#bless you cal for always being interested
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Which OCs are on your mind?!
Current obsession is Yennith Kor! They're a Beern from the Kor-A'ala nariteern. They are currently on the run for ☆.｡.:*Mysterious Reasons.｡.:*☆!
They may or may not have escaped from a nationalistic extremist cult
I wrote a little bit of their childhood journal, with entries spanning about 4 human years, that's below the cut. (It's not all that long)
5531, 7 MARA
Hello, journal, I am Yennith of the Kor family. Today, my Tion gifted me my very own tablet to aid in my studies, though it will still be a year before I am given my stripes. Tion A'ala says I am very mature for my age, and that soon I will be given many responsibilities. I hope I can do them well.
I am told that soon we will be landing back on Itaan to offload our cargo and to pick up new goods from the local craftspeople. Tion A'ala is very pleased, because they were able to make a deal with the Yuuk-Iitha nariteern, who everyone knows makes the best sculptures of all the Yuuk. I got to sit in on the meeting! It was very exciting, and afterwards we all shared a meal. They must have very good hunters too. We don't get to do much hunting, but at least we are also a bit safer from the Cold.
My parents say to be careful though, because out in the stars is the Cold's home, and it is all around us. I guess that's true, but it is pretty warm here on our freighter. I think sometimes the Tions and parents worry too much about the Cold. It isn't like the old days, when we were stuck on the planet and unable to do anything but the Journey.
I have to go, class will be starting soon and I don't want to be late. Tuufta and Hefian always make such a big deal out of it and say its because I'm not responsible enough to be taking lessons with them yet, and I don't want to prove them right. They can be so rude sometimes.
Journal, please do not tell my parents I said that.
5531, 39 MARA
Today was a wonderful day, journal! You know Gith Yuuk, the friend I mentioned from the last cargo pickup? We've been exchanging messages, and today they told me their gender! Do you think that means that they *like* me? I think it must, because otherwise why would they tell me? I would ask Parent Ithan, but I know they would just tease me endlessly. We made plans to meet up the next time the Kors are in port.
My very first date! It is a little silly how nervous I am about it. And excited. And nervous. We are only going to watch the story-cube they just got in, but still. Maybe I can pick up some new clothes offworld, so I can look extra nice. Or should I just wear my usual things? Would it be pretentious of me to wear offworlder clothes when the Yuuk's are planet-bound?
I can't decide. Oh, I hope it goes well. I don't want to leave the Kors, but maybe they would be willing to come with us? It has to be better than being stuck out in the cold, right?
I guess I'm probably a little young to be worrying about it, but still. They're really fun and we have been having a great time sharing gossip. I never knew how much trouble you could get into on-world, but I guess it makes sense -- lots of time to build up grudges when you have more interactions with the other nariteerns. I hope we re-stock soon -- Ancestor's Day is coming and they won't be able to talk to me while their nariteern is on the move. So frustrating! Maybe I could speak with Tion, say I wanted to go on the Journey to honor the Ancestors. Tions like that kind of thing, right?
5531, 13 Chuul
I heard Ithan and Talia talking today about some kind of war. I know they didn't want me to hear, so it's not like I can ask questions, but it sounds like it might be pretty bad for Itaan, which is stupid. We don't bother anyone! I bet they are just being paranoid as always. They worry so much. I feel bad for the other planets that are being targeted, but I guess living on Cold's heart has its perks since no one else wants to live here.
We're meeting with the Xeethans later today to exchange the Geth family tapestries for more fuel cells, which we can then bring back to Itaan. I'm hoping that means we will be in dock long enough for me to get ahold of Gith. I'm still mad that Tion didn't let me go on the Journey, but they said that maybe next year I could join the Yuuks, once I've earned my stripes. Since I'll be a full adult then, they can't *really* tell me what to do.
I don't know that I will like the Journey very much, but I think it will be nice to try it at least once. I've been thinking about it a lot, actually. I know I said it only because I wanted to spend some time with Gith, but actually I think maybe its the way to go. Tion asked me if I was serious about it, and I said I was and I think... maybe I am. They said that if I was careful, I might be entrusted with the Kor-A'ala eerna, so that I could lay some of the vessels to rest in the Kor family temple planetside.
It feels kind of like the right thing to do, you know?
5532, 30 Taarnma
It's my birthday and my face HURTS. Ithan was laughing at me for complaining, but they had half the stripes to get that I did today! I was honored with the mark of the pilot, the astro-navigator, *and* the mark of maturity. Tion said they would wait to do my accounting certifications until later since maybe I was crying a little bit from the pain of it.
Still, I'm a full adult now, and all that entails. And this year, I am joining Gith on the Journey. And I think after... maybe I will ask them to come back to the Kor nariteern with me. We've talked about it a little, and I think maybe they are willing to do it. It would make things so much easier -- even with the ansible it's not like they always have the chance to check the signals, and going days without word is starting to get painful.
Parent Talia says that young love always hurts a little bit, but I don't think that it should have to. Besides, Gith could learn so much by joining our nariteern, and then even if they decided to go back home to the Yuuk-Iitha, they would have a few new stripes, and that's always useful no matter who you wind up pairing with.
I've been studying the rituals with Tion A'ala and I think I can do a good job of caring for the vessels until I can get them to the temple. I'm planning to weave my own eerna tonight to carry them -- that way I will also have one with me for when I go on the Journey with the Yuuks. It's a little terrifying, but I'm really looking forward to it. I want to get to work on my preparations right away.
...as soon as my face stops hurting so terribly anyway.
5532, 4 Ret
Things are bad here too. Every settlement we have stopped by has been the same -- all the doors barred and the dwellings full. Tion Iitha says that we have to keep going, that the next settlement will have room for us, but I am beginning to think that we will only find more of the same. Where did everyone come from? This had never been a problem in the past, with so many dwelling sitting open and even being used as storage when necessary. Why all of a sudden do we find our homes filled with strangers?
There's a lot of anger here, and sometimes we hear shouting in the night. It doesn't feel safe to sleep beneath the stars anymore, even with the blessings of Spring around us. At least I was able to leave most of the vessels at our temple today, even though the priest seemed a bit worried that I was going to ask to be taken in. Apparently even their lonely ranks have swelled to the point of bursting. So many people, so desperate for a home that they are willing to stay and suffer Beern-Karat's wrath, to feed our ancestors through the Cold. Some seem to think its just a religious resurgence, but the longer I spend on the Journey, the less sure I am of that.
Gith and I have been talking about them coming back with me to the Kors, and I think they almost have to. The Cold is shifting, and the Yuuk are afraid that the younglings will not be warm enough in the night. We just have to keep walking, and hope that we can find a place to stay. There is not enough time to make a new dwelling -- perhaps once we settle we can better prepare the settlement for the coming year.
Tion Iitha has been talking about starting up a night watch, asking all of the young hunters to take up shifts with their weapons, watching those that sleep. In the past, I would have called them paranoid, but now... I'm not so sure.
Everything feels very uneasy, and the dark eye of the Beern-Karat widens above us.
5532, 21 Etty
I [...] separated from the Yuuk. It was so chaotic in the dark that I lost track of everyone. I [...] uninjured, but Gith [...]
I don't [...] to do. I've been wandering for a while now, trying to follow the path that Tion [..] out but I can't be sure that I am going the right way. All of the markers have been destroyed, whether by raiders or by nariteerns just trying to keep the raiders away from the settlements, I can't be sure. All I know [...] and need [...].
Try and make it [...] space port, so I can find my way home.
Ancestors preserve me, my eerna grows heavy. I do not wish to carry the burden of any more vessels. Please [...] protect [..]
[REMAINING ENTRY ILLEGIBLE]
#bless you cal for always being interested#i have so much other shit ive written for this character if you want to know more#also please dont mind the fact that I can't draw legs for shit I'm working on it i promise#scorpian#stinger#body horror#oc#ocs#yennith kor#yennith#my ocs
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Indulgences
BTAA!Scarecrow x Female!Reader, word count: 4k
commission: jonathan crane and secretary!reader give in to their mutual desires, which reader needs to be encouraged to partake in 🎃🧡
commission me here!
request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist
minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: daddy kink, oral sex, rough sex, persistent behaviour
At least I don’t have to walk through any alleys. At least I get to stick to the busier streets, the nicer neighbourhoods. There’s an artisanal coffee shop on the way, not many people can say that. It’s fine, this is luck. You’re lucky to have this job. You’re lucky to have any job, really. But this one is perfect. It’s fine. You can do it. He doesn’t have any power over you. He’s your employer. He’s your boss. Yeah, he’s Jonathan Crane, but that doesn’t automatically give him a one-up. He likes you just as much as… it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you will not give in to this temptation.
Each morning, as you took the short trip to work from your apartment, you had to give yourself a pep talk. A reminder that this was worth it, in the long run. That you would be foolish, and quite frankly almost ignorant, to give up the comfort you managed to find, in Gotham of all places, because of some uncontrolled emotions. You had a job that provided enough money for you to afford a nice apartment in a nice area, that challenged you, but not too much, and brought you a genuine sense of value and worth. But it did mean you were exposed, almost daily, to the difficult charms of Jonathan Crane.
Working with Jonathan was a blessing and a curse. The security of employment with a reputable, at least society facing, psychologist was something that was rare in Gotham. Add to that the element of safety in being employed by one of the city’s more venerable and amicable villains, there was limited risk of being caught in the crossfire, unlike the employees of Sionis or Cobblepot. And he clearly trusted you, as he hadn’t been shy in telling you of his criminal escapades, his alter ego as The Scarecrow. In fact, you’d only been working with him for a month before he took you into his office and revealed the secret.
You supposed for someone like Jonathan, if he’d sensed even the slightest hint that you might not be one to trust, he would just have you killed. You’d thought as much at the time, as you stood, heart racing, swallowing your fear in your closed throat, sweat beading on your forehead. But the fear you had shown, it seemed to comfort him. Very on brand for that strange, yet deeply interesting, man.
Realising how silly you sounded, as you tried to quantify all of the thoughts in your mind, you stopped on the street corner across from the building which housed his office. You liked him. You really liked him. But it felt like a risk, or a mistake. Something about it seemed to suggest to you that it would only end in tears, or worse, in your demise. And it was this contradiction, this predicament, which made it so difficult for you to show up to work each day. Only worsened by the fact that you had begun to suspect that Jonathan had similar feelings for you.
He had always been flirtatious, part of his charm you guessed. He was like that with everyone. Little jokes, a lingering touch on the arm or the lower back. He’d frighten people, speaking soft and low, making them get closer to him before giving them a little jolt of fear. It usually had them giggling, sweating, confused. On several occasions he’d pointed that out to you, the line between fear and arousal. It all had to do with adrenaline, he’d say. And he was very right about that.
As you entered the office, you took your place at the desk in the waiting room. Checking the calendar, you realised it would be another two hours before the first patient arrived for their appointment. That gave you plenty of time to get comfortable and settled. But just as you began to repeat your affirmations, taking your slow, long breaths in a bid to calm your body, Jonathan entered.
“Ah, you’ve here. Always there to brighten my morning, huh?”
“Jonathan, lovely to see you. I’ve left coffee on your desk.”
“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest. Why don’t you come in and join me?”
“Is that… mandatory? Or work-related?”
Jonathan offered you a wry smile as he looked you up and down, scrutinising you.
“Would that make a difference? C’mon, we’re all friends here, right?”
You swallowed your nerves at his wink, trying to maintain your composure, the control you still had over the situation.
“I suspect that this might be more than a friendly discussion, Crane.”
“Oh! I do love it when you’re feisty in the morning.”
He walked into his office, still speaking to you.
“If you feel like joining me, make sure to bring that snarky attitude with you. Drives me crazy.”
You scoffed and rolled your eyes, picking up a pen and twirling it as you absent-mindedly stared at the wall in front of you. With an irritated mumble, you got up form your desk and followed Jonathan into his office, standing against the closed door and staring at him with your arms folded.
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“I’m here now, what do you want with me?”
Jonathan let out a dry chuckle, as his pupils widened, staring at you from his desk.
“Oh, bit of a dangerous question, don’t you think? I could do a lot of psychoanalysing on that. The phrasing, the way you’re standing, the words you chose, the slight implied innuendo despite your obvious attempts to seem uninterested. All of it, very telling indeed.”
“Do you think so?”
“I know so. Why don’t you take a seat?”
“I’d rather stand, thanks.”
“A contrarian, through and through.”
“I’m really not.”
He raised an eyebrow at you, smiling wide as you proved his point. It infuriated you to no end that despite as hard as you tried to gain the upper-hand, he was always one-step above you.
“Fine, I’ll take a seat.”
You chose the softer of the two armchairs that faced his desk, avoiding eye contact with him until it was impossible to ignore the silence any longer. When you looked up to him, he caught your eyes, staring into them intensely. His stare held you, it was almost hypnotic. He was a commanding presence in your life, and you hated that as much as you enjoyed it. In moments like these it was difficult not to give in to your temptations. To succumb to the harmless but persistent flirting. To accept that you had a crush. Maybe get it out of your system even. But you sensed that someone like Jonathan Crane wasn’t up for being quickly used and discarded. He had to conquer his love interests, and you were determined not to let that be the case, despite how he made your heart beat faster and your body tremble with just a few innocent enough words.
From the drawer on his side of the desk, Jonathan produced a folder marked confidential, with your name on a label on the top right hand corner. He thumbed through the pages in silence as you sat nervously. You wondered what it could be. A dossier of reasons that he wanted to kill you? Or reasons he wanted to sleep with you? It could have been anything with him, and the anticipation only served to help you conjure up more fanatical and nerve-wracking theories.
Reading from the pages, he made an occasional soft noise, a small ‘hm’ or an ‘ah’ as he took in the information. Eventually, you grew more irritated than you were nervous, and coughed, clearing your throat obviously in the hopes that he would get whatever he intended to do over with.
Without looking to you, eyes remaining on the pages as he scanned them from top to bottom, reading whatever words were so intensely interesting to him, he finally.
“So… would you like a performance review?”
“A... a performance review? Are you kidding me?”
“No, why would I be?”
“That’s what you called me in here for?”
Jon smiled wryly as he peered over the top of the folder he held in his hands.
“Partly. I thought it would be a good idea to kill two birds with one stone. I love that phrase, don’t you? Such violent imagery. It conjures up such a guttural feeling. So… connected to our ancestry, and yet the convenience of modern life is hinted at to-”
“Jonathan. I have a job to do.”
“Uh-huh, and who provides you with that employment?”
Leaning back in your chair in slight disbelief, you narrowed your eyes at him as you spoke.
“Are you threatening me, Mister Crane?”
“Not at all, sugar. I’m simply… reinforcing the status quo here. The hierarchy. The way that our… relationship works. You’re my employee, after all. And I’m your boss, correct?”
With a scrutinising glance you tried to figure out what he was getting at, but couldn’t make it past his cool exterior.
“As technical as you can get, yes.”
“And yet, we’re also friends, are we not?”
“I suppose so.”
Your heart fluttered at his words, feeling deeply complimented by the suggestion.
“You’re my employee, and my friend. But perhaps… maybe… I would like you to be a little more than that.”
“More…?”
“Oh, come on. As if you can’t see it, as if you don’t want the same things I do. As if we aren’t already something a little bit more than that.”
Trying to contain your smile, you feigned innocence, or ignorance, and looked up and to the right, as though you were trying to think of what he might be suggesting.
“Listen… we flirt. Constantly. I can see it, you can see it. Everyone can see it. I have clients who are so unaware that they don’t even recognise their mother is to blame for their issues, and even they can see it.”
“You talk about me with clients?”
“That’s besides the point. Look. We work great together.”
“Yes, in the same office.”
“Not like that, you know what I mean. You and I, we gel. We get on, we have a connection. I think we’d make an excellent pair, don’t you?”
Jonathan had stood up from his seat as he spoke, walking around the desk and stopping in front of it, where he leaned in repose on the surface when he had finished his argument in the little debate you two were caught up in.
“I want people to see us together, more obviously than they do now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want them to see you with me. I want them to know who you’re with.”
