer” he leaned down placing a kiss on her cheek.

“I’m sure we could arrange that if it’s your deepest desire” he smirked against her before placing another kiss on her cheek.

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted” he teased, placing another kiss on her jaw, “can I kiss you?” His voice was a low whisper in her ear. Y/N wasn’t sure what to say, on one hand she would like to kiss Cedric, she did use to have a crush on him, but the other part of her wanted to say no, hopeful that Fred would maybe want her.

Her body reacted before she could, nodding at Cedric. He grinned down at her, he ran his hand across her cheek pushing her baby hairs back form her face, she giggled at the contact. Cedric placed a soft delicate kiss on her jaw and then her lips, soon enough their lips where moving in sync but something felt off.

She pulled away before smiling up at Cedric “cmon we better go and get ready for supper” she places her hand in his and pulled him towards the common room.

When she got to dinner she sat with Cedric, laughing with him and his friends, her attention was drown to the flash of ginger hair walking into the hall. It was George, she looked over and smiled at him, shock consumed her when he glared at her. If looks could kill she’d have been dead.

His eyes trailed down to the table where Cedric has his hand rested on top of hers. George looked angry, his face turned slightly red and his nostrils flared. He walked over to the Gryffindor table, immediately meeting with lots of “you okay George?” “Where’s Fred?” “What’s got you so angry?”.

He was sat with Lee, Angie, Alicia and Katie, once he told them all what happened they were fuming. None of them really liked Diggory in all honesty, from the way he acted during quidditch to his show off personality, they all thought he was a bit of a tool.

To say there were all shocked was an understatement, they had all seen Y/N and Fred together and even they knew they were more than friends.

“Well I won’t be saying hi to her again any time soon” Alicia said in a bitchy tone, “how could she do that to Fred?”.

Fred eventually got hungry, and honestly he hoped food would comfort him. He pulled on a hoodie with his grey joggers and made his way down to the great hall. As he entered he avoided looking over at the Hufflepuff table, usually he would look for Y/N and send her a wave or a wink or a goofy grin but not today. Not ever again, he thought to himself when he reached his friends. He was sat in between Lee and George, both of them giving him a pat on the back as he sat down.

They tried to distract Fred by talking about new pranks and quidditch plays but he wasn’t really paying attention. He was desperate to turn around and look at her, to go over and pull her away from perfect Diggory and convince her that she should be with him instead but he knew he had to be strong. He knew he didn’t stand a chance against Diggory, after all, he he was the better option, he would give her the things Fred couldn’t, like luxury holidays to Italy.

Ginny came over to them and sat in-between Fred and Lee, giving her brother a comforting hug once he explained what happened. A few little sobs leaving his mouth which he covered with a cough. Fred had spoken to Ginny loads about Y/N, she was the only one who wouldn’t slag him off for being all lovey dovey about her.

“Fred, don’t look now but Y/N is coming over” Alicia said as she kept looking over to where Y/N walked over towards the table. Fred groaned and felt his eyes start to water.

Ginny turned around and glared at the girl coming towards her, “bitch” she mumbled before turning to Fred. “Want me to tell her you don’t wanna talk?”

“Fuck” he rubbed his eyes with his pointer finger and thumb, “it’s okay gin, I can’t exactly avoid her”. Y/N came over and wrapped her arms around Fred’s neck, pulling down his hood “what’s up with you Freddie?” her voice whispered in his ear. Fred tensed at the contact, before relaxing at her voice.

Y/N was worried about Fred, he was never usually late to dinner and she didn’t even get her usual goofy smile off him.

Her voice was one of his favourite sounds, he often fell asleep to her voice in the common room late at night when he’d sneak her in. His head would rest on her lap as she read muggle tales to him, the way her voice soothes him sent him into deep slumbers. He couldn’t help but melt in her arms and at her words, she’s always so caring.

He looked at his friends who were all sending glares her way. He sucked in a breath before pulling her hands away from his neck, he turned around and looked at her. She frowned at his current state, his hair was a mess, eyes bloodshot and face red.

“Nothing I’m good” Fred stood up and, made his way out of the hall.

“What’s up with him Georgie?” She turned to look at Fred make his way out the hall.

Ginny scoffed and rolled his eyes at her, “hmm I wonder” sarcasm laced her voice as she tapped her chin. Ginny learned at a young age to look after herself and then she very quickly realised she had to look after her family. They always came first and no one said anything bad about them.

She’d had her fair share of arguments with boys and girls over the years, boys trying to slag off her brothers out of jealousy and girls complaining about rejection. Knowing how much Fred liked and cared for Y/N only made Ginny angrier, Fred actually allowed himself to get close to someone and she broke him. She stood up to face Y/N, eyes staring her down, “why don’t you go ask your new boyfriend Diggory? Maybe you two can recreate some of the dates my brother took you on”, her voice was cold as ice as she spoke. She shoved past Y/N and went to look for Fred.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she looked down at George, he just looked at her before a “she’s right” left his mouth and him and the rest of the people he was sitting with left the hall.

Y/N was shocked, she was an idiot for underestimating what she and Fred had. She stood for a moment trying to think about everything that had happened. She majorly regretted kissing Cedric now, she should have spoken to Fred, asked how he felt but she was an idiot. She let her insecurities get the better of her.

She decided to go to her dorm and call it a night, at about 2 am she woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep, her mind in overdrive. She decided to go for a wander out to the gardens to look at the stars.

Fred was in and out of sleep, if he wasn’t having dreams about him and Y/N, he was dreaming about her and Cedric.

He woke up after dreaming about walking in on Y/N and Cedric, Cedric was above her, hands running down her body, they were laughing at Fred as he stood at the door watching.

“Oh Freddie, you didn’t actually think you had a chance with me, did you?” Y/N’s giggle flooded the room but it wasn’t her normal laugh, it was laced with mockery and hate. “Why would I settle for you, poor little Fred Weasley, can’t even commit to a girl. You honestly think I’d settle for that? Cedric treats me so much better”. Cedric leaned down kissing her roughly..

Fred shot up from his bed, chest heaving as he tried to calm down. He was an idiot for thinking he stood a chance, why would she be his when he’d been with so many other girls? When Cedric could offer her the world and he could offer her a summer at the burrow?

He got up and chucked on shorts and a hoodie, making his way out his dorm and out the portrait. He made his way around the castle avoiding the prefects and Filtch. He reached the gardens and was sat on the grass looking up at the stars above him.

He was staring up at the moon, all he could think about was Y/N, the way she laughed, the way she listened to everything Fred had to say, the way she could brighten up even the darkest days and the way she made everything better.

He thought about Christmas, he’d asked her to stay with them over the festive period. He was looking forward to spending all his free time with her, playing in the snow and showing her all his favourite places around the burrow. He knew she’d love their garden, the stars were even clearer there. He was to engrossed in thought that he hadn’t heard Y/N walk up behind him,

He was even looking forward to having her meet his mum and dad. Molly was shocked when she saw the letter from Fred asking for his new friend-girl to stay over at Christmas. Molly had a feeling another sweater may be needed.

“Freddie….” Her voice was a whisper but still managed to make him jump “can I join you?”……..

Part Three

Tagged

@manuosorioh @itsbebeyyy @britishspidey @supermassiveblackhope @impossibelle @jenniweaslee

#Fred weasley imagine #Fred weasley smut #Fred weasley x reader

410 notes · View notes

narrators-journal · 3 years

Text

Help from the help

Narrator, do you have a thing for these sorts of power dynamics mayhaps? Do you maybe want to get railed by Illumi while you’re his maid? Yes. Yes I do.

cw: I dunno, maids? Illumi being awkward maybe?

In total, you'd seen Illumi Zoldyck maybe five times during your time as a temporary maid for his family. Three times when you'd cleared dinner dishes, once when it had been your turn to clean his wing, so you'd been making his bed and he'd come in and ordered you to not forget to clean his bathroom too, and once when you had been putting a load of laundry into the washer and turned around to find the tall, dark-eyed assassin so close you actually ran into him a bit, he'd apparently come in to try and find out if a piece of clothing had been washed. Aside from those times, you'd hardly seen him. Despite these sparse encounters, you were rather smitten with him almost from the first time. It wasn't like he was insanely better looking than any other Zoldyck, Kikyo was very pretty, Silva was nowhere near the worst to look at, even Milluki had his charms and wasn't hard on the eyes, but something about the doll-like assassin drew you in more than the rest. Probably the unattainable aspect you mused to yourself one day as you made your way upstairs with a laundry basket full of cleaning supplies, heading to clean said son's wing of the home today. Or maybe I just have a thing for men with long hair, you continued as you went, finding the upstairs cleaning closet and fetching the vacuum as you lost yourself in your thoughts. You were spacing out pretty hard, just mulling over all of what you found attractive about Illumi, entertaining yourself with ranking which Zoldyck you'd date before the rest, stuff like that while you worked, so you didn't notice until you'd turned the corner at the end of the hall leading into Illumi's wing that you had that static-y, fuzzy feeling his aura left you with creeping up your spine. Confused, you looked around, giving a small yelp when you realized Illumi was damn near leaning over you from behind, "Uh, s-sir??" you squeaked with wide (e/c) eyes before quickly clearing your throat and speaking again in a more composed voice "is there something I can help you with...master Illumi?" He simply stared at you, straightening at least when he had gotten your attention, "I was wanting to ask something." He finally explained, walking around you to be in front, which helped you relax a tad bit, as at least now you weren't relying on somewhat intimate senses to gauge where he was, "Well sir, if this is about some cleaning issue, I wasn't the one to clean your wing yesterday, that was a different maid," you chirped, using your happy demeanor to hopefully hide the filthy places your brain had shot to after his words. "I know, I ran into the maid yesterday. I'd rather ask this of a woman closer to my age." he said flatly, and if he noticed any giveaways for your lascivious thoughts he didn't acknowledge them as he went on, "you see, father has told me I lack experience with women, and if I'm to find a wife I need to learn. So, would you help me?" he asked, making you blink, your brain temporarily screeching to a halt. "Uh, I don't see how I could help with that, master Illumi." you pointed out, laughing awkwardly while he looked at you coldly, and you knew you might've offended him, "(Y/n), I know very well that you are attracted to me, you more than any other maid should realize I have no trouble attracting women." and just like that, the color drained from your face. Your heart felt like someone was trying to squeeze the blood from it while you scrambled to reassure him, the task not made easier under his calculating, unreadable gaze. Finally, after a moment of floundering, you gave up and just went quiet, resigning yourself to the embarrassment of so brutally having your crush called out, "A-alright, so...what did you need help with?" you asked, your voice somewhat quiet, which seemed to amuse or please the long haired billionaire in front of you, "I need practice with seducing a woman, and if I am to try, I'd prefer to seduce someone I find attractive. So, I chose you." The words made your breath catch in your throat, but before you could put together the words to ask your next question, or even the power of thought required to register that last part, he spoke again, "No, I am not a virgin, I just don't have a plethora of experience, and my father says that I need more if I'm to get a wife." he explained, and you decided not to push it further or ask about why his father was concerned with the issue, "Alright, so what do you want me to do to help?" you asked instead, "I would like for you to let me try to seduce you. You have my permission to tell me if my attempts are off in any way," You nodded, agreeing to help the struggling assassin. After that was settled, he left you alone to continue cleaning. What followed was possibly the most awkward period in your life. True to his word, Illumi did try his best to try and seduce you over the next two weeks, and true to his word, he did need work at it. Part of you was somewhat charmed at how awkward this intimidating murderer was when it came to trying to flirt, but the rest of you lowkey wanted to be one of his hits rather than hit on for that same reason.

At first, his lines were rather cheesy, stuff that you guessed he heard his parents use or from movies, but as time went it became pretty obvious that the lines weren't exactly the issue, his delivery was. "y'know, this might work better if you were more...expressive," you advised one day after he'd tried another miss of a pick-up line, and all you really got in response was a slow, owlish blink, "Expressive? I'm expressive," he argued, but you shook your head, "You have a tendency to sound bored or uninterested when you speak, and it's currently what's making you sound so awkward...sir." you explained, and for a moment he looked a tad lost, but than hummed, "What should I sound like then?" he finally asked, "Hisoka?" Your stomach dropped at the thought of Illumi trying to imitate Hisoka's way of flirting. You'd run into the brightly colored magician a few times, mostly whenever he'd stop by to be tortured for interfering with jobs, and you'd been hit on each time by the man. You didn't know if you could survive Illumi being as brash, forward, and creepy as that. "I wouldn't suggest following his lead, but m-maybe finding a middle ground? L-like, sound more...coy? Flirtatious? But don't sound quite as...aroused, as master Hisoka does." you advised, and Illumi seemed to understand better. "so, what if I did this," he than walked towards you, backing you to the wall of room you'd been cleaning in his wing and than caging you between his arms before leaning down so your faces were closer together before he spoke in a much more playful, husky voice, "Would you let me bed you now, (y/n)?" and you couldn't even respond. It was like he'd knocked the wind from your lungs in one try, leaving you feeling as if you were going to melt down the wall. Thankfully, Illumi inferred your answer from there and smirked a bit while his hands slid down and than around you, pulling you closer to him so you didn't have the option of sliding downwards anymore. "I didn't expect it to be so easy to win you over, (y/n). I've only changed one thing and you're already putty." he purred, and all you could muster up was a pretty brainless reply, "It's a pretty big...change." even in your derpy, hormone-addled state that sounded kinda dumb, but it got you a small laugh from Illumi. After that, the assassin took you by surprise and actually went in for a kiss, though he pulled away when you squeaked, "What?" "ah, n-nothing, just didn't expect you to...do that." you squeaked out, your body now fully aware of just how close his was, and of a small spot of pressure. "I did say I would try to seduce you, that includes getting you to have sex with me." he pointed out, and his return to a disinterested, aloof voice did nothing to stop his words from being gasoline on a bonfire to you. So, when you couldn't form any other arguments, he kissed you again, and this time you were swift to return it. You wouldn't admit it, but you were a little surprised at just how good of a kisser Illumi was. Yes, he'd said he wasn't a virgin, but after some asking around you'd learned that he at most has has sex 4 times, all for jobs, so you were not expecting his kiss to knock you on your proverbial ass like it did. Though, you were glad to be in one of his side rooms when it did, because the way he dominated your tongue with his, and slid his hand down your back, over your ass and down your thigh to pick up your knee may have gotten a pretty inappropriate noise out of you. So, when he finally broke the kiss to step away in order to strip, you were already panting while following his lead and losing your own clothing. Once fully disrobed, he wasted no time in scooping you up and pressing you back into the wall with another kiss, letting you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips for support. Then, he set to work on getting more moans out of you. He started with pressing his body to yours, and you rewarded him with a mewl and a hip wiggle when you felt his swiftly stiffening member against your stomach, you also gasped and moaned when his lips moved from yours and down your throat, zeroing in on your sweet spot within seconds and nipping and sucking at it until you were sure to bruise. After that, you were already soaked enough for him, but he kept going, keeping you up with one hand on your ass, using the other to rub your clit and send shockwaves of pleasure through you so powerful you curse and arched your back. "it's been a while since you've gotten off, hasn't it?" He asked, using that playful purr you'd later curse yourself for teaching him to use, but for now you just nodded. It really had been a long while since you'd had sex, if at all, but either way the way he played your body like an instrument had all other times currently beaten. That decision was set in stone when you felt him leave your clit for a moment to slip a finger inside of your already soaked cunt, giving a few testing thrusts just to make you moan again, then he pulled his hand away and instead grabbed onto your hips to lift you up more, which earned a squeal when your hips pressed more against his member on the way up. He quieted you down briefly with another kiss while your veins coursed with lightning and he lined himself up with your entrance. He pulled away just as he pushed into you, wanting to hear you whine his name as he filled you up. Once you were full, he began to move, briefly setting a slow pace, but once you were moaning more he was quick to get rougher. Pretty soon you were a mess of moans and curses, clawing into his shoulders a bit, which got you pretty mercilessly rammed into as punishment, but the pain only seemed to further feed your lust at this point, along with Illumi sprinkling in hungry kisses while he slammed his dick into you repeatedly. Though, he made sure to use one hand to hold your hips in place while the other was in your (h/l), (h/c) hair to keep you from moving up the wall or turning your head to avoid his demands for kisses. In a short time you could feel a knot in your stomach tighten, your orgasm quickly approaching. So, with one final cry of his name, you let yourself fall over the edge, Illumi soon following after. Though, part of you was a bit sad that he pulled out to spill his seed onto your stomach and not fill you up with the warm fluid, but you kept your complaints to a small whine, which earned you a look that you gauged as intrigued. "Did you want me to come inside?" he asked, and while his voice was back to being flat, and notedly not changed by the activity he just partook in or the fact that he was holding you up, you could hear the hint of maybe surprise in it. "A little..." you admitted with an embarrassed, breathy laugh before trying to unwrap your legs from around him so you could get dressed, but he moved his hand from your hair to your thigh, keeping it in place, "Well than, I'll have to fix my error."

#maid reader #illumi #illumi x reader #hxh #hunter x hunter #Illumi x maid!reader #not sfw

115 notes · View notes

my-unmanageable-mischief · 4 years

Text

Truth or Dare

For the Anon who requested : Hey! Could I request a fic where Harry has a cute puppy love on this popular, pure-blood Slytherin reader? Maybe her friends set the reader up to play with Harry and break his heart in like a bet but then y/n starts actually liking him??

Harry Potter x Slytherin!Reader

You took a swig of fire whiskey, before passing it to your dorm mate who took a gulp between giggles. It was your first night back at Hogwarts and you and your dormmates were celebrating with drinks and games; truth or dare of course.

“Okay, okay, it’s Y/N’s turn. Truth or dare?” Your roommate asked and you smirked, leaning back on your elbows.

“Dare.”

“OoooOOoo,” They all sang, giggling and leaning on each other for support, you rolled your eyes but joined in on the giggling.

“Alright, I got one!” Your best friend spoke up with a sinister grin, and you knew that look. You didn’t like that look.

“Oh no,”

“I dare you,” She paused for dramatic effect, “To pretend to date Potter!” Everyone broke out into hysterics at that.

“A Gryffindor!” One of the girls hollered, spitting out her mouth full of firewhiskey, “Brilliant!”

“Come on,” You complained, “That’s mean.”

“Everyone knows he likes you,” Your best friend grinned, “He doesn’t ever stop staring at you, just ask him out. Date him for a week, then break his heart.”

“Make it a month.” One of the girls countered. “Let him get really into it, then just tell him it was a prank.” You frowned feeling slightly bad. You might’ve been a bitch, but you weren’t evil. And your friend was right, everyone knew Harry Potter, the boy who lived, had a huge crush on you. You thought it weird he was in love with a Slytherin girl, but you were pretty and popular amongst all the houses, even the Gryffindors didn’t find you terribly obnoxious. But this was too far.

“No,”

“You can’t say no, you picked dare.” You groaned, accepting the bottle when it made it’s way back to you. You drank from it, allowing it to burn at your throat.

“Fine but only a week.”

“A month.”

“Two weeks!” You argued.

“Three, and you have to snog him!” You handed the bottle to someone else and laid back on the floor, looking to the ceiling.

“You’re terrible.” It wasn’t that you disliked Potter, you had nothing against the boy, but you definitely didn’t want to date him, let along snog the bloke. He wasn’t ugly or anything, just not your type. Besides, he had barely ever spoken a word to you. Whenever you were in his presence he became a stammering mess, three weeks of that sounded like torture.

“Fine.”

“Do it tomorrow.”

“Okay, okay, fine!” And with that, your deal was set in stone.

The next morning you and your friends sat huddled at the Slytherin table, whispering to each other.

“Do it now,”

“No way, I can’t just go up and be like, ‘oi potter care to be my boyfriend?’ He won’t buy it.” You argued, fidgeting nervously, brushing your hair behind your ear. You looked over at the group of Gryffindors and caught Potter staring at you for the millionth time, he immediately dropped his gaze going beet red. All your friends saw the exchange and grinned.

“Yes you could.”

“You could probably do that with any guy in this room, Y/N.” You sighed.

“Go ask him to the first Hogsmeade weekend, then ask him out there.” You whined, shaking your head.

“But that’s in two weeks from now!”

“You don’t need to talk to him until then, you go to Hogsmeade, confess your undying love, and ask him out. Easy peasy.” Your friend nudged you, “Go ask now.” The girls began to chant go, and just to shut them up you stood from the table, straightening your uniform before glaring at them all.

“Fine.” You walked to the end of the Slytherin table, past Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and then turned down the aisle for Gryffinor, confidently walking towards the middle of the table. Some people turned to look at you, wondering why you were over this way. You got to Harry’s group and the girl, Hermione, looked up at you surprised. Next Weasley and Potter’s head turned, looking at you. You smiled sweetly and pointed to the seat beside Harry.

“Is this taken?”

“N-No.” He answered, flushing deeply. You sat down on the bench and smiled again at the group.

“How was your summer?” You asked him and he gawked at you. Weasley mouthed, ‘close your mouth’ at Harry and he slammed it shut, nodding his head vigorously.

“It was good. Alright. I’m glad to be back though.” You nodded your head, twirling a lock of hair around your finger as you leaned on the table.

“Yeah, me too!” He opened his mouth a few times before nodding his head and looking at anything besides you. You swallowed a laugh and rested your head on your hand, peering at him.

“Any plans for the first Hogsmeade trip yet?” You asked and he shook his head, looking at you with wide eyes. “Do you want to go with me?” You asked. He looked gobsmacked, and you suddenly felt guilty. This was cruel, but a dare was a dare.

“With you?” He repeated.

“Like a date?” Weasley asked, hanging onto every word of the conversation. You giggled slightly and nodded your head.

“Yeah, a date!”

“O-Okay!” He squeaked. You nodded your head, smiling at him before standing back up again,

“Brilliant,” You spoke, “I’ll see you later.”

“Yes,” As you walked away you saw Weasley reach across the table, patting Harry on the shoulder in congratulations.

“Good one mate!” You smirked to yourself and kept walking.

The two weeks flew past, and on Saturday morning you woke up early, getting ready for Hogsmeade. You picked out a cute outfit and a light jacket since it was just starting to cool down, and you applied some light makeup for fun. When your friends left you went with them, but hung back in the entrance to wait for Harry as they all kept walking. You were looking at the ground, kicking a rock around slightly as you waited when the boy approached you.

“Hello, Y/N,” You looked up and smiled.

“Hiya, Harry,” He glanced over you and flushed, lifting a hand to fix his glasses that were slipping down his nose and you smiled again. “Alright?”

“I’m good,” He assured, nodding his head vigorously. “You look stunning, by the way.” You grinned, pushing yourself off from your spot leaning on the wall.

“Thank you, you’re sweet. Are you ready to go?” He nodded his head again, eagerly. Harry didn’t speak much as you walked down the pathway towards the little town. You were finding it hard to strike up conversation with him as well, he wasn’t giving you much. You could tell he was nervous by the way he kept fidgeting awkwardly.

“Where do you want to go first?” He asked and you hummed thoughtfully, shrugging.

“I’m not too picky, maybe Honeydukes? I could use some chocolate, the stuff I brought at the start of term is already almost gone.” You admitted and he managed to chuckle.

“Is chocolate your favorite?”

“Oh yes, you know us ladies, we love the stuff.” You joked, nudging him slightly, trying to get him to loosen up.

“Which is your favorite?” He asked, genuinely curious. You weren't used to talking to boys who were ever genuinely curious in what you had to say.

“Honeydukes Peanut Butter Chocolate bars are the absolute best. Anything with chocolate and peanut butter is good in my book!” He chuckled again and you smiled up at him, watching him blush once more. He did that a lot. You reached Hogsmeade and took Harry’s arm, confidently steering him towards Honeydukes. Together you entered the bustling building, which must have currently held half of Hogwarts. You grabbed a basket and began to load it up with goodies. Chocolate bars and chocolate frogs, even a few licorice wands and sugar quills. Harry watched you, following you around like a puppy the entire time.