You kept your face still, not wanting to give anything away, but desperately wanting to scream at the concept he was offering you. You didn’t want to be owned by Jonathan, you didn’t want to make a big thing out of whatever you two might have. It seemed that he wanted the opposite though, and admittedly, his determination to have you, to possess you, like a trophy he could show off, was deeply intriguing and more than a little arousing.
“In a sense that…”
“In a sense that they wouldn’t dare try anything with you, because they knew who you belonged to.”
Trying to maintain your air of composure, your dignity in the face of potential ownership, you tilted your head and stared him down with an unamused look.
“Belonged to? So I not only work for you, but I’d be your property too? Sounds… unpleasant actually, Jon.”
He stood up from the desk and moved closer to you, his stance commanding, charisma oozing from his very being, his voice trance-like as he spoke to you so directly and convincingly.
“Come on now. We’re both intelligent people. We both know what’s going on here, what’s going on between us. It would be so easy to just admit it and let it happen. I don’t have a human resources department, so there’s no one to get on our case. What is it that you’re so worried about? What makes you so hesitant?”
He had answered his own question, really. Jonathan was so deeply, intensely interested in you, in everyone. He could learn more about you from the way you lifted a coffee cup than most people could in a decade of spending time with you. You could only imagine what information he might glean from fucking you. And then where would you be? You’d be employed by a psychotic psychiatrist who knew everything about you, that’s where. Only in Gotham.
“Just let go. Let yourself give in to pleasure. I promise, I’ll make it worth the risk of this little dalliance.”
His smug grin, pressed into his cheeks so firmly that it accentuated the wrinkles around his eyes had your chest heaving as you breathed heavily. You weren’t sure how much more of this you could take. It was tempting, so tempting. And though you were reluctant to give in to the feelings you held for him, it was deeply flattering, and very encouraging, to see him outwardly express those same desires.
It couldn’t possibly be as bad as I think it will be. I want this. I need this, I think. It’s gone beyond just a silly workplace crush, with witty remarks and back and forth flirtatious teasing. This is… something deeper now. And the longer I hold off, the worse it’s going to get. Perhaps it would be better to just get this out of my system. Do it now and get it over with. And then I’ll-
You were pulled out of your thoughts, ruminations and worries swirling at the forefront of your mind, by the feeling of Jonathan’s lips on yours, his hands holding your upper arms to keep you steady. The grip, forceful but deeply romantic, held within it the exact amount of passion, it turned out, to have you falling into him. Melting into the embrace, you wrapped your arms around his, feeling your leg beginning to snake up the back of his pants. He gripped it, fingers digging into your thighs and bringing it higher, around his waist, as he stepped forward, pushing you, stumbling, back into the wall where he deepened the kiss.
Biting, licking, sucking at your lips, Jonathan moaned hungrily against you. You yelped as he bit a little too hard, and he pulled back quickly, soothing over your bottom lip with his thumb and offering an apologetic smile.
“I’ve wanted this for a while. You’ve held out on me. So I apologise if I’m a bit… rough.”
His eyes moved from yours and began mapping out your body, taking in every inch of you.
“It’s been very difficult to watch you, a free agent, outside of my will.”
You scoffed, but took a sharp inhale as he stared into your eyes again, smiling at you, wry and mischievous.
“You’re so dead set on not indulging me. Why is that?”
Trying to avoid his intense gaze, you turned your face, but with a soft motion he brought you back around with his palm on your cheek.
“Is it because you’re ashamed of how much you want that? It’s ok to want to be wanted. It’s completely normal to want to be owned. I should know, I’m a psychologist, remember.”
He let his fingers trace down your throat, following their trail with his tongue as he made his way down your front with kisses, planting them softly, his breath warm against you, as he got to his knees before you, resting his face against your abdomen as he ran his hands up and down your sides.
“Every curve.”
His hands pressed into you, grabbing and squeezing at your body, your waist, your hips. As he let them reach behind you, cupping your ass, you let out of a soft noise, which made him smile.
“Every moan.”
You giggled as he made his way back up your body, bringing his hands to your face, fingers skating over your lips, making you shiver at the touch.
“And indeed, every quiver. They belong to me. And only me. Understand?”
Completely entranced by the way he held you, you nodded slowly but with enthusiasm.
Smiling at you, a grin that made your blood run cold, he leaned in to whisper into your ear once more.
“Then would you kindly lay down on my desk, please. And remove all the clothes on your bottom half first.”
As you stepped past him, pulling at your clothes in a hurry to get them off, his palm caught your rear, smacking the cheek and bringing forth an amused yelp and giggle from you. It made your cheeks flush, the way you had reacted. You hated how much you liked it. And he could tell, as he watched you lean back on the desk, bottom half completely nude and exposed. Running his palms up your thighs, past your stomach and to your neck, he loosened a few of the buttons on your shirt and kissed at your neck again.
Distracted by his moans and ministrations against your sensitive skin, you hadn’t even noticed he had removed his own pants and underwear until he was pressing his cock inside of you. You moaned, letting your breath out in a slow exhale as you smiled, unable to stop yourself. It felt amazing, better than you could have imagined or hoped. And you’d spent a lot of time hoping and imagining, though you wouldn’t have admitted that to anyone, even under threat of Jonathan’s fear inducing drugs.
Jonathan, enthused and encouraged by your reaction to his cock twitching and throbbing within you, began to rock his hips, pressing himself into you further, picking up the pace and grunting with each movement. At the angle you sat at, legs hanging over the edge of the desk, perched on your rear alone, he gripped your hips, holding you steady so he could push up into you, hitting the right spots as he did so. Occasionally, past the panting and guttural groans, you could hear him laughing. He was so smug, so proud of himself. So happy to be claiming you. The thought drove you wild, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him even closer to you.
As Jonathan continued to fill you, pumping his substantial length inside of your cunt, pressing his tip as far as he could, he clutched at your back, holding you tight, close to him. In lustful desperation, you gripped his hair, drawing his mouth to your neck, begging him silently to ravish you, kiss you, bite you, suck you, whatever he was willing to do for you. And luckily, his participation extended to all three, as his teeth clenched softly on your neck, nipping at it before his tongue flitted over the stinging pain and soothed it, his lips enclosing around you, sucking at the sensitive skin.
“Ooh… Jonathan…”
“Sorry, was that too hard?”
The faux mocking tone sent a tingle down your spine, and you clung to him tighter out of instinct.
“Just… just a little bit…”
He leaned back for a second to offer you a sham pout followed by a cruel smirk.
“My most sincere apologies, I just wanted to make sure you were marked.”
Diving back into your neck, he bit harder this time, lips covering over the stinging pain in a smooth kiss.
“I can’t have any doubts as to who you belong to.”
His teeth marked your flesh, imprints of his bite pattern across your neck, soft ovals of burst blood vessels where had sucked on you, definitely leaving enough of a trace that it was impossible to deny that someone had claimed you. The notion of being entirely his was getting easier and easier to submit to with every passing second, and you could barely contain yourself. It didn’t surprise you at all when you started whispering to him, your own mouth ahead of your brain as you exposed your secrets and begged to be his.
“If you want me, Jonathan, then you can have me. Take me, fill me.”
With a struggled grunt he forced himself deeper, an action you would have thought impossible, and you could feel your abdomen tightening with the pressure of his cock buried so fully within you.
“I want you to make me yours, Jonathan. Mark me, inside and out.”
Jonathan’s breathing quickened, his pace getting faster and less steady as he rutted clumsily against you, hips jutting forth to meet yours as they rocked into his body. His grunting had been reduced to a whimper, almost a whine, as he clung to your skin, holding you as he used you, appreciated you.
“What do you want from me? Tell me. Don’t be shy.”
“I want you to cum inside of me. Paint my fucking insides, Jonathan. I want to be yours. Fill me, take me, just… please, god please don’t let me lose a single drop.”
With a guttural laugh and another quick bite at your collar bone, Jonathan’s body shuddered as he shifted you back and forth in time with his own thrusting, cock twitching as he felt himself coming undone. His seed spilled in thick, white ropes within your cunt, spent entirely within you and holding himself inside, pressed tight against you, to keep as much of him there as possible. He lingered for a few moments longer, enjoying the warmth, the possessiveness over you. His fingers tensed as they clung to your body. He didn’t want this moment to end, and neither did you.
Finally, pulling himself from within you with a low moan, he sat back down on his office chair, holding his slicked cock in his hands as he felt it softening, finally spent and relieved of the tension he had been holding back, that you both had been holding back. He panted slightly until he had caught his breath, his age showing in the way he braced himself, trying to recover from the shaking orgasm that had all but consumed him entirely.
“There… phew… no doubts now, huh?”
You were standing, trying to straighten your clothes out as best as you could, feeling his cum dribbling down your inner thigh and coating your panties. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, knowing you belonged to him, feeling like you were still marked as his territory, his possession, even after he was no longer holding you physically. You had to admit that it was divine, something you had craved before but never would have let yourself admit to.
“Doubts? About what?”
Jonathan leant his head back, groaning in mock frustration before he snapped back down, eyes focused on your body, his gaze drawing up over you and back down as he took you in, still flushed and sweating, marked by his teeth and his fingers.
“Oh, sugar. Don’t be obtuse. It’s no use, I know you’re a sharp girl.”
Playing up, just to irritate him, you stared blankly with a slight frown. You shrugged your shoulders lightly and shook your head a little.
“You wanted that. I wanted that. And I continue to want that. As, I expect, do you. I think we can both feel the tension around us, around the office. So let’s not beat around the bush here!”
He laughed as he spoke in a lilting cadence, trying to seem casual. But you could sense the desperation in his words. And you finally felt like you had the upper-hand.
“We’ll see, Jonathan.”
You walked towards the door, turning as you opened it and stepped back into the hallway.
“We’ll see.”
Leaving him alone in his office, you returned to your desk with a wide grin on your lips. Finally, you felt like you could let yourself indulge in your desires. But not before you teased Jonathan a little longer. He deserved it, after all. And you deserved to feel in control, after everything you put up with from him. A little bit of sweet and sour in your relationship wasn’t anything new, but the method in which it was employed, a change in pace and hierarchy, it made you feel excited to come into work tomorrow.
#finnie writes#batman#scarecrow#jonathan crane#scarecrow imagine#scarecrow smut#scarecrow x reader#rogues gallery#batman rogues#btaa scarecrow
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What Tielfings Do Chpt. 2
Summary: After the takedown of The Absolute, Zelphie finds her city in need of more help and her home destroyed. She won't stop helping, but who can help her?
Rolan x Tav (Zelphie; ~30y.o AFAB, Sorcerer, Tiefling, not really described physically on purpose <3)
M/F
Author's Note: I fucking love tielfings. Along with this being a budding romance/smut/fluff/word vomit fanfiction, it's also my case study in DnD 5e tieflings, how they act, what sets them apart from humans and devils and elves. That being said, I have a few artistic liberties in here as well where I couldn't find a straight answer, if you'll amuse me.
Warnings - Spoilers for Baldur's Gate 3, lots of blood discussion in this one, as our favorite vampire, Astarion, pays a little visit. Just fluff for today. Oh well.
Chapter One
Zelphie made herself very useful, very quickly. She was delighted to find her natural talents in the Weave could help her city outside of battling enemies. She wasn’t the best healer, but she was strong, able to move large rubble easily and safely. In the midafternoon, she was on construction duty, the medical cases in the store front were slimming down to just those who needed rest and maybe a little food. As large bookcases were being moved around for manageable cleaning, two children wandered into the store front. Cal saw them first and walked over to them. They were very frightened, neither one of them looked older than eight. He bent down to meet them at a safe level, they were human children and could easily be afraid of the sight of a full grown tielfling walking over to them.
‘Well, hello there, you two look pretty hungry,’ he said easily, a happy smile on his face. Zelphie watched him happily and she finished a little chore. She would only help if Cal asked, human children were timid. The oldest child nodded very slowly and Cal looked at the youngest. ‘How about you then? Should we find something good to fill your belly?’ He asked and the little one just stared warily up at him. Helm bless Cal for being so gentle and patient. ‘Come on then, come meet my sister Lia, we’ll get you feeling right as rain over here,’ he said and stood up, walking the two little ones over to Lia, who was readying two bowls of soup for them. Cal sat with the children, being cautiously friendly with them. It looked as though he had everything under control and Zelphie went back to her project.
‘He’s always been great with children,’ Rolan spoke and Zelphie smiled.
‘He has a very gentle heart,’ Zelphie responded and Rolan smiled.
‘I envy him,’ he said and walked back a few steps to take in a bigger picture of the corner they were in. He might as well decorate to his liking, seeing as they were moving absolutely everything anyway.
‘You shouldn’t,’ Zelphie told him. Rolan looked back at her. ‘The three of you are in perfect balance, Cal, the sweet mediator with a level head. You, the logical one, Lia, the heart. I wouldn’t change anything about any of you, you three fit perfectly together,’ she said and Rolan smiled.
‘That’s…very kind,’ he said and Zelphie’s smile matched his, her tail wagging. They looked at each other for a moment and Rolan looked back to the wall. ‘Do you think, maybe, this area is too cluttered with merchandise? Maybe…this bookcase could be moved downstairs, we can add a display or something here instead?’ He asked and Zelphie clicked her tongue.
‘I think that would be nice, move some of the interesting pieces for the customers to actually look at,’ she said and nodded. ‘Right, I’ll get this moved then and you can think of what should replace it,’ she said and commanded her mage hand.
‘Oh, no, I’ll be coming with you,’ he said and Zelphie sighed.
‘I’m not going to break anything, Rolan,’ she said and he chuckled.
‘Yes, but I need to tell you where it goes,’ he told her as the bookshelf began to move.
‘It’ll go in the first empty nook I find,’ she said with a giggle and Rolan shook his head, following right behind her.
‘I figured you would know me by now to understand that is absolutely not where it will go,’ he bickered and Zelphie scoffed playfully.
‘You are a bit of a pain in the ass,’ she said and Rolan laughed.
‘Now now, you just said a moment ago you wouldn’t change a thing about me,’ he told her proudly and she smirked at him.
‘I am going to blast you out a window,’ she said and he grinned at her, still following her and the large bookcase down to the basement. Lia, mildly bored with her work, watched her brother and Zelphie bicker and disappear. She smiled and looked over at Cal, who was looking right back at her. He gave his sister a knowing smile.
‘I think you and I should meet the girls at the Elfsong tonight, you know…see if they need any help,’ Lia said with a sly grin which Cal copied.
‘Yes, and Zelphie and Rolan should stay behind, in case anyone needs them here,’ he said, a playful tone to his voice and Lia giggled, nodding.
‘It’s about time,’ she said simply, handing one of the children a soft bread roll for her soup.
‘Can’t we just finish the store front, then worry about the basement?’ Zelphie asked Rolan, who was tutting over the placement of some tomes.
‘We are down here now, and now that I look at everything, I can’t simply go back up there and focus, no, we’ll do this for now,’ he told her and Zelphie sighed.
‘I’m going to take back what I said earlier, Cal and Lia are perfect,’ she said and Rolan looked back at her.
‘You can go back upstairs, by all means,’ he told her and she bit her lip.
‘No, no, I’d rather help you,’ she said and Rolan looked around some more. Zelphie let him think and he glanced back at her. She was looking up at the ceiling, her mage hand idle behind her, waiting for instruction.
‘What is that like?’ He asked her, pointing to the phantom limb. She looked back at him and raised an eyebrow.
‘What do you mean?’ She asked. Surely Rolan was learned enough to have his own summon.
‘You’re not concentrating on it,’ he told her simply and she glanced at it.
‘I am, but passively. Like a thought in the back of my head. If something was to dramatically capture my attention, it would fade.’ He nodded at her mild explanation. He walked over to her and glanced at the floating appendage. It was a very convincing replica of her hand.
‘Do you mind?’ He asked and reached out towards it. She shook her head and smiled, her tail curling up. It was very common for sorcerers and wizards to butt heads when it came to their methods of magic; she and Gale had a few arguments. It was very nice for a wizard to be interested in her magic. Rolan reached out to it, inspecting it closely. ‘It’s very good,’ he told her and her cheeks burned.
‘Thank you,’ she said softly. She could feel her heart flip, watching Rolan gently inspect the hand. She felt like she had last night, when he was massaging her. Although, right now she was well rested and sober, so the feeling was a little more intense. He was very handsome, he was fussing over something, learning and studying. It was very attractive. Her tail wagged a little and she reached behind her to hold it steady. She did not want Rolan to feel uncomfortable around her.