“Don’t you want anything?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder. He shook his head and smiled.

“No my- a family friend gave me a bunch of stuff before I came back, I still have plenty.” You smiled and nodded your head before glancing over your basket.

“I think I’ve gotten enough to hold me over until the next trip.” He smiled back at you and nodded his head, gesturing towards the payment line. You made idle chat as you waited, and when you got to the counter you both reached for your coin purses.

“You’re not paying for my chocolate,” you scoffed, giggling, “It’s fine,”

“Please,” He shoved your hands away from the counter, “It’s a- a date. A gentleman should pay.” You were slightly surprised by his boldness, not expecting it. Maybe he was warming up.

“You don’t have to pay, you’re already being a gentleman.” Harry smiled at you but simply continued to count out the amount you owed, handing it over and taking the bag for you, refusing to hand it over. “So you’re carrying my things for me now, too?” You smirked and he chuckled.

“Yes, ma’am,”

“Please, ma’am is my mother.” You joked and he snickered again as he led you back out of the still busy store. Next you went to Quality Quidditch Supplies so Harry could look for a pair of gloves. You didn’t care much for Quidditch but you found it interesting to look around at all the gear you didn’t understand, and you enjoyed seeing Harry excited, it was endearing. He tried to explain the rules to you, grinning, and you could tell it was something he was very passionate about.

“Want to go to the Three Broomsticks?” He asked, “We can get butterbeers and chat more?” You nodded your head and began walking with him in that direction.

“Sure, just don’t try and get me drunk,” You teased, he flushed for the first time in over an hour, shaking his head wildly.

“I would never!”

“I know, Harry, I’m only teasing you.” You promised and he relaxed slightly. “You’re a gentleman, remember.” He nodded, offering you his arm with a flourish as you walked.

“M’lady,”

“Kind sir,” You chuckled, taking his arm as you entered the dimly lit and slightly smoky tavern. You found an empty table in the corner and sat down, taking off your jacket as Harry sat across from you. Madam Rosmerta came up to your table and you ordered two butterbeers before she whisked away again to go and retrieve them. You continued your earlier conversation about Quidditch until your drinks arrived, you took a large sip and sighed.

“Oh this hits the spot.”

“It always does,” He agreed, sipping his own and coming away with a foam mustache. You giggled and reached over, wiping it off with your thumb and a smirk. “Thank you,” He muttered, looking down at his drink with bright red cheeks.

“Of course.” You smiled, before swallowing thickly. Now was your shot. “I have to ask you something.” He looked up nervously.

“Yes?”

“Do you want to go out with me?”

“Like,” Harry paused, “Like boyfriend/girlfriend?” He asked skeptically and you nodded your head.

“Exactly like that.” He looked around the room in shock and for a moment you thought he might actually turn you down, you grew nervous.

“I would really like that, yeah.” You smiled and took another sip of butterbeer, winking at him over the rim of your mug.

“Alright, brill.”

You spent a lot of time with Harry over the next week, mostly at the bequest of your friends who demanded you, ‘made it look real’. Not that you minded too much, Harry was growing on you, and his company wasn’t bad. You studied together in the library a lot, chit chatting about nothing in particular. It was one of those times, you were seated on the same side of the table, giggling to yourself when a group of Hufflepuffs glared at you, shushing you for the third time. Harry looked at them apologetically.

“Maybe we should go,” He stated and you felt your face fall slightly. You were enjoying yourself. “We can go back to my common room?” He offered, brushing his hand gently over the back of yours.

“You’re sure they won’t riot? A snake in the lion's den.” He chuckled, shaking his head and beginning to pack up.

“Nah, you’ll be fine. It’s you after all,” You frowned.

“What does that mean?” He seemed to realize what he said and shook his head.

“Nothing! Nothing bad, just, everyone likes you, like, everyone. So no one will mind if you’re there.” He assured, and you relaxed, smiling. “Besides, you’re my girlfriend, you should be allowed in my common room, people bring in students from other houses all the time. No biggie.” Harry loved calling himself your boyfriend, it was almost like he had to remind himself every so often, that you were, in fact, his girlfriend. You felt guilty again, but tried to swallow it down. Harry carried both of your bags as you made your way up to Gryffindor tower, he spoke the password and you smirked.

“Now I can sneak in, give you a haircut while you sleep.” He chuckled, holding the portrait open for you.

“Please don’t,”

“Harry!” Ron called from a sofa near the fireplace, and Harry put a hand on your back as he led you over. You were going to hang out with his friends?

“You brought Y/N,” Hermione spoke, smiling softly, “Good, sit down,” You and Harry took a seat in the only free seat, an armchair and you glanced at him. You hadn’t really been this close together yet, your bodies touching as you sat close together in the chair.

“How are you?” Hermione asked politely, closing her book and setting it aside, Ron simply looked at you and Harry, smirking slightly.

“I’m alright,” You nodded, feeling slightly out of place, which wasn’t a feeling you got often. “Starting to get more and more homework, they’re not holding back this year are they?” You asked and she smiled sympathetically, nodding.

“Not at all, but it’s for our benefit,”

“How so? I won’t be of any benefit if I’m dead from stress.” Harry chuckled and Ron groaned.

“Don’t get her started on how important preparing for the NEWTs are, please, Y/N, I already got the speech once today,” You smirked slightly, looking at Hermione who glared at Ron. You couldn’t help but wonder if they dated as well, but you decided not to ask. The three of them chatted and you occasionally joined in, Harry kept glancing at you, and you’d smile slightly everytime he did. You still felt awkward and out of place amongst your boyfriend, fake boyfriend’s friends. Eventually it got late, and you yawned, leaning slightly more into Harry as he continued to argue with Ron about the best Quidditch team, and who had the best chance at the world cup this year.

“Sleepy?” Harry asked you, hesitantly putting an arm around around your shoulder. You enjoyed the comfort of it more than you were willing to admit to yourself in that moment.

“A bit.”

“Let me walk you back to your common room,” You shook your head as the boy got up.

“No, Harry, no point in your walking to the other end of the castle and back, I’m a big girl, I can make it.” He shook his head back at you, smiling and offering you his hand.

“Humor me,” You sighed and took the outstretched hand, allowing him to pull you into a standing position.

“Fine, goodnight Hermione, Ron.” They both said goodnight to you, and Harry led you by your hand to the exit of the common room, swinging the portrait hole open. You walked, hands linked, in comfortable silence to the dungeons. When you got to the entrance of the Slytherin common room, you stopped, turning to him but not releasing his hand.

“This is my stop, Thank you,” You grinned.

“Of course,” He assured you, eyes going from your eyes to his lips. You watched him, tilting your head slightly and wondering if he had the guts to kiss you. It had been a week after all. Harry brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear and gazed down at you, and you found yourself hoping he would muster up the courage.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“May I kiss you?” He asked and you nodded your head slightly. The hand that had brushed your hair back, moved to your cheek, cupping it gently. He pulled you slightly closer before leaning down to gently press his lips to yours. It was sweet and gentle and before you knew it, it was over. He pulled back, blinking his eyes open and you giggled releasing his hand.

“Goodnight,” You whispered.

“Goodnight, Y/N,”

A week and a half later, and several kisses later, you were four days from the end of your bet, and you found yourself dreading Monday. You didn’t want to hurt Harry, you’d grown to enjoy his company, and once he got over how nervous you made him he was sweet and funny and lovely to be around. You were wandering the castle together, late at night, past curfew, and you were surprised by how willing Harry was to break some rules. You hadn’t seen each other in a few days, busy with class and school work, so he had suggested your little midnight rondevu.

You were walking aimlessly, holding hands and talking about your week. Harry nudged you and you smirked up at him.

“What?” He asked, laughing.

“Oh nothing,”

“No tell me,”

“I’m just surprised is all,” You admitted.

“About what?”

“You. You’re not exactly what I thought you’d be.” He frowned.

“In a bad way?” You shook your head and squeezed his hand tightly.

“No, in a good way. I never expected you to be the sneak out late to see your girlfriend type.” He smirked down at you, nudging you back.

“I’m full of surprises.” You smiled, swinging your hands playfully as you walked. At the end of the corridor a cat appeared suddenly, it’s eyes illuminated by the torch light.

“Mrs. Norris!” You whispered loudly, yanking on Harry, “Come on,” Harry allowed you to lead him in the opposite direction, but the sound of footsteps were quickly approaching so you ducked into the first broom cupboard you saw, pulling Harry in with you and shutting the door quietly.

“What if he checks?” Harry asked, eyes wide. You smacked a hand over his mouth hissing out a ‘shh’. The cupboard was tiny, and you were practically pressed against Harry fully, and you were shaking mildly. You played a senero over in your head; Filch finding you, owling your parents, telling them you had been found, after hours, alone, with Harry Bloody Potter in a broom cupboard. They would kill you. Harry felt you shaking and wrapped you into a hug, pulling you against his chest. You wanted to push him away, but you found it too comforting, so you wrapped your own arms around him, resting your head on his chest and closing your eyes tight.

The footsteps came down the hallway quickly, and came closer and closer to you. You held your breath. Then they went directly past you, and continued on down the corridor. You let out the breath you had been holding and felt the tension leave your body. Harry rubbed a hand over your arm, kissing the top of your head.

“We’re alright, Y/N.” He promised and you pulled back just far enough to look at him, smiling softly. Your faces only inches apart. Harry gazed down at you, openly adoringly. That’s one of the things you liked about him, how open he was in liking you. Most boys you had dated before barely even tolerated you; they just wanted to be able to say they were dating a pretty popular girl. They didn’t like you.

Harry smiled, pressing his forehead against yours and you leaned in to give him a small kiss. When you pulled back he was blushing again.

“Will you ever stop blushing?” You teased lightly, brushing his curls from his face.

“No probably not, you make me blush.” He leaned in and kissed you again hesitantly, but you kissed back immediately. Right when you thought he might deepen the kiss he pulled back, blushing furiously.

“S-Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m trying to take advantage of you.” You giggled, pulling his head down again.

“You’re not. I’m taking advantage of you,” You promised jokingly. Harry laughed against your lips, trailing his fingers over your sides as he kissed you. You felt his tongue tease at your lip curiously, and you began to wonder if he had ever snogged a girl before. You parted your own lips slightly, poking your own tongue out to meet his. Harry’s hands on your waist tightened. He opened his mouth more, pressing his tongue into your mouth as he began to explore- you allowed him. He tested the waters, and you occasionally ran your tongue over his. You didn’t know how long you stood there kissing but he eventually pulled back, smirking lightly down at you.

“You’re... good at that.” You almost made a joke about how practice makes perfect but thought better of it.

“Thank you, you’re a quick learner.” He frowned slightly before giving you a lopsided smile.

“It’s obvious I haven’t done this before?”

“I just figured,” You admitted. Usually boys who snogged a lot were much quicker to the draw.

“Sorry,”

“Don’t apologize to me Harry, I’m glad I was your first proper kiss.” He moved his hands from your body and took your hands in his, lifting them to his mouth as he peppered the back of your hands with kisses.

“Let me walk you back to your common room, make sure you get there safe.” You nodded your head. That was Harry, that’s what you liked about him.

“How’d the break up go?” Your friend asked, plopping down on your bed beside you with a wide grin, you had been avoiding all of your friends for the past three days. You didn’t look up from your charms essay.

“I haven’t done it.” you admitted, and her eyes widened.

“What? Why? The dare was over three days ago!” You shrugged your shoulders, flushing deeply. “What?” You friend repeated, “Oh, Y/N, don’t tell me...” She placed a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

“I’m not going to break up with him.” You shrugged again, refusing to look at the other girl.

“You like him!” She gasped.

“I’ve definitely started to,” You admitted, putting your quill down, rubbing your hands over your face. “I don’t want to hurt him, I don’t want to... stop seeing him.” She nodded slightly.

“But he’s a Gryffindor.”

“He’s a lot more than just his house,” You argued and she looked at you skeptically.

“Are you sure?” You nodded. “Then don’t.” You both smiled smally at each other but then her face grew serious. “But I would tell him about the dare, if I were you, it’ll come out eventually. You don’t want that to happen.” Your face went blank.

“Is that a threat?”

“No.” She assured you seriously, “But it’s true.” And you knew she was right. Damn her.

“I’ll go... find him now.” She patted your shoulder, and offered you a reassuring look.

“Goodluck.”

You went to Gryffindor tower and waited nervously outside the portrait hole until you saw a familiar face approaching.

“Hi Neville.”

“Hello Y/N, alright?” You nodded.

“Can you do me a favor, can you ask Harry to come out?” He smiled.

“Of course.” He disappeared into the common room and you went back to waiting nervously. A few moments later and Harry came out, grinning widely.

“Hey, Y/N,” He saw your face, and your nervous demeanour and stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“Can we talk?” You asked, offering him your hand. He took it and nodded his head, eyes worried.

“Of course.” You led him down the corridor finding a small nook you could tuck yourselves into for some privacy. “What’s wrong?” He asked again and you sighed, looking down at your entwined hands. You didn’t want to tell him, you didn’t want to see the look of hurt on his face when you admitted your relationship started on a bet. All you could do was hope he understood that it was no longer that way, and that you had fallen for him.

“I need to tell you something, it’s going to hurt you and I am very sorry.” He nodded his head, trying to get you to look at him but you couldn’t. “You’re going to be cross with me, just know I really really like you, Harry.”

“You’re breaking up with me?” He asked in a breathy whisper and you shook your head no.

“No, I’m not. But you might want to break up with me.”

“Tell me, Y/N, please.” You took a deep steadying breath and finally looked at him with tears in your eyes.

“On the first day of the year, my dormmates and I were playing truth or dare.” You decided to get directly to the point, “They... they knew you liked me. A lot. Everyone did. They dared me to ask you out.” You watched as his face fell, a look of horror overcoming him. “I was supposed to date you for three weeks, and then break up with you- but I can’t. I told them I can’t, Harry. I like you too much. I don’t want to break up with you, I am so so sorry.” You were crying. His face went blank.

“It was a dare?”

“At first! Just at first, but you’re so kind, and good to me, and handsome, and sweet. You’re such a gentleman, I’ve never met a boy like you, let alone dated one.

“A dare.” He repeated and you tried to take his hand again but he yanked it away. “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry,”

“I don’t want to hear it.” The look of hurt on his face was too much for you and your shoulders shook with tears. “How could you do that to someone?” He asked angrily and you winced.

“I didn’t want to, I told them I didn’t want to hurt you, but a dare was a dare.” Harry stood up suddenly, looking down at you. He was sad and angry and you couldn’t blame him.

“And what? Now I’m supposed to just believe you’ve changed your mind?” He asked and you nodded and shrugged.

“I won’t blame you if you don’t. But it’s the truth. I like you Harry. A lot. I don’t want to lose you.” He shook his head and turned, walking a few steps away before stopping. He turned to look at you, once more, before turning again and he was gone. You sat for another few minutes crying pathetically to yourself before you got up and made your way back to your dorm, locking yourself in the bathroom for hours. You really screwed up this time.

Over a week had passed and Harry hadn’t spoken to you. He barely even looked at you, and you were miserable. You sat in the great hall not eating, just pushing your peas around with a fork. You looked like shit, you’re usually effortless demeanour was crushed and you were hurting badly. You looked up across the room to Gryffindor door table and made eye contact with him. He held your gaze until you looked down, wiping furiously at your eyes. You couldn’t cry in front of all of these people.

You kept your head down, your hair forming a curtain from the world as you continued playing with your food. Misery didn’t suit you. A few moments later someone cleared their throat behind you and you didn’t move.

“Y/N,” they spoke and you jumped slightly, recognizing the voice. You turned and saw Harry standing there, he looked down at you sadly.

“Harry.” You croaked out. He stood there for a moment before he moved, leaning down and pressing a searing kiss to your chapped lips. When he pulled back you looked at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly open. “Wha-”

“I believe you,” He stated, eyes warm. He was looking at you like he used to. “I needed time, but I miss you too much. I believe you, and if you are willing, I want you to still be my girlfriend.” Your eyes welled again. You stood up from the bench and wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his chest.

“I would love that.” He rubbed your back and a few nearby students, including your friends clapped and laughed, whooping. You were never ever playing truth or dare again.

#Harry Potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x slytherin!reader #slytherin #gryffindor

234 notes · View notes

ace-in-a-shopping-cart · 4 years

Text

The Switch: Purple Galaxies

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

Content warnings: Allusions to vomit, starvation, food mention, touch starvation,

Word Count: 2,429

Anxiety woke slowly for once, a soft and gentle rising to awareness that he’d rarely ever experienced before. Feeling warmth at his side, he curled closer to it for a moment. That was, until his mind cleared of the fog left by sleep and he realized that someone was in the bed with him.

This someone groaned and rolled over, throwing an arm around Anxiety and pulling him close, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Morning, babe.” Logic’s voice rumbled in his ear, slightly rougher due to sleep.

Anxiety froze, unsure how to proceed. This was the most physical contact he’d gotten from someone in as long as he could remember. It felt nice but he also wasn’t sure why there was a second person in the bed or even who the bed belonged to.

For the moment, he was trapped beneath Logic. He laid there, staring at the ceiling. Shifting stars lined it, moving slowly in changing colors. Anxiety didn’t remember putting those up on his ceiling but he also didn’t remember crawling into Logic’s bed. He wasn’t sure what to believe anymore as nothing felt real.

It wasn’t long before Logic nodded against his collarbone and rolled to sit on the side of the bed. “Alright, Love, talk to me.”

Anxiety frowned, slowly moving away from the middle of the bed. “What do you want me to talk about?” He tried to keep his voice even and steady so as to throw off suspicion of whatever was going on.

“You’re tense. Why?”

Anxiety shrugged as he looked for his usual hoodie. “I have no idea what’s going on right now.”

Logic paused in his movements, his shirt half buttoned. “Okay, how can I help?” HIs voice was slow and steady and reassuringly soft.

Anxiety sighed, his shoulders slumping forward. “This is going to sound crazy.”

Logic rounded the bed, coming to stand in front of him. He crouched and tenderly ran his hand through Anxiety’s hair. “Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

Anxiety nodded. “I don’t remember going to sleep in this room last night, I don’t know why I woke up next to you, and I have no idea why you’re being so nice to me.”

Logic nodded, patient as ever. “Okay, what is the last thing you remember?”

“I ate something, probably crackers or oatmeal as that’s the only thing I have left in the kitchen. Then, I went to the bedroom and tried to sleep. I guess I succeeded but I don’t remember falling asleep.” Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

Logic ran his hand through Anxiety’s hair again, gently scratching the back of his head with the pads of his fingers. “How about we go out to the common room and talk about this with the others? We’ll figure out what’s going on.”

Anxiety nodded and stood, looking around the room. “Where’s my hoodie? It’s not where I left it.”

Logic chuckled as he finished buttoning his shirt. “Your current one is draped over the sofa where we left it last night. The old one is in your closet. Would you like to go get it before we join the others?”

Anxiety nodded. “I can get it, you go on ahead.”

They walked down the stairs together, Anxiety trying to take in everything. There was a black hoodie with purple patches thrown over the back of the couch just as Logic said it was. Other things were scattered around that implied two people lived in this part of the mindscape.

Anxiety reached out to Logic but didn’t touch him. “Do I know your name?”

Logic nodded. “It’s Logan and yes, you know everyone’s name and we all know yours, Virgil. Would you be more comfortable with us calling you Anxiety for the time being?”

Anxiety nodded. “Please, Logan.” The name felt heavy in his mouth, unfamiliar but not unwelcome. He liked it.

“Okay, I’ll see you in a few, Anxiety.” He leaned over in such a way that it looked like he was about to kiss his cheek but pulled back. Instead, he just patted Anxiety’s shoulder awkwardly and left.

Anxiety looked around the room for a moment, taking in that this was someone’s life. He smiled, thinking that maybe he could get used to this. He went back to his room and found it bright and airy, the drapes pulled open and the surfaces recently cleaned. There were small fountains and rock lamps scattered throughout the space, a weighted blanket that was folded neatly rested in a wicker basket by the couch.

He went upstairs and found little glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling above the bed. Two sets of toiletries resided in the bathroom and someone else’s slippers sat next to the bed. Anxiety smiled, guessing that Logan treated this room as his too. He rummaged through the closet and found his black and grey hoodie hanging toward the back.

He slipped it on and instantly felt more comfortable in this unfamiliar world. Nothing about the room might look or feel the same as it did when he went to bed, but this hoodie still felt exactly as it did when he took it off the previous night. He left his room and entered the common room.

Creativity was sitting on the couch, staring at pages spread out on the coffee table. Morality was hovering around him, not sitting down but just holding a mug. Logan peeked his head out of the kitchen when the door closed. He smiled. “Hello, Anxiety. I have to ask, do you like chocolate chip pancakes?”

Anxiety could hear the unspoken ‘yet’ at the end of the sentence but said nothing about it. “Yeah, I do.”

Logan nodded. “Good. You’re free to sit anywhere you like but I’m pretty sure you’ll find a fidget cube on the floor somewhere around the coffee table.”

Anxiety nodded, giving Logan a two-finger salute and moving to go find said calming toy. Creativity leaned over and picked it up, holding it out without looking up from his pages. Anxiety took the offered black cube and curled up in a corner of the couch, occupying himself by pressing the buttons on one side of the cube.

Time passed both slowly and quickly as he zoned out, focusing solely on the cube. He tuned back into the world to find a plate being held out to him. Looking up, Logan was smiling down at him. “Go ahead and eat, d- Anxiety.”

Morality smiled at Logan. “You’re being so sweet with him.”

Logan ignored him. “Have they introduced themselves yet?” Anxiety shook his head as he carefully took the plate. Logan nodded and did a simple introduction for them before going back to grab the other plates to serve. “Roman, please move those pages so I can set the plates on the coffee table.”

Roman did so, stacking them into a semi-neat pile. Three plates were set down along with such things as peanut butter, plain butter, syrup, and a chocolate spread. They ate in relative silence before discussing what happened to Anxiety and Virgil.

The talks went around different topics for a while, Anxiety chipping in when needed, before Roman seemed to have struck on an idea. He held up a hand to pause Patton mid-sentence and turned to Anxiety. “Do you know what day it is?”

He nodded. “It’s the first of February.”

The Core Three exchanged looks before Logan put a hand on Anxiety’s knee. “What year is it?”

“2017.” He was looking between the three now, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Okay, we can work with this.” Logan said, his hand still on Anxiety’s knee.

Anxiety looked around at them. “What? What can we work with? What’s going on?”

“It seems that you have been transported into the future. It’s currently mid August in 2019.”

Anxiety nodded, eyes blank and mouth open slightly. “This is fine.” His voice was a bit breathy but otherwise stable. He didn’t notice tears rolling down his cheeks until Logan’s hand moved from his knee to wipe it away. Anxiety sat like that for a while more, being overwhelmed with the news.

Logan moved from a few seats down to right beside him, leaving some room between them. Anxiety accepted the unspoken invitation and leaned against him, wrapping his hoodie around himself. Logan’s arms came around him, curling close and secure. Anxiety relaxed and, eventually, fell asleep.

When he woke, Anxiety went to his room. He puttered around it, looking at all the new things that had been added. He found a small journal tucked away in the corner of a bookshelf. It was somewhere in the middle of the bookcase, with fancier notebooks below it and fantasy books above and around it.

Taking it over to the couch, he sat down and read. It chronicled the Anxiety from the future, who went by his actual name of Virgil, as he was trapped in the past. It started off factual, listing what had happened in the Valentine’s Day video. The only anomaly there was the small note in the margins that read, ‘I miss him.’ It was written next to a line that chronicled an instance of Logic trying to flirt with ‘Valerie’.