‘How intricate can it be?’ He asked and held his palm up. Zelphie’s hand mirrored his and met his palm. The fingers spread and interlaced with Rolan’s.
‘I can write with it, not long essays or anything, but enough,’ she said and Rolan was frozen, holding hands with this phantom figure. It was still a perfect replica of Zelphie’s hand.
‘Very impressive,’ he whispered and Zelphie just watched him. She couldn’t feel his hand with the mage hand, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t thinking about it. With blind confidence, she walked over to Rolan and lifted a hand to his free hand.
‘As a learned mage, I’m sure you would appreciate a comparison,’ she offered, her face rising in temperature. She wanted his hand in hers. Rolan looked from the mage hand to her and took a second to respond. He did so only by lifting his hand to her real one. His hands were so soft. She knew that, she knew they were soft. He was a wizard, of course they were soft. She had felt his hands last night, but this was a little different. She interlaced her fingers with his, mimicking the mage hand. ‘Is that alright?’ She asked him. He was just staring at her hand. Tieflings didn’t hold much emotion in their eyes, just orbs of fire and color. Everything was in their tails, and Zelphie was very upset she couldn’t see Rolan’s. Was his tail curled with excitement like hers was?
‘Yes, it’s…’ he said and trailed off. His face moved to look at hers. She looked so earnest. What did she want? She wanted to kiss him. But it was too soon, yes? After everything that had happened, was a kiss now too soon? Maybe too late? She didn’t know, but she wanted to kiss him. He had just opened his home to her, didn’t she have enough from him? Did he want to kiss her? ‘Wonderful,’ he finished his sentence and Zelphie swallowed hard. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said and his brows knit together. ‘You….uhm…I don’t know if I can handle you looking at me like that,’ he whispered and she blushed deep red.
‘Is it unwelcome?’ She asked softly and he shook his head.
‘No, it’s encouraging,’ he told her and just before she felt herself lean up, he let go of both her real and false hands and shook his head. Zelphie frowned and her heart flipped again. The mage hand disappeared. ‘I’m sorry Zelphie, that was incredibly inappropriate…I know better, please, please forgive me,’ he said, his eyes on the floor.
‘What is there to forgive?’ She asked and he sighed.
‘You were showing me your phenomenal talent, and I made it…awkward. I’m sorry, I hope you do not think my behavior is why I asked you to stay here. I would hate to make you uncomfortable, Zelphie,’ he said and just hung his head in shame. Shame that he should not have had.
‘Please don’t apologize Rolan,’ she whispered. ‘You didn’t make me feel uncomfortable.’ He shook his head and sighed out of his nose.
‘Thank you, I appreciate your…patience,’ he said and looked her up and down quickly. He then clasped his hands behind his back and moved away from her a bit. ‘Now…uhm, shall we continue?’ He asked and turned on his heel, raising his arm to light the braziers in the room. She chewed on her lip, but she would follow his command.
‘Yes, what did you need me to move here? Should one of these pieces go upstairs?’ She asked him. Back to normal. But what in the hell was all of that?
She spent another chunk of her day organizing scrolls with Cal. It was a lot of fun to do something as mindless as this with Cal. He was a goofball. Torn scrolls that had no chance of reanimation were used as weapons against each other. Any question Cal asked her about a certain scroll, Zelphie would try to explain but he would just shake his head and explain to Zelphie how skill in stealth and a good smoke bomb arrow could do the same as half of the magic in the store. She would indulge him. Zelphie took a handful of scrolls, all neat and orderly and slowly floated up to one of the top shelves of the highest bookcase.
‘You need to teach Rolan how to do that one,’ Cal said, chucking a tightly folded scroll at her. She laughed and kicked the wad of paper.
‘I wish I could! I don’t exactly know the spell that goes with this one,’ she said, knowing a sorcerer’s ability to ‘fly’ was a well guarded mystery. Even Gale would get a little jealous when she would use this power around him. It was minor, and only could get her so high and far before it waned, but it was still incredibly handy.
‘Levitate,’ a voice called from behind them. Zelphie placed the scrolls down and looked behind her as she slowly floated back down. Rolan was standing there, looking up at her. ‘It does not work on the self, I am afraid,’ he explained and Zelphie smirked as her feet touched the floor.
‘I stand corrected,’ she said and looked down at Cal, who was on the floor, a mass of scrolls around him still in little piles. Rolan looked down at Cal and sighed.
‘Are you even helping?’ He asked and Cal looked up at him.
‘Not even a little,’ he said, chucking a wad of parchment at Rolan’s left horn. Rolan sighed and turned to Zelphie.
‘You have a visitor,’ he said simply and she smiled.
‘Oh? Really? Who?’ She asked and Rolan glanced down at Cal quickly and back up to Zelphie.
‘Someone who came to see you right as the sun set,’ he said and sighed. Astarion. Zelphie grinned and looked down at Cal.
‘Come on, let’s not leave the vampire lord waiting,’ she said and Cal quickly got to his feet. She walked past Rolan, looking at his tense body language, and walked with Cal to the store front.
‘Please don’t be too long, Zelphie, if we finish this up before bed tonight-’
‘I’ll just be a moment, Rolan,’ she said over her shoulder and walked to the large, much less messy, storefront of Sorcerer’s Sundries. Leaning his entire back and elbows on the counter was Astarion Ancunin. The very last time Zelphie had seen her friend, he was running from the sun. She had hoped he would be fine, and he was. He turned his head to face her, those sharp pale features and dangerous eyes finding her immediately.
‘There she is!’ He said, standing off of the counter and walked over to her. He always had a little dance in his step. ‘I cannot believe I was to find you here of all places, my darling,’ he said and Zelphie shook her head.
‘I’m glad to see you intact, Astarion,’ she said and he smirked.
‘But are you really surprised? Of course, yes, the sun is my mortal enemy once more, however, with the tadpole gone, my powers as a vampire have returned. My healing sleep made quick work of that little sunburn,’ he explained, being as dramatic as possible. ‘Please don’t tell me, with all of my talents returned, you’ve begun working in a book shop.’
‘You know just as much as I do that Sorcerer’s Sundries is not a bookshop,’ she said with a laugh. ‘But yes, I am working here, helping them back on their feet and they have let me stay, Cal, Rolan and Lia,’ she said and looked over at Cal, next to her. It was more than a little evident that Cal had a little crush on the vampire standing in front of them. Everyone Zelphie knew did. Zelphie had as well. Zelphie and Astarion had had a physical relationship, and it dimmed slowly once Zelphie realized how vulnerable he really was. At that time in his life, he didn’t need sex, nor romance, he needed friendship. He needed a person who he could trust not to use him. Zelphie was incredibly happy to call Astarion a friend now. After the ending of their little affair, Zelphie felt their bond only strengthen.
‘Oh is that right?’ Astarion asked and looked at Cal. ‘And you’re Cal, yes, I remember you,’ he said and smirked at the now blushing tiefling. Good thing Cal’s skin was a ruddy red already.
‘It’s good to see you again, Astarion,’ Cal said and Zelphie winked at Astarion quickly who then raised his eyebrows.
‘Are you in the Underdark now?’ Zelphie asked, continuing the conversation.
‘Mmm…yes, the lovely, lovely, bloodless Underdark,’ he said sarcastically. ‘I came to the city in search of…ethically sourced blood,’ he said and gave Cal another little glance and Zelphie cleared her throat, gaining Astarion’s attention once more.
‘Any luck?’ She asked and Astarion smirked.
‘I think that is up to you,’ he said and Zelphie tilted her head. Ah. That is why he came. ‘You don’t have to and I promise I will continue my search for other resources right away.’
‘No, it’s fine, I’ll just be happy that you’ll be healthy and happy,’ she said and sighed. ‘Let me just check with Rolan…’ she said and looked behind her.
‘Need daddy’s permission?’ Astarion teased and Zelphie looked back at him.
‘Sort of, if you are going to feed on me, I’d like to do it in my bedroom, you know how woozy I can get,’ she said and turned back around to see if she could find Rolan.
‘Oh you flirt,’ Astarion said and leaned on the counter once more. Zelphie ignored him.
‘I just need to make sure I’m allowed to bring you up there,’ she continued.
‘I doubt Rolan will have an issue with it, Zelphie, I’ll go with you two and escort Astarion out,’ Cal suggested and Zelphie smiled up at him.
‘Unfortunately, Zelphie is right, I will need permission to enter,’ Astarion told Cal and Zelphie nodded. No tadpole, and Astarion was more than likely capable of his vampiric powers once more, but also its many drawbacks. Including burning in the sun and not being allowed through thresholds without permission.
‘I’ll be right back,’ she said and turned on her heel. She walked back to the back of the store to find Rolan sneering over a few of the scrolls that had left a mess on the floor. He glanced at her and looked at the parchments in his hand.
‘That was quick,’ he said with a little smirk.
‘I wanted to ask you, actually, if you would be willing to give permission to let Astarion in the tower?’ She asked and Rolan’s face hardened. He looked at her again. ‘He’ll won’t be ten minutes, I promise, then he’ll be back…doing whatever it is that he does,’ she said and Rolan sighed.
‘Fine, ten minutes, and then I need you and Cal back here,’ he told her and she bit her lip.
‘Cal will be back…I will need a little longer,’ she said and Rolan’s tail whipped a little.
‘Why?’ He asked, but knew the reason.
‘He hasn’t eaten in two tendays, Rolan, he has seven thousand spawn to lead through The Underdark, he needs to be strong-’
‘At the cost of your strength,’ Rolan pointed at her and her eyebrows furrowed.
‘For a few hours! I’ll be alright, and he’ll be strong for days. Please, I’ll just need a little nap and a rare steak,’ she told him and placed a hand on his arm. He was very tense. Rolan shook his head.
‘Fine, he can go into the tower,’ he muttered and Zelphie nodded.
‘Thank you, Rolan, thank you so much, this is very helpful,’ she told him, knowing not to push her luck. He clearly was not very happy. She walked back to Cal and Astarion and the three walked up the stairs, taking the portal to the tower. Zelphie warned Cal that he would probably feel most comfortable outside while Astarion fed, but he insisted on staying in the room.
‘Let the pup watch,’ Astarion told her as she got into bed. He followed her in, climbing over her and helped her loosen the top wrap of her dress. ‘I do appreciate this, darling, and I promise, I will find something else,’ he told her and she smirked up at him.
‘Oh I’m sure you will, Star,’ she said and once her neck and shoulder were revealed, he glanced down at her. He took a deep breath and leaned over, kissing her forehead gently.
‘Thank you,’ he whispered and quickly, like the blade of a rogue, his fangs were in the skin of her neck. She hissed, it always hurt for that first second, but then her neck went numb. He held her hand, making the moment more intimate for anyone watching, but it was a simple act of trust. He was draining her of her blood, but he cared for her. Even while satiating his blood lust, his most carnal instinct, Astarion was still her friend. His hand would let her know that she was safe. It was also used to tell him to stop. Once she began to fade, she would squeeze his hand and he would be done. He sat up and licked his lips, smiling down at her. This was his happiest, right after a feeding. ‘Hopefully the next one tastes as good as you,’ he said and winked. He then looked at Cal, easily slipping off of the bed. ‘Are you my chaperone?’ He asked and Zelphie began to fade quickly.
Zelphie’s eyes closed, feeling heavy and numb. She knew Cal had a little crush on the vampire, how could he not. Maybe he understood now that as intimate as the feeding was, it wasn’t pleasant. A vampire drinking your blood seemed romantic, incredibly sensual, but in reality, it hurt and made the victim very tired and weak. Once a ten day, she would allow her friend to feed because she needed him strong. She wanted him to be happy. Astarion without blood was not a wonderful camp mate, he was moody, vicious and tired. Astarion was barely tolerable when he was in a good mood, so feeding him was necessary. She turned to her side, remembering that she was on a new bed, refusing to let the blood from her neck get anywhere. The next thing she remembered was a knock on her door.
Zelphie groaned in response, unable to speak loud enough. Another knock and she groaned again. ‘Come,’ she was able to make out and the door slowly opened.
‘Zelphie?’ Rolan was calling her name, but still wasn’t entering.
‘Come in,’ she tried again and Rolan managed to hear her. He walked in and scoffed when he saw her. She wasn’t even looking at him, but she knew exactly what his opinion of this was.
‘Good gods, Zelphie, you’re so pale,’ he said and she heard him walk over to her. ‘What do you need?’ He said and knelt down next to her. ‘I cannot believe this is the state you’re in after you let him feed on you, no, no this is unacceptable…’ his words faded as Zelphie fell asleep. He was muffled, clear, then muffled again and then silent. She wished she could tell him that she would just need sleep and a sugary treat when she woke, but she didn’t get any of that out before her consciousness faded. She was fine, she would be fine. But how would Rolan or Lia or Cal know that? Maybe Astarion hadn’t left.
It was dark when Zelphie woke up with a stretch and a yawn. Her neck was sore and she felt a little tired, but all sensations that she was used to. In her bedroom, sitting in her vanity chair and on her bed were Cal and Lia and Astarion.
‘Oh, finally,’ the vampire snickered. ‘Am I free to go? Or am I still to be punished by the master?’ He asked Cal, his voice dripping with venom.
‘I’m fine, I’m sorry Star, I’m fine,’ Zelphie but-in and sat up. She wasn’t going to let them continue interrogating Astarion. He had done nothing wrong at all. Astarion got off of her bed and Cal followed him to lead him back out. How long had she been out?
‘You scared the shit out of us,’ Lia said, standing up from her perch at Zelphie’s vanity. Zelphie sighed, the guilt she had fallen asleep with was back.
‘I know, it’s second nature to me and I should have said something, you three don’t know anything about that, I’m so sorry. And I missed half a day helping out downstairs,’ she said and sighed and Lia sat down on the bed with her.
‘Yeah, it wasn’t nice hearing all of that shouting and coming up here to find you passed out with fang marks and blood all over your neck,’ she said and Zelphie nodded, looking down at her lap. ‘Is it supposed to be like that?’
‘It’s always been like that, so I assume so, please, please don’t let this hurt your view of Astarion. I am one hundred percent consenting to this, I’ve been doing it with him for a while. He only does it if I tell him yes, I promise. This stops him from feeding on innocent victims, and as long as I do it before I know I can just lie down for a while, it’s not inconvenient for me. I just fall asleep,’ she said and Lia nodded.
‘Well, you’ll have to tell all of that to Rolan. I had to stop him from staking Astarion. Well. Cal did,’ she said and smirked.
‘I hope after witnessing all of that, Cal learns to be smart around Astarion,’ she said and Lia tilted her head.
‘If you were me, would you be alright with Cal getting…friendly with Astarion?’ She asked and Zelphie smiled.
‘Two months ago? Absolutely not. Now I’d trust a newborn with him. He’s changed for the better, I promise. As we all have,’ she said and Lia’s smile grew.
‘I’ll trust you. Alright, do you need anything? I’m going to alert Master Grump that you are awake. I had to kick him out of here,’ she explained and stood back up.
‘Anything with a bit of sugar would be good. Or a raw steak, whichever is easier,’ she said and Lia laughed, nodded and walked out of the room. Zelphie got out of bed once the door was shut and began to change into night clothes. Glancing out the balcony doors, it was certainly nighttime and she was sure that bed would be next for her. She chucked her robes into a bin once she was changed and walked out to the balcony. The city was still a chaotic mess, but it was very much alive, all the way down there. She leaned on the balcony and just looked down at what she could see. The street did look better than the night before. No fireworks tonight in the sky. She looked to the north, The Upper City was in ruins. Then she remembered the last companion she saw after their victory, Jaheira lived so close to The Upper City.
Zelphie closed her eyes, preparing a sending spell. It wasn’t something she was skilled in, but Halsin had given her the tools to clear her mind for one.
‘High Harper, I’ll be living at Ramazith’s Tower. My home did not make it. Come and visit if you need me.’
Twenty one words were sent directly to her friend. She hoped Jaheira would receive the message and hoped her family was safe. She sighed out her nose and stood up. As she did, the High Harper’s voice rang through her head.
‘Please come and pick up Rion.’
Zelphie laughed and walked back to her bedroom. Humor from Jaheira was normal, so it couldn’t be too terrible for her right then. Good. She shut the balcony door and there was a knock at the bedroom door.
‘Come in,’ she called, pulling the shades to the balcony. It was grumpy Rolan. She wasn’t thrilled to have this conversation with him. At least Lia warned her it was about to get ugly. ‘Rolan, I’m sorry, I didn’t think, I’m so desensitized to it, I forgot how intense it could seem,’ she said and Rolan shut the door behind him, stepping in.
‘I don’t want that happening again,’ he told her squarely and she frowned.
‘I won’t let him up here again, I promise. I’m sorry,’ she told him and held her hands behind her back ashamed as she was scolded. Rolan’s eyes narrowed and he cleared his throat.
‘No, I mean I don’t want him feeding on you anymore,’ he told her and she tilted her head. ‘Oh, don’t give me that look. You have no idea what that was like…coming in here and seeing you like that. Close to death and for what?’
‘So my friend doesn’t need to take innocent victims to survive? Have you ever met a hungry vampire, Rolan?’ She asked and he shook his head.
‘You can’t do that again. I understand why you used to do it, when your life depended on it, but that’s all over now,’ he explained and she frowned.
‘I will not bring him back up here, but you cannot tell me what I can and cannot do with my own body, Rolan,’ she told him and his frown matched hers. She did not want to have another fight with him. The last little one was about Gale, this would be about herself.
‘Where will you go, then?’ He asked her, clearly annoyed and thinking the same as her. He did not want to fight with her.
‘I don’t know…I can’t think right now,’ she said and rubbed her temples. ‘Just…I am sorry and I promise I won’t continue being a burden,’ she said and Rolan’s face softened. This was not how he usually settled things. People usually fought him until a physical fight broke out. She was just giving in.
‘You are not a burden, I just…’ he said and took a long inhale. ‘I’m worried about you. We’re all lucky you survived yesterday. Or the previous months. I apologize that my anger is the only tool I have to express my care,’ he said and Zelphie’s eyebrow arched. His care, those words rang through her like a gong. Rolan straightened up a little. ‘What’s that look for?’
‘Do you care about me?’ She asked him softly. She cared about him. She assumed he didn’t want much to do with her besides pay her back. Rolan’s tail twitched and he looked away for a moment.
‘Of course I do,’ he said and Zelphie’s tail twitched a little as well. That felt nice. ‘I care very deeply for you…I meant everything that I have said to you and about you, Zelphie,’ he said and was about to continue, but Zelphie butted in.
‘I care for you, too,’ she said quickly and Rolan just looked at her. The eyes of a tiefling never gave away much emotion, but with the soft swishing of his tail, she knew she hadn’t said the wrong thing.
‘I am glad to hear that,’ he said and took in another deep breath. ‘I’m sure you are hungry, and even if you are not, you must eat,’ he said and reached out to gently touch her face with the back of his hand. He was close again. Her tail was giving her away. ‘You are freezing, my dear,’ he said, but she was paralyzed. Damn him. ‘I’ll go fetch you something warm,’ he said and his hand left her cheek.
‘I’ll come with you,’ she said, maybe a little eagerly and he smiled a little, his red neck getting even more red.
‘If you wish,’ he said and led her out. Her heart was very light, some of that feeling could be attributed to the lack of blood, but it was very nice to hear Rolan being so…nice. Of course she was keen on him, he was handsome and passionate and incredibly frumpy. He was very kind to her, her mind flashed to the party Zevlor had thrown for her companions and the tieflings. Goodness how naive they all were back then. He had been in a very good mood that night, everyone was, well, almost everyone. Save poor Wyll, who was still very fragile that night. He had been in no mood to make merry.
‘You remember that light show you put on, those months ago when we first met?’ She asked him as they walked. Rolan chuckled and nodded his head.
‘Oh yes, that’s what you’ll get when you give me too much cheap wine and the excitement of getting out of a druid’s hole in the ground,’ he said and Zelphie laughed.
‘I was on the balcony earlier, you see, and I was thinking. I was looking out to the people down below and I was a bit upset I didn’t see or hear any fireworks. Someday soon, for the people, maybe the new master of Ramazith’s Tower could put on a show? I could help too, crack of lightning, a burst of fire, hm? I think it could be fun,’ she said and he watched her and shook his head.
‘I was wondering when the real you was going to show up,’ he said, sounding amused.
‘Could we? Please Rolan, I think the city needs a big surprise, and is there a more spectacular building in Baldur’s Gate?’ She asked and his smile grew. He was not exactly the biggest fan of ‘fun’, not in the childlike way that Zelphie enjoyed. But he was never a man to shy from a compliment. It would be nice, receiving applause from the city. ‘And is there a more brilliant wizard?’ She asked and nudged him.
‘Alright, fine, fine,’ he said and looked down at her. She was happily grinning up at him, and his smile matched hers. ‘You are really something else, you know that?’ He asked her as they entered the kitchen, maintained by elementals.
‘Oh? What would that be?’ She asked him and he laughed.
‘Mostly annoying,’ he said playfully and she cackled. ‘But other than that, very surprising,’ he said and Zelphie picked at a tray of sweet biscuits.
‘Hopefully not in an annoying way,’ she said and took a bite of one.
‘No, no, in a very good way. You know I’m very set in my ways, but you just…plow through everything and when I get upset and annoyed at the change…it turns out you are always…always right,’ he said and she stared up at him. ‘And even just that is annoying, but I am growing to like it a lot,’ he added and looked down at her. She had no idea what to say.
‘You’re the one who is surprising,’ she finally said, and he smirked. ‘Maybe we will both make each other better,’ she said and watched him collect a rare steak from one of his many elementals. He cut it in half and plated both halves, handing her one.
‘I think you’ve already changed me for the better,’ he told her and she just shook her head. She took the plate and walked over to the large kitchen counter with him to sit and eat.
‘All these compliments because I suggested we put on a fireworks show,’ she said, very happy with herself. He chuckled and sat down.
‘Because you suggested putting on a fireworks show after you were bled dry and we had a row,’ he corrected and she shook her head.
‘I would not consider that little bickering a row, Rolan. Not one fireball was cast,’ she said, taking a bite of her steak and sighed out happily. He just watched her.
‘Is that usually how fights with you end?’ He asked her and she laughed.
‘It’s a very quick way to end a fight, that is for sure,’ she said and he laughed at her. She took another bite and looked at him as she chewed. She was just watching him, watching him be normal, ordinary. It was nice, it wasn’t special or anything, it just felt nice. ‘This is a very good way to end a day, though,’ she said and he looked up at her.
‘Oh? Empty of plasma?’ He snickered and she shook her head, unphased.
‘No. Eating and talking with you,’ she said and took another bite. Her feelings for Rolan were clearly more than just civil or friendly. She did like him, of course she did. But could she tell him that? Should she tell him that? He just looked at her, he was searching her eyes and face with his own. As the two just stared at each other, Zelphie’s exhausted body was working through instinct alone and Rolan looked down at his own tail. Without meaning to, Zelphie’s tail had wrapped around his. Tiefling tails were very much like a cat’s tail. It expressed their emotional and comfort levels. Because of this, a touch from another’s tail was a little intimate, like holding another’s hand. Zelphie’s eyes followed his eyes and she gasped, seeing as she was the culprit. Her mind controlled her tail once more and she left Rolan’s alone. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, waves of embarrassment and guilt hitting her like a tidal wave. If she could fall through the floor and away from Rolan’s eye, she would have. But she hid her face in her hand, looking down at her plate.
‘No…no, it’s alright…it was nice,’ he said and Zelphie felt a little spark. Rolan’s tail weaved around hers. Zelphie’s cheeks and ears burned hot. She curled her tail with his, not having a clue exactly what was happening. But maybe that was a good thing? No, no, she needed to know what he was thinking. She let her hand down from her face and looked up at him. As she did, he leaned down and she felt his lips on her burning cheek. Just a soft little kiss. ‘But you must eat, rest up, I’ll greet you in the morning, my dear,’ he whispered and she felt almost as faint as she did after feeding Astarion. She couldn’t make words come out, and she didn’t know what to say. She was frozen. He got up, and she was screaming on the inside. No, don’t go, don’t leave. But Rolan wasn’t like Astarion, he wasn’t like anyone she had ever met. Rolan left her, speechless, in the kitchen, and she caught sight of his tail, curled up in an S-shape. Oh. Oh!
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one shot:
jacob swimming in a lake then putting his jacket on before getting dry??
this teacher guy going after some bullies. you’re a teacher man just go to the head teacher or whoever???
cal calling matilda toad🥺
imagine if cal had kept her and now she’d have a little cousin grub🥺
aww ethan saying lily should come round and meet matilda
max thinking about taking a job elsewhere because of zoe
the kid using a band saw in dt… we all know what’s going to happen
reminds me of in black friday (a musical) when lex is like “shop class, where you get an A if you don’t chop of your finger” and tom’s like “no! if you show up and put in the effort i’m not gonna hold a little accident like that against ya” sjdkkffkf excuse me for bringing random other interests up
aww alicia’s parents bought her some big medical book because she mentioned it to them but lily says that by the time she was an f2 she new the whole book off by heart and alicia’s just like “really? well that’s why you’re such a good mentor then” bless her
i think lily finds it annoying how nice alicia is. like she wants her to be bitchy so she can have an actual reason to dislike her lmao. i think that lily doesn’t like it when people come in who are really good doctors while also being better than her at connecting with other people. we saw a bit of that with ethan already like she initially found him annoying, especially when he wasn’t put off by her being rude back to him. obviously she warmed up to ethan quite quickly though but that could easily be because even though he was better at talking with patients and he was nice so everyone liked him, he was still socially awkward and much more like lily in that regard than alicia who was a bit of a party girl and very sociable which lily can’t relate to at all. also ethan was her senior which she respects and so was always more likely to admire his ability with patients rather than look down on him. i mean clearly her issue with alicia is that she’s jealous of her but that’s what i mean, she’s jealous of the fact that she’s a good doctor AND has a good social life AND everyone likes her
aww she sees the message from alicia’s parents saying how proud they are of her. she’s also jealous of her parents being proud of her when her dad never told her
ah the police negotiator from when jacob was shot is implying that it was jacob’s fault. connie’s trying to get jacob to give a statement to tell his side of the story but he declines
lmaoo dixie seeing that iain’s been spending a lot of nights with rita so to mess with him she’s tells him that she’s fallen for someone who usually only goes for blokes but they had a kiss and she says she’s gonna tell her at karaoke so iain’s like wait it’s someone from here? and then he sees a photo on the notice board of dixie and rita which by the looks of it might actually be from the night they kissed lmao
lily’s being proper mean to alicia now :(
iain trying to talk dixie out of confessing sjskdkkf
lily talking about her dad :(
iain asking rita if she ever kissed dixie sjskdkfk
robyn interrupting connie and jacob about to kiss shskdkkf
lily’s really not with it but alicia is and connie’s impressed with her making good calls and lily reluctantly tells her well done
connie tells lily that alicia speaks very highly of her and that she’s decided to specialise in a&e so she’s going to sign her papers so she can sit her MCEM part a exam. lily’s like “so soon?” and connie’s like “she’s good”
connie tells her that she won’t hold her mistakes today against her because she knows she’s dealing with her father’s death
aww cal and ethan switching matilda again as they switch shifts again and ethan’s like “she’s dressed for the arctic” and cal goes “well it’s not far but she can get very cold out there”
ethan and matilda🥺🥺
right i know is biggest reason for this was covid but isn’t it proper annoying that we’ve literally seen more of ethan actively being an uncle than actively being a dad😭 and bodhi’s nearly two years old!
cal saying he’s contacted the clinic and he’s going to take the paternity test. he says that he knows she’s his though😬
poor lily :(
i just realised lily’s been wearing her glasses this episode. i just think they handled lily stopping wearing glasses WAYY better than they handled ethan stopping wearing glasses. i mean i remember george rainsford getting increasingly frustrated at being asked questions about what happened to them on twitter lmao. but it’s because they didn’t make it clear when he took them off the last time that that was him stopping wearing them for good. and he just goes about his day afterwards presumably unable to see because they don’t show or mention him putting contacts in? and they’ve just never mentioned it since let alone mention that he’s wearing contacts or anything. in fact the only time they’ve ever mentioned that he used to wear glasses was in begin again, 4 YEARS LATER😭 and like with lily here it makes sense that she’s wearing her glasses because she’s grieving and so not putting as much effort in but they haven’t taken the same opportunities with ethan like when it wouldn’t make sense for him to be wearing contacts. like for example they expect me to believe that after he was stabbed he either woke up and immediately put contacts in or he went round without them including somehow managing to see stevie from afar through the resus window when everyone in there was wearing ppe? like i guess technically he could’ve managed it (i mean we don’t know the specifics of his eyesight) but why would he not just have put glasses on?? i have the first draft of a fic about that but from rash’s pov (bc we never saw his reaction???) where don’t worry i remember he needs glasses. anyways,,,,, bit of a tangent
alicia doing some absolutely terrible singing at karaoke sjskdk. doing her dirty when chelsea’s actually an amazing singer😭 idk if i ever mentioned on here but i saw her in waitress! she was incredible ofc
LMAO iain and rita realise what dixie’s up to so rita goes up to her and goes to kiss her and dixie pushes her away and rita’s like i thought you wanted to relieve our kiss? and iain’s like “you can’t kid a kidder!” sjskfkfkkf
jacob going to give his statement
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Thursday 19th May @0302h
I haven't written in a while... after our first phone call not much more happened, we didn't fall back into the swing of talking every day or being comfortable around each other like best friends, in fact we didn't talk at all. I don't what I was expecting. Safe to say, that wasn't it.
We've spoken on the phone once since, Friday 13th in between my finishing at Med-Psych and starting at The Gal. I called you because I missed you but other than talking about work you didn't have much to say. I ended that night in hospital, 4 back to back seizures, a severe potassium deficiency, and influenza, my body was fucking wrecked. But what hurt the most, was having my first hospital trip without you. I kept closing my eyes and imagining you sitting by my side, holding my hand through the bed railing. In my post ictal state I even asked for you. But Josh was quick to remind me that we broke up 5 months ago.
It hurt that you didn't seem to care I was in hospital either. I know I've desensitized you over the years, but you're so detached it feels unnatural. Like anything could happen to me and it wouldn't even phase you. How can I go from being your entire world to barely even a passing thought.
The truth is, if something happened to you right now, I would be on the next plane. I wouldn't hesitate. Because for me, this still just feels like one extended shitty nightmare that we're meant to wake up from. I still think we're meant to be together, but the more time that passes, the more I lose hope.
The other issue being, the more time that passes, the closer I get to Cal. And I know I could fall for him, I already care about him so much, but you're my home Ali. I still fool myself into believing all of this that's happened since we broke up is your elaborate scheme to do whats best for me. You know I want a husband and a family and so you're telling me everything I need to hear so I'll be forced to move on and find someone who can give me my dream. That you're still secretly in love with me but being the selfless heroin of the non existent movie. Honestly my life is so crazy sometimes it may as well be a movie.
But that is a ridiculous fantasy, I know you, you're not that capabale of keeping up a ruse, or acting against your own self interest to that extent. I wouls want you to be selfish and make me yours. I'll sacrifice it all.
You are the wall between Cal and I. And I know you don't care, you've essentially given your blessings, but no matter how close I get to him, I'm always just pushing the wall back, never fully knocking it down. Its a barrier between what I could feel for him and what I can feel for him.
And until further notice, falling in love with Cal or anyone else for that matter is off limits because my heart is still yours Ali.
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❝ got no shame, calum hood.
summary: there’s a viral trend on tiktok where you get naked in front of your significant other and film their reaction. well, you thought it’d be fun to do it while your boyfriend calum is streaming with the band ---- promoting their new album.
authors note: this is pretty much just PURE SMUT, so be warned! i’ve been on tiktok way too much lately... also, stream calm and enjoy a cute lil’ quickie scenario!
You’re bored out of your mind.