The next entry in the journal spoke of feeling alone, like none of the other sides cared about him. ‘I know it used to be like this, I know what it was like before to be shunned or vaguely tolerated by the others but I don’t remember it feeling this bad. My stomach hurts, I’m barely able to eat anything and what I do eat doesn’t stay down long. My head pounds from lack of sleep and little nutrition. Logan’s drilled in me the importance of proper nutrition but I just can’t keep up the energy to make myself eat. I’m sorry, Love, but not eating can’t kill me.’

Anxiety skimmed through a few more entries, watching the switch in tone. It took a month of entries for them to change from being addressed to Anxiety to being aimed at Logan, or at least some fabrication of Logan Virgil had managed to create in his head. ‘I miss you. I want to see your smile, not the fake thing you used to give off. This feels like torture or at least a punishment, seeing you every day but knowing it’s not you at all, not yet anyways.’

A few days went by before another entry. ‘I got kicked out of the common room again. It seems they were wanting to watch a movie and didn’t want me around. Why do I not remember this happening? Shouldn’t I have at least remembered some of the things that go on outside of videos? Has it really been that long since they treated me this way?’

‘Logic brushed my hand today. Just a simple thing, an accidental touch while passing. But it felt weird. LIke a tingle in the knuckles that slowly spread up the rest of the arm until even my shoulder was tingling. It didn’t feel bad, but it was quite different than what I’m used to.’

‘I cried myself to sleep last night. You weren’t there to hold me. You didn’t rub my back and tell me that my emotions are perfectly fine and reasonable for what I’m going through, you didn’t offer to take my mind off what troubled me, you weren’t there to ramble about your interests until your eyes lit up with wonder and I couldn’t help but fall asleep to the sound of your voice. Instead, I felt the hole in my chest where you’re supposed to be. I felt a coldness in the bed where your warmth wasn’t. I felt tears run down my face and sobs wrack my body until I eventually couldn’t feel anything anymore.’

Over the course of the next few months, Anxiety read through the journal Virgil kept. He watched his future self make fewer and fewer entries between episodes. Soon, all that was left was the detailed and emotion filled accounts of the episodes until he got to the last page with writing on it.

‘My heart aches. There’s a physical feeling of pain coming from my chest that’s not the usual pain of hunger or heartburn. Is this what heartbreak feels like? Or is it the reluctant acceptance that I might never get out of here, never return to my time and my family, destined to repeat my past mistakes and know they’re going to hurt people I care about?’

Anxiety carefully closed the book, wiped away a stray tear he hadn’t noticed, latched it, and put it back exactly where he’d found it that first day. Soon after that, he felt Thomas calling him for something and came up in the real world. “You rang?” His voice was deep and smooth, the way it had always been before he’d been pulled into the future.

Thomas turned and smiled at him. “Anxiety, hi.” He’d been told about the switch thing that had happened and was perfectly fine with having his past anxiety for a while. He’d been less fine when Anxiety had tried to do his job but could only bring up the old anxieties he knew about that just didn’t cut it these days. Now, he mainly just hung out for a while.

It’d taken him a bit of time to get adjusted to the new routines, to the new places Thomas frequented. He’d had a few minor freak outs trying to juggle so many new things at once but eventually he’d found the rhythm the other’s had created and joined in, being the steady drumbeat in the background that kept everyone else on time and in place.

“What’d you need me for, Sanders?” His voice made him sound impatient but Thomas knew he didn’t mean it, he just didn’t know of any other way to communicate with him.

Thomas smiled. “I called you to ask if you want to hang out, just you and me.”

Anxiety thought it over but eventually found that it would be easier to protect Thomas if he was in line of sight so agreed and curled up in the corner of the couch. They agreed on a movie and put it in, Thomas soon losing himself in the storyline. Anxiety felt tired as three days of no sleep caught up to him. Soon, he fell asleep midway through the movie. Thomas put a blanket over him despite him not being real and kept going with the movie.

Main Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @antisocial-xxxpert, @more-fandon-than-friends, @vindicatedvirgil, @star-crossed-shipper, @sanderssidesweirdo, @the-sympathetic-villain, @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun, @punk-academian-witch, @sirprplsnail, @sarcasmremovedsoul, @private-snippers, @mygenderisidiot, @mistythegenderqueermess, @bisexualdisaster106, @analogical-loving-years, @5-falsehoods-phonated, @im-actually-ok

#virgil sanders #logan sanders #c!thomas #patton sanders #roman sanders #allusions to vomit #starvation #food mention #touch starvation #oh god angst #where did that come from #I swear this chapter was supposed to be fluff #ace writes

104 notes · View notes

rainsongdean · 4 years

Text

you’re always golden to me

post-mockingjay / pre-epilogue everlark healing together, appreciating the sunset, and maybe even falling in love

"We should head back before it gets dark." Peeta's words rang out in the open air between them, but they were not enough to pull Katniss from her trance-like state.

It had been a rough day. Not enough so to be classified as a bad day, seeing as Katniss had found the motivation to move from the bed to the couch at some point in the afternoon. Now, though, watching the clouds paint watercolors in the sky seemed to bring her back to life. She was encapsulated by the sight.

"Not yet," she eventually spoke, her voice somewhat hoarse from not using it for a while. "I want to stay until it's over. Besides, we could walk home blindfolded from here."

It was true. Katniss had discovered the hill nestled in the woods behind Victor's Village not long after returning from the Capitol. She found solace in being embraced by the wilderness rather than being suffocated in her old home, so when she accidentally stumbled upon the tall mount that overlooked the wide plains and open sky, she knew she had found what she had subconsciously been searching for.

It had taken a few months before she brought Peeta to her secret spot. He'd only returned to District 12 a few days before she had found the hill, and they both needed some time to warm up to each other again. But one day, after suffering through a particularly vivid flashback that ended with him handcuffed to one of Haymitch's spare cages for his geese, Katniss figured it would do them both good to escape into the forest for a while.

That was the first night they watched the sunset from the hill. It had been slightly uncomfortable, sitting inches apart on the dewy grass, no attempt at conversation made by either party. Eventually, Peeta suggested they return home to make dinner before it got too late, but Katniss insisted that she could tell by the shape of the clouds that they would put on an impressive show.

As usual, she was not wrong.

It was the most vibrant spectacle either of them had seen - far more breathtaking than any Capitol party or fireworks display. Sure, they had both watched the sun go down in 12 before, but their view had always been clouded by the thick layer of dust in the air from the mines or obstructed by the cluster of buildings stacked practically on top of one another. Here on their hill, nothing stood between them and the sky. Beyond that, the best part was they got to share it together, just the two of them.

Since that night, the pair made an effort to hike the two-mile trek to the hill at least once a week, though they typically found themselves there more often than that. Katniss still liked to visit the spot alone, sometimes using the safe space to speak aloud to Prim or Finnick and imagine what they would say back. Other times she just enjoyed the silence.

Peeta, too, ventured to the hill a few times by himself. He had tried on several occasions to paint the landscape, and while he was able to perfect the morning glow and mid-afternoon sun, he couldn't capture the colors of nightfall that he most desired to paint.

Despite the significance that the holy ground held for each of them individually, neither one could deny that they preferred to visit the hill together. Katniss had been unofficially living with Peeta for weeks now, and they even shared a bed most nights, but there was a different breed of intimacy that came with being in the woods, nestled in their own little corner of the universe.

"Fine," Peeta sighed contentedly, breaking the silence again. "We can stay as long as you'd like." With that, he leaned toward the picnic basket they had brought and reached in, shoving aside the empty containers that once held a selection of berries, cheeses, and breads to reveal a neatly folded fleece blanket he had stashed in the bottom. "I came prepared," he announced with a sense of pride.

Katniss briefly pulled her gaze from the view for the first time since the sun had begun its descent to offer Peeta a small smile of gratitude. The gesture warmed his heart with the blaze of ten thousand sunsets.

Taking care to wrap the soft cover around their legs, Peeta pulled the fabric up to their chests and then eased his back to the ground until he was laying horizontal on the hill. Katniss followed suit so they were both engulfed by the blanket.

Their new angle only served to better showcase the colors stretching endlessly above them. One hue in particular transported Katniss back to a seemingly ancient memory of the two of them.

"Orange. Muted... like a sunset." Katniss didn't break her eye contact with the sky but smirked to herself as she spoke.

Peeta nudged her shoulder playfully in response, easily picking up on what she was referring to. Their conversation on the train about favorite colors was one of the first to come back to him after he had been rescued from the Capitol. Shifting slightly toward Katniss, he reached out and twisted his finger gently around a stray strand of hair that had escaped from her braid. "You're so poetic when you quote me," he mused sarcastically.

"Well, your choice of favorite color is much more poetic than Effie’s choice of wig," she quipped. It was ironic how some of her and Peeta's best conversations had happened in the midst of some of the worst times of their lives. And yet, there they were: safe and relatively happy, just two kids trying to piece themselves back together with some pastel paints, cheese buns, and hidden hills. It may not have been anything profound, but it was living, and Katniss figured that, for time being, that would be enough.

She inhaled deeply, trying to absorb the moment. They had reached the peak of the sunset when every particle in the air seemed to glisten from the giant star's final attempt to remain on the topside of the world. There was only one word to describe it.

"Everything is golden."

And, for an instant, it was.

But as the sun succumbed to the pull of dusk, the raging reds and oranges that had scorched the sky swiftly turned to delicate pinks and purples, paving the way for the black of night.

It was then that Katniss realized Peeta had been uncharacteristically quiet, his sunset commentary usually being much more prolific than hers. When she turned her head to the left to face him, she found he was already staring back at her, still toying with her hair. His deep blue eyes twinkled like he knew a secret and was about to let her in on it.

When they first met, that kind of look from Peeta overwhelmed her. Sometimes Katniss would catch him staring at her like she carried the world in her hands, or spun threads of gold with her words. It puzzled her, annoyed her, and at times even enraged her. But after his hijacking, it had been so rare for that young, innocent Peeta to reappear and give her that look which spelled out his love for her so plainly on his face, and she had grown to cherish it.

"I change my mind." For the third time that night, Peeta's voice sliced open the veil of silence that covered them.

Katniss abruptly rose to a sitting position, an expression of confusion clouding her face as she leaned over Peeta's resting form. "What do you mean?"

"I change my mind," He repeated calmly, shrugging as if the answer to her question was obvious. "The sunset isn't my favorite shade of orange anymore."

Katniss bit her lip and furrowed her eyebrows, causing the wrinkles on her forehead to deepen. Peeta could tell she was trying to keep herself from challenging him, so he decided not to torture her any longer.

"You are my favorite shade of orange," he reached his hand up to caress her cheek, easing away the signs of worry that had risen on her face. "You, sitting here with the sun reflecting in your eyes, your skin glowing in the light." He lowered his voice to a whisper and retracted his hand, slowly guiding Katniss's head to rest on his chest so she could hear his heart beating. "The way you make me feel like I'm on fire inside, all the time."

Girl on fire. The words echoed in his mind and, although he did not dare speak them, he internally admitted they rang true. And it was in moments like those, as he held her under the night sky with millions of stars blazing above them, that he saw Katniss burn the brightest.

"Oh, shut up," she exhaled, turning away from him in an attempt to conceal the blush that had overtaken her smiling face, but Peeta didn't have to see it to know it was there. "You're so cheesy."

"Hey now," he feigned a hurt expression, "I thought you liked my cheese."

Katniss couldn't hide her outburst at his nonsense and they both fell into a fit of laughter together. They hadn't spoken much about what exactly their relationship status was at the moment, hesitant to put labels on anything, but he still wanted her to know how he felt about her. And while Katniss had never been proficient in using her words to convey her love, the way that she clung to Peeta, burying her head in his arm while gasping to regain her breath from laughing so hard, told him everything he needed to know.

"Come on, we should really head back before Haymitch gets worried." Peeta attempted once again to persuade Katniss to return home after they had both calmed down. His stomach was beginning to growl - the small rations of their picnic earlier weren't nearly enough to tide over his appetite until morning - and now that the sun had set, he'd much rather snuggle up with Katniss on their couch than on the cold, hard ground. And besides, while he didn't really think their mentor would be waiting up for them, he figured the argument might be enough to persuade her.

"Seeing as it's past 3 p.m., I think it's safe to say that Haymitch is passed out on his couch," Katniss countered, but her actions said otherwise as she began to gather herself up off the ground. Peeta knew she had a soft spot for the old man.

It took them a little over half an hour to walk home, leisurely following the path that their own footprints had created over time. Upon entering the house, Peeta made a beeline to the kitchen to heat up some leftover stew from the night before. While he ate, Katniss headed to Haymitch's house, opening the unlocked door to find him asleep in his living room as she had predicted. She pried the half-empty bottle from the arm that hung off the couch and set it on a nearby table before turning the lights out and closing his front door behind her.

She had recently made a habit of checking in on her friend, especially during the weeks when Effie travelled back to the Capitol for work. She knew he had done the same for her countless times. Haymitch never seemed to question why he would sometimes wake up with a blanket draped over him or a pillow propped beneath his head, and Katniss didn't plan on bringing it up. Like most things between the two of them, it went unsaid.

Later that evening, tucked under the covers of Peeta's bed - their bed - Katniss felt more at ease than she did most nights. Maybe it was the serenity of the particularly striking sunset, or maybe it was Peeta's roundabout confession of the feelings he still had for her. Either way, she was pleasantly content.

On the other side of the mattress, as Peeta danced on the cusp of sleep, his mind dragged him back to something Katniss had said on the hill. Everything is golden. He knew what she meant; that the landscape had been blanketed by the radiance of the sunset. But he felt it was true in another sense, and that maybe this new phrase was an even more appropriate way to describe the true essence of Katniss Everdeen.

Before drifting off herself, Katniss heard Peeta mumble one last line of admiration, causing her to fall asleep with a smile ingrained on her lips.

"You're always golden to me."

#the hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark #katniss and peeta #one shot #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #catching fire #mockingjay #thg #hunger games #everlark fic #everlark fanfiction #everlark drabble #thg fanfic #drabble #primrose everdeen #finnick odair

178 notes · View notes

stainandscribble · 4 years

Text

fleurs blanches au moulin rouge

White Flowers by the Red Mill

Pairing: Kim Jongin (Kai)/ Reader(female)

Genre: Moulin Rouge; dancer!Jongin; 1920′s!Jongin; fluff; slightly domestic au

Summary: You had one love since you were young: dance. it was your path out of poverty and your ascent to freedom. For years, you entertained the patrons of the Moulin Rouge, climbing in popularity until you were the main act. In the shiny golden lights of the spotlight, you were not alone. Jongin had accompanied you every step of the way, from the golden lights to the bruising dance practices in back rooms. You shared everything, your hearts, souls and bed.

Word Count: 4054

---

Moulin Rouge attracted many visitors, both rich and poor and those seeking a glimpse of freedom and liberty in the changing world. It’s garish red exterior and bright lights the Bastion of pleasures attracted a crowd and the dancers performing on its stage had become infamous for their daring choreographies and bold costumes. The spotlight of Moulin Rouge was a desire for most dancers, and you were the one lucky enough to occupy it. Living on the wooden boards of the stage had its fair share of hardships, but you were glad you didn’t face them alone.

Moulin Rouge at the bottom of Montmartre was where Kim Jongin first tasted freedom, and it was where you first found out what a hundred pairs of watchful eyes, focused on your every move, felt like, and for you that had been a kind of freedom too.

You started as two youngsters, dancing ballet in a small academy before the Moulin Rouge found you and brought you onto its wooden stage. Over the years you learned what it was like to have hundreds of eyes on you, and what the warm silky light of the stage felt like against your skin. In the golden glow, covered in sweat, with all eyes on you, you and Jongin fell in love.

Love had happened slowly, walked towards you in small steps. Slowly, leading eyes that followed you during rehearsals turned into lingering touches. The more you danced, the more his hands wondered, the closer your bodies pressed and the more your forms moulded to accommodate the other. Late-night practices meant late-night talks, and with adolescence came stolen kisses and holding hands in secret from the older girls.

With adulthood, the stolen kisses and wandering hands at practice became a burning romance that left both of you warm and passionate. Youth had seen you blossom, and now you were a flower, dancing with the sun in human form, for the fact that Jongin was golden.

In the backrooms of the establishment surrounded by candlelight, you dance your heart out to the music coming out the gramophone in the corner of the room. Your feet were sore from practising in your heels, and Jongin wipes sweat from his forehead. The summer had been particularly hot this year, and even dancing without a shirt had Jongin covered in sweat.

In the candlelight, his skin had assumed an even more decadent shade of gold and his dark hair stuck to his forehead in black streaks.

“It’s late, the sun will rise before we get home if we don’t leave now. I’m sure we can practice more in the morning.” You pleaded with him as he walked over to the gramophone, ready to put the record back at the start.

“Are you tired?” He asked, his velvety voice floated through the room, accompanied by the fragrant summer air.

“Is it not obvious?” You asked, smiling lightly when he looked at you, his deep brown eyes finding your own, and their intensity held you in place, waiting for whatever he would do next.

“I suppose, we can go home.” He allowed, letting you pick up his discarded shirt off the floor and dress him with tired hands.

Your home was just beyond Montmartre, at the edge of the next neighbourhood. You lived on the top floor of a three-storey building with two rooms, but it was yours, and it was enough.

You walked through Montmartre in the dark, your hand clasped in Jongin’s much larger one, as he pressed you closer to his side. The walk home was silent and peaceful as the both of you walked on tired feet, watching the night with blurry eyes. Jongin would have sworn he could still hear the echoes of the gramophone in his ears, playing the familiar melodies of foxtrot and Charleston that would entertain the patrons of Moulin Rouge for the next two weeks.

Once you were home, you had fallen into bed without a care in the world. The sheets were soft against your skin, and the night air cooled the room as it breezed through the open window, sending the white lace curtains dancing to imaginary music.

Soon Jongin had joined you, slipping under the covers in his pyjama bottoms. He pulled you closer to him, letting you rest your head against his chest. His thumb traced soft patterns against your shoulder, and you could feel his warm breath fanning your hair as he settled into the night.

“Sleep well, mon chérie.” You muttered, letting your eyes fall closed. My love, you call him, because he is.

“Good night, ma jolie fleur.” He responded, his deep voice vibrating in your ears like a soft purr. My lovely flower, he calls you, and he wonders is you know just how much those words mean to him. In the grips of sleep, right between dream and reality, you could have sworn he pressed a kiss to your forehead before falling asleep, sending your heart fluttering. You slept like that, warm in each other’s embrace.

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

Loving you was easy. It came to him as naturally as breathing. It had become second nature to his body, just as dancing had. Loving you was easy, and Jongin liked it that way. He never understood why anyone makes their life harder by loving someone difficult to be with. Maybe it was the chase after the forbidden fruit, the sweetness of fruit one assumed to be beyond ones reach. Maybe it was fate, and he never really had any say in who his heart loved. All those things seemed plausible. But all of them made life more complicated, made love more complicated, and Jongin didn’t need it to be complicated.

The sun shone through your bedroom windows, warming your back, and you felt the weight of Jongin’s arm draped over your waist. The morning had come too soon, and you wished it was still dark outside so that you could sleep a little longer in his embrace.

You turned in his arms to face him, your fingers stroking through his hair, pushing the dark strands away from his face as he breathed slowly, still fast asleep.

His love was easy; he loved you.

There was nothing more to that. You shared everything, lived your lives beside each other and loved simply.

Your ministrations woke him up, and when you retracted your hands to stop stroking his hair he groaned in protest, pulling you closer to him.

“Five more minutes.” His deep voice vibrated against your ears, and you laughed, returning to combing your fingers through his thick hair.

Sometimes he wondered whether what you had was not simple at all, but he had made it simple because yours was the only love he ever knew, and the only love he ever needed. Maybe that was what made it easy. Perhaps, somehow, love was never easy. Perhaps it was the hardest thing he has ever done.

Jongin wouldn’t know. You loved him, and that was easy enough.

He found no reason to torture himself with what-ifs and possibilities that never happened.

Finally, when he had enough he let you go, allowing both of you to begin the usual morning routine. Breakfast consisted of tea and baguette with butter and jam. He had eaten his breakfast in silence, sipping on the hot earl grey tea as the grogginess of the morning left him. This early in the day, his dark large eyes were puffy with sleep, and despite being combed, dark brown locks fell in front of his eyes.

“We need to stop by the market today.” He commented, watching as you sipped on your tea in silence. You hummed your approval, taking a bite out of your piece of bread. Jongin smiled, watching you as the sun fell on your face, giving your features a newfound softness.

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

Today, Jongin had been told you couldn’t use the practice rooms since the other dancers have put themselves on the schedule before you. Instead of waiting about for them to be done, you wondered off with him to the market.

Your shopping list was long, and you doubted if you could carry all of it today.

The stalls selling vegetables were your first target. On the bust street, you and Jongin blended in with the crowd as you strolled casually among the buyers and sellers crowding both sides of the alley.

You walked up to a large stall, covered completely in wooden crates of fresh produce, eyes scanning the rainbow of seasonal fruit and vegetables.

“What can I get you, mademoiselle?” The man running the stall asked he looked to be about your age. You watched as his eyes trailed after you before he averted his gaze. You felt Jongin’s hand wrap around the curve of your hip.

“May I get half a kilo of white transparent apples, three leeks and three courgettes?” You asked, unfazed by the slight scowl he sent Jongin’s way.

“Certainly.” He nodded, before picking up the vegetables and handing them to you to put in your basket.

“Jongin, do you want anything?” You turned to ask, craning your neck to see him. Bright sunlight gleamed off of his soft honeyed skin, and his dark eyes looked straight at the man selling you veg.

“Five red onions.” He said, smiling politely, although you noticed it never reached his eyes. There was no creasing at the corners.

“Here.” He handed you a bundle, tied together with string, before requesting the due amount.

“Are we having just soups?” Jongin asked, looking over at the ingredients in the basket. You could make soupe à l’oignon and pistou, and that would do for the next six days. Apart from the oats and apricot compote for breakfast, you would have to do with light lunches of quiche Lorraine and salad.

“What else would you like?” You asked, walking through the market, looking over the various stalls. Some sold cheese, others honey and even more sold vegetables and even bread.

“A chicken?” He asked, his eyes focused at the street at the end of the market, where the shops were. The butchers looked rather busy, with people queuing outside, and you had decided that you could afford it. Moulin Rouge would give you this month’s salary by the end of the week, after your next performance, and because it was summer, your salary had increased along with the amount of attending patrons.

“I’ll go to the butchers, hold these.” You stated, handing him the wicker basket filled with vegetables and fruit.

“Get potatoes and carrots.” You asked, pointing over at the stall beside you, manned by an older woman with greying hair, who even in the summer, was currently wearing a shawl to shield herself from the chill that came with age.

“Anything else?” He asked, one arm still wrapped around your hip.

“Can you carry anything else?” You laughed, waiting for a response that never came. A laugh bubbled out of your chest when you saw the dejected expression marring his sharp features. His brows were furrowed, and his plush lips were now pulled into a small pout, and you knew he didn’t want to part from you.

“I’ll wait for you outside the butchers.” He told you, finally letting you go, handing you silver coins from his pocket.

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

Loving Jongin was easy. Love came as naturally as breathing, as effortless as dancing to the tunes of the gramophone in stuffy backrooms of Moulin Rouge.

It was the only love you had ever known.

Now, you stood with him, hands clasped together in the dim light of the backstage as you waited your turn on the wooden floor, waiting for the cancan girls to finish their main act, their black and white dresses flying into the air, the ruffled providing them with incredible volume.

Your dress was simpler, a jade green, straight cut ensemble with beading around the neckline and down to the bottom. It reminded you of peacock feathers, and as the dress reached below your lip line, it split into three layers, the second layer was a light sage green, and the third was the same jade shade as the rest. The embroidery on the hems was beautiful and delicate, and you could tell it was Manon’s handiwork. The seamstress had made all of your outfits since she became Monsieur Baekhyun’s lover. Jongin’s suit was an identical green shade, with white lining on the inner edges and lining the pockets. His hair was parted to the side and swept-back, a few loose strands curled over his forehead. He looked breath-taking.