After taking a much needed shower, you find yourself in your favorite plush bathrobe, body sprawled across the king-sized bed you and your boyfriend share. Time inside these confined walls (to you) felt like it was dragging by, especially when Calum’s been busy doing promotions for the new album. Most of the time it was just you and Duke, and even he liked his naps throughout the day.
Blindly reaching out to grab your phone from the nightstand, you began to browse through your socials. Twitter, same old. Instagram, getting kind of boring. Facebook, always the same people posting the same thing.
Quickly growing tired of your feeds, you decide to check into the livestream that the band’s been holding for Amazon Music. Once you’re in, you immediately roll your eyes upon hearing Ashton’s attempt to write his own fanfiction about Calum and his ukulele ---- even getting a small laugh out of you.
As they continue on with their live shenanigans, you can’t stop staring at your boyfriend’s face on the top right of your screen. He’s always been more kept to himself than the rest of the guys, but when he makes those soft (and adorably funny) comments here and there, it made your heart flutter.
Something deep in your core begins to bubble after practically admiring your boyfriend through the screen, and before your mind goes further south, you decide to close out of the stream and browse through something else. TikTok immediately comes to mind. While you never really showed interest in the hype of it all ---- being in this quarantine for weeks has convinced you to give it a shot. And you’ve been hooked since. So here you are, scrolling through your feed as if it was your newfound addiction.
There’s this new trend circulating around the app where people would get naked in front of their partners (who were usually busy doing something) and film their reactions. The video idea has piqued your interest. You wonder how Calum would react if you do something of the like, mostly because he was always an avid fan of taking your clothes off for you. He found it sexier that way.
If you weren’t bored out of your mind right now, you would’ve waited. If you thought that your own fingers could give you the same satisfaction, you would’ve waited. But you’re craving for it now ---- your boyfriend’s attention, his eyes, his hands. You want him.
The guys wouldn’t mind, right?
Getting up from your previous position, you toss the towel wrapped around your damp hair to the side. As you’re standing, phone already in hand, your fingers work their way around the knot of your robe before untangling it.
Your thumb presses record once your robe unwound, the cool air trickling your skin as it entered through the opening. You then reach for the door to open it, making your way out and down the hall, towards the room Calum was streaming in. You can hear a string of laughter coming through, followed by your boyfriend murmuring a story about his favorite tattoo.
It doesn’t take long before you’re by the door of his office, body leaning against the frame. Calum’s sitting only a few feet away with his back turned against you, clearly focused on the livestream. He probably couldn’t hear you with the chunky headphones hovered securely over his ears, so saying something wouldn’t be the best idea. You didn’t want to disrupt the stream either.
So, you push the robe that was draped over your shoulders off. It glides down your bare body, before falling flat onto the dark mahogany floors. The mixture of the sight of your boyfriend and the thought of your body, revealed is enough to make you feel incredibly needy. You need to be touched, and it’s too late to go back.
As you reach down to grab the plush fabric from the ground, you mentally hope that you’ll be blessed with good aim at this very moment. You then take your chances and toss your bundled robe over Calum’s direction, and it perfectly lands on his head while he’s listening to one of his band members speak.
Instantaneously, his office chair swivels towards your direction. Your gaze meets his, and as his eyes trail further down your body, the gap between his lips grow wider.
His lips mouth a soft ‘fuck me’ while keeping his eyes on yours.
You can’t help but laugh softy, stopping the recording. You begin to really tease him by trailing your fingers down your skin. They start on your shoulder blades and move down to the tip of your nipples; a sight that’s left your boyfriend speechless.
“Yeah, I’ll be right back guys… I uh, need to use the bathroom,” Calum’s voice wasn’t steady at all.
And before he can even get a response from his friends, he’s already up from his chair, tossing the robe onto the couch that’s placed across from the desk. The beating of your heart turns rampant; you don’t know what to expect ---- is he angry? Annoyed?
Your question is soon answered when your body presses against his, his lips harshly colliding with yours full-force. His hands roam around your naked body, giving your ass a good squeeze before moving to the front to have his fingers brush against your throbbing clit, and back up to massage your breasts. These actions alone are enough for your core to pulsate. He’s hard too. You can feel it stiffen against your folds as you wrap your legs around his waist, letting your phone fall to the floor.
“God, Y/N,” he breathes, wasting no time to bring you back into the bedroom. “You can’t keep doing this to me, you know you’re my fuckin’ weakness.”
A soft giggle escapes your lips, bringing a finger up to delicately trace a line down his jaw. “I know,” you reply. “But I need you.”
That alone has your boyfriend letting out an involuntary moan, because fuck, that sounded so hot to him ---- he needs to be inside you.
Your back hits the soft mattress of the bed, and Calum settles between your legs, grinding his hard erection onto your wet pussy. You take it upon yourself to remove the hat that hovers over his eyes, throwing it as far as possible, before pulling him in for another kiss.
“We gotta be quick babe, the guys think I’m taking a shit,” he whispers with a small chuckle, which earned him a laugh on your end. It doesn’t ruin the momentum though, because after you nod, his hand snakes between your thighs, prying them apart.
His touch feels like electricity beginning to course through your veins. You can’t help but moan at his gentle fingers massaging circles around your clit. He dips them lower to spread the wetness across your folds, then bringing it back up to lubricate the sensitive bundle of nerves. You can’t contain yourself because god, his fingers feel so good on you. Your lips pepper kisses across his collarbones, softly moaning against his skin.
“I need you inside me, Cal,” you say softly into his ear, planting small kisses at the lobe.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Another moment isn’t wasted, and you help him push his athletic shorts and boxers down just enough to have his hard length spring free.
He lines his erection up against your slick folds before gradually pushing it in. Your eyes roll back at the pleasurable sensation, and you both moan in unison. His pace starts off as gentle and slow, leaning in again to satisfy his craving for your lips.
When he pulls away, he trails kisses down your neck and down to your breasts. Once he stops at your nipples, you’re greeted by his tongue flicking them, causing you to arch your back.
His pace begins to quicken and the two of you are slapping skin. His grip on the thick duvet tightens until his knuckles lose color, and you rake your nails across his back muscles --- leaving red marks that won’t disappear until the next morning.
Calum pulls out without finishing, having you confused. He uses the time to properly get on his knees, using your legs to pull you closer to him. He takes your right leg and brings it up to rest on his shoulder and pushes himself back in. “Fuck, baby,” you almost say inaudibly at the feeling of him hitting your g-spot in the perfect way. You can feel yourself coming close to finishing as your fingers curl against the sheets.
“You ready cum for me?” there’s a smirk that’s laced across his features, fully aware of how he’s making you feel. He uses his thumb to rub your throbbing clit, matching the intensity of his thrusts. “Ready to cum all over my cock?”
Nodding feverishly with a moan, it doesn’t take longer for you to come undone. You begin to breathe heavily from the intense sensation, before flashing a smile over at your boyfriend. “That’s my girl,” he muses at the sight of you recovering from your orgasm, turning to kiss the leg that’s over his shoulder.
Calum’s thrusts begin to become sloppier and erratic. Quickly, he pulls out and begins to pump his length over you, before letting out a satisfying moan as he his strings of milky ribbons land on your glistening body.
You both take the moment to catch a breath. As your eyes meet, still breathing heavily, the two of you share an ‘I can’t believe that happened’ laugh. He pulls his shorts and boxers back up and grabs the nearest towel (the one you had on your hair after your shower), cleaning up the mess he’s made across your frame.
Once you’re all cleaned up, you hurriedly push your boyfriend out the door and back to his office to continue the livestream that totally flew past both of your heads. Calum rushes over to his chair and plops back down so hard that it almost causes him to fall off the chair. You snort at the sight ---- so loud that it definitely was caught in the stream.
“What the fuck happened to you, mate?” Michael’s voice echoes through the room. Calum must’ve removed his headphones from his computer. “You were gone for like, fifteen minutes. We thought you died, or something!”
“I had to take a shit, bro!” Calum laughs, running his fingers across his obvious sex hair before taking another deep exhale. “At least I take my time, unlike Ashton here. Fucker doesn’t even wash his hands.”
“Hey!” Ashton exclaims through the screen. “That’s not a nice thing to say, Calum. I hope…”
You need to do TikTok trends with him more often.
#calum hood#calum hood smut#calum hood imagine#5sos imagine#5sos smut#calum hood x reader#5sos fanfic#calum hood x you#anyway i kinda made this.... soft?
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a taste of life [kylo]
summary: ben solo is brought back from the dead by a force-sensitive pirate and is given the opportunity to start a new life as part of her crew.
author’s note: hdjfkj i love the idea of a pirate!reader so here is my contribution,, so this takes place a few weeks after the battle of exegol in which the first order was defeated ,, if you’ve played jedi fallen order than reader’s ability is exactly like cal’s ,, lmk what you think :)) ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Isao muttered as he navigated the ship through the wreckage. The ruins of Star Destroyer fleets decorated Exegol, evidence of the New Republic’s victory. And There was so much to loot! You chuckled. The Scorpion landed near a weird-looking throne. It was so dark that Isao landing the Scorpion was a miracle.
“Well I see a very fun trip to Canto Bight in our future,” You said with a smile and ran out of the cockpit. It had been a while since you last visited the city and partook in the activities of wealthy individuals. You so desperately wanted to gamble and drink credits away, so you quickly strapped your belt on and grabbed a blaster before exiting the ship. Nori ran after you.
“Canto Bight? I thought we were going to Jedha and see the remains of the Jedi temple there,” Nori expressed disappointment with your desire to return to Canto Bight. She had become obsessed with learning more about the Jedi after learning about your Force sensitivity.
“Jedi Temples don’t have open bars,” You reminded your Twi’lek friend, “or casinos,” Nori sighed in frustration. “I’m just trying to be plastered and gamble,” You smiled. “No need to get ourselves involved in Jedi business,”
You’ve known about your connection with the Force your entire life. You were a member of the Blazing Chain — an organization of nomadic raiders made up of Force Adepts that wandered Unknown Space. With no loyalty to the Sith or Jedi, the Blazing Chain simply utilized their Force abilities to make raids easier. Three wars occurred, and each time, for better or for worse, the Blazing Chain remained neutral. You had no intention in breaking that tradition.
As you walked, you found a cube. The strong fog made it nearly impossible to see, but your foot gently kicked it. A faint blue glow radiated from the cube and you felt a compulsion to pick it up. You knelt down, and as your fingers touched the cube, a scene played back in your head. And then, a blinding white light.
“Ahh, dank farrik!” You shouted and crawled away from the cube. Nori ran to your side.
“What happened? Are you okay? Did it happen again?” Nori asked frantically. By ‘it’ she was referring to one of your ‘echo episodes’ in which an object gives you a memory by touching it. You were one of two adepts cursed with that ability from the Blazing Chain. It was referred to as a Force Echo.
“I’m fine,” You groaned, feeling a sharp pain in your head. “That kriffin’ holocron was part of the battle here,” You informed Nori, crawling back to the cube. It wanted to be opened and only you could do it.
“Whoa,” Nori marveled at the unique gold design on the cube. You held the cube in your palm of your hand and closed your eyes. Within seconds, the holocron levitated and opened. “That is so cool,” Nori muttered.
A white ball of energy emerged from the holocron. You opened your eyes and a bright white light shined. You appeared possessed, and it terrified Nori. She screamed. You began muttering words in a language she couldn’t understand.
The energy ball dispersed. The holocron closed and fell back onto your palm.
“What the kriff was that?!” Nori exclaimed. You stood up, completely unfazed by the recent possession.
"No clue,” You told your friend.
A tall man dressed in black emerged from the fog. The light from the Scorpion beamed on the man. He was very pale and bloody. His black sweater bad a large hole and was absolutely filthy-looking.
You would not be caught dead wearing that.
“We don’t want any trouble, um, sir,” You attempted to de-escalate the interaction. The holocron must be worth thousands and there was enough on the Star Destroyers to share with the beaten-down man.
“Do you know who I am?” The odd man asked.
“Oh...um, no?” You replied. You looked to Nori. She shook her head.
“Where did you get that?” The man looked at the holocron in your palm.
Immediately you tossed the cube to Nori, who put it inside her bag. “Get what?” You played dumb. “Do you need any help? A new outfit perhaps?” You asked him, looking at the large tear on the chest area of the sweater.
His right hand reached for the hole in the sweater. His fingers touched his bear chest. He stared blankly at you, “I’m lost,” He felt a strange comfort when looking at you.
It was you that gave him life.
“Well you are in luck!” You said with glee. “We are pirates and there isn’t anywhere we can’t go,” You informed the stranger. As a child you learned all the best traveling routes to bypass First Order and New Republic checkpoints. With the power struggle and chaos that followed the fall of the First Order there was no better time to be a pirate.
“Coruscant,” He replied rather quickly. With Alderaan destroyed, his mother would be buried at the capital. Coruscant had been in open rebellion against the First Order, and he was certain the New Republic would restore peace.
Your smile dropped, “Coruscant? Why would you want to go there? Are you part of a gang?” You questioned and reached for your blaster. “Like I said, we don’t want any trouble,” You said cautiously.
“What do you have in Coruscant?” Nori asked, aiming her blaster at his head.
Truthfully, nothing. Kylo had nothing.
“Where are you going?” He asked you, and your smile returned.
“The Smuggler’s Moon,” You replied.
Kylo remembered hearing Han mention Nar Shaddaa throughout his childhood. It was an entire world filled with pirates and outlaws. It was also the homeworld of the Hutts. Leia would threaten Ben with a visit to Nar Shaddaa when he would not behave. It terrified him as a child.
“Got some people that might be interested in that glowing cube,” You mentioned.
“You can’t sell that!” Kylo exclaimed. Both women took a step away from him, but they weren’t scared of him. They appeared rather annoyed with his outburst and demand.
“First of all, I’m the captain, so watch your tone,” You pointed at him, unamused. “Second of all, I can sell whatever I want,”
“That cube is an ancient Jedi artifact,” Kylo informed you.
“Oh, well in that case,” You smiled. Kylo smiled too then, believing he had convinced you to keep the very thing you used to bring him from the dead. “I know just the Hutt to sell this to,”
His smile dropped instantly.
“Are you a Jedi?” Nori questioned.
Was he a Jedi? Ben had been a padawan when Snoke tainted his mind. He spent more years of his life as a pawn for the Sith than he did as his uncle’s student. He blankly stared at Nori before his attention returned to you.
“Doesn’t matter,” You answered the question for him. He was beyond grateful for your reply. “The cube is getting sold, and you, my friend, have three options,” Ben knitted his brows and slightly tilted his head in confusion. “You can remain lost on this hellish planet, I sell you, or you can join my crew,”
“Why?” Kylo asked. Kindness was not virtue he experienced often. There had always been strings attached to the kindness of others. Snoke disguised his actions as a way of helping Ben. Oh, how stupid the mind of a child is.
You had already done more than you knew — you brought him back to the land of the living, unknowingly it would seem. Offering him a spot on your crew was you giving him a chance to truly live. Joining your crew would also give him a chance to figure out how you gave him life.
“Tall, broad-shoulders beast like you, figure I could sell ya for some pretty New Republic credits,” You smiled, taunting Kylo.
“Isao said to hurry up or he’s going to leave without you,” A B1-series battle droid exited from your ship. The droid was in pristine shape, despite its mismatched torso and right arm. "I don’t know if he was being serious,” The droid added.
Nori walked toward, “I’ll hold him off,” Both she and the droid boarded the ship. “And I’ll adjust your sarcasm setting,” Nori smiled at the droid.
“So, what d’ya say?” You asked him. “Roger could use help cooking and cleaning,” You laughed as the words left your lips. You were filled with genuine happiness. Kylo could feel it, and it was intoxicating.
He gave you a simple nod, “I will join your crew,”
“Great, do you like Canto Bight?” You asked and began walking toward the ship. Kylo was hesitant to follow you. You felt his hesitancy and stopped walking to face him.
Kylo studied you for a brief moment. Nothing about you screamed danger, but he was almost certain your hands were drenched in blood. “I’ve never been to Canto Bight,” He replied and took steps towards you. There was so much Ben had yet to see. So much of the galaxy still left to explore, and somehow, you blessed him with the breath of life.