Cheers rang through the establishment, and the cancan dancers gave their last bow, before disappearing through the opposite end of the stage.

It was your time.

Bathed in the silky spotlight, you entered in step with Jongin, smiling brightly, before he pulled your hand, twirling you towards him, and as your body pressed into his, the music began playing, and the crowd erupted in polite clapping.

You spun around the stage, pulling each other every which way, dancing to the tune of the Charleston. Your legs performed the complicated step routine without having to think, muscle memory acting on its own. The whole time you stared into Jongin’s eyes. His gaze, which had been soft and affectionate backstage was now smouldering, setting you on fire where he touched you. When the melody changed from Charleston to foxtrot, it was with natural grace and practised finesse that you assumed your new positions. Not a single breath out of time. That was the level of skill Jongin had always expected of himself, as his partner, of you as well.

It was easy to love him when he looked only at you under the golden light, his gaze flickering every once in a while to the audience to send a practised smile their way. It was a privilege to love him, when he spun you around, pressed you close to his body so that you could feel the pumping of blood rushing through his heart.

When the melody ended, and the hall fell into silence, the only sound you could hear was your heavy breath, and your blood rushing through your ears.

The split second of ringing silence was Jongin’s own paradise. It was heaven where only you existed, only you and the stage upon which he could dance, spin you around, and be spun. It was a small piece of heaven, bathed in golden light and tasting like sweat and effort. Heaven belonged to him.

And then, it was over and the polite cheers brought him back to reality and off the stage.

“You have to change.”

“Your second set is waltz and tango in about fifteen minutes, Hurry.” One of the seamstress girls watching over the costumes ushered you both into an empty practice room before her friend handed you your next costumes.

This time your dress was white, the delicate lace layers covered the skirt, with white faux pearls stitched into the cream embroidery around the neckline. Jongin was handed a pair of black dress pants and a white shirt with ribbon ties at the cuffs.

“Don’t button it all the way. Leave a few undone.” One of the younger seamstresses giggled, before walking out of the room.

You laughed once she was gone and proceeded to take your jade green dress off, draping the beautiful garment over a chair.

You watched from the corner of your eye as Jongin did the same, taking off his green trousers, putting on the black slacks and suspenders.

Once you were done, you watched as Jongin buttoned his white shirt completely.

“Leave a few undone.” You chastised, walking over to pull a few buttons free.

Without warning, Jongin swooped down, his warm lips pressing into yours, and you could feel his hands coming to grip your hips, as his mouth moved in sync with yours.

“Do you have your red lipstick?” He asked, breaking away from you, his eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Yes, why?” Your brows furrowed, and you looked up to search his face, shadows dancing over his sharp features as gas lamps burned in the corners of the room. His brown eyes reflected the yellow light, turning bronze when he looked down at you.

“I was thinking, we could tease them a little.” He whispered, leaning towards you to drag his plump lips across your hairline; his touch so gentle it tickled.

“How so?” you whispered, your hands still holding onto his waist. He pressed his lips against yours again.

“A few red stains never hurt anyone.” He smiled, and you laughed at his suggestion. He wanted you to kiss him, leave kiss stains over his body.

“And where would you like them?” You smiled, pulling away to reach for your bag, draped over a chair along with your and Jongin’s clothes. The little black tube was quickly taken from you, and Jongin took it upon himself to glide the red pigment over your lips.

“How about here, and here?” He pulled his shirt away, revealing the smooth golden skin of his collar bones.

“I can do that.” You smiled, looking up at him to gauge his reaction. With a relieved sigh and a small smile blooming on his lips, he pulled you closer to him.

“Thank you.” He whispered once your soft lips pressed against his soft skin, firm against the hard bone beneath it.

“My pleasure.” You whispered, pulling away, letting him kiss your forehead one last time before you left, hand in hand to your next set.

This time as you waited for the dancers in black and white dresses to leave the stage there was no silence lingering between you. The seamstress girls who had been giggling all night and battering their eyelashes in Jongin’s direction were murmuring among themselves, sending angry looks your way. Jongin’s hand was firm against the swell of your hips, his nimble fingers playing with the lace details as he whispered sweet nothing into your ear. You ignored them in favour of listening to the quiet deep timbre of Jongin’s voice,

“I like this dress on you.” He whispered, lips brushing against your ear. He could feel you tense against him, your neck craning to take a look at him.

“Why?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“How about I get you your own white dress?” He ignored your question, eyes focusing on the dancers twirling on the stage in the glow of the spotlight.

“And a veil?” He continued, fingers moving to play with the hem of your neckline, gliding over the uneven surface, occasionally falling onto the little faux pearls decorating the dress.

“A veil?” you asked, his other hand wrapping around your abdomen to pull you a little closer to his body as Jongin stood behind you.

“Mhhm.” He hummed.

You could feel the vibration against you, his chest purring like that of a cat as you both watched the performance on stage. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking.

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

Loving you was easy. Jongin had always known that. He had felt reassured in his decision when he caught Byun Baekhyun’s eyes in the audience in the middle of the tango. The older man was smiling, his hands clasped over his lover’s. His love was not easy, with social standing and family in the way, bringing Manon and showing her off in public was risky, but it was a risk he was willing to take when attending Moulin Rouge. The Bastion of Pleasures had one fascinating quality. Its scarlet exterior and bustling interior always felt like freedom. Whether it was Jongin dancing on the stage under the golden stage lights or it was you, with hundreds of eyes following your every move, or even Baekhyun, who could bring his love out among free-spirited Parisians. Moulin Rouge felt like liberation, and that had always made him brave. Looking at Monsieur Byun that night, happy in the seamstress’ arms, made him want to reassure the man. That was why he had smiled, and to his surprise Baekhyun had smiled back, raising his champagne flute in silent thanks. For a moment, he understood the older man, their situations were similar enough; they were both in love with someone society disapproved of.

Now, with the show finished, he was holding your hand again. The summer breeze blowing in the night carried the scent of flowers and the memories of summer nights spent in your arms, and he wanted to live in this moment forever. Warm, fed and in love.

“Did you know Byun Baekhyun is planning on running away with the seamstress?” He asked you, making you turn your attention to him with the sudden question. It has been a running joke they would finally elope, but you had not thought they would do it. Byun Baekhyun was a Joseon man, but unlike Jongin he had parents and an inheritance. His path was set, and you didn’t think he would stray from it.

“And where did you hear that?” You asked, pulling him along towards your home. In the dark, illuminated only by few dim streetlamps, he looked ethereal, and you thanked whoever decided you could love him, for the fact that you would not have to run away just to lay in his arms.

“Kyungsoo works as his accountant, he told me they bought tickets for a ship sailing to French Indochina.” Jongin looked over at you, eyes scanning your features, softened by the dim light of the streetlamps as you walked home, your shoes clicking against the cobbled stones beneath your feet.

“I’m happy for them. If they succeed and get married, I wish them all the best.” You answered, genuinely happy that they found a solution. You could not imagine what leaving Jongin would be like. It was a possibility too painful to consider.

“What if,” Jongin began, but he cut himself off, not sure if he should ask the question running through his mind. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his suit trousers. His dark eyes, now black like the night, fell onto the cobblestones and his straight brown brows furrowed, creasing his smooth forehead.

“What?” You inquired, linking your arm through his to match his step. For a few paces, he stayed silent, basking in the warmth of your body beside him, scared of rejection. You watched from the corner of your eye as he chewed on his lips turning them red.

“What if we get married? Nothing is stopping us. We don’t have parents deciding our future, and everyone already knows we are lovers.” He asked finally, his feel stopping, making you halt alongside him. You turned to face him, catching his nervous gaze, and holding it as silence rang through your ears.

“We could get married.” You took his hand, threading your fingers through his.

You loved him. You had always loved him, and you were sure you would always love him because despite life being hard, despite the world making living difficult, loving him was easy.

“I would like that.” You told him. A smile graced your red-painted lips and you could hear your pulse in your ears as your heart beat against the rungs of your ribcage as the bones held it hostage.

“Really?” He asked, disbelief at how easy it was painting his face. His features softened when he looked at you as he let go of your hand, choosing instead to cradle your face.

“Of course. I love you, mon chérie.” You whispered, your lips brushing against his, sending a familiar tickle down his spine.

“I love you too, ma jolie fleur.” He whispered back, his lips pressing against yours firmly. You moved in sync in the darkness, the fragrant summer air filled your lungs, and you kissed the way you danced, passionately until there was no more air in your lungs and you didn’t know where one ended and the other begun.

Loving was as easy as breathing, an effortless dance you had practised over and over until your bones ached.

Loving him was easy, and you would be forever thankful for the wooden boards of the stage at the heart of Moulin Rouge where your young hearts first learned what love was.

95 notes · View notes

naruhinamain · 3 years

Text

Day 6: Pregnancy/It wasn't like this before

Submitted by HappyOcelot

A/N: Chapter 6 of “When I Look At You”

It wasn’t like this before. It really wasn’t like this before.

A sudden and bizarre change had overtaken Naruto, something that would take nine months to fix.

Hinata’s first pregnancy had transformed Naruto into a lunatic.

From the way he was acting, you’d think he was the one going to give birth.

Of course, his first reaction was to pass out and then cry bucketloads of tears in joy. Then he’d wrapped up Hinata in a hug, only to let go immediately, because he was afraid of “crushing the baby.”

Actually, that part was really sweet. He was the kind of loving father that Hinata always knew he’d be.

It was what happened in the following weeks that was odd.

Naruto frowned, taking in the sweat beaded on her forehead in concern. “Hinata, are you sure you’re okay?”

It was the fifth time he’d asked her that in the past five minutes. Something was winding him up.

She sighed. "Yes, Naruto-kun, I’m fine, it’s just the heat.“

He placed the back of his hand on her forehead, eyes filled with nervousness and a little bit of fear. "Do you have a fever? I mean, you’ve never sweated like this before – ”

“Yes, I have.” She leaned back on the couch, propping up her legs in a resting position. “It’s summer, Naruto-kun. People do sweat during the summer.”

“Oh…oh, right.” Naruto laughed sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. “Then…then I’ll get you some water! It’s important to keep yourself and the baby hydrated, ya know!”

She simply smiled at him. He really was the kind of loving father that Hinata always knew he’d be.

He’d hurried into the kitchen, returning with the promised water.

Except that it wasn’t simply a small glass of water. He’d gotten an entire five jugs, balanced precariously in his arms.

And he made her drink all of it. Because it was “important to keep yourself and the baby hydrated.”

He was pretty nervous and high-strung these days, far more so than her. It was kind of funny, actually, although incidents like these were slightly annoying.

Yes, he was definitely very nervous and high-strung these days. That was why he was walking around the house all the time with some book that he’d borrowed from Sai, something about pregnancy or parenting or whatever.

Hinata, once again, thought it was sweet. All day long, he’d be absorbed in that book, muttering about vitamin supplements and healthy eating.

He was taking her health quite seriously. Hinata felt moved when he got her some iron tablets from Sakura because he’d read in the book that it was important to get enough minerals for the duration of the pregnancy. It was truly something to behold, coming from a guy who thought that ramen was the most nutritious food on the planet. He still thought that, but a few words from Sakura about “high sodium levels” was enough to prevent him from feeding her tons of it during her pregnancy, something which she was grateful for from the bottom of her heart. She loved ramen too, but Sakura was right. The high sodium levels would not be good for her or the baby.

Naruto’s motto during her pregnancy seemed to be, “If it’s healthy, make sure Hinata eats tons of it.” And that was where the problems started.

It was sweet that he was getting her all those vitamins and minerals, concerned at the prospect of her getting anemia or becoming malnourished.

It was funny, although slightly annoying, when he made her drink five jugs of water because he was concerned at the prospect of her becoming dehydrated.

But it crossed the line from sweet, funny, and slightly annoying to absolute madness when he roped Guy-sensei into his nutritional health plan.

“HINATA!” Guy-sensei yelled far too loudly, making her grimace (pregnancy was making her a tad more sensitive than usual). “YOU CAN’T GIVE UP. IT’S UNYOUTHFUL TO GIVE UP. NOW, ON THE COUNT OF THREE.”

Hinata shot a glare at Naruto, standing off in the corner and grinning at her like he had no idea what was wrong.

…He probably didn’t, Hinata conceded grudgingly. Still, why did he think it was okay to torture her like this in the name of proper nutrition?

“ONE. TWO. THREE.”

Guy-sensei fixed her with one of those disturbing grins that Neji nii-san used to complain about. She sighed and began slowly munching on the twentieth carrot for that day.

There were twenty more remaining in the basket that Guy-sensei had carried along with him. Naruto gave her a thumbs-up and an encouraging smile. She sighed again.

It was going to be a long, long day.

“Naruto-kun,” Hinata said when Guy-sensei finally left, which took a long time, and only after feeding her ten apples, five lemons, and an entire jug of water. Hinata thanked the heavens that at least the fruits were extra-small. “I understand that you’re concerned about me and all, but really, you’re going overboard here.”

He stared at her cluelessly. “Why do you think that? I’m just worried about yours and Boruto’s health, ya know?”

“But I don’t need to eat fifty-five fruits and vegetables every single day. I don’t understand why you thought Guy-sensei was the best person to ask for help.”

She patted her belly, which was only partially swollen because of the baby and mostly swollen because of Guy-sensei’s diet torture, and calmly met his gaze, wordlessly asking for an explanation.

Naruto’s eye switched a little.

Ah. So he did understand.

She smiled at him, despite her her earlier annoyance. Only a few months into their relationship, and she had found that this was the best way to get Naruto to open up. He was nervous and high-strung lately, and she knew that something was…bothering him. Otherwise he wouldn’t have roped in Guy-sensei for his nutritional meal plan.

It worked.

His lip wobbled and his eyes kept twitching.

“You’ve been acting strange lately,” she prodded. “Could you tell me what’s wrong?”

And then he word-puked.

Hinata knew that Naruto bore a great resemblance to his mother, Kushina, both in looks and personality. Kakashi-sensei had shared a funny anecdote with her the other day, about something his sensei, the Yondaime, had told him a long time ago, about how Naruto’s mother had reacted when she found out that she was pregnant.

She should have suspected that Naruto would act the same way.

“I’m just so worried, ya know?” Naruto yelled, throwing his hands up into the air. “This is the first time we’re going to be parents! I just want to get everything right, ya know! I know that you’re supposed to feed kids a lot when they’re hungry and I always think that Boruto might be hungry right now, and that means we have to feed him something healthy before he gets addicted to something like hamburgers!”

Hinata blinked, but Naruto was on a roll.

“Plus I just get the feeling that Boruto is going to be a really naughty kid, and he’ll say that he hates the Hokage, and that he’ll pull all sorts of pranks to get attention, and…and…”

…It was official.

Hinata’s pregnancy had made Naruto lose his mind.

“Naruto-kun! Just calm down. How could you possibly know all of these things about the baby before he’s even born?”

He finally stopped and took a deep breath.

“Because I’m his dad,” he said, as though this was obvious.

Ah.

Naruto really was the kind of loving father Hinata knew he’d be.

“Well, don’t worry, Naruto-kun. Boruto will be fine,” Hinata replied.

“You sure?”

Sky blue eyes peered up at her nervously.

“Yes, because…I’m his mother.”

#nhweek #nhweek2021 #naruhina #happy ocelot #fanfic #nhweek2021 day6 #submission

40 notes · View notes

coffeeandcalligraphy · 4 years

Text

Something Held | Feeding Habits Update #8

Hi all!

Not me not realizing it’s been 3 months since I posted a Feeding Habits update hahahahahaha. Today let’s chat chapter nine, SOMETHING HELD. This also marks the last chapter in Harrison’s POV so prepare to say goodbye to this icon! TW: body horror, mental illness, trauma

Just a reminder: This is my original work and plagiarism of any form will not be tolerated.

Scene outline, excerpts & a little reflection on making difficult decisions that my not particularly benefit the book but benefit you as the writer under the cut because this update is GIGANTIC.

General taglist (please ask to be added or removed):

@if-one-of-us-falls, @qatarcookie, @chloeswords, @alicewestwater, @laughtracksonata, @shylawrites, @ev–writes, @jaydewritesfiction, @jennawritesstories @eowynandfaramir, @august-iswriting, @aetherwrites

Scene Breakdown

Scene A:

It has been two weeks since Lonan found Harrison at his shared apartment with Suzanna and things are getting strange. Lonan and Suz are getting closer, Harrison is getting more distant and slowly losing it. One morning, Harrison wakes hearing Lonan and Suz’s laughter, and crawls to the kitchen to investigate. When he reaches them, Suz is evening out Lonan’s hacked haircut and they’re both sobbing.

Scene B:

Shortly after this bizarre encounter, Suzanna steps out of the apartment for a breather because her son is sort of terrifying her! So Lonan and Harrison double-team to clean up Lonan’s hair shavings. Harrison begins eating the hair while Lonan stares and they have a conversation about the state of their friendship.

Scene Ba:

This scene is gross and confusing! More hair is ingested. My god.

Scene Bb:

After the above ordeal, both boys rinse off because they’ve been rolling?? around?? in??? hair?? but also?? things don’t stop being a little gross

Scene C:

An air of calm finally settles over the apartment. Lonan brews earl grey tea for him and Harrison to share and Harrison asks if he abandoned Lonan in the final chapter of Moth Work. Lonan doesn’t really answer this question so Harrison continues on his confused, but finally lucid (one-sided) conversation, admitting he understands he burdens his mother, who still has not returned. They circle back to the question of abandonment and Lonan answers Harrison the way he wants to be answered (yes), and this is a moment of freeing, where he feels some sort of responsibility in this irresponsible new life he’s led in NYC. They sort of agree to be friends again.

Scene D:

The boys head into the city to find Suzanna, heading to a bakery near the Hudson River. Lonan drives in his used car, a strange experience since Harrison has not seen him drive in years. Taking the opportunity, he searches through the car and finds a map in the glove compartment. The map is erratically scribbled over and it takes him to moment to realize this is Lonan’s map and the first indication that Lonan, who he has assumed is this stable, perfect person, is not as unscathed as he seems.

The boys pass the waterfront and Lonan nearly crashes the car into an oncoming truck. Harrison regains control of the vehicle tucking them into a side street. Shaken, Lonan apologizes for the mess he’s created both physically from his nosebleed and between Harrison and his mother, which gets Harrison a little antsy because he doesn’t like the suggestion that he’s going to leave. Lonan clarifies, stating he won’t if that’s what Harrison wants.

Scene E:

Later, everyone is back at home and Harrison wakes up to a Lonan-less bed. He gets up to investigate the strange dripping coming from the bathroom and opens the door to find Lonan precariously teetering over a sink filled with water. Harrison, concerned, moves him away and tries to ask why Lonan is presumably going underwater, but doesn’t push. They both stand on opposite sides of the bathroom until the sun rises.

My process:

Honestly, writing this chapter was a huge up and down. The first half of it came much easier to me, but the rest was a literal hellfire to get through. I think I was incredibly fatigued with writing in Harrison’s POV as I’d been writing it since June (I finished this chapter in either December or January). This book has been a pain in the ass to write despite me liking what it is, and I really think it being the only place I’ve physically “gone” since the pandemic makes it even harder to write. I felt claustrophobic in Harrison’s POV since I’ve been writing it for half a year, and in a lil ~breakdown~ my beautiful sister reminded me of something she’d previously told me, “it's not about what works, it's about what you want”.

Let’s chat about this for a sec! I think I was watching a Harmony Nice video on her “hard-to-swallow” self-care, and she basically outline (I’m paraphrasing here) that it’s critical we care for ourselves in ways that might not necessarily be easy to do. Honestly, leaving Harrison’s POV is one of those hard-to-swallow self-care things I literally had to do because my mental health was not happy with me! Y’all know my boys are very close to me, and I’m not picking favourites but Lonan is 2500 times easier for me to write with at the moment. I think Harrison’s situation and how he deals with it is much too similar to mine but in a way that is difficult to place (Lonan and I are unfortunately similar but in a way that is easier for me to understand about myself!). From the beginning of writing his POV I’ve been in Struggleville, but kept pushing through hoping the next chapter would be “the one”. Not to burst my own bubble but there is no such thing in the state of mind I was in! I was pushing myself to find something that doesn’t exist because my brain was really not equipped to do what I needed it to do. I really, really did not want to quit on Harrison’s POV, but I had to, not because I don’t like him (he’s my baby) but because I needed a moment to myself. I felt way too seen in ways I don’t really know how to address in myself, so writing him was horribly frustrating at all times (my fault, not his).

My characters really do live in my head rent-free lol. They live in there! They take up space! They take up energy! They take up concentration, and resources I need for myself! Empathy is so integral to my process, that I give a little part of myself in everything I write. This is a blessing because I really get to dig my heels into the mind of another person, but a curse because I’m not a machine (and sometimes I forget that). It is a lot of emotional energy and labour to give everything you have to fictional people. I don’t think an artist needs to be tortured to create good art (this is not it!) but I never truly practiced this well? In my attempt to be empathetic, I was torturing myself a little bit, not going to lie!

So to combat this, I decided I needed a change. Hence, this chapter is imperfect and probably needs some stuff added to it, and while I’ve only written little of Lonan’s second POV, I’m feeling a lot better! It’s nice to get “outside” in a different place lmao this is so sad (pandemic writing things).

Excerpts:

I wrote the beginning of this in a livestream I hosted on my YouTube channel! There’s also a shoutout here to my dragon tree Lisa <3 miss u boo

Two weeks go by. Lonan sleeps on the couch. Harrison wakes up at dawn—no earlier, no later. Suzanna buys a plant: a Madagascar dragon tree she names Lisa. June grows into the collar. Lonan plays sudoku in the newspaper. Harrison learns to bake focaccia, gluten-free, whole wheat. Suzanna learns to palm read, tells Lonan he’s experienced great betrayal (they stop the reading immediately; Lonan goes back to the newspapers). Harrison begins burning incense at sunrise—frankincense. The dragon tree nearly dies (Lonan saves it). It rains every weekday that contains the letter T. Lonan shifts stacks of soggy newspapers onto the breakfast table, answers crosswords with the help of Suzanna (four across, nine letters, Something held). Harrison burns a baguette. Suzanna buys a hanging basket of pothos. The power goes out for two days and the icebox floods the kitchen tile (Lonan mops it with old newspapers, the ink running like jellyfish). June barks for the first time. Harrison eats a bundle of dried bay leaves. Suzanna waters the plants with rainwater, icewater, wrung into a coffee tin. Harrison leaves the stove on while sautéing shallots (he eats them whole). Lonan wakes up feverish and fills out four newspaper crosswords, then falls asleep on the coffee table. Suzanna moulds panna cotta in coffee mugs and shares the batch with Lonan when they won’t tip out. Lonan teaches her how to propagate the pothos and soon they have twenty empty cans of cuttings poking from the windowsills. They rearrange the furniture, the couch facing the kitchen instead of the TV, the dining table right outside the bathroom, then put it all back the next day. They birdwatch from the tiny window with binoculars and a magnifying glass. They sort coupons. Whittle soaps. Watch Norwegian films without the subtitles. Discuss cliff diving. Make matching anklets (blue beads, elastic string, the plastic clacking how Harrison knows they’re coming). All of this they do as Harrison lies on his bed for two weeks, counting the corners of his ceiling and trying to determine a way to multiply them telepathically.

This is the very next paragraph!

At first he assumes they’re laughing. The sun nearly rising between other high rises, blotting his room with dawn. This is not a surprise. They are probably making pancakes out of buckwheat and discussing the hilarity of whole grains. They are probably laughing at store-bought cherry preserves. Too sour. Their cheeks puckered. But then the laughs get louder, and the sun rises higher and it’s not laughing at all, but gasping.