“Oh, you are in for a treat, big guy,” You stated, more than happy to show off your favorite vacation destination. “But first we are gonna need to buy you some clothes,” You said and boarded the ship. Kylo followed after you, and the scent of burnt cookies touched his nose.
“Sorry!” Roger apologized, attempting to get rid of the smoke by frantically waving his arms.
#kylo ren x reader#ben solo x reader#kylo ren one shot#ben solo imagine#star wars one shot#kylo x reader#sw fic
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Titanic || H.S
Part Five || “No Me Queda Mas”
Disclaimer: I do not own the pictures I use for title cards. Obviously.
Warnings: This book contains mature themes and discussions, such as gun violence, emotional and physical abuse, attempted suicide, mentions of blood, character deaths, heavy sexual content, and reference to the real maritime disaster of the 1912 cruise liner Titanic.
“Exactly. But if you jump, I’m gonna have to jump in there after you.“
Both Harry and Drake were up by seven in the morning, energetic and absolutely starving. They made sure to dress as quietly as they could, careful not to wake their other two roommates. They were men of the same age, around their late twenties, heading to the states to escape religious persecution. They had arrived later that day after they had picked up the remaining passengers from Ireland, both men talkative and equally as excited to start a new life. The four men chatted into the deep hours of the night and discussed a variety of topics. Perhaps the funnest topic they covered was women.
The two men were traveling with their girlfriends and since they were not legally married, they had to bunk in separate living quarters. Except their boyfriends had splurged what money they could to give them the best comfort as possible, and Harry learned their girlfriends were staying as second-class passengers. Drake made the joke about how first and second class weren’t all that different, and that these boys were living every poor man’s dream of being with a woman of practical royalty.
“They scream louder than any woman.”
“What do you mean?” Harry questioned.
“I mean,” Drake nudged his shoulder playfully, “they’re so touch-deprived that they practically melt from any man’s touch.”
“Man, shut the hell up!”
Everyone continued to joke and tease, and Harry wondered if that was indeed true. He had only been with two other women before - his first when he was seventeen and a woman he thought he loved at the age of twenty-four. He prided himself on the noises he caused, but he didn’t quite understand what Drake meant. Did upper-class women really not experience pleasure as often as women in love? Did upper-class women even fall in love? Do upper-class men not know how to perform? He understood the point of the joke, and although slightly misogynistic, Harry pondered on the societal gossip that sometimes proved true. It wasn’t like he was ever going to experience it to compare.
He and Drake tip-toed outside their room and locked it behind them. Breakfast was available until ten, but they wanted first dibs on the freshest stuff there.
It was a buffet style breakfast. They stacked their trays up high, first come - first serve, with buttered bread, sugar cookies, chicken noodle soup, and milk.
“They’re holding out on us. I saw them lugging buckets of grapes and strawberries up to first-class.”
Harry chuckled and sipped his milk, “Because they’re first-class.”
“Either way, this bread is delicious.”
And over breakfast they chatted about their past trips, skills, family, and aspirations. If it was possible, Drake spoke more than Harry. Once a conversation reached its end, Drake would easily glide into a new one. It was quite refreshing to speak to someone who didn’t shut you down or didn’t know how to carry a conversation. Harry paused Drake, however, when he mentioned that he was a trained carpenter.
“You build things?”
“Buildings. I build buildings.”
Harry shoved him, “That’s what I meant!”
Drake laughed along, “Yeah, my father was a carpenter. I built my Montana ranch from the ground up with my own two hands.”
Harry felt like meeting Drake was fate. Now he didn’t have to grovel and beg some New York carpenter to oversee the construction of a London business. If Drake agreed to help Harry build his bakery, he would at least trust the process more. A few sips of soup and some sugar cookies later and Harry considered Drake a closer friend than those he met on the playground.
“I have a proposition.”
“Well, Mr. Capitalist, I’m all ears.”
Harry grinned, “Would you like to help me build my family’s bakery? I would pay you generously and provide you housing during your extended stay in New York.”
Drake mimicked the act of deep thought, leaning forward and swishing around his cup of milk. “Hmm, a generous offer.”
“Or do you have to be back in Montana immediately?”
Please don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t.
“My brother has the ranch covered. I can write to him and let him know I’ll be bringing in a little extra cash.”
Harry jumped in his seat like an excited child, “Is that a ‘yes’?”
Drake chuckled and tried not to spill his milk as Harry shook his shoulders excitedly.
Drake was around five years older than Harry, thirty-two and thriving, so it made sense that he had this feeling of being an older brother to Harry. He was actually the youngest of his siblings, having older brothers at his side since birth. It was a blessing, and in a weird twist of plot, he felt like an attentive older brother sat here at breakfast. The way Harry’s bright smile lit up any room and the way he acted as if everything happened for a reason - he was almost tempted to give this kid the rest of his sugar cookies.
“Sure, man. I trust you’ll pay me.”
Harry nodded and while overflowing with joy, he slid his sketchbook in front of Drake and began reviewing the first couple sketches of the type of building he had in mind.
You had been kept up late by your mother’s final walk-through of your stay room, complaining there were not enough towels and not enough space for your accessories on the bedside table. She acknowledged the vastness of the ship and its wonderful hospitality, but there was always something wrong in her mind. And all you could do was nod your head as you sat impatiently in the side chair as she worked the midnight crew through each fix.
So excuse your slow responses and tiny yawns at breakfast. The tables were beginning to clear out, with many still entering for early tea or a late meal. The breeze passed through the open doors and nipped at your cheeks, waking you up slightly from the boring chatter.
As the others spoke, you couldn’t help but think about yesterday and what weird a kiss you and Cal had shared. Was it supposed to feel good? You knew Cal had other women before as he was turning thirty-six just a week after your scheduled wedding. He was never so playful, especially not in front of waiting staff, so you pondered what that change in attitude could possibly mean. Or perhaps you were thinking too much, and he really just had a lapse in judgement.
You could make out talk about the weather, America’s current stock market, and ideas about what the cooks were going to prepare later today. Speak on topics that never interested you and never will interest you carried on for a few more minutes before everyone began ordering their second course. You pulled a cigarette and its holder from your handbag, expertly placed the cigarette inside the silver and inhaled the cooled, mellowed smoke. It woke you up instantly, also calming any nerves from the night before.
You didn’t like when Cal smoked and dusted your flooring, but the presence of a holder made all the difference. No mess, no stains on your fingers - just tranquility.
Your mother cleared her throat quietly as to only alert you, watching the other occupants of your table carry on with their conversation. She unfolded her napkin and placed it carefully across her lap. “You know I don’t like when you do that in public.”
Instead of rolling your eyes at her absurd worry, you inhaled the smoke deeply and exhaled across her view, clouding her face in your personal stress release. It was a power move, a move that you were allowed to execute since she was in control of literally every other aspect of your life. A little smoke shouldn’t anger her as much as it did, but any ounce of independence you still displayed could be interpreted as plain disobedience. And disobedience of your own family meant it resulted in disobedience within a marriage. But before you could establish dominance in one area of your life - your own body - Cal reached over to pull the cigarette from its holder and extinguished it on one of the side plates. You narrowed your eyes, ashamed of the control he proved he had.
“She knows,” Cal chuckled, ignoring your look of embarrassment and instead calling over the waiter who was making his rounds.
A woman you had met briefly yesterday as she boarded from Ireland, Molly, was invited to sit at your breakfast table by one of the men here, yet you couldn’t remember which one. She was a small woman, dressed in a comfortable dress that didn’t quite match the occasion of a late breakfast, but she wore it proudly. She was sweet, strong-willed, and almost always proved louder than anyone else in the room. You liked her personality as it was entirely different from everyone else you had ever met. Although your mother called her “new money” with a nasty grimace on her face, you only saw her for what she was - independent and vocal.
But here you were now, being dehumanized in front of practical strangers, and you looked up to see Molly’s surprised expression. She lowered her arm to extinguish her own cigarette on her ashtray. To continue smoking freely after you had been refused your tiny refuge seemed wrong, improper even. But you didn’t acknowledge her action, ears perking up as Cal restated your breakfast order.
“We’ll both have the lamb, rare, with very little mint sauce.”
You absolutely hated lamb. Any type of meat, really, and the thought of having to stuff it down so you wouldn’t starve maddened you.
“You like lamb, right Sweetpea?”
You plastered a thin, wide smile as you turned to your fiancé, your face almost comical and proving so as Cal took it as a real ‘yes’.
By now your little squabble had gained attention from all at your table. Molly began laughing loudly to cut through the tension, raising her water glass to take a quick sip.
“You gonna cut and chew her meat there too, huh Cal?”
Your mother turned to her sharply but Molly was unmoved, deciding to change the subject to something more interesting. Cal interlocked his fingers together and rested his hands above his belt buckle, looking across the table at Molly with a more calm look compared to your mother, but still hardened with displeasure.
“Say, who thought of the name ‘Titanic’? Was it you, Bruce?” Molly asked.
Bruce Ismay, the chairman of the White Star Line, seemed ecstatic to receive questions about the ship. As of that month, it was his greatest accomplishment and current world wonder, his newborn creation that deserved any and all praise given. He nodded happily and swallowed the piece of fruit hurriedly to answer Molly’s question.
“Yes, yes,” he answered, cleaning his mouth with a napkin. “Mr. Andrews here built her from the ground up!”
Thomas Andrews, a shipbuilder and main architect for Titanic, was shy with any compliment he received, deciding to accept the praise quickly and return the attention back to Ismay. “But the idea was all Mr. Ismay’s! He envisioned a liner so grand in scale...”
You began to drown the conversation out. Cal insisted on dining with specific groups of people. From your point of view, it worked almost like a ranking. Ismay and Andrews were certainly important people on this ship and had first hand experience with such social circles, but they were no John Jacob Astor. The most Cal and your mother did was share morning greetings with Astor, who dined with his wife in a more private section of the same dining hall. Cal had always maintained your titles of royalty, saying that only a few dollars here and there separated you from a higher connection. And at dinner time your group expanded, including around ten others who were just as respectable.
“I wanted to convey sheer size with her name! And size means stability, luxury, and above all, strength,” Ismay spoke.
You sucked in a low breath, ready to make a select few laugh and others seethe. “Do you know of Dr. Freud, Mr. Ismay?”
Mr. Ismay turned to you in silent astonishment, surprised by the first complete sentence you had spoken all breakfast. But he smiled and shook his head ‘no’ at the name. You felt your mother reach her hand under the table to cup your arm.
“His opinion about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you.”
Your mother’s fingernails dug deep into your forearm. “What has gotten into you?”
But Molly and Mr. Andrews enjoyed your comment, laughing under their breaths.
You smiled sweetly and tore your arm away from your mother, standing and excusing yourself from the table. Both Mr. Ismay and Mr. Andrews stood out of respect for your departure. You exited the room to walk out on deck.
Cal took in slow breaths to steady his rising anger, avoiding other’s eyes so that they wouldn’t notice the effect you had on him. But Molly, with her rapid wit and steady toughness, wouldn’t let Cal live this down.
“She’s a pistol, Cal. Hope you can handle her!”
Cal crinkled his eyes and chuckled as to brush off your misbehavior. “I might just have to mind what she reads from now on, don’t I?”
Mr. Ismay sat down and readjusted his tie. “Freud, who is he? Is he a passenger?”
It was bullshit that third-class passengers were barred from touring certain areas of the ship. All Harry wanted was a better view of the ship’s structure so he could outline it. He mainly drew portraits but he had promised his mother he would show her his drawings of the best parts of the ship, like the grand staircase, fashion, the giant steam funnels, even the food. But third-class passengers weren’t allowed in first-class areas without the proper approval, having to eat from a choice of about four foods each day and reduced to simply imagining what the giant clock looked like.
So Harry doodled anything he found interesting - the dogs who traveled down to third-class to take a shit, the coast of Ireland as Titanic sailed past, and third-class passengers with their children, card games, and instruments. He was currently drawing a man holding his daughter up against the railing to see the water, focusing on the detail of their clothing and their happy expressions. Drake watched Harry work his magic, grinning every single time Harry drew the next precise detail accurately. It wasn’t exactly common knowledge, but Drake swore that every human wanted to have this specific talent. Anyone who disagreed wasn’t human.
“I can’t believe you got the eyes right,” Drake scoffed, inhaling smoke from his reduced cigarette.
Harry grinned at the comment, smudging the charcoal over the two foreheads to create the shading. Looking from the models to his paper, he completed another detail that impressed his friend. He was almost finished, brushing his index finger over certain parts. Drake greeted some friends he met at last night’s dinner as they walked past and rested in the surrounding benches. He motioned them over to Harry’s work.
Drake nodded in approval at all the compliments Harry received, “Do you make any money off your drawings?”
It’s quite possibly every artist’s worst nightmare, to scribble incorrectly over a good drawing, completely ruining the fine detail it took too long to accomplish. But as Harry’s pencil scraped over that crumpled piece of paper, the air around him and the water under him spoke to his artistic desires, telling him to wreak havoc on his flimsy sheet and to never stop. The somewhat endless black line did indeed stop once it reached the edge and to the fabric of his tan pants, leaving a light but visible charcoal mesh on his only pair. His eyes, as well as his clouded mind, ignored his major mistake and instead focused on the yellow fabric that begged to flap higher in the cool, ocean breeze.
His eyes traveled through every detail- the white lace clinging to the base yellow, the pearls hugging your waistline and wrapping around your backside to function as buttons, the baroque beauty of your neck and the lace wrapped around it, your brown skin glistening underneath the sun, and your red lips sculpted into a memorable pout - all of it entered Harry’s viewpoint in what seemed like forever but only took a mere second. One glorious second for Harry to stumble into a world he knew he could never abandon. The curl in your hair, the frown on your face, the gentle nature of your grip on the forbidden first-class railing - all of it a disastrous craving that would for sure develop into a blister on the lip if Harry didn’t get a smell of your lavish locks and accidentally brush the tip of his nose against the priceless diamonds draped through each curl, or get a taste of the red syrup staining your plump lips and accidentally bite it a little too hard to muster a moan of pleasure rich women kill to produce, or get to feel the touch of your fingertips against his palms, his face, his chest, his back as you left streaks of bright red. These prohibited images knocked against the padded confines of his thick skull and he felt like he completely violated the law with such an absurd idea.
But as you furrowed your eyebrows and focused on another focal point - Harry himself - he felt as if every inch of your being was worth being imprisoned for. His forbidden sweet creature.
You stared at the stranger briefly before looking back at the waves beyond the bow of the ship. Yet, you continued to feel his powerful gaze. You didn’t feel uncomfortable with his locked stare, but you wondered if he was possessed, spiraling through a trance that you had become a victim of. Was his gaze good or bad? Was he seriously entranced or judging your physique? Walking away would break the spell, but you stayed glued to the railing for some reason, watching the waves make way for Titanic’s many entrances.
You heard the voice in your head instruct your view to stay on the water, but you disobeyed for once, unaware of such a lovely decision until you locked eyes with your third-class admirer. You have always gotten attention from anyone you encountered, both pleasant and unpleasant, but attention nonetheless. And the waves of this particular admiration traveled through the misty breeze and onto your blushed cheeks, pinching them with a silent yelp, a plea, an almost beggarly request for your consideration. So you obliged its want, gazing across the third-class gatherings to the man sitting on one of the few benches on deck, surrounded by confused and teasing passengers who looked between you and him, wondering if you were going to break first from the rare situation. A situation that many never considered legitimate, possible, or even appropriate. But the lot of you were on the blue waves and the bubbly foam and the impressive craft of a thousand good Irishmen that welcomed the rare and extraordinary.
He was attractive - his short hair dancing in the air one curl at a time, his broad form rising to sit up straight when he realized you were also admiring him, and his eyes never blinking as to not miss anything you might do. And he had this magnetic pull, almost as if he was screaming at you to come down and speak with him. You felt somewhat disgusted with yourself, imagining a normal conversation with a normal person, a very handsome person, whose gaze alone made you feel a tingle at your fingertips and caused a tiny grin to break on your face. It wasn’t appropriate to be thinking of another man this way when you had never felt this way for the man you were to marry. And yesterday’s kiss did not equate to the powerful senses you were currently experiencing.
You hoped he didn’t see your grin, but Harry did. He caught it instantly, his heart pounding and his hands instructing him to quickly sketch the curve.