Here’s Harrison crawling!! is this straight out of the exorcist probably!

Harrison’s instinct is to crawl. As if his smallness against the ground will stop anyone from hearing him, even before he unlocks his door. On hands and knees he shuffles from his bed to his doorframe, edges the door open with his shoulder. On hands and knees he hikes through the hallway, the gasping getting louder, shuffling until he sees them. Lonan sitting on one of the kitchen stools, a grocery bag wound around his throat. Suzanna clacking scissors in two hands so their blades ping in the sun. Her fingers loped around his hair, knuckle-deep, the blades snipping, the gasps growing, them both sobbing, the hair falling, the sun stalking, their bodies rocking. Harrison takes it in from his crawl. Experiences it all on his knees.

So this excerpt seems really you know, normal:

They clean up the hair. Harrison with the dustpan, Lonan with the broom. Harrison still kneels. Lonan still cries. The only thing that has changed since crawling into the kitchen is that Suzanna is taking a walk around the apartment complex. She needs air. Room. If she cries long enough, a cigarette. So Lonan sweeps. Harrison collects. This repeats.

The kitchen smells of nutmeg. Freshly grated from a whole club over espresso, Harrison imagines. He smells this as he tracks Lonan with the dustpan, hovering its open belly for clippings of hair. And Lonan is so compliant, brushes cuttings of himself onto the plastic surface so Harrison can trash it. As Harrison looks on from his knees, Lonan diffuses in sunlight, the window illuminating only his edges. A body so familiar Harrison knows exactly where it flares with light or absorbs it. A body with skin like mulberry silk. A body he could recreate in charcoal with his eyes closed. His archangel translucent and luminescing.

Skip this excerpt if you don’t want to read about Harrison eating hair!! i’m sorry!

Harrison picks a bundle of fallen hair from the dustpan. It’s airy from being recently shampooed, smells faintly of pear, maybe even ginger. This hair, touched by a woman, or a few women, and cut by one, or a few, in different contexts. Eliza’s hands deveining the roots, and then Suzanna’s, trying to fix them. So Harrison eats it. That bundle like a toothpicked cube of cheese. He puts it in his mouth and swallows.

Lonan watches like he’s unconcerned. He watches this feral animal—Harrison must be something feral, starved of something and ravaged by that hunger. Chewing mouthfuls of hair like that will quell of him of what is missing, if there even is anything missing, something unidentifiable in this bland circuit of New York City, this time-loop of sonhood, this fresh start a dousing of flatness. As Harrison eats, he understands he consumes that something like it’s holy communion, reuniting with that something by absorbing it. And still, that hunger moves him, from finishing the dustpan of hair, and closer to Lonan.

“Do you think I’m a bad friend?” Harrison asks, wringing the corner of his lips clean from loose hairs. From this perspective, Harrison on his knees collecting hair, Lonan’s eyes look bluer. Maybe their saturation has nothing to do with the angle, but Harrison feels this is true; his eyes are so crystalline, they are temptingly edible. Like two plump blueberries. Or a matching set of clear glass marbles. Harrison swallows. He repeats, “Do you think I’m a bad friend?”

Lonan swallows, adjusts his grip on the broom. “We’d have to be friends for me to answer that.”

“Aren’t we?”

And here’s the rest of this scene!

“You’re my mother’s friend,” Harrison says. “She trusts you.” He crawls closer to Lonan. “You’ve got secrets. Rituals. Tell me her favourite finger-food and who she wants to marry.”

“I don’t know your mother that well.”

Harrison wraps a handle around Lonan’s ankle. A muscle there jumps like a dolphin breaching the water. He’s memorized this plane of skin, could rebuild it from single grains of sand while blindfolded. He furls his hands across its surface, unfurls.

“You garden with her,” Harrison says. “You share a plate for dessert.”

“She’s kind to me.”

“You cook her breakfast.” Harrison tugs on Lonan’s ankle, knowing it won’t raze him, knowing he’ll come down anyway. “You know the exact temperature she drinks her coffee down to the last digit.”

“I’m trying to be hospitable.”

“You’re trying to be a son.”

Lonan kneels. Crouching so they’re huddled over each other, so it’s nearly impossible to distinguish one body from the other, which one sinks, which one rises.

“My mother’s only got one son to live with,” Harrison says, his voice thin from a clogged throat. He reaches for Lonan’s scalp, scrapes a line down the centre, now an even plane of cropped hair. “And it isn’t me.”

“You’re unstable,” Lonan says, burrowing his face either into a cabinet or Harrison’s shoulder—neither can tell. “You won’t let yourself have friends.”

Farther, toward the tile they go, a pile of hair scattering. “My mother wants me to forgive you by replacing me with you.”

“She’s grieving,” Lonan says.

Harrison loses his hands. He doesn’t know where they disappear to, if he touches skin or tile. “I haven’t died,” he says. Skin or tile. Skin or tile.

Here’s an excerpt from scene C ft. this memoir bit from the time I was shocked that this university I visited had real FANCY teabags:

Lonan brews tea. Earl grey, from a tin. Harrison doesn’t know why he expects it to come from a bag. An individual paper sachet, or if he’s lucky, one of those fancy ones woven from nylon. But it’s from a tin. Two teaspoons into the bottom of a single mug they pass back and forth, wordless at the kitchen table. Strung in the bathroom, Harrison’s t-shirt hang-dries, nearly figure-like, an unfilled phantom. He tugs a throw around his shoulders and stares at his hands. Each crest of cuticle. Each bulb of knuckle. Each maze of fingerprints.

He is material. This is fact. Not just outlines. He’s got skin that goes pinkish when pinched, a pulse that juts from his wrist, two eyes that burn at the scent of lavender, ten fingers. But as he holds his hands up, studying them in the faint moonlight, it is difficult to believe his tangibility. In the city, he has lived as a haze. Fogging over grocery stores, eateries, nondescript. Fresh start has always implied an air of zest, a zing that should have fueled him to plant roots in this restart. But Harrison is rotten, aphid infected, overwatered, underwatered, then not watered at all. He flexes his fingers. He pops the joints. He tries to press his pinkie to the back of his hand. But none of this brings him back to himself. His hands continue feeling like someone else’s. His body invisibly marred in some way he can’t reverse, disconnected in retaliation.

Harrison reflecting on his relationship with his mother:

Suzanna has never left him alone this long, and to her detriment. He imagines her now, living the life she always should’ve lived, the life she lived before he crosscut his way to her most important thing. She’s probably at a salon, having her hair twirled with a round brush, making dinner reservations at some place always too expensive for two (extra points if it has a French name, more if she has to wait a half hour before getting a table). When she talks to her stylist, she doesn’t mention a son, but plans to travel up the west coast, all the way into Canada if she’s feeling adventurous. She’ll buy crime novels she’ll never read at duty-free, reapply a lipstick that cost her a paycheck in the reflection of a hand-dryer. After the salon, she’ll meet a woman at a wine bar, converse about children, and still not mention a son. Suzanna’s singleness will be a celebration.

The boys finally trucing it out <3

When Harrison finally opens his eyes, Lonan is staring at him. His eyes two reels of the Pacific. They cycle in blue. So much of him has changed, and yet he is still the same. Beyond the haircut, Lonan isn’t that much different. He can’t be much different. But as Harrison searches, splaying his palm on the wet table, he knows this is untrue. Lonan is hollower than he was last summer. A little more haunted. They have this in common, then.

“Can we be friends?” Harrison asks. With his pinkie, he finds himself writing against the damp table just as he did Lonan’s scalp not too long ago. Lonan’s gaze follows each loop of each letter, Harrison’s steady left hand.

Lonan is consumed studying what Harrison has written, where each letter connects in near-cursive scrawl. After a moment, he nods, once, twice, and then reverts to staring at the table’s new inscription. On its surface are two words: something held.

The boys in the car like old times <3

Lonan drives. This is strange because Harrison has not seen Lonan drive a car in over a year. Usually, Harrison takes the wheel, but tonight he guides them through the city, in search of Suzanna. His car is clean. This isn’t unexpected. A cherry-coloured hatchback that rattles whenever he makes a left turn. It smells vaguely of cotton air-freshener and the undercurrent of cigarettes.

“You still smoke?” Harrison pokes at the plastic nob for the radio, and it crackles to life. Synth and electric guitar pulse in 4/4 time.

“I bought it used.”

They’ve agreed to get to know one another while they search for Suzanna. Another restart, some attempt at an honest hour. As Lonan changes lanes, Harrison pokes open the car’s glove compartment. A tin of nicotine gum falls on the mat. A hot pink feather pokes from underneath the driver’s manual. Harrison hauls out both, runs the feather along the gum tin, then the back of his hand, and then Lonan’s cheek. When that rouses nothing, he unlocks the tin and removes a slit of gum. Right as he’s about to pop it in his mouth, Lonan says, “I wouldn’t eat that.”

“Why?” Harrison asks. “Did you lace it?”

“Like I said, I bought the car used.”

Harrison puts the gum back, and then the feather. He sticks his hand farther into the glove compartment, feels around until he drags out a map of the state, bilgy and half torn. He unfolds it, careful to avoid the rips, and flattens it against the dashboard. Almost immediately, it wilts against the cold, faded from time in the sun. It’s been marked up. Half with pencil, half with a red ballpoint pen. After a few minutes, Harrison understands the previous owner’s route. Or at least he does at first. Following the red pen arrows, they started at Long Island, then reached Manhattan. Then a much longer arrow takes him from Manhattan to Geneva, and then Buffalo. And then the red pen circles, once, twice, three times, four times, and what is in the centre doesn’t even have a city name. What it does say is HELP, in all-caps, each letter then melting into an illegible scrawl. Harrison sees bits of words: Luke, woe, hands, clay, guard, stray, each wobbly and disappearing into the other, becoming cities of their own, destroying others. He tries to understand the route, but the farther he pours over the map, recircling each line with his finger, the more lost he gets in the ink.

“Is this your map?” Harrison asks. There is no proof that it is. Even the handwriting is all wrong. Ragged. Confused. Desperate. Not like Lonan’s careful, hesitant print.

“Like I said, I bought the car used.”

“But is it your map?” Harrison asks again. Gently, he creases the paper and then slots it back into the glove compartment. Outside, they pass three convenience stores in a row, a flock of couples emerging from a bowling alley, tipsy and cradling leftover deep dish pizzas and mozzarella sticks. They pass two more convenience stores before Lonan finally answers.

“I was confused,” he says.

“This is more than confused,” Harrison says. “It’s disturbed.”

“I’m not disturbed.”

“But something is wrong with you.”

Lonan slows at a crosswalk. A group of teenaged girls whisk by in glitter and lip gloss.

“Yes,” he says.

This is Harrison trying to stop Lonan’s nosebleed after their bizarre swerve which I think is kind of <3 tendy <3

Harrison reaches for him. One hand on the back of his neck, and the other reared toward the red stream. His touch is tactful, so faint his fingerprints wouldn’t even be left behind, but still, the dabbing with his jacket’s hem is enough to redirect the blood’s flow from Lonan’s upper lip to the cuff of leather. The radio is still on, garbled like an unmassing of crepe paper lanterns.

This is the final excerpt for this update that takes us to the very end of the chapter! Harrison has just found Lonan supposedly head-first in the sink and though he asks at first why he is doing that, takes an alternate approach as the chapter closes:

Harrison gets up, his knees popping like gnawed bubble gum. He decides he will handle Lonan at a distance, if he chooses to handle him at all. Like a timid pet owner trying to tame their suddenly-rabid yorkie. Like a friend not trying to tip the full glass. To let its contents film at its surface, but never spill.

Somewhere in the apartment, Suzanna probably listens to them. If Harrison didn’t know her better, he’d imagine her pressed neatly against the door, waiting to hear the shuffle of their bodies or the tang of an argument. Instead, he imagines her at the kitchen table, gripping a glass of water for so long, half of it evaporates.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Harrison says, stepping back until his spine hits the counter’s lip. He curls his fingers under the granite. Looks toward the window, now a faint periwinkle. Lonan heaves. His fingers caging his face, an animal restrained. They stand there until the sun rises.

So that’s it for this gigantic update! I have like four short stories to update you on so I hope to be back soon!

—Rachel

#writing #writerblr #amwriting #writeblr #fostered #mothwork #writingupdates #feedinghabits

47 notes · View notes

spine-buster · 4 years

Text

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 14

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter. I hope you guys like this one! :) A quick reminder that I’ve set up a Ko-Fi incase you want to support my writing --> ko-fi.com/spine_buster . Enjoy!

December 25th, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was celebrating Christmas.

Siena was home from Ottawa, having finished another semester of law school. Camden was the first one up, naturally, screaming at everybody that it was time to open presents. The family had been to Midnight Mass the night before, a tradition Orla had the family do every Christmas since they were young. After opening presents, everybody would shower and help her make the day’s big lunch before passing out in food and wine comas all over the house. If all went well, Gramma Frances and Grampa Alistair would call and they’d all say hi in a short FaceTime.

“Get up! Get up! Get up!” Camden could be heard screaming from the hallway, his footsteps getting louder and louder. “It’s time to open presents!”

“If he comes in here I’m gonna scream at him,” Siena mumbled into her pillow. Aberdeen laughed from her side of the room.

“Siena! Aberdeen!”

“We’re coming!” Aberdeen yelled, not bothering to move.

“Hey mom! Can I finally try coffee?!” their little brother wouldn’t shut up.

The girls snorted, with Siena groaning as she stretched in her bed, unable to fall back asleep. Eventually they got up and got ready, their little brother’s screams getting too annoying to ignore. “He’s getting more annoying as he gets older,” Siena said playfully, running a brush through her hair.

“Yeah,” Aberdeen agreed, “but at least he doesn’t jump into mom and dad’s bed like we did.”

“Remember that time you almost punctured dad’s lung?”

Aberdeen snorted. “Remember that time you almost broke mom’s nose?”

“Maybe we should do it again for good measure.”

The girls finally emerged from their room, finding Orla in the kitchen pouring coffee. Camden was dragging Mirza out of his room, Mirza playfully pulling him back in so Camden would slide on the floor. The family hugged each other before Aberdeen opened a cupboard to get the Chips Ahoy cookies. Camden snatched one right from her hands. She chased him around the house.

Opening presents was always fun. This year, Aberdeen was able to ask around the office for something for Camden, and she ended up with a Kyle Lowry Raptors jersey. When he opened it, he automatically loved it and hugged it like he was five and it was his favourite new toy. Aberdeen’s parents gifted her practical things – a chic new laundry basket and a nice throw she could use when she cuddled with Minerva and a bag of Doritos, and Siena bought her two new books she’d wanted to read. To his credit, even Camden’s gift was cute: a mug that said, “Cat hair, don’t care” in fancy lettering.

Once the gift giving was over and the family room cleaned of all the wrapping paper, everybody started to get ready. Orla began seasoning the roast beef and Mirza began preparing the potatoes. The kids showered and got ready so they’d look nice for photos and for their eventual FaceTime with their grandparents. Siena stayed on the main floor to begin whipping up the trifle. Aberdeen brought Camden to the downstairs kitchen with her to help with seasoning and roasting the Brussel sprouts and carrots.

“So what are the Maple Leafs doing today?” Camden made conversation as Aberdeen sliced the carrots and he laid them in their tray.

“Which ones?” she asked. “It’s not like they’re spending it together as a team. They’re all spending it with their families.”

“What’s John Tavares doing?” he asked. Camden knew much more about sports than she did. He found it genuinely cool that his sister was working for the Toronto Maple Leafs, even though he liked the Raptors a little bit more. When she told him how she sat with Masai Ujiri at the Major Donor Gala, he freaked out and bragged to all his friends. He was officially one of the coolest kids in school.

“Well, John and his wife Aryne just had a new baby in September, so this is their first Christmas with him. I think they’re spending it at John’s house with both their families there,” Aberdeen explained.

“What about Auston Matthews?”

“Auston’s entire family came up from Arizona – they’re having a big family lunch like we are.”

“What about Mitch Marner?”

Aberdeen smiled. “Mitch is spending it with his family, his girlfriend Stephanie, and his dog Zeus.”

“His dog?!” Camden’s face lit up. “Mom and dad won’t let me get a dog yet. They say I’m still too young.”

“Just wait,” Aberdeen encouraged him. “Mom will eventually want to replace me and Siena with a dog, and dad will be too powerless to say no.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. What kind of breed do you want?”

“I want a German shepherd.”

Aberdeen laughed at her brother. He always dreamed big, which was good for a kid his age, but a German shepherd would be bigger than him. There was no way he’d be able to handle it out on walks. “Aim smaller. What about a corgi?”

“That’s your dream dog cause of their butts,” Camden furrowed his brows. “If mom won’t let me get a German shepherd then I think I want a goldendoodle. Greg at school has one and it’s really cute.”

“Why don’t you just get a regular poodle and cut its hair really weird like that lady in 101 Dalmatians?”

Camden started to laugh as Aberdeen sliced the last of the carrots. She made sure they were all lined up nicely before starting on the Brussel sprouts. “We can shave the Toronto Maple Leafs logo into its hair.”

“Exactly!”

“Then it can become the team dog!” Camden giggled, liking the idea already.

Aberdeen and Camden stayed in the basement kitchen for almost an hour – enough time so that all the carrots and Brussel sprouts were sufficiently roasted and seasoned properly as Orla taught them. When the carrots were ready to be brought upstairs, Aberdeen made Camden put on oven mitts and told him to grab the dish. “Go run these up to mom,” Aberdeen said. “And absolutely no funny business. If these fall on the floor nobody in this family will forgive you.”

Camden did as he was told, going up the stairs slowly. Aberdeen stayed down for another ten minutes, waiting for the Brussel sprouts to finish before putting on her own pair of oven mitts and bringing the plate upstairs. By then, the roast in the oven smelled impeccably delicious and Aberdeen could already see most of the food on the table as she rounded the corner. Before she could move any further, Siena came through and blocked her passage and sightline towards the front of the house, a look of panic on her face. “Ab—Aberdeen,” she was staring at Aberdeen wide-eyed, like she’d just seen a ghost.

“What? What’s going on?” Aberdeen whispered.

“Hey.”

Aberdeen knew that voice. She knew that voice anywhere. She’d be able to recognize it from miles away. It was the voice that tortured and soothed her all at once. What was it doing here? In her house? Her head turned quickly like she was in The Exorcist.

And there he was.

William Nylander. Standing in the middle of the family room. Her family room.

With her mother.

Aberdeen was going to pass out.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, almost dropping the plate of Brussel sprouts at her feet. What was he doing here? What was he doing here? How the fuck did he even find out where she lived – where her family lived? And why did he have a glass of water in his hands? How long had he been here for him to have been offered a glass of water? Why didn’t she hear the doorbell? Why didn’t she hear a knock? Why hadn’t her parents called down to her in the basement to let her know he showed up unannounced to their Christmas Day family celebrations and why didn’t they—

“Aberdeen!” her mother scolded her as she walked towards her. “I know he’s a little early but that’s no way to treat the guest you invited.”

Aberdeen glared at William and then glared at her mother. She was almost rendered speechless by William’s stupid grin on his face. “I did not invite William to Christm--”

“Aberdeen, please, the Brussel sprouts,” her mother wasn’t having it, walking towards her and grabbing the plate from her hands, only to put it on the table.

Aberdeen looked at William, dressed in a nice pair of navy blue slacks and a fitted grey Ralph Lauren sweater with a collared shirt underneath. He definitely looked the part of innocent-hockey-player-come-to-spend-Christmas-with-a-welcoming-Canadian-family, but he wasn’t fooling her. Aberdeen looked back to see her mother disappear into the kitchen again. Siena was already gone, too. Good, it made it safe for her to cuss him out.

“How do I look?” he asked, waiting for one of her famous retorts.

He wasn’t going to get one. Not this time. He looked too wholesome, but more than that, he didn’t deserve one for crashing her family Christmas. “Seriously, what are you doing here?” she hissed as she stepped forward so she could get closer to him.

“Better than spending Christmas alone,” he shrugged his shoulders, the playful grin still on his face.

“I thought you were Skyping with your family,” she said, immediately regretting it. She knew Skyping was nowhere near close to spending actual time, physically, with your family on one of the most important holidays of the year.

“I already did, while I was having breakfast and they were having lunch. Six hour time difference,” he said.

“Will, I’m serious, what are you—”

“I thought you’d need a friend here after everything that happened,” he said quickly, his tone serious. His blue eyes looked into hers and every ounce of anger and shock in her dissipated. “I figured you probably haven’t told your parents, and definitely not your brother, but I know you told Siena, and I just thought it would be nice for you to have a friendly face around beside your sister that…I don’t know…might make Christmas more fun.”

He knew her. He knew he so well that she almost hated it, but mostly found it so admirable and so damn…cute. He knew that she’d only tell Siena because Siena was the person she was the closest to in the world, and he knew she wouldn’t tell her parents because…well, because they didn’t need to know their daughter got sexually harassed at work. She didn’t know what she was feeling right now. “How do you even know where my parents live?”

That trademark grin came back. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Aberdeen! You didn’t tell me William Nylander was coming for Christmas!” Camden’s voice rang from behind her. She turned around to see her brother with his arms crossed playfully around his chest. “Would have been nice, you know.”

“I guess I forgot,” she said absent-mindedly. She couldn’t believe this was happening right now. She couldn’t believe William was at her house for Christmas; that he was going to be spending Christmas with her family because, well, it wasn’t like she could kick him out onto the street now.

“Did you see I brought a dessert?” William said, his voice upbeat as he looked at Camden. “I picked up some treats from a Swedish bakery in downtown Toronto.”

Camden’s eyes lit up at the words. “Double dessert!” he screamed. “Siena made a trifle! You’ll like it. It’s got strawberries in it.”

“Alright! Everyone to the table!” Orla’s voice boomed throughout the house. “Is the wine on the table? Are there drinks?”

“Does everybody have a spot?” William whispered to Camden.

Camden nodded his head quickly before pushing William to the opposite side of the table. “Mom sits at the head,” he pointed, “Siena sits there, dad sits there, I sit at the other head, and then Aberdeen sits here.”

“So I guess I’m sitting—”

“Right here,” Camden took out the chair for him.

William took his seat. Aberdeen slipped into her seat beside him, still staring at him like he wasn’t real. Siena took her seat, then Mirza. Camden last. Then Orla brought in the roast, smelling absolutely delectable. William’s eyes widened at how good it looked. Everybody brought their plates forward and she put a few slices of the carved meat and gravy onto everyone’s plates – only then did the other dishes get passed around to fill up their plates: the Yorkshire puddings, the roasted potatoes, the Brussel sprouts, and the carrots.

“Are you Catholic, William?” Orla asked as she sat down at her seat.

“No ma’am.”

“Well, Christmas and Easter are the only two days of the year that we pray before our meal,” she informed him. “So, congratulations. Camden, why don’t you say a Hail Mary.” William watched as everybody around the table except Mirza did the sign of the cross, though Mirza did bow his head in respect. William quickly followed with his own sign of the cross. He listened as Camden recited a Hail Mary. When he was done, Orla spoke up again. “Lord, we would like to thank you for bringing us together to celebrate your birth, and we would like to thank you for bringing us William today to celebrate with our family. Amen.”

“Amen,” everyone said.

“Hallelujah!” Camden exclaimed, grabbing his fork. Everyone else did too, while Mirza stood up to start pouring the wine in everyone’s glasses, save for Camden.

“So you mentioned your family is in Sweden, William?” Orla asked, slicing her roast beef in pieces. “Whereabouts?”

“Most of my family is there, right in Stockholm. But I have a brother living in Chicago who also plays hockey. My sister Jacqueline is also in Texas at SMU playing tennis, but she was able to get home for Christmas,” he explained.

“And where’s your brother in Chicago going?”

“He has a teammate and his family. He lives in their basement,” William smiled.

“Orla has a habit of wanting to feed the entire congregation, if you know what I mean,” Mirza smiled from across the table. “Clearly Aberdeen knew, since she invited you.”

Aberdeen wanted to say that she didn’t, that he was hear because he somehow found their address and wanted to make her life a complete circus, but she decided against it. It was Christmas, after all. “Yeah, well when Aberdeen offered, I thought it was so nice, but I didn’t want to intrude,” William said from beside her. She could have killed him right then and there.

“Intruding? What are you intruding on? The more the merrier. And God knows I make enough roast,” Orla commented. “Besides, it’s not the first time Aberdeen’s brought something home and said ‘Surprise!’.”

“We all love Minerva and she is a great cat,” Aberdeen said firmly before anyone else could say anything.

Conversation flowed nicely. William was a natural, Aberdeen thought, and she chalked it all up to his endearing charm – his best quality. Well, at least to Aberdeen. It was what attracted her to him in the first place. That and the fact that he was so persistent. But everybody seemed to take a liking to him, and despite being the only person at the table who knew what had happened between them, Siena was surprisingly calm, warm, and chatty. Camden was an everyday 11 year old, asking William about the Leafs and if he’d met any Raptors and what playing hockey was like. He made them smile. He made them laugh. He made them love him. It was all so sickeningly sweet.

Camden cleared the dishes and Aberdeen cleared the food platters and Orla and Siena fetched the desserts. Mirza stayed to keep William company at the table. Aberdeen watched as Orla scooped all the remaining leftovers into a Tupperware – Aberdeen knew she’d give it to William when he left, and now she was stuck thinking about how William was going to return one of her Tupperwares without anybody on the team or in the offices knowing. It sent her head for a bit of a spin until Camden almost knocked her out with a swinging fridge door. “Camden, get the dessert plates on the counter,” she ordered, and he did as he was told. She got the trifle out of the fridge.

“Show him mine! I was so much cuter!” she heard Camden exclaim from the dining room. What was he on about now?

Aberdeen turned the corner. And then she saw it.

William Nylander. Sitting at the dining room table with her father.

Looking through her baby book.

Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. “Dad!!!” she exclaimed.

William looked up at her, the biggest, goofiest, most sincere smile on his face. “You were a cute baby, Aberdeen.”

She was mortified. She thought about walking outside and freezing to death because that would be a better option than what was happening in front of her. She set the trifle down on the table loudly, her jaw on the floor. “Dad, come on!” she complained. “I work with William! He doesn’t have to see my baby pictures!”

“Well excuse me for wanting to show off my two darling daughters,” Mirza waved off her complaint. “Besides, I can’t say no when a guest wants to see.”

Aberdeen glared at William, who still had that smile on his face. “Oh, you’re gonna get it when we’re back at the arena.”

“Am I?” he taunted her.

“Look! Look here! Siena at four, Aberdeen at two,” Mirza diffused the situation, pointing to a new picture on the page. “We sent copies of this one to Orla’s parents in Derry. They had it up for years.”

Aberdeen knew exactly which picture Mirza was talking about. She and her sister were photographed by a professional photographer, with Siena wearing a frilly yellow dress and Aberdeen wearing a pink one, equally as frilly. They were both smiling at the camera while sitting on some sort of box, and both wearing small, dainty necklaces. They were adorable, but William didn’t need to know that. “These are evil eyes, right?” he said, pointing to the necklaces they were wearing in the photo, a small smile on his face.

“We say nazar. It protects from the evil eye,” Mirza nodded his head. “They’re very popular in Iran.”

“What made you come to Canada?” William asked.

“The revolution, mostly,” Mirza said. “I was fourteen. My parents didn’t want me to stay so they changed my name and I escaped the country. It wasn’t safe for me anymore. I went to Syria first – to Aleppo – and had all my documents processed there to become a refugee. I came to Canada when I was eighteen in 1984.”

William was quiet and had a solemn look on his face as he listened to Mirza. It was so unlike any other story he’d heard before, in terms of people’s parents at least. He grew up with a lot of “My dad played in the NHL” or “My dad works in hockey” – never “My dad escaped a revolution”. It was very new to him, and he almost felt ashamed at the lack of diverse stories his friends, acquaintances, and all the kids he grew up with had in comparison to this. “And you chose Canada?”

“Canada chose me, I think,” Mirza smiled. “Look at these pictures here,” he said, flipping to the back of the photo album. When he reached the page, he showed William, and Aberdeen already knew what it was: the few pictures he had of himself growing up in Iran with his parents, some photos of him in Aleppo, and the first photos of him in Canada. “That one was the year before I left Iran,” he said, pointing to one, “and this one…the month I arrived in Canada.”

William smiled. He looked up at Aberdeen, who was already expecting his reaction. “Sugo hat outfit,” he said, like it was a code language. “Holy hell. You weren’t kidding, Aberdeen.”

“Told you.”

“Sugo hat outfit?” Mirza asked.

“It’s nothing, dad. William just has an interesting fashion sense. Very European.”

Mirza shrugged, letting it go. “Canada led me to Orla. Led me to have this,” he motioned around at his house, “led me to my job, led me to be a father,” he nodded towards Aberdeen. “Canada has been very nice to Orla and I, because even she had her troubles. Literally.”

“Troubles?”

“Orla grew up in Belfast and Derry during the Troubles in Northern Ireland. There was religious violence all around her growing up. Catholics versus Protestants,” he explained. “She came to Canada to escape it, too, in 1988. And it brought us together. We met in 1993 at our citizenship ceremony, married in 1995, and had Siena in 1996.”

William couldn’t help but smile. Meeting your future spouse at your citizenship ceremony as you swore an oath as a new citizen of Canada? “That’s the most Canadian thing I’ve ever heard,” he giggled.

“I know!” Mirza smiled along with him. “Orla married the mailman – I mean literally married the mailman. You should have heard all the jokes we got from her friends when she got pregnant with Siena. They never ended.”

Dessert and most of the afternoon continued as thus: retelling old family stories and recounting family memories as everyone devoured both desserts, with William explaining each of the Swedish pastries he’d picked from the bakery. They called their grandparents in Derry just as they were finishing, with William politely staying out of view, and then everybody relaxed around the house. William promised Camden he’d teach him some stickhandling tricks with the old sticks they had somewhere in the garage, “once my food baby has passed.” Mirza and Orla sat on the couch, watching the Christmas specials on TV. Camden opened and started to organize the pieces of a Lego set he’d received as a Christmas gift on the dining room table. Siena, Aberdeen, and William went down to the basement to “watch Netflix”. They got through one episode of Brooklyn 9-9 before Siena told them to sneak back upstairs into hers and Aberdeen’s bedroom for some alone time. Aberdeen tried to say no but William was already up. When he winked at Siena as a thank you, Siena immediately understood what attracted Aberdeen to him in the first place.

When he walked inside Aberdeen’s room, he thought that it was everything yet nothing he imagined all at once. A small twin bed, a stylish comforter, a view pictures of her with friends strung along draped string and a corkboard above her headboard. “So this is your room?”

Aberdeen nodded. “Well, used to be just Siena’s room. Then when the little monster was born we moved in together.”

“You didn’t care? Didn’t demand a room in the basement?”

Aberdeen shook her head. “I told you how close Siena and I are. I actually didn’t mind at all.”

He sat down on her bed, looking up at some of the pictures she’d hung. He recognized Kasha in one of them, and what he assumed to be other university friends. There was even a picture of the family together, for what looked like one of Camden’s birthdays. “You have such a nice house…” he started, looking around some more. “A nice, like, home. It’s very homey and just, like, perfect. And your family’s really…warm,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “They remind me a lot of mine. Close knit and stuff. You’ve all got each other’s back.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, sitting down on her bed next to him. “Does it…I mean, does it make you miss your family?”

“Tons,” he replied automatically. “Especially on days like today. But it’s okay. I know this summer when we’re all together it’s gonna be a blast.”

“I know…” Aberdeen began. “Listen, I know you don’t like to talk about your feelings much, but if you ever do want to talk when you’re really missing them…you know I’m here to listen, right?”

William looked at her and smiled. God, he got so lucky. “I know,” he said. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

He paused, staring into her eyes before knowing he had to continue. “Listen…I got you something,” he said.

“You what?” Aberdeen was flabbergasted. As if enough didn’t already happen today. He saw her baby photos for God’s sake.

“I couldn’t help myself.”

“I really think you could.”

He sighed and smiled, reaching into a bag Aberdeen hadn’t noticed was there and pulling out a wrapped box, a ribbon tied around it perfectly. She had a hard time believing he wrapped it himself, but then again, he had a lot of siblings. That was his excuse for knowing how to do a bunch of things that he had no other logical explanation as to why he knew how to do it. “Merry Christmas, minskatt,” he said.

“I don’t have anything for you,” she blurted out, immediately regretting it.

“I don’t need anything. It’s fine,” he shook his head, pushing the box onto her lap. “Open it.”

It was small. Too small for her liking. She gave him one last look before sliding the ribbon off and ripping the paper. The box was neutral, which made her even more nervous. She opened the lid.

Inside, she was met with a ring. An evil eye ring made of yellow gold, with the centre of the eye bedazzled with a black diamond, circled by two bands of rich blue diamonds, and finished off with regular diamonds outlining and filling out the rest of the eye shape. Her breath hitched in her throat audibly as she stared at it and took in its beauty. She couldn’t believe William got this for her. She couldn’t believe he…he…

“I hope you like it,” she heard William’s voice say softly. “I know rings are…well, whatever, but…I saw it and I thought of you. It…it went beyond when you told me your dad was Persian. The blue…it sounds stupid, but the blue reminded me of your tattoo. The waves. Like now whenever I see anything blue I think of you and your tattoo and the waves and stuff, and…and—” he was rambling, and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop, “—and I just figured, I don’t know, you always wear nice jewelry, nice rings, and this can be part of it. And it’ll protect you, according to tradition or whatever. And maybe, I don’t know, every time you look down at your hand and see the ring, you’ll be reminded of me.”

Aberdeen took every word to heart. She’d been looking at him the entire time, and her heart was so full by the end of his rambling that she couldn’t think straight; she couldn’t think of what to say, how to say it, how to thank him, how to truly express how much she loved it, so she did the only thing she could think to do. The only thing she couldn’t do.

She kissed him.

It was slow at first, and it took William aback – never in a million years did he think Aberdeen would initiate any kiss, let alone a kiss on her bed while they were alone in her bedroom after he’d crashed her family’s Christmas celebrations – but eventually, and gradually, the kiss deepened and became more passionate, with William’s hand going lightly to her hip, and Aberdeen’s hand resting gently on his thigh. They stayed like that for a while, just kissing on her bed, William absolutely basking in the feeling, as if a thousand lightning bolts were moving through his body all at once, having waited for months – six months – to feel his lips against hers again. It intoxicated him as much now as it did that night in June so long ago; perhaps even more so now, now that he knew what her lips felt like but was denied for so long, only to be given the luxury again. He was drunk on the feeling.

It was only until William couldn’t help himself, when Aberdeen felt a slip of his tongue against her lips, that she was brought back down to earth, only for her to pull away quickly. “Oh God,” she worried. “I wasn’t supposed to do that.”

William half smiled as he bit down on his bottom lip. “It’s not like I’m gonna tell anybody.”

She felt William’s hand on her hip move to hold her hand that was resting on his thigh. He held it so warmly, still looking at her, and rubbed circles onto her hand. His touch was so delicate, so tender. So unlike other touches she’d experienced, other touches she never wanted to experience again. “Will?”

“Hmm?” he licked his lips.

She finally met his eye. “I…I never thanked you for going to Brendan about…you know…” she trailed off.

His face shifted. “Aberdeen—”

“No – please,” she interrupted him, looking down nervously at their fingers that had now entangled with each other’s on his lap. She didn’t know why she couldn’t look him in the eye. She’d just kissed him, for God’s sake. “I never thanked you. Or Pierre for that matter. If you guys hadn’t gone to Brendan, I’d still have to be dealing with him, and…and I just…”

“Aberdeen, you don’t need to thank me for doing the right thing. Anybody would have done the same thing,” William said. “Believe me. Any one of those guys in the locker room would have done the same thing. Pierre and I actually made the decision to wait until after the holidays to tell everyone what happened so they wouldn’t get upset before Christmas.”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows. “Why? They…they’d get upset?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course they’d get upset,” William said. “Jason would have gone insane if he knew. The guy has four girls. Auston, Morgan, Kappy – everyone thinks you’re a bit of nerd or whatever, but they’d all go to bat for you. And everyone’s gonna be really upset when they hear about it. Actually, they’ll probably get mad at me for not telling them so they couldn’t whoop Ethan’s ass themselves.”

Aberdeen never considered that. She knew the guys liked her well enough, but she never considered that they liked her enough that they’d be upset something like that happened to her. She never considered that they’d be protective of her in that way. For all that she was Brendan Shanahan’s executive assistant and on the administrative side of things, she never felt part of the team more than she did in this moment, in her room alone with William Nylander.

“Can you…can you tell me something?” William asked as he watched her think.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me…you know, what Ethan was doing?”

There was the million dollar question. Aberdeen didn’t want to admit why. She didn’t want to admit to William that the reason she didn’t tell him was because she didn’t want him to know, didn’t want him to get involved, didn’t want to endanger his position in any way with the team by him speaking up on her behalf. She didn’t want to tell him it was because she didn’t think it was worth it. But she knew she had too. She took a deep breath and shrugged her shoulders. “I didn’t think you cared that much,” she admitted softly. “I didn’t think that it was…you know…worth caring about, even.”

It was William’s turn to furrow his brows. He looked pained, physically pained, at the words that had just escaped her mouth. “You’re always worth caring about, minskatt,” he said firmly, with no space to debate his tone or words. “You’re always…fuck, Aberdeen, you’re always fucking worth it to me.”

She couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth; couldn’t believe how much conviction was in his voice and how much he meant each and every word. Nobody had said those words to her before. Well – no guy had said those words to her before. She remembered Zane and how he refused to acknowledge how she wanted to become a writer. She remembered how, a second after she told him, William said she’d make a great writer even though he’d never read any of her work. To William, she was worth it; in every sense of the word, she was worth it. She was worth late night walks back to her apartment. She was worth sneaking into hotel rooms at night. She was worth calls to Sugo and paying extra to get dinner long after they closed down. She was worth sneaking around to get her phone number, and her parents’ address to show up for Christmas. She was worth spending whatever amount of money on a ring that reminded him of her. She was worth it. She was worth it all.

She moved closer to him again.

Closer.

And closer.

And…

“Aberdeen!” she heard Camden scream her voice down the hallway. So he apparently knew they were in her room. She and William moved at lightning speed not to be so close to each other. She shoved the box into her bedside table. Camden’s loud footsteps echoed down the hallway until they stopped outside her door.

Camden at least had the knowledge to knock. She’d yelled at him one too many times for him to forget. “Come in,” she said, her voice still a bit shaky from what had almost just happened.

He opened the door and stuck his head through. “William promised he’d play some hockey with me in the driveway before he left,” he said.

“William and I are talking right now,” she said quickly, trying to get him to go away.

“About what?”

“About work stuff.”

“What’s happening at work?”

“Camden.”

“Is Mitch Marner okay?”

“Can you give us maybe, like, five or ten minutes to solve this problem?” William asked. “I’ll meet you in the driveway after that. Practice your stickhandling so I can show you what to improve on.”

Camden nodded his head quickly and closed the door behind him as he rushed back down the hallway, yelling at his dad to open the garage and get his hockey stick. William looked at Aberdeen and laughed as she let out a breath in one long sigh, giggling to herself before shaking her head. “God…what am I doing?” she mumbled to herself.

“Realizing you’re worth it,” William said quickly, inching closer to her and kissing her again. It was nice, and it was innocent, and it was beautiful, and it was lovely, but it was also wrong. Aberdeen pulled back quicker than last time, but William didn’t seem to mind. He knew this kiss was gratuitous – an extra gift. “I can’t wait to see you on the plane to New Jersey wearing that ring,” he mumbled, grabbing her hand and holding it in his.

She stiffened for a second. “I can’t wear that to work.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s from you. Everyone’s gonna ask about it.”

“Have any of the guys, including Brendan, ever asked about any piece of jewelry you’ve worn before?” he deadpanned. Okay, so he had a point. “Besides, just tell them it was a Christmas gift from your parents.”

She shook her head. “You underestimate how good of a liar I am.”

“You spent six months lying trying to convince yourself you didn’t like me.”

She blushed. Okay, so he had another point. “Touché, Will.”

He licked his lips, biting down on the bottom one gently. “Why’re you so scared?”

“I’m not scared,” Aberdeen answered. “I’m just aware of how inappropriate this is and how much I’m starting not to care anymore.”

William smiled. And he leaned in again. But before he could kiss her again – helping as best he could to get her to not care anymore – Camden’s voice boomed through the house again. “Aberdeeeeen!”

She practically growled at another moment ruined. “Camden!” she screamed out.

This time, he didn’t bother to knock when he opened the bedroom door. He poked his head through again. “Do you know someone who drives a black Porsche Cayenne?”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows. As if she knew more than one person who drove a car that expensive. “My boss does…” she said.

“Well, it’s in the driveway.”

Aberdeen’s eyes bulged out of her head. She shot up from her seat and grabbed William and dragged him towards her closet. “Is that—” he tried to ask.

“Quiet.”

“Is that Brendan?” he asked as she practically tore her closet door off her hinges to open it. “What’s he doing here?”

“I don’t fucking know!” she exclaimed in one of those loud, frantic whispers. “Do you honestly think if I knew he was coming sometime today I would have let you stay in my house this long? Now shut up.”

“Aber—oooooowwwwww!” he protested as she grabbed the top of his head and pushed him down and into her closet like he was getting into the back of a cop car. He belonged in a cop car, Aberdeen thought, for showing up at her house on Christmas. “Aberdeen!”

“Shut up!” she said hurriedly, putting her hand over his mouth. “If you value your life as well as mine you will stay in here and stay quiet until I come get you,” she warned, closing the closet door in his face.

“Who’s that now?” Orla asked as Aberdeen hurried to the front of the house, where she saw her mother looking out the window. “We don’t know people who drive Porsches.”

“It’s for me. It’s my boss. Brendan Shanahan. The president of the Toronto Maple Leafs,” Aberdeen informed everyone. She saw Siena send a panicked look her way.

“Oh, did you invite him to Christmas too now and he just came late?” Orla joked.

“Is he here to see William?” Camden asked.

Aberdeen took a deep breath. She felt like her heart was going to explode in her chest. “Everybody listen,” she said loudly. “Brendan cannot know William was here…is here.”

“Why can’t Brendan know about W—”

“I’ll lose my job, okay?” she said quickly. Her parents’ eyes widened. “Brendan doesn’t like the players, uh…he doesn’t…just please, please don’t ask me to explain. Just take my word for it. Just don’t mention anything and…please be normal.” She knew Siena already knew. And she knew her parents were good for it – though she’d have to explain to them in more detail later. It was Camden she was worried about. She looked down at him. “You say a word about William being here and I take that Kyle Lowry jersey back and tell everyone at your school that you still sleep with Bubby.”

Bubby was the stuffed giraffe Camden got as a kid. He slept with it religiously when he was small, but he didn’t still sleep with it, though it stayed perched on his shelf. Camden grimaced but understood the ultimatum his sister was giving him – no kid would ever recover from that rumour being spread. “Fine.”

Their doorbell rang. Mirza moved to open the door. He couldn’t even see Brendan’s face – it was obstructed by a giant basket. “Oh my goodness!” he exclaimed, noticing it was teetering a bit. “Let me help, let me help!” he said, taking some of the weight of the basket. “Come in! Come in!” he moved backwards, and the two men balanced the basket on the half-wall that separated the entrance from the front family room.

Aberdeen felt like she was going to faint. Brendan Shanahan was now in her front entrance while William Nylander was stuffed in her bedroom closet. “You must be Mr. Bloom,” Brendan said, extending his hand to shake. “And Mrs. Bloom,” he said once he noticed Orla, shaking her hand too. “I’m Brendan Shanahan – I’m Aberdeen’s boss.”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Brendan,” Orla smiled. “Aberdeen speaks so highly of you.”

He waved and smiled at Aberdeen. Then he noticed Siena and Camden. “You must be Siena,” he smiled at her, “and Camden.” Camden nodded enthusiastically and silently. “I don’t mean to intrude on your Christmas,” Brendan held up his hands slightly. “I just – well, my family and I are on our way to my mother’s house in Mimico. I’m an Etobicoke boy too, you see. And when Aberdeen told me her mother was another Belfast lass, well, I had to see for myself.”

Orla giggled. Mirza had a smile on his face. “Irish too, then? Well, with a name like Shanahan, how could you not be?” Orla quipped.

“I don’t mean to stay long – we’re already late as is – but I just wanted to pass this gift along as a token of my thanks and gratitude,” he said, motioning to the giant wrapped basket. It had an assortment of things in it that Aberdeen couldn’t make out because she was scared William was going to scream out from the closet or walk around the corner any second and then she’d be out of a job. She knew Camden would take it all apart the second Brendan left, anyway.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that, Mr. Shanahan—” Orla said.

“No no, I insist. It’s the least I could do,” he said. “I’m sorry for taking your daughter away from you so much and having her travel to every corner of this continent. I know it must be hard on you as parents.”

“It is,” Mirza said, “but she enjoys her job very much. She’s always letting us know about the cool things she’s doing or the cities she’s going to. She feels very fortunate to be in the position she’s in.”

“We’re very lucky to have her as a member of the Toronto Maple Leafs team,” Brendan smiled warmly. “Anyways, I’m so sorry for taking up your time,” he turned to leave.

“Don’t be sorry at all, Mr. Shanahan. This is a very lovely gift, thank you.”

As he stepped through the threshold of the doorway, he turned back. “If I want to drop by St. Leo and bring some of the boys, am I calling you?” he asked Orla.

“You bet your arse you are, because you’re not going to anyone else’s class but mine.”

Brendan smiled. “I’ll call you to arrange something, then. Have a very Merry Christmas.”

When the door closed, Aberdeen let out a sigh of relief. “Was that harmless enough, Aberdeen? Was it to your liking?” Orla asked sarcastically.

“Don’t.”

“Camden, go fetch mummy a card from the drawer in the kitchen so we can write a thank you note to Mr. Shanahan for this enormous basket full of…full of…” she stopped, eyeing the contents. Suddenly, she jumped up. “Oh Lord! Oh heavens it’s a basket of Irish and British goodies! And sweets! Oh, bless that man! Bless that man!”

Aberdeen didn’t care about sweets. She thought about William in her closet and rushed towards her room. She closed the door to her room behind her and opened the closet door to see him holding up her high school kilt, like he was examining it. “What the fuck are you doing with that?”

He smirked at her. “Can you wear this for me sometime?”

“Get out of there!” she ordered, snatching her kilt away from his hands as he giggled like the schoolgirl she once was. She hung it back up in the back of her closet. “You’re a perv.”

“Only for you,” he continued to giggle.

***

William held on to the Tupperware Orla had given him full of leftovers as he and Aberdeen stood on her front porch. Aberdeen made sure not to get too close; partly because she had a feeling that at least one member of her family was spying through a window, but also, because if she got close to him, she didn’t know what she’d do.

William had charmed her entire family. Her mother invited him back for Easter. Camden thought he was the coolest guy around. Siena understood now why Aberdeen was so drawn to him. And Mirza – well, Mirza just liked him. Thought he was a good kid. And he was a good kid. Despite his upbringing and despite his job being one of the stars of the Leafs, he was just a humble, polite, guy when he came over – just a guy from Sweden who worked with Aberdeen. Aberdeen thought that maybe that’s all he wanted to be when he was around her – just a guy from Sweden. Not William Nylander, hockey star. He certainly showed that he liked and preferred it that way.