By now Drake was waving a hand over Harry’s face to see if that broke off his view, but Harry simply leaned forward, unaware of the obstruction and oh so enchanted by that tiny grin you hadn’t dropped.
“Oh, forget it, Harry! It’s like angels flying out your ass to get next to the likes of her.”
To be seen, thought of, recognized as a human being and not glossed over as some extra - the recognition of plain existence excited you to new extremes. And just as your mind told you to unlock the first-class gate and venture over to your admirer, real life interrupted in the form of Cal’s tamed grip on your upper arm.
You dropped your gaze quickly, hoping Cal did not realize your original viewpoint, and looked down at the unwanted physical connection between you.
"Why must you defy your mother’s orders and misbehave in front of friends?”
You pulled yourself away from his tightening grip. “I have already received this lecture from my own mother. I do not need to hear it again.”
Cal let out a low chuckle, “Then why must you not listen? You embarrassed me.”
You fought the urge to yell and relay yet another disapproving tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m not feeling well this morning.”
And with that fake apology, Cal hummed in sympathy and tugged you in for a short hug. “Why didn’t you just say so? It could have saved us the humiliation.”
You sucked in a harsh breath at his choice of words to avoid the frustrated tears, pulling away and patting his chest as you excused yourself to your stay room. He groaned as he suspected he had done something else wrong, but did not dare to follow you this time.
Drake shook his head in discontent, “A man like that should be grateful to have a woman like her.”
Other passengers shared their agreement, whistling and all. They teased Harry and shoved him playfully, congratulating him for the impossible. And as you walked from Harry’s eyesight back into the ship, he rejoined the conversation briefly before he began a simple illustration of your eyes.
Drake sat back down on the same bench as Harry as all the chatter died down, looking over at Harry’s paper. He rolled his eyes and smiled.
“She really did a number on you, huh? I’m all for going after the unreachable but this is truly unreachable, boy-yo.”
Harry stopped his tracing to look up at Drake, “I know… but she saw me, too.”
Drake furrowed his eyebrows, wondering if Harry was simply awestruck or serious. And with a slight chuckle of disbelief, Drake muttered, “that she did.”
A moment passed before Drake spoke again, deciding on letting Harry live in his little fantasy for the rest of the day. He tapped Harry’s stack of papers with his index finger. “I’m sure you’ll do her justice.”
And Harry did.
If you stood in the middle of the room and screamed at the top of your lungs, you were certain no one would even look up. Because besides your impressive attitude you were known for, your problems seemed minuscule compared to others. No one seemed to piece together why you were the way you were, opting for society’s sexist explanations instead of simply asking you.
Just a few hours ago you were seen and not looked over quickly - you felt appreciated and noticed. Now, even in a room with hundreds of people and many sat at the same table as you, you weren’t even acknowledged. Perhaps it was because you never spoke - you couldn’t blame them for not noticing you then. But then again, when you did speak and Cal silenced or interrupted you, discrediting even opinions, no one minded.
They were the same endless parties, the same narrow people, and the same mindless chatter. Like they flipped a switch each night and wiped their slate clean, ready for the same routine the very next day with no complaints at all. And it frightened you that this would remain your routine, the same routine you had already lived for twenty-two years, with no way out and no ‘off’ button.
You felt as if you were floating away, heavy and lightweight at the same time, feeling yourself blink every few minutes. Your eyes focused on one point - the ashtray in the middle of the rounded table, even as people from surrounding tables came to greet your mother and Cal. You kept track of time by the impressive height of the gray ash, some landing outside the tray and onto plates. It grew higher… and higher… and your food was barely picked at, Cal was reaching over you every so often to tap his cigarette on the tray, and your mother was on her fourth glass of champagne.
They didn’t see that you weren’t eating. How does someone not notice that someone isn’t eating at a dinner?
You reached over for your champagne glass, your hand shaking slightly as you downed the rest of it. Everyone’s voices were becoming silent, like you were covering both ears or going deaf, and as Cal reached over to give you a kiss on the cheek, your eyes were suddenly heavy.
“Please, excuse me, Cal. I need to run to our room really quickly.”
Cal paused his conversation with Astor to turn to you. “Are you alright? Would you like me to escort you to the cabin?”
And you smiled, “I’ll be fine.”
It was a really nice gesture, but in Cal’s mind it was simple chivalry.
You stood up, your feet sore and the nerves bunching together throughout your legs. The laughter seemed to grow as you exited, and now those nerves shocked you into running.
You barged into your stay room, ignoring the obvious worry the staff gave you, their questions of tea or more blankets flying over your head. You simply speed-walked past them, hiding your face behind your curls so they would not see your very real tears, staining the powder on your cheeks and leaving visible streaks lighter than your natural color. You leaned back on the door and tried to drown out the drunken laughs and loud violins. Controlling your breathing was easy at first until you opened your eyes and saw a mass explosion of gold, the intricate designs of each piece of cloth, the carvings in the wood encasing your mirror, your freshly made bed that Cal had jokingly suggested he’d crawl into late at night. You swallowed the itch in your throat, walking to the make-up table to drop the pins you began tearing from your hair. One-by-one you let each curl fall to your shoulder, their lost weight causing your headband of diamonds to fall to the floor. You silently deliberated what the name of your maid was, cursing yourself for forgetting when she had so nicely introduced herself last night. But then her name slid from your tongue, and you almost cried from the sudden joy.
“Trudy?” you called, starting to hyperventilate. “Trudy?”
You reached behind you to unbutton your dress, but your shoulders just wouldn’t bend far enough. Suffocated, you clawed at the loose hanging jewels instead, pinching and stretching the skin on your back that you could reach.
“Trudy!” you began to choke on your breath, yelling louder each time you called the maid. So you tugged and ripped the silver necklace from your neck, threw your jewelry box across the room, and tossed a few perfume bottles you had packed so delicately against the wall.
“I can’t... I can’t,” you cried, knees partially crumbling beneath you as you leaned against the chair. You lifted your head to witness your disheveled look, hair a mess and mascara smudged just below your water line. Lips quivering, an intense wave of self-pity and self-hatred drowning your thoughts, exclaiming the few words that actually made it through your sore skull. You listened to them, repeated and mean, basically ordering you to listen and to follow.
“Ya no queda mas.”
There is nothing left.
You were indeed a follower - and you were going to oblige.
And so you abandoned everything, opening your room door and running through the crowded hallway full of oblivious passengers who swam in the bliss of a full stomach and buzzed fingertips and toes.
You ran across the deck to the stern of the ship, careless as to who or what you toppled along the way. Of course everyone took an interest, calling out to see if you needed assistance. But as you left their eyesight, their worry diminished and they assumed someone else would offer a hand. One right after the other, they allowed you to cross their paths and leave it in an instant.
Harry lay on a third-class bench, staring up at the starry night. With a cigarette in one hand and the other stuffed away warmly in his coat pocket, he wondered just exactly where in the hell that damn ‘Big Dipper’ was. Or the little one. Hell, any constellation for that matter. He loved watching the night sky, but the city smog hid most of the stars. Now, with only the steam from the funnels blocking his view, he focused on every star individually, losing track of them as time passed, each one beginning to look the same in size but different in brightness. They formed all kinds of shapes in Harry’s mind, but he could not find those documented ones the astronomers raved on about.
He could have sworn he saw the rectangular shape slightly, its handle coming into existence as the sound of sobbing arrived and left in a flash. He lifted himself up, cigarette hanging from his pink lips and eyebrows scrunched in confusion. He watched as you continued running, pausing to catch your breath at one of the benches.
He recognized that beautiful brown skin anywhere.
His feet hit the deck floor immediately once he saw that you weren’t stopping, instead walking towards the stern railing and looking over into the water. He jogged lightly, careful not to make much noise as you contemplated such a drastic decision. Perhaps you were going to change your mind, step away, take a deep breath and go back to your endless desserts and musical concerts. But he quickly hid behind a pole when you checked to see if anyone had followed you, slightly disappointed in the fact that no one did, and stepped onto the railing and swung a leg over.
“Fuck,” Harry whispered, his mind racing and thinking of a way to calmly and safely get you back onto the deck without frightening you. If he were to jump out now, you were for sure going to let go.
You turned around once more and back toward the water, this small gesture of goodbye to the ship and all on it finally settling within you. The waves were dark, not light blue like they were during the daytime. And they sounded louder and more angry, taunting you instead of offering tranquility. The thought of jumping when the sun was out danced around in your head, a more vibrant suicide seeming better suited for your needs.
But maybe you deserved to die in the dark with no other sound besides the unnerving crashing of water and massive propellers in a never ending motion of slicing. You thought about Cal and almost immediately recoiled, the last thought before you died an unhappy thought and not at all what you wanted it to be. Perhaps your mother or your father. Trudy. No one seemed to properly fit, so you settled on the image of your famed racehorse as you leaned away from the railing, hanging off and ready to fall. Your racehorse, dark brown and majestic, waiting for you to come home.
“Don’t do it.”
You gripped the railing tight, unaware that your initial hold was so loose, and you were moments away from leaving your misery behind.
You whipped your head to see who had followed you, stunned that this person was not from the first-class - the class that prides themselves on their selflessness and courage. He was from the third - the class that truly embodied all things selfless and are crucified for it.
“Stay back,” you begged, raising one hand up as if to physically stop him, but you quickly regretted it as you felt the tough winds push you ever so slightly. “Please don’t come near me.”
Harry contemplated his next move, inhaling some final smoke from his cigarette and stepped closer. He showed you the cigarette, stepping towards the railing to throw it overboard.
It was smart, you thought. He was going to come closer, you knew that. But to do it so discreetly as to not scare you - you were kind of grateful.
“Please just leave me alone,” you sobbed, looking back down to the rushing water. “I’ll let go.”
Harry stood dumbfounded, hands in his pockets and worry etched into his face. He remained calm, however, trusting in himself to sweet talk you back over the railing.
He cleared his throat, “No, you won’t.”
You scoffed, newly formed tears threatening to leave your eyes. “What?”
“You won’t do it.”
This time you looked up to the starry sky to gain clearance in thought but were intrigued nonetheless. Either you could snap at him and jump, or you could listen and come back over the railing. All you wanted to do now was sleep, as your head began feeling heavier by the second.
“What are you going on about? Don’t presume to tell me what I will or will not do! You don’t know me.”
Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, still trying to calm the situation down as easily as he could. But as your hands turned whiter as your grip strengthened and your voice began to crack, Harry knew he had to convince you this was not the answer.
He didn’t quite understand it - wanting to end your life at such a young age. By the look of your clothes and make-up, Harry could tell you had most material things the people in third-class would kill for. But there were sparkly tears on your waterline, contradicting the image of glory and wealth you so effortlessly portrayed, and the sounds of crashing waves waiting to gobble you up - the sense of you, the mere idea of that glory and wealth, - it absolutely bombarded any quick wit or joke Harry’s mouth was thinking of spitting. All rational from here on out.
“I’m sorry,” Harry spoke, bringing his hands up to breathe warm air into them. “I just don’t want you to experience the dip, is all.”
You stayed silent, staring at him as he stared at you.
“You know the water’s freezing. If you were to survive the fall, the cold would probably hurt more.”
Now your bottom lip quivered and the sudden realization of how cold the night air actually was hit you at that exact moment, and you internally begged for the stranger to step closer. “How cold?”
Harry shrugged, still trying his best to remain casual. “Most likely a couple degrees over.”
You stared at the black abyss beneath you, “I bet that would hurt.”
Harry chuckled lowly, taking the risk and stepping closer to you that a simple turn of the head was enough to see his whole face. And it dawned on you, swiftly and surely, that this was the boy who could not seem to stop staring at you earlier. He was much more handsome up close, and his voice was the final piece of the puzzle. “Exactly. But if you jump, I’m gonna have to jump in there after you.”
You laughed dryly, “You’re crazy. Absurd. The fall alone would kill you.”
Harry smirked to himself, focused on the way your wavy hair flew in all directions. He was getting you to speak more. He was buying time. So, he removed his jacket and warm vest to prove his statement.
“Yeah, it would hurt,” Harry shrugged, finally stepping close enough to hang across the railing with you. He glanced down to your shivering feet, fearful that the heels would unlock themselves and send you free falling. “Trust me, you don’t want to do this-”
“And how do you know that? Maybe I want to… die.” It resonated as a question in both your minds, the sinking sensation overwhelming your chest.
“We all die someday. I think the best part is not knowing when.”
You observed the boy’s face, studying his expression to somehow gain a better explanation as to what he possibly meant. You swallowed more tears, this time speaking in a low whisper.
“I can easily predict when.”
Harry actually felt his stomach clench.
You continued, “It’s probably already planned, with as many as two-hundred guests in attendance, and an open bar.”
Harry shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, his eyes never leaving yours. “It’s difficult to respond to that.”
You gave him a small smile, “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
Whether you meant that in a sincere or disrespectful way, Harry was hurt by the comment nonetheless.
“I know you’re angry, but trust me,” he redirected, an attempt to forget suicidal intentions and reasons and focus on the actual present moment itself. “Water that cold, like right down there… it hits you like a thousand knives stabbing you all over your body. You can’t breathe, can’t think-”
You closed your eyes, eyebrows scrunched and suddenly so very cold. “Okay, please stop.”
Harry watched as your skin produced goosebumps and your grip tightened even more. It was a sign of victory, he thought. “I’m just hoping you’ll save me the swim by coming back over the railing.”
You sighed deeply, the air you expelled turning into the cold breeze itself, mixing with the shaky breaths of the one person on this whole damn ship to hear your screams. And you didn’t even physically cry out.
“Come back with me. Trust me, you don’t wanna do this.”
You reached your arm over to prepare for the turn, but instead of gripping the railing like you expected, a warm hand gripped yours instead, tightly, and his thumb immediately began rubbing your knuckles in a soothing motion. He helped you turn back toward the ship, hands now gripping both of yours.
He smiled up at you, his eyes almost watering from the unnoticed stress that was building within him. You grinned slightly, giving a small shrug of the shoulders as the silence broke.
“I don’t want to go back.”
Harry grasped your hands tighter, “Hey, me neither. Do you know how many rats welcomed me in my cabin yesterday?”
You laughed (somewhere between a laugh and a snort), forgetting momentarily that the two of you were standing in dangerous positions exchanging quiet words.
“Thank you.”
“It’s no problem. I’m Harry Styles.”
“I’m-”
“An absolute blooming rose.”
Your eyes widened momentarily, the moment passing with an awareness of peace from the sudden declaration of recorded beauty. You told him your real name anyway, absolutely loving the way it sounded in a british accent, his british accent, but the ‘blooming rose’ reference remained number one. There, with your body still on the wrong side of the ship and his hands now clutching your upper arm and elbow to begin pulling you over - there you were actually content with your current life.
“Up you go.”
You raised one leg to step up a rail, unaware that the beaded lace part of your dress was longer than the rest. It caused a severe slip, and before you knew what was happening, you were falling. You screamed, one hand barely catching the railing and the other arm suffering Harry’s grip and digging nails.
“Harry!”
Harry cried out in distress, almost going over himself. He locked his feet to the ground and against the ship, thighs pressed against the railing, and attempted to pull you up.
“C’mon, you can do it! You gotta climb, too!”
You followed his instructions, trying to climb the railing like a ladder with your free hand. But as you got higher and your legs remained swinging mindlessly against the wet ship, you slipped lower.
“Help me! Help me, please!” you yelled, to Harry and to anyone else who would hear, the ocean now loud with the outrage of your absence.
Harry could feel his heart exploding from the adrenaline spiking as he looked down at your terrified face, relying solely on him to save your life. The whole time he spoke with you he was frightened of the possibility of you letting go or accidentally falling, but now that he could visibly see that you most certainly did not want to die this way, he was mortified.
“I got you, okay?” Harry waited to shout again until you looked back up to him. “I got you.”
You nodded the best you could, the tears still dripping from your eyes and nose, determined to hear his frightened voice.
“I won’t let go! I promise. Now, pull yourself up!”