“You’re coming to Jersey, right?” he asked. She nodded her head. “What about New Years?”

“I’ll be there,” she nodded again. “Kinda sucks that we won’t get to spend it here, though. I think this is the first New Year’s I’ll spend outside of Toronto.”

“Well it has to be extra special, then,” he smiled.

Aberdeen bit her lip. She didn’t know what that meant. A part of her didn’t want to know while another part of her did. “Will…” she began.

“Minskatt?”

“Why didn’t you ever move on from me?”

William was taken aback by the question. The notion was absurd to him. “Why would I ever want to do that?”

Aberdeen couldn’t believe his answer. Was there really nobody else for him? Nobody in Sweden that summer he could have had fun with? Nobody in Toronto he could call? She didn’t know why he insisted on his life revolving around just her when she’d barely given him anything the past six months, three of which were spent in two separate continents. Was he insane? Was she?

A car pulled up in front of the house, and Aberdeen knew it was his Uber. He glanced at it before taking one last look at her. “Have a good night, Aberdeen. I’ll see you Thursday morning.”

She watched him get into the car, watched it pull out of the driveway and drive down the street. When she opened the door and stepped back into her house, she saw Siena waiting for her. “You’re fucked,” was all she said.

Aberdeen nodded. If other people could see it, then she needed to start accepting it. “I know.”

229 notes · View notes

prose-for-hire · 4 years

Text

Love rises from the dust

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: OMG I NEEED A SEQUEL TO LOVE AND DUST IN THE AIR!!! That was so good!! I can totally see spike trying to do romantic gestures to ask her out but something keeps going wrong (xander messes with their picnic, they get interrupted by the newest big bad, willow practices her magic and accidentally makes spike bald, etc.) until she just shows up at his crypt one day with hot coco and movies and kisses him 😭😭😭 TOO CUTE!

Part one

Requested by: Anon

A/N: I had a great time writing this second part!! Spike is perhaps a little more self-deprecating than he is on the show?? A bit more William (Forgive me I am a big romantic if you couldn’t tell lol).

Planning to tell you he loved you was the easy part. He couldn’t help watching you, desperately trying to think of an excuse to get you alone. Buffy was always there though, or one of the other Scoobies. It was as if they were trying to spite him in every way possible. Blocking his happiness, blocking you from him.

You had noticed this too, you usually drew to him, sitting with him at the Magic Box or spending time with him in his crypt when you had time but ever since Giles had made a strange comment about Spike spending too much time around you it seemed like you had stopped seeing Spike all together. Yo uwere constantly busy, whether it was patrolling with Buffy or helping Willow with a spell. Xander had even roped you into helping with some project that was taking up a lot of your time.

Spike didn’t blame you, he blamed them. He had a suspicion that they were doing it on purpose, which was confirmed when Giles threatened him to stay away one night.

Despite this, Spike had a plan. They weren’t going to get in the way of your happiness. He was a man of his word and he was determined to tell you how he felt. He was nervous, so nervous. He couldn’t bare the rejection. Not from you. He loved you. His heart rose, every even seemingly insignificant interaction a journey in devotion for him. He adored you, he was desperate for you to know. To hear from him how special you were to him. How much you meant to him.

It was a practice in salvation. With you, he could see happiness. Almost taste it. He vowed to himself that he would treasure you should you accept his advances. That he would never take you for granted.

He decided he would have to do it sooner than later, so he started to plan out something romantic. Romance like you deserved. So, Spike had decided on a night-picnic. He hadn’t actually told you that was what was happening, he had suggested to patrol together, accidentally stumbling across the blanket, a few candles, and the brown bag filled with what appeared to be an entire aisle of the corner store. It looked as if he had put his arm on one end and sweeped everything into a basket from one end to the other.

You squealed excitedly, “Did you do this!?” Spike just shrugged a little, ducking his head. You moved over to kneel on the blanket and look into the basket. You sit, tugging his sleeve so that he’ll sit down next to you as you take the bag and start to rummage inside. However, your smiles didn’t last long as you grabbed something that Spike hadn’t put in there.

The bag, and snacks, exploded before you. A pile of goo in its place. Some of it on your outfit (that you had carefully selected to be both good for fighting and something you hoped Spike would like on you). You squeak, standing up. Wiping some of the goo but it stuck like glue.

Spike just stared, he hadn’t expected that. It appeared to be some cheap prank-magic. He heard chuckling from a bush and whipped his head around to see the boy.

His reaction didn’t appear too bothered, you had missed his jaw tensing as he didn’t want you to see him so mad. You muttered something about dropping in on Buffy’s, because it was so close, to ask if you could use her shower. This left Spike imagining all of the ways he would string Xander up and torture him, but instead had to settle for shouting insults whilst he followed him all the way home.

Spike had to find a few demons to beat up, walking past your house twice although there were no lights on. He felt stupid. He should have asked if you were okay, offered you his jacket. The goo was cold and would stick to you for a while.

A fact you found out at the Summer’s residence where you were now almost 90% covered in the purple substance that you were spreading around instead of washing off. You couldn’t figure out if Spike had done it to be cruel or it had been someone else’s sabotage. Either way, you felt stupid, worried Spike would think of you and laugh now instead of enjoying your company. You felt a little embarrassed.

It had been a few weeks and Spike had not stopped thinking about you and figuring out a way to make it up to you. You had no ill-will towards Spike by this time as you found out and beat up Xander for his trick. Thankfully, you were now completely your natural skin tone, with no purple hue left.

You had dropped in to tell him this and ended up staying. You were sat in the crypt together, realising Spike was mad at Xander still for the prank, rather than laughing at you. He smirked when you mentioned you had stamped on his foot and threatened more, asking you to retell the story several times. You decided you should drop some hints that you liked him, you were able to face horrible beasts on the Hellmouth but letting Spike know you felt for him was a little harder.

You decided to snuggle up to him, willing the words to formulate. You were sat together on the sofa, you hitched up to his side of the seat. He was aware of how close you were to him, daring to glance sideways to make sure it wasn’t an accident. You gradually moved closer, both of your eyes glued to the screen, you eventually managed to settle into his side and he moved to slip an arm around your shoulders. Your movements both slow, as if moving faster would ruin the scene, scare either of you away. He could hear how fast your heart was beating, he was desperate to say something but he didn’t want to ruin anything. Holding you, having you close. It was bliss.

Both of you were uncharacteristically quiet, the only sound the low buzzing of the tv set and the constant thrumming of your heart. You were trying to think of more ways to drop hints to Spike that you liked him, you maybe even felt the first syllable of love tingling on your tongue for him. You knew, however, that Spike liked to be the one to sort through his feelings and if he hadn’t said anything then surely it meant you felt more for him than he did for you.

You thought you might tell him that you were thinking of going to the Bronze on Saturday, that you’d really like to see him there. It wouldn’t hurt, he might even want to come. He seemed to enjoy the way your skin felt against his, his thumb moving soothingly ever so often. It was as if he was holding his breath, making sure that the moment would last as long as possible. He felt so happy like this, he didn’t want you to slip from his arms.

You open your mouth, willing yourself to ask, just as he appears to be doing the same. Time slowed, anticipation a dizzying phenomenon as if there were something in the air.

But something comes crashing in, taking the door off its hinges. The monster of the week, a massive troll-demon. Spike grabs you to protect you and then remembers who you are, then looks at you and you nod, a sparkle in your eye. He smirks, you both silently agree to work together.

You had your fighting stances ready, you fought so closely, as if it were expertly choreographed. You just fit. You took it down together, not able to stop smiling at each other as you caught your breath back. This was the best kind of foreplay for Spike. He could watch you fighting for hours, enamoured by the grace you held. The brutality, the expertise that almost matched his - he had a few hundred years on you, however.

By the time you had tracked and slayed the troll, you had ended up by your house. Spike walked you the rest of the way, looking as if you both wanted to say something. You tried, you really did. But you both just stared hopelessly at the other. At least meant you started to believe Spike may truly have feelings there for you in return.

Since the last time you and he had been in the crypt, Spike had been a little awkward around you. He had been overthinking everything, trying to force himself into saying something. Building himself up, only to come crashing down when you looked up at him with bright eyes and a smile that he noted seemed to widen in his presence. Or was that his mind playing tricks? He became so tongue-tied around you, he didn’t know what was wrong with him.

There was a meeting at the Magic Box that night and Spike had waited outside your house and offered to walk you there. You happily accepted and as you both walked together, you slip your hand into his. You both look at each other silently, his eyes wide, eyebrows raised. But yet the words still can’t form between you. He tried, as did you, to say something. Anything about the way you feel. But the moment passed, and you were needed inside. You step into the magic box, both moving your hands from each other reluctantly. The last thing you needed was the unwanted opinions of the Scoobies.

As soon as you stepped in there was chaos in the store. Willow was chanting, getting louder as the store started to spin around you and sparks started to fly towards the doorway. You ducked out of the way, but Spike wasn’t so fast. In the blink of an eye, Spike was now bald. The bleach blonde hair that you loved so much was gone. His hands went straight to his now hairless head and his eyes widened in horror, profanities shouted towards the entire room. He winced again, remembering you were beside him. He hated thinking you would take the harsh words to heart, trying to avoid the threats in front of you. They all laughed, his jaw tensing as if this brought back some kind of hidden memory. He was embarrassed, feeling as if he was laughable to you now.

You move to him, trying to reassure him, but he ran away. Hurt in his eyes shone directly into yours as if you could feel it yourself. The embarrassment so strong, as if you could feel it as your own. You knew then that you needed to go to him. Show him it didn’t matter what he looked like. That you both lived in Sunnydale where there would always be a threat interrupting your time together. That it didn’t matter to you that things would occasionally go wrong, or not go perfect like they are in the movies. You wanted to show him, that you wanted to be by his side. That you loved him. If you couldn’t say it yet, then you would make sure to show him.

Spike was now in the crypt, dejected and drinking. His hair had come back slowly over the last twenty-four hours. He slumped in his chair, trying to console himself. He never had a chance, was he being stupid? Someone as sweet as you, as caring. Someone as tough and able to handle themselves. What good was he to you? You were perfect. You were everything. God, he had it bad.

There was a knock at the crypt door. He frowned, nobody ever knocked. Nobody except… you.

“Y/n? It’s late, pet… shouldn’t you be tucked up?” He asked You checked the watch on your wrist with a little frown. It wasn’t so late. The sun had only barely set. He cared though, he really cared and that’s why he always checked. He didn’t like you being out after dark so much, despite the way he knew you could handle yourself.

“Uh, yeah, I just wanted to see you” You said, a little smile. He just stared, not sure why you would want to be here. All he had done was embarrass himself and you by trying to get close to you. You moved past him, he hadn’t noticed all of the bags in your hands until you put them down and started to look through them.

“What’s all this?”

“Movie night!” You exclaimed as you setting everything down.

“Movie…?” He started, shaking his head, “Why?”

“It’s a date, Spike” you say matter-of-factly as you brought out a stack of videos you had rented. You finally said something. He was speechless. Looking around at everything you had brought, not able to stop the smile that was tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Is that a flask?”

“For coco and, of course... little marshmallows!” You brandish a little pack from one of the bags with a smile so sweet he felt himself melting quicker than the marshmallows would.

He stared. You had caught him breathing exaggeratedly and starting sentences around you, but never quite finishing them. You hoped it was the same you were feeling. Your eyes betrayed you, having to sort through your mind for a response. You worried if you finally named it, the feeling might leave as quickly as it had built between you. This was exactly how he was feeling, not that you were aware.

“Pet, what’s all this? Really? Not that I’m not pleased to have you gracing my presence, but you don’t belong in a hovel like this..” he muttered, believing strongly that you deserved better than he could give you. He had proved that in the past few months. You stared, a frown on his face.

Could he really think that? Everything he had done, a picnic. Protecting you from the demon. walking you places in the dark. His concern for you, wanting you to never hear his harsh words he saved for the others. You loved this man so much.

He was so thoughtful. Kind, and he really cared. He made you feel safe. He was always soft with you. You didn’t understand how he could think you wouldn’t want to be right here. You never wanted to leave his side. He stared back, not understanding your look. He was expecting you to suddenly realise how much he didn’t deserve you. But this was never a thought in your mind.

You rushed up to him, hand sliding up the side of his face, thumb tracing his cheekbone. Your lips met, the kiss making your stomach flip, your heartbeat was drumming with nerves and excitement. You were convinced he was about to reject you, pull you away from him. But he never did. His hands were by his side for a moment, he was shocked when he felt your soft-lipped kiss. But not for long. No, soon his hands are on you, sliding behind the base of your skull pulling your lips as close as physically possible. His lips deepening your kiss, unsaid feelings once only apparent through furtive glances and the ways your eyes met was now apparent. You smiled into the kiss, pleased with the way he responded so enthusiastically, glad you hadn’t only been picking up what you felt, assigning your own feelings onto him.

“I love you” he whispered between your lips as your smile widened. He pressed several languid kisses against your lips again, unable to consider his lips not pressing against yours. Lips that were designed for each other, lips that had never dared reveal true feelings before. Threat of cruelty or laughter now felt like a ridiculous dream. Something the world had transpired against you both. Because it was both of you now, the promise sealed in this kiss.

“Finally!” You giggled softly pecking his smiling lips again before confirming, “I love you too”

274 notes · View notes

seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

Text

Fallen

Author: @hutchhitched

Prompt: How about Katniss taking Peeta to the forest during the fall for the first time to see all of the fall colors. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T for suggestive language

Author’s note: Some of you may notice this is the second story for this prompt. During the selection process, @mega-aulover and I both fell in love with this prompt, and she very generously allowed me to write another version. Thank you for sharing with me! I was able to travel home a couple of weeks ago for the first time in the fall in a number of years. Although the trees had just started to turn, it was a lovely opportunity to remember what it’s like to live in the land of four seasons. This is my love letter to that.

__________

“Are you sure you want me to go with you?” Peeta asked for what must have been the hundredth time. I was getting really tired of reassuring him, but it was also adorable how insecure he was about the trip. “I mean, we only just started dating. Meeting your family so soon is a little bit… I don’t know. Quick?”

I shook my head and grinned at him. His blue eyes held a hint of panic. It only served to make him more endearing. Stepping close to him, I threaded my fingers through his hair and pulled his face down to mine. Instead of answering, I pressed my lips to his, and our kiss devolved into a tangle of tongues and lips and limbs. Breathy moans and soft whimpers and catching breath and want.

I couldn’t remember how long it’d been since my body yearned for someone else, how many months had passed since I woke up with a smile on my face and the anticipation of greeting someone with a kiss over an early morning coffee. It felt like years, but that loneliness faded when I met Peeta Mellark. Sure, it had only been a few months since our first date, but we’d both fallen hard. Not surprisingly, he was more open about his feelings. I hemmed and hawed and tried to pretend my whole world hadn’t rotated right off its axis for another week before I admitted to myself how much I wanted to crawl inside him and live there. Not in a creepy way, of course.

I broke our kiss and relished in the touch of his forehead against mine. “You don’t have to come,” I whispered, hoping against hope that he’d see through my projected confidence. I wanted him there so badly. I needed him to see where I came from and understand my hang-ups and quirks.

Peeta tilted my head up so he could catch my gaze with his. He searched my eyes for several seconds before rubbing his thumb across my cheekbone. “No,” he answered softly. “No, I want to go with you.”

My head nestled in the crook of his neck, and I released a relieved sigh. “You sure?”

“You promised me leaves,” he murmured against my temple as his arms tightened around me. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” he insisted. “I told you I’d come, and then I tried to bail on you at the last minute. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left you hanging?”

“The worst kind.”

“Oh, that bad, huh?” he chuckled, and I grinned at him.

“The kind that needs to be punished,” I whispered into his ear.

“Oh, yeah. That kind. Are you going to spank me?”

“Absolutely, and you better return the favor.”

God help me. He definitely did.

__________

“You know,” I hissed as I settled into the driver’s seat, “it was fairly stupid of us to give each other sore asses the night before a road trip.”

Peeta shifted gingerly, and I chuckled at the pink hue flushing his cheeks. He’d been a champ as I’d spanked his perfectly rounded cheeks until they were rosy and warm. His willingness to shift over control in bed to me wasn’t something I was used to in a partner, but he made it easy to enjoy when he squirmed and moaned and begged. Truth be told, I loved it, especially because he was equally eager to turn the tables and take charge.

“Maybe stupid,” he grunted as he wiggled until he found a comfortable position. “Maybe just really good sex.”

“Yeah,” I murmured as he wrapped his hand around my thigh. Shifting into reverse, I leaned over to kiss him before easing off the brake and backing out of my driveway. “It’ll have to hold us for a while. Privacy isn’t exactly how it works when I head home.”

His fingers tightened on my leg, and I grinned as his thumb stroked higher and higher. “I’m sure we’ll manage,” he said softly as he grazed his thumb against the seam in my jeans. “Thank you for asking me to come with you.”

“Well, I can’t believe you haven’t ever seen fall leaves in person. I mean…”

He watched as I steered the car onto the entrance ramp and headed north on the interstate. “When was that supposed to happen, sweetheart?” he asked. “I’ve lived in the south my entire life.”

“But don’t you take vacations?”

“Well, sure, but not in the fall. School and then work and just— I don’t know. We went to Orlando and the beach and stuff like that. Normal things.”

“Normal,” I scoffed. “Ah, to live in a world where going to Disneyworld is normal. That takes money, and we never really had a lot of that.”

“No, you had something better,” he answered, bitterness just creeping into his voice. “I would have traded every Mickey sighting for a relationship with my brothers like you have with Prim. And my parents are just—”

Peeta didn’t finish, Instead, he tilted his head against the car window and closed his eyes. I didn’t know what to say to make him feel better. I couldn’t understand what it was like to grow up with things instead of relationships, so I didn’t try to pretend I did. All I could do was squeeze his hand as I steered into the left lane and pressed on the accelerator. The miles passed quickly as silence filled the car.

__________

“So, what is it you love about going home during the fall?” Peeta asked as I steered the car deftly around a sharp corner.

We’d long since left the interstate and were weaving along the state highway that would lead to the county paved road that turned into a country gravel road that led to the dirt road to my family’s homestead. I’d tried to explain to my boyfriend how remote the house I grew up in was, but he didn’t really seem to get it. He would soon enough.

“It’s the leaves,” I inhaled in an elongated breath and then released it in a blissful sigh. “I love them.”

Peeta hummed and glanced sideways at me. When he caught my eye, he rested his head against the back of the seat and treated me to a megawatt smile. “You love leaves?” he teased.

A goofy smile spread across my face, and I signaled to turn. “I really do. There’s no way to explain it, but I’m going to knock your socks off tomorrow morning.”

Peeta hummed and squeezed my thigh. “And here I thought we wouldn’t get any sexy times while we’re visiting your family.”

Laughing, I signaled and turned the car to the left into the driveway of my childhood home and shifted into park. “Finally. Home, sweet home.”

We’d been traveling all day—fifteen solid hours of driving with only a few gas and restroom breaks—and all I wanted to do was take a shower and climb into bed. When I looked at him, nervous and shy, I realized there was one more thing I needed to do before greeting my family.

Thankfully, he came willingly when I fisted his shirt and tugged him to me. Our lips rammed together, frantic and feral, before our tongues tangled and turned filthy. Heat flooded through me, molten and scorching, as involuntary whimpers and grunts tore from us both. The dark enveloped us, filling up the car and protecting us from curious glances from nosy family members. As his mouth met mine again, I calculated just how far we could go before I had to pull away and stop what was so good between us. I wasn’t always sure of social customs, but I knew riding Peeta like the purebred stallion he’d proven to be in the driveway wasn’t okay.

His hand cupped my breast and squeezed as he tilted his head to lick further into my mouth. The sticky wetness between my legs grew as my fingers tangled in his hair and tugged. The yelp he released caused my eyes to roll back in my head. I did it a second time, and his mouth fell open, yielding to my rough grip.

“Katniss,” he groaned, my name falling from his swollen lips.

I wanted him, then, more than I’d ever dreamed I could desire anyone, but we had to stop. It wasn’t a question of whether we wanted to or should, it was imperative. If we didn’t, I’d fall in love with him so much more than I already was, and I couldn’t risk that. Not yet. Not when it was all so new, and I feared another broken heart.

“Time to go in,” I announced in a hoarse whisper.

He closed his eyes, scrunching them in what was probably frustration, and gasped, “I need a minute.”

I couldn’t resist one last bit of torture and reached over to squeeze him firmly. He choked back a gasp as my palm pressed an intentional caress meant to remind him what his body craved. Hissing, he squirmed away, his back against the door, and his hands up in surrender.

“Don’t,” he begged, and I took pity on him.

“Butchering a deer. The feel of dough between your fingers when the yeast fails. Sourness in your stomach the morning after a drinking binge. Socks in the bottom of the laundry basket that have been balled up for weeks.”

He grimaced and shot me a half-smile. “That did it. Not hard at all anymore.”

We grabbed our bags and headed inside where Peeta charmed my family and chastely kissed me goodnight before settling into the guest room. I slipped into bed in my childhood room with a warm glow surrounding my heart. Despite my best intentions, I’d fallen for Peeta Mellark.

__________

“Are you ready?” I asked, a timid smile stretching my lips.

Peeta slipped his arm around my waist and hugged me to him. I knew he would love the autumn leaves, which I kept trying to convince myself was the real reason I’d asked him to come home with me, but really, I just wanted him near me.

“Take me to the woods. Take me forth into the wilds of the world. Just don’t leave me there alone.”

“Okay, overdramatic one,” I teased with an eye roll. “Grab that basket, and let’s do it.”

We walked out the door, and he released a soft gasp of approval. The ash tree in the front yard was in rare form with the outside leaves a purplish-red and fading to orange and then yellow closest to the trunk. Those had always been my favorite, and we took a moment to appreciate it before I tugged his hand and led him to the gate that allowed us access to the forest.

“This is beautiful,” he observed in hushed whispers, like the world around him was a magical land he was afraid to disturb with loud noises. “This is just— I don’t have words.”

“You don’t need words,” I murmured, disturbingly enamored with the sparkle in his eyes and the sheer wonderment on his face. “You don’t need words because you have your art.”

He turned to me then, his face alight with wonder. He was a miracle in that moment—adorable and bemused and so excited he wriggled like a puppy. It was no wonder my heart was already his, why I’d fallen for him after only a few months. He was as close to perfect as anyone I’d ever met, and I wasn’t nearly good enough for him. But I wanted to be. I wanted to be everything he’d ever needed and desired, if only he’d allow it.

“You’re beautiful,” he complimented me sweetly, and I ducked my head to blush.

“Come on,” I said, grabbing his hand and tugging him along behind me. “There’s a clearing I have in mind. I used to spend a lot of time there with Prim when I was growing up. The leaves there are gorgeous.”

I moved through the underbrush fairly quietly, but Peeta stumbled a few times, kicking up leaves and sticks and making so much noise the birds scolded us as we passed. He was a trooper, though, his presence steady and sure beside me as we passed through the trees that eventually opened up into a clearing with a brook that flowed from a light blue, spring-fed pool. The massive oak tree that had stood for decades had blown over when I was in high school, and it rested there, a fallen log perfect for spreading the blanket and relaxing onto its sturdy seat. It winked an invitation, and we accepted.

Clearly delighted, Peeta’s eyes sparkled when I reached into the basket we’d brought and produced a thermos of cider. Steam rose into the crisp air, and we sipped quietly until he asked me, “So, what kinds of trees are these?”

I took a sip and waved around me. “The yellow are shag-bark hickory and elm. I like the hickory better. The yellow’s a little brighter. The orange are mostly sugar maples. Completely gorgeous. The red trees are both maple and oak. The brown-ish red ones are pin oaks. My favorite, though, is the purple ash. There’s one in the yard. It’s the one that’s purple on the outside and yellow on the inside so it looks like the whole tree is hombre.”

“I had no idea,” he murmured. “No idea trees could look like this. I mean, I’ve seen pictures and movies, but that pales in comparison to an actual in-person tour. I wish I had my oils. I’d paint the hell out of this.”

“Will pictures work? That seems a lot more practical than hauling your stuff across state lines and into the woods,” I teased. I understood his desire, but both of us were more pragmatic than that.

“They’ll have to, won’t they?”

He softened his retort with a shoulder nudge and smile, and my heart flipped at the affection shining in his eyes.

“I can’t wait to see what you paint once we get back home. They’re going to be…” I searched for a word, but the only one that seemed to do his artwork justice was almost over the top if it wasn’t also true. “…transcendent. You transport me with your paintings.”

He kissed me then, cradled my cheeks in his palms and turned up my face to seek my lips with his. I could almost picture us in my mind—Peeta strong and protective with ashy blonde waves topping a stocky figure draped in denim and dark green flannel wrapped around a smaller figure in aqua and orange fleece and rugged boots. He twined my braid around his palm and nudged my mouth open to sweep inside.

I swallowed his groan and matched it with my own. The mid-morning light slanted through the trees and danced on the underbrush and our shoulders. He smelled like fresh air and cinnamon, and I wanted to subsist on only that forever.

Peeta finally broke the kiss, although he only pulled back enough to lean his forehead against mine. His thumb stroked my cheekbone, and he closed his eyes briefly before locking his gaze to mine. A cloud passed over the sun, and I shivered. It felt momentous, like something was about to happen. The grove had become a sacred space in that very moment.

“I love you,” he breathed against my cheek, and the sun burst from behind the cloud in approval. Sunlight washed over us, and I swallowed hard against the sudden lump in my throat. Stunned and speechless, my eyes widened and stomach rolled.

I wanted to respond, to say something—anything—that might make sense in what had become surreal and dreamlike. There was no way he’d actually announced what I thought I heard. He didn’t love me. I was convinced of that. We were dating, happy as a couple, but I was head over heels for him, and he couldn’t possibly feel the same. There was no way I was allowed to have that, that I could be so lucky and fortunate and blessed. I shivered and stepped back.

“W-what?”

My ears weren’t working properly. That was the only reasonable explanation. He considered me for a moment, his blue eyes darkened with apprehension, and his shoulders hunched slightly to protect himself. He held up his hands to indicate his willingness to let me question him and said it again.

“I love you, Katniss Everdeen.”

His words were soft but true, and I gaped at him. Red, orange, and yellow leaves fluttered above us in the wind, as if clapping in agreement, and I tasted his words on my own lips. They were sweet and tart at the same time.

“You love me?” I squeaked, completely unable to catch my breath. He gave me a soft smile and brushed stray hairs off my forehead where he dropped another kiss.

“I do,” he insisted, barely audible over the rustling leaves. “I know it’s quick, and you don’t have to say it back, but you should know. I love you, and I hope you’ll feel the same way about me in the future.”

I could hardly stand the hopefulness he displayed, could hardly bear to think about how selfless it was for him to offer me his heart when he had no idea mine had been his since the first time he’d made me laugh. Even before our first date, I knew he was something special and someone I wanted in my life forever, even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself.

“But I do!” I sputtered, blurting out my confession with so little finesse I’m surprised he didn’t leave me standing in the clearing by myself.

“You do?” His eyebrow seemed to question my declaration, but I threw myself at him in a very un-Katniss-like way.

“I really do,” I admitted, tears closing my throat. “I love you, too.”

The wind picked up then, swirling the branches and leaves into another chorus of applause. The sun sparkled and winked, and the clouds skipped across the sky like old friends. Peeta looked around us as a smile broke across his face. He tipped his head back and yelled into the morning.

“She loves me!” he shouted, and I burst into laughter. Relief and exuberance drifted on the breeze, and I leapt at him, wrapping my legs around his waist and clinging to his broad shoulders.

We kissed and cuddled for warmth on the blanket for hours as the sun reached its zenith and dropped in the west. Declarations of our undying affection gave way to mundane topics followed by plans for the future. It was too soon for an engagement, but I wasn’t looking for that anyway. I only wanted to explore this feeling, being in love with someone who adored me every bit as much as I did him.

Eventually, we made our way back to my childhood home, away from the log that had fallen for us as surely as we fell for each other. As we stepped from the forest, the gorgeous autumn leaves were surely cheering.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #hutchhitched #submission #prompt

78 notes · View notes

nalgenewhore · 4 years

Text

Slipping Through My Fingers - Sixteen

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

warnings: ...nsfw...

an: happy birthday @soitsgorgeous ! ALSO i just rlly want to post this

“No, come on, Ae, please stop,” Elide said, “it’s been a week. I need to go home.”

“But,” the blonde protested, looking around desperately until she huffed a breath and pouted, “you’re my baby sister. I gotta protect you.”

“I know that,” Elide said, pulling her sister in for a tight tight hug, “and I love you for it. So much, girl. But I can take care of myself.”

Aelin huffed again, rolling her eyes when they broke apart, “Ok. If you want me to come over, just call, ok?”

“Ok, mama,” Elide whispered, kissing the back of Aelin’s hand. “I love you.”

“Love you too, baby,” Aelin whispered back, waving at her as she walked down the hall.

The elevator was empty as she rode it down to the garage and no one was there either, though she saw row upon row of cars while walking to her spot. Mere steps from her driver’s door, her phone rang, deep in her pocket, and Elide shifted her bags to one arm as she dug into her pocket and hastily grabbed it.

She didn’t look at the caller ID as she picked the call up and pressed it against her ear, breathlessly replying, “Hello?”

There was a pause. And then, “Hey… it’s me.”

She froze, her blood running cold at the familiar voice. She stayed silent, not knowing what to say or how to say it. She hadn’t heard his voice in a week. He sounded as bad as she undoubtedly did, his voice hoarse and rough as he rasped into the receiver, “E, please. Please just say something. Tell me you’re still there.”

Elide’s chest ached with suppressed tears and she bit her lip to keep from crying. She wanted so badly to comfort him, because she loved him and he was in pain, but she was in pain too. She was hurting more than him. “I’m here.”

“Thank the gods,” he muttered, sniffling once, “I want to fix this, E. Please, just give me a chance.” He fell silent and neither spoke as he waited for her response. When she didn’t answer, he continued, “I know I don’t deserve it at all, I know that, but…”

Despite knowing it might make her hate herself for it later, Elide found herself telling him to meet her at her place in an hour. Then, she got in her car and tried not to cry as she drove home.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

When she got back to her apartment, Elide dumped her clothes from Aelin’s in her laundry basket and swept her hair up in a messy bun before she took a quick shower, the hot water helping ease the tension in her body.

After, she put on a pair of old sweats and the fluffiest fleece hoodie - complete with bear ears. Elide leaned back against her kitchen table and waited anxiously for the knock that came exactly an hour after their call. “It’s open,” she called out, worrying her bottom lip as the door opened and Lorcan walked in, closing it behind him and resting against it.

Elide ran a cursory glance over him, her breath hitching at the stubble where he would normally shave clean, the slump of his shoulders. He kept his gaze on the floor and didn’t dare take another step as he toed off his untied shoes, the same beat-up Converse he’d been wearing the night they’d met.

His hair was messy, like he’d ran his hands through it over and over.

Elide missed when she did that.

“E…” he started, finally lifting his head up to meet her cold stare with his hollow one, “I’m so sorry, baby.”

That quickly, the sadness and pain and heartbreak weighing her down turned into anger. She was so fucking pissed. He was such an asshole. “Don’t call me that. I’m not your ‘baby’.”

“I didn’t mean it,” he muttered and Elide could see that he was fighting his own anger.

Elide scoffed and shook her head in disbelief. “You’re a bad fucking liar, Lorcan.”

“I’m not lying,” Lorcan said, a dark storm in his eyes.

“Well, I don’t believe you. I gave you a chance to take it back, I asked you if you really meant it and you–”

“And I said I did,” he finished for her, stepping closer to the table. “I know what I said and I want to apologize.”

“I don’t want your apology,” Elide said, crossing her arms tightly.

“Then what do you want? Tell me and I’ll give it to you, anything,” he insisted, running his hand through his hair in a gesture of habit. Elide shook her head again, not answering, but he asked again, “El, just tell me what to do.” He wasn’t exactly an expert on apologies, he didn’t have that much practice with them.

“Give me my heart back!” she yelled, her voice breaking. “Give it back to me, you fucking asshole. I’ve never- no one has ever hurt me like that and it took you a week to get the balls to fucking call me!”

“Fucking hell, what do you want, Elide?” he shouted back, his voice raised. He tried not to, but Elide was the only person who could get under his skin just like that. “What do you want from me, huh?”

“I want you to get out of my house,” she said, raising her chin defiantly. “There’s nothing you can give me right now and you should leave–”

“I love you.”

She fell silent, looking at him with wide eyes. Elide uncrossed her arms, her hands shaking as she curled them into fists. Then, she looked down at her fluffy slippers, “I don’t believe you.”

“I love you.”

“I don’t believe you, Lorcan!” she cried, looking up to stop her tears. “How could I? You don’t trust me–”

“Yes, I do. I’m an asshole and I’m a prick and you can hate me for it, but I love you. And I trust you with my life. I don’t care if you never forgive me for this and I never get to call you mine again, I will let you go forever if that’s what you want,” he told her, desperate. “Elide Lochan, I love you.”

He was so close. She could just reach out and tug him to her. Something sparked in her blood and she tilted her head back, cocking her jaw, “I. Don’t. Believe. You.”

Lorcan’s lips parted and he stared at her, dragging his eyes up and down her. His breathing turned ragged as he stepped closer, cornering her against her table. Elide kept his heavy stare, not backing down as he cupped her face and leaned down to kiss her. But Elide turned her face at the last second and Lorcan just chuckled darkly, kissing her cheek sweetly before he pressed hot, biting kisses to her jaw, then continuing on down the elegant column of her throat to the place that drove her crazy.

Elide breathed in shakily and she gripped the front of his sweater, tipping her head back to give him further access. Lorcan chuckled again and the rough sound had her toes curling up as her clutch on his top tightened.

He sucked a bruise into her pale skin, pulling back and stroking his thumb over the purple mark, smiling cockily. Elide glared at the smile and decided he shouldn’t be smiling while groveling, so she gripped his collar and yanked him down, “Stop smiling.”

Lorcan didn’t listen as he cupped her face once more and slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her slow and languid, as if they had all the time in the world. And by the gods, he hoped they did.

She gasped and Lorcan snaked his tongue into her mouth, kissing her dizzy.

His back was strained from bending down so he slowly dragged his hands down her sides, sliding them down to her ass and gripping the soft flesh in that way that she was weak for - rough and if a little possessive. Elide moaned like he knew she would and wrapped her arms around his neck, toying with the soft strands at the base of his skull.

He groaned at the feeling of her long nails scraping over his scalp and picked her up, making her wrap her legs around his waist before he dropped her onto the table.

Shit, that was a good kiss and her brain was fuzzy. Lorcan pulled back, his eyes darker than she’d ever seen them and his lips kiss-swollen. Elide just shook her head, swallowing before rasping, “Not good enough.”

Lorcan grinned wickedly - he was having way too much fun with his reckoning - and reached behind his head, pulling his crewneck sweater off with one hand, flinging it behind her onto the floor. Elide grinned as well and leaned forward, licking up his sternum, her teeth kissing against his skin as she whispered, “Better. But I’m still pissed.”

“Let’s see what I can do about that,” he purred, voice dripping with sin. Lorcan tipped back her chin and kissed her one last time before pulling away, ignoring her whine.

Elide’s frown melted away as he dropped to his knees and tugged her to the edge of the table. Her heart stuttered in her chest and she knew by the end of the night, all would be forgiven and she would tell him she loved him too because she did. More than anything, anyone. Still, she would torture him by making him wait, just a little bit more.

The feeling of him tugging her sweats down her legs had her coming back to the present. She watched as Lorcan looked up at her through his lashes, grinning as she let out a shaky breath. Then, he looked between her legs, his mouth dropping open as he realized she wasn’t wearing underwear. “Fuck,” he said, throwing her sweats away. “Is this all for me?”

“Yes,” Elide whispered, her eyes closing as his hands traced pretty designs up her calves, “it’s all for you.”

Lorcan pulled her legs apart, spreading them as far as they went. His exhales fanned over her burning core and Elide slid her hands into his hair, falling down onto her back as he started to press hot and wet kisses to the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

She let out a breathy moan as his lips parted and she felt his tongue trace over her skin, tracing over her tattoos and moon-pale skin. Deciding she’d had enough teasing, Elide tugged on his hair sharply enough that he winced and went where she pulled him to.

“Lorcan,” she whined, arching her back when he pressed a too-soft kiss over her glistening slit, her sex pretty and pink and practically gushing.

He chuckled, the grating sound sending vibrations through her centre. “What is it?”

“Just give me what I want,” she begged him, her nails digging into his head. “I want to come, fuck, I need to.”

Lorcan just hummed and turned his head, pressing his lips against the soft skin of her inner thigh until she was gasping delicately and tugging on his hair as her toes curled. “Tell me what you want, my love.” He licked a path right up to her core, only to back away at the first touch. Elide let out a half-sob, too turned on to be embarrassed with how her liquid arousal was dripping from her. “Tell me how you want it.”

“I want– Anneith above,” Lorcan swallowed his laughter at the words that spilled from her throat when he bit the tendon between her thigh and pelvis. She was shaking, straining, aching for him and Lorcan smiled to himself, licking slowly over the bite mark before he switched to her other leg, his hands holding her legs apart, but even still, they fought to close around his head and never let go.

Soon, Elide was begging, pleading with him in a soft, breathy voice, “Baby, please… oh my gods, please, please, I just… I want you, Lorcan, I want you.” When he finally put his mouth on her, Elide nearly cried in relief, his tongue splitting her folds in broad sweeps.

She convulsed at the feeling of his tongue dipping as far as it could reach inside of her and sliding against her walls.

Elide cried out when he flattened his tongue against her clit and let go of her thighs, coaxing her to wrap them around his head, keeping Lorcan exactly where she wanted him.

Pressure built under her skin as he worked her into a frenzy, banding an arm over her hips to keep them still as he curled two fingers into her and stroked over that one spot. Elide moaned, tightening her legs around his head. The combination of his tongue flicking over her button and his fingers pumping and scissoring inside her sent Elide into her climax, making her clench around him and roll her hips against his arm.

Her mind blanked and her body writhed, trembling as his actions didn’t stop until it was too much for her and Elide felt a tear slip free as she pushed him away. She felt, more than heard, him rise above her and lean down, his body slotted between her legs.

Eyes half-lidded and hazy, Elide reached out for him, diving her hand into his pants and wrapping her hand around his dick.

Lorcan groaned softly and instinctively rocked his hips into her hand, snapping his teeth at her low chuckle.

“So needy,” she commented, lazily stroking him as his cock grew in her hand and became slick with the beads of pre cum. With her other hand, she tilted his chin up, his jaw tight, her body caged in by his hands planted on the wooden surface on either side of her.

Another storm was raging in his eyes, one she would gladly lose her way in. He breathed heavily, trying to keep his control as she stared at him with that one look that he would wreck worlds for.

Lorcan’s eyes fluttered shut and he bit his lip, groaning softly, “Fucking hell, just- Elide.”

“Mm-hmmmm?” she hummed, running her thumb over the head of his length and scraping her nails over the underside.

“I need to be inside you.” Elide just smiled coyly until he grabbed her face in one hand hard enough that her jaw might ache in the morning. Her cheeks squished together and her lips puckered out for him to kiss her possessively. He bit her bottom lip, not bothering to lick over the sting as he nearly growled, “Now, Elide.”

She whimpered softly and nodded, chasing his lips when he pulled back. Lorcan pulled her hand from his pants and then let her tug his jeans down just enough that his cock flipped out. Then, she guided him between her legs, using her fresh release to make him slick.

Elide pouted when he pulled her hand away from his length but he kissed it away as he slowly slid in. When he bottomed out, Elide whimpered, reaching for the hand on her hip and running hers up to his forearm, “Fuck, so fucking deep.” Her nails dug into his skin and Lorcan slid his other arm underneath her lower back, forcing an arch into her spine. She locked her legs around his waist as he started to thrust into her, watching her hoodie shift with her tits.

Elide seemed to notice where he was looking and pressed a hand into his chest, forcing him to stop his movements so she could pull it over her head and stretch out languidly, letting it dangle elegantly from her finger tips before dropping it and running her hands down her body. Biting back a groan, Lorcan watched as she cupped her own breasts and toyed with her nipples, all while smirking wickedly at him.

“Are we supposed to lay still the entire time, my darling,” she pondered in a sultry voice, gasping out a breath when Lorcan smirked right back and sheathed himself in her, keeping her tightly against his pelvis as he grinded his hips into hers.

“More,” she gasped, her face scrunching up as he slammed into her harder and deeper like she asked him to, completely filling her. “Just like that.”

“Just like that?” he drawled, leaning over her and trailing his lips over her throat. He moved up to her ear, grazing his teeth over her soft earlobe. Every touch, every brush of his body against hers sent lightning zapping under her skin. He slowed his pace, though his thrusts remained true and deep as she mewled and clawed at his back. Her nails dragged down his skin, almost drawing blood but not quite breaking the skin.

“Lor… I… oh,” Elide breathed, falling back down to the table as he pulled a hand away and guided her hand between them, pressing gently beneath her belly button. She moaned, her legs squeezing around him as Elide felt something twitch beneath her fingers.

Lorcan watched her eyes, watched them near roll back in her head beneath fluttering lids and murmured in her ear, gently taking her hand away and pressing her wrist into the wood beneath her. “Feel that?”

“Yes,” she moaned, crying out his name when he hit particularly deep. Elide could already feel her orgasm build, still sensitive from the previous one.

A broken moan tore from his throat when her already tight walls swelled around his cock, making pulling out of her an effort of control, like she was trying to pull him back in every time he drew back. She was like a vice around him, so tight and slick and hot.

Lorcan pulled back, standing up straight as Elide arched her body further, her head thrown back as she felt herself grow closer and closer. “Oh, come on, baby, just come. Come, you’re so close, I wanna feel it. You know how much I’ve missed you, tight around my dick and feeling good like that ‘cause of me?”

He gripped her hips tightly, pulling her down to meet his thrust and his breathing became laboured when he watched her body seize and shake beneath him, coming undone with the presence of him filling and surrounding her.

Elide yelled his name, her eyes screwed shut as white-hot pleasure raced through her veins and vaguely, through a shroud of bliss, she felt him come inside of her. Every inch of her body was tingling and sensitive. She managed to wrench her eyes open to see him bow his head, biting his lip as he groaned out her name, barely recognizable. He rocked into her, drawing out both of their pleasures until they both calmed.

Elide smiled softly as he remained inside of her and leaned down, gathering her up in his arms. Something inside her jellied when she felt his release drip down her thighs, leaking out from around him. She wrapped her arms around him, nearly draping herself over his shoulders and smiling when he bowed his head and kissed her chin, just barely missing her lips, “I missed you.” She missed him so much.

“I missed you too,” he whispered, kissing her cheek before he pulled out of her and stood upright, helping her up. Elide smiled again, absentmindedly running her hand through his hair as she looked off into the distance, eyes catching on a speck of dust in the moonlight.

Before she could discern what was happening, Lorcan scooped her up and walked over to her bed, putting her down and kissing her forehead, murmuring, “I’ll be right back, ok?”

She nodded sleepily and dozed off as he walked away, jolting slightly when the next thing she felt something damp and cold between her legs. Elide looked up from the pillow she was cuddling to find him cleaning her with a cloth. He gently wiped it over her sensitive skin and then tossed it into her laundry basket. Then, he pulled back her duvet and shifted her so that she was underneath it.

Elide reached out for Lorcan, grabbing at him until he slowly settled down beside her after he left his jeans in a rumpled pile on the floor. He smiled as she curled into his side, hitching her leg over his hip and slotting it between his. Elide hummed in question when he tipped her chin back. His eyes were wholly black as he murmured, “I love you.”

“Mmmm,” she replied, the blissful feeling of sex wearing off and the anger she felt returning slightly. She wasn’t sure if he’d apologized yet.

Lorcan ran his fingers up and down her spine, the motion soothing for the both of them as something in her kitchen caught his eye. Elide shifted to see what it was when he said, “Essar loved those mugs.”

She floundered for something to say, but her words were not needed as Lorcan opened his mouth and the entire tale spilled out.

He talked about everything. How he had met her, how they had gotten together, how they had gotten married a week after graduating high school. He talked to her about the pregnancy, about how Essar wanted to be a social worker and worked tirelessly to juggle growing a child in her body and her graduate degree. Lorcan talked about how the day Kohana had been born, he’d nearly missed it because of a traffic accident that blocked the roads. He told Elide about having a newborn and feeling like they were screwing him up almost everyday. Then… his voice grew saddened and she could hear his grief as he talked about Essar getting sick.

They had been told it was nothing and they were being hysterical, but then it got too late and the doctors blamed them for waiting this long. He hadn’t known how to tell them that they had been begging anyone to listen.

It had been too late for her and Essar passed, before Ko had even turned one. Lorcan admitted that he was terrified of forgetting his first love and replacing her.

Elide propped herself up, her forearms braced against his chest, stroking her thumb over his cheekbone. “I’m not Essar,” she told him, “and I’ll never replace her, but… you’re allowed to move on. From what you’ve told me, she would’ve wanted you to be happy.” Lorcan sighed softly and turned his face to kiss her palm.

“I am sorry,” he murmured, rubbing her back when Elide nestled against his chest, her ear above his steady heart beating. “I was angry at myself and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair ‘cause you did nothing wrong. My kid loves you and you’re amazing with him.” He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. “I love you.”

“So you’ve said,” Elide hummed, giggling slightly when he flipped them over and pressed her into the mattress, trailing his lips down her jaw and throat.

“And you have yet to give me your answer,” Lorcan said, pulling back just enough that she let out a displeased whine. “So what is it, Lochan?”

Elide shrugged and looped her arms over his shoulders, her hands toying in the air above his head, “Well, obviously, I love you.”

“Obviously? Obviously?” He ran his hand up her body, pinching her side. “You were kicking me out an hour ago!”

“Yeah, well, that’s ‘cause I was pissed, not ‘cause I didn’t love you,” she told him, as if it were simple. “You are a stupid, stupid man. I had to make you work a little bit.” Lorcan grumbled something and glowered down at her when she patted his cheek a little too hard.

Lorcan shook his head at her, a fond look in his eyes as a slow smile spread across his lips, “You are…”

“Ridiculous? Sneaky? Devious? Irritating? Impossible? Ooh, ooh! Infuriating?” Elide took his face into her small hands, smiling cheekily up at him. Her eyes softened when he turned his head to kiss her palm and turned to the other side to kiss her other palm.

“Gods above, woman, shut up,” he pleaded with her, kissing her as they both laughed. “No, you’re none of those things.”

“Then what am I?”

“Everything.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: oh we’re almost done 🥺 wow

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @ttakeitbacknoww @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @superspiritfestival @empress-ofbloodshed @queen-of-glass @sleeping-and-books @beccasophia95 @exersize-me-i-dare-u @thewayshedreamed @hizqueen4life @ifinallygavein @bat-wing-rhys @awkward-avocado-s @b00kworm @mu-si-ca-l @lovemollywho @tacmc @soitsgorgeous @staarligght @starrynightsbooks @keshavomit

#slipping through my fingers #stmf chapter sixteen #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #kohana #isa writes #nalgenewhore #WOW we're basically done ! like.........hm.#dunno how 2 feel abt that

156 notes · View notes