It took everything in you to support your own body weight with a corset strangling you at the same time, but you gripped the rails and then Harry’s shoulder. The corset made it more difficult to breathe, but you compiled the last pinches of energy and strength within you and aided Harry in your rescue. You groaned as your knees stabbed into the top bar, but the feeling of Harry’s arms wrapping around your waist to pull you over fully eradicated that pain. You two toppled over onto the safe deck, rolling over each other with a loud thud. Harry stayed glued to your waist while you gripped the deck with your nails.
In such a climactic moment, the two of you didn’t notice three members of the crew running toward you with no clue as to what just occurred.
“What’s all this?”
Your dress had ripped slightly, and due to your bedroom tantrum and the high winds, your hair was in absolute disorder. You had no coat on, tears streamed down your face, and a third-class man was hovering over your trembling body. And the crew failed to detect the similar shaking of Harry’s large frame or his scared expression, instead pointing a finger at him and labeling him the guilty party.
“Don’t you move an inch,” a crew member warned, stepping toward Harry and dragging him away from you. Two of the men swooped in to scoop you up, checking for signs of harm.
Your frantic eyes searched for Harry, but he was already looking at you, slightly disappointed and eager to prove himself innocent without throwing you into the cold water himself by revealing the truth.
-
Finally, they have met lol. xxMoni
#Harry Styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x reader#reader x harry styles#Titanic#fanfiction#Titanic AU#new fanfic#sad fanfiction#romance#angst#harry styles smut#harry#captainsimagines#movie#period piece#new series#part five#fanfic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles x you#you x harry styles#second person pov#detailed#period piece fanfic#long reads#long fanfic#multiple parts#masterlist#smut
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Like Real People Do
Hahahahah I dont want to write for my series fics. So here, have this instead. (:
“Mr. Barrow?”
Daniel looked up from the carving in his hands, he had been whittling for the better part of an hour on the balcony of the Barrow’s townhouse, enjoying the evening sunshine and letting it warm his aching joints. The cold mountain air, while refreshing, sometimes drove old pains to the surface. Phantom aches, Ruth always chided when he complained. He was healthier than he had even been in his life, and although he was grateful for the work of the silver healer, he still felt a twinge of deeply seated resentment that it had taken her hands to heal him. He would never truly voice that thought though.
Standing the doorway, looking more like a child about to be chastised than the man Daniel knew him to be, Cal seemed to try and make himself smaller while he waited to be acknowledged.
Grunting and waving him out with the whittling knife, Daniel said, “You don’t need to sulk in the doorway.” Cal slipped out then, looking even more uncomfortable as he eyed that knife, if that were even possible. Daniel frowned at him still before looking back down at his carving. “And I’ve told you at least ten times now that you can call me Daniel. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that my family has no sense of decorum.”
Cal laughed softly at that, before sinking down into the other chair. He laughed more and more these days, Daniel thought, and Mare did too. Glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, Daniel wondered why exactly Cal had decided to come sit out here when he knew for a fact that the whole family was sitting inside playing some game or another. He could hear the shouts of all his children as they played, and the shriek of his only grandchild as she played as well.
Of course, Daniel had learned that like him, Cal seemed to seek out solitude every so often. Mare always teased him about dropping into moods, but Daniel knew his daughter had her moments too. And while he had been very much opposed to the rekindling of her affair with the young man across from him, he had to admit that over the past few years, he had begun to notice the connection his youngest daughter always commented about. He didn’t agree they had been built for each other like Gisa claimed. Then again, he and Ruth hadn’t exactly fit together perfectly the first time either. Relations were like carvings though, the true image never appeared while you were working. It was only after a few final, very carefully planned steps that the final carving could be seen.
“If they’re being too much for you, no one would miss you slipping out.” Daniel observed, when he heard Clara’s airy peal of laughter quickly followed by her shouting at her mother for cheating.
The bitter seed that had been planted in him from the time he was young always seemed to uncoil a bit every time he saw or heard that little girl laugh. He knew Ruth felt the same way, and that she had been keeping a very close eye on their eldest daughter who had been spending more than enough time with Clara lately. Daniel didn’t want to know about his wife sneaking suspicion, and whenever she brought up the idea of moving out of their town house to possibly find a bigger one to fit their growing family inside, Daniel immediately changed the subject. Mare was grown now, old enough to handle herself, but that didn’t change that she was still his first born daughter. Or that he still sometimes saw a screaming, naked toddler running from Ruth while she tried to catch her for a freezing bath.
“It’s not, sir.” Cal said quickly as he scratched at something on the knee of his pants. His eyes kept darting back inside though. Daniel really didn’t have patience for moments like this. He was a blunt man, and hated how the silver sometimes danced around words and phrases like he was searching for the best way to say something. Daniel had already talked to Mare about it and expressed his feelings on the matter. His daughter had pursed her lips in distaste at her father’s comment and said, “he can’t help that. Our family makes him uncomfortable, especially you. He wants to say the right thing and not piss any of you off.” To which Daniel had fired back that Cal wouldn’t feel that way if he hadn’t royally messed up years ago, and betrayed everything Mare had stood for and what Shade had died for. Mare wouldn’t hear anything about it though. She had moved on supposedly, and wasn’t going to tolerate Daniel continuing to use that moment as a crutch for his argument on why he didn’t like Cal. Only a month later, when Daniel had brought something like that up again, Mare had glared at him across the table and sneered that if he didn’t like that Cal was silver than he should just outright say that and stop pretending there were ulterior motives or reasons behind his dislike. She’d left the family dinner after that, and hadn’t spoken with Daniel for weeks.
Ruth had begged him to apologize, since Mare refused to speak to any of them, and although Daniel had been begrudged about it, he had. He didn’t mind apologizing for what he said, it had been in poor taste and he knew it. He hated that apology though because Mare was probably right, and he had just buried that truth as deep as possible to avoid looking at it.
Still, if Cal had something to say, then he should spit it out and get it over with before Daniel dragged it out of him mercilessly. Glancing back down at his carving that was supposed to be a bird of some sort, Daniel broke the silence with a gruff question, that was safe territory. “How have the States been?”
“Fine, it’s… odd being as removed as I am now.” Cal replied, seeming to relax a bit more in the conversation. “I don’t like being separate from something that was always a large part of my life. It feels like I’m ignore a duty.”
Daniel looked up at that, his interest piqued. Setting his carving on the little table next to him, he eyed Cal closely. He hadn’t changed much in the years following the war. He’d grown out his military haircut, but other than that, he still looked the same. Maybe Mare had spoken to him about the whole word play thing, because that was the bluntest thing Cal had ever said in his presence.
“Can’t imagine.”
“You don’t have to pretend to care,” Cal murmured as he turned his eyes out on the view of the city. Daniel huffed at that. If he didn’t care he wouldn’t have bothered to respond at all.
Still, the sound brought Cal’s eyes back around. His expression could have been cut from stone though. He was a serious person, Daniel knew, which probably balanced well with his daughter’s often bordering on carelessness actions. She at least had someone who could reel her in when she went too far. Someone she could make into a punching bag that could hit back when she hit too hard. He’d seen it before with the two of them. Mare sometimes didn’t know when to quit, and he’d heard more than once her admit to saying something in an argument that she shouldn’t have. Cal had no problem putting her in her place though.
“Contrary to how I may act, I do have a decent amount of respect for you.” Daniel admitted quietly as he folded his hands on his stomach. He had been thinking about that for weeks now, turning it over in his head like a newly minted coin. It took a courage that he did not have to come sulking back with your tail between your legs and admit your wrongdoings. Cal had never stopped apologizing to Mare’s family, and Daniel knew that. He may have stopped saying the words, but they always hung there in every action.
Cal paled in what Daniel had learned was a blush, and he looked down at his hands before saying, “I don’t think you know what that means to me.”
Waving away Cal’s humility, Daniel leaned back in the chair again and sighed heavily when the muscles in his back loosened. Closing his eyes, he let the sun warm his face. He loved it here, loved the mountains and the green smell in the air. He especially loved that he didn’t have to trudge through river slop to get places. He missed Norta though. It had been his home for so long, that he had had trouble adjusting to this life now. Some nights he still woke in the early hours of the morning, expecting to hear the sloshing of the river on the banks.
“I wanted to actually talk to you about something along those lines, sir.” Cal finally said after a few minutes of silence. Daniel grunted as he opened his eyes again. Now they were getting somewhere. If he knew they just had to sit in silence for a little bit, he would have done that a while ago.
Cal paled to the tips of his ears and looked back down at his hands when Daniel dropped his gaze from the sky. He rarely met Daniel’s eye unless he was speaking, and adding sir like he was made Daniel lean forward a bit. His stomach curled like it used to when he went into the trenches. He had a sneaking suspicious of where this conversation was going, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.
“Mare and I have been talking, and discussing things,” Cal kept looking everywhere but Daniel’s direction, and Daniel couldn’t help but sneer.
“Look at me when you’re speaking boy.”
As if that derogatory term had burned him, Cal reeled back to sit ramrod straight in his chair. He swallowed as Daniel set his hands on the arms of his chair. It was strange, having this much power over a man who used to be able to order him to his death. It made that bitter little seed so very happy to see this especially this silver squirm.
Cal swallowed visibly again and with a hesitant smile said, “I love your daughter, more than anything else in this world. She… she’s made into a better man. I couldn’t imagine my life without her.”
Daniel huffed at the wording. This conversation was going exactly where he thought, and he wished that it wasn’t.
“I don’t know what your traditions are, but in court… it was customary to ask for the daughter’s hand and get a blessing. I—I came out here to tell you that if you gave me your blessing, Mare would never want for anything in this life. I would never ever hurt her, or leave her. She wouldn’t have to ask for anything. I would give her the world if she asked it. I will love her in this life and the next, and any that come after that.” Cal gripped the chair arms, and the temperature around them grew unbearably hot for a moment. Daniel felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck, and he reached up to swipe at it in displeasure.
“I want to ask if I can marry her. If I could continue loving—”
“No.” Daniel interrupted stiffly, and if he were a silver, he knew he’d be a shiver with how icy that one word was. Cal froze, and the temperature around them swung the other way so quickly Daniel was surprised frost didn’t form on the metal railing next to them.
“What?” Cal wheezed in reply, that smile falling. Daniel heard rather than saw the way Cal’s entire being cracked down the middle with that single question.
“I said no. Is that a word you are unfamiliar with?” Daniel went to pick up his carving again. The conversation was over as far as he was concerned. He had given his answer, and didn’t plan on changing it anytime soon.
“I don’t… I don’t understand.” Cal whispered, and Daniel glared at him.
“You do not have my blessing or my permission. And that will always be my answer.” He turned the carving over in his fingers and began to carve one of the wings more clearly. It was so quiet after his words that he heard every ragged breath Cal took. He didn’t get up from that chair though, and Daniel’s blood boiled in response.
Glaring, Daniel spit, “Do you need permission to get up from your chair?”
“Why?”
Daniel saw the way the metal chair arms were starting to turn red hot under Cal’s grip. At least he wasn’t burning the air around them anymore. A couple chair arms were of no concern. Daniel knew exactly what question Cal wanted answered, and he didn’t mind giving his honest opinion on the matter anymore. “Because while I may have a smidge of respect for you, I don’t like you. You have made sweeping promises to my daughter before, and I’m sure you will continue making sweeping promises and breaking them. You and yours always were very good at doing that.” Daniel carved a small line, and began to work on the feathers.
Cal didn’t move, in fact he seemed rooted to the spot now. The boy’s determination to sit through this was bordering on masochistic at this point. Daniel knew it, and he was willing to feed that. Continuing to burn a hole at the point between Cal’s eyes with his own gaze, Daniel continued, each word cutting as deeply as his whittling knife. “My daughter and the rest of my family may be willing to overlook things to forgive you, but you wronged me and mine too much to earn my forgiveness, let alone my blessing. I won’t give my daughter to you only to regret my decision in a year. I couldn’t protect her before; I will not be helpless to do that again.”
If he had been truly paying attention, he would have heard the silence that had fallen inside. He would have heard the soft creak as someone got up from a chair. But he was warming up, and not planning on stopping any time soon.
“From the moment I learned about my daughter’s decision to rekindle whatever it was the two of you had, I have been wary. As far as I am concerned, you have done nothing to convince me of your full commitment to her. There is nothing you could do in this life or the next, or any after that frankly, that will change my mind on this matter.”
From the look on Cal’s face, Daniel would have caused less pain by stabbing him in the chest. Still, he looked back down at his carving and said, “I have nothing else to say to you on the matter, and I won’t tolerate you bring it up again.”
Cal was quiet for a long time, so long that Daniel finished the first wing and turned his carving over to begin the next. When Cal spoke again though, his voice was like steel, and it cut just as deeply as Daniel’s. “I can see I’ve wasted your time.” The chair legs scrapped on the ground and when he had stood up, he said coolly, “But I have to let you know that with or without your blessing, Mare and I are planning on getting married. I was the one who insisted on getting your blessing, even though she told me not to bother.”
Daniel looked with a raised brow, partially surprised at this silvers audacity, partially respectful of his determination. Still, it wasn’t going to change anything.
Squaring his shoulder under that look, Cal said quietly, “I have made many mistakes in the past, and I readily admit to them. You’re right that I did something akin to spitting in your family’s face, and I know that I hurt Mare so deeply that she didn’t truly trust me for years. But I love her, and I would rather cut my heart out than hurt her like that again.”
Daniel sniffed in distaste, too taken aback to say anything else though. Cal’s lips drew in a tight line before he turned on his heel and went back inside, leaving the balcony door open. There were hushed, hurried whispers in the room following his departure, and then the sound of the front door opening and closing a few seconds later. Daniel sat back in his chair then, his whole body tense, awaiting the next person that he knew was probably trying to find the right thing to say to him.
She came out only a moment later, the scent of ozone announcing her. The hairs on Daniel’s arms rose as she approached to stand over him. She was more furious that he anticipated. He didn’t look at his daughter though when she spoke.
“There are no words to express how much you hurt him and hurt me.”
“I said my piece,” Daniel replied quietly, the ice gone from his voice. “I won’t lie to appease him or you. He was better off hearing the truth.” He carved a delicate line in the wood, curving it up so it would look like the bird was just about to open its wing and take flight.
“He was going to officially propose tonight at dinner, with the whole family and our friends present. He has been planning this for weeks.”
“I don’t care if he’s been planning it for years. The only reason I have not driven him from this house before today is because I know that he makes you happy enough. But I won’t let him take that next step and put you in a position where he could hurt you greater than ever before.”
“I already told him no six times.” Mare hissed, and that brought Daniel’s eyes to her face. He had not known that fact. The two them had never given any indication that she had turned him down before. But the fact that he had asked her six times before and been denied every time only to stick around was probably a testament to his stubbornness.
Mare’s cheeks were red, and her hands were in fists as her sides. She inhaled slowly and forced the exhale through her nose before she spoke again. “He asked three years ago, and then five times over the next two years. I told him no every single time because I wasn’t certain yet. I only told him recently that I believed his words.”
Daniel frowned, only to grimace as Mare spit, “I am twenty-six years old, you don’t need to protect me anymore. I know my heart and I know what I want. I know him, and his heart.”
The breeze from the lake cut through the air, stirring the hairs that had fallen out of Mare’s bun. Daniel watched her face for a long time though, trying to read the new, strange emotion that had crossed her features. Her eyes darted away and Daniel caught the shine of tears there. His heart squeezed. He hadn’t just cut Cal when he denied him today, he had hurt Mare too, possibly more than Cal. All he had done was wound Cal’s pride, but Mare, he had hurt something deep in her.
“I told him yes a few weeks ago because I’m pregnant.” She exhaled sharply after admitting that, and whatever imaginary weight had been on her shoulders disappeared as she admitted it. Swallowing, she whispered, “I want to keep it. I want to have a family, and I want to do it with him.” Mare dropped down into the chair Cal had occupied minutes before and let her head fall into her hands. She looked exhausted, and Daniel tried to ignore how much that keeping that secret probably cost her. Still, he watched the top of her head, waitng for her to continue before asking quietly in case Ruth heard and came barging out, “does he know?”
“No, but he’s not stupid. He suspects something.” Mare whispered as she swiped at her tears with the heel of her palm. It had been a long time since Daniel had seen his daughter cry. To be honest, he couldn’t remember the last time. Had it been after Shade? Maybe, but Mare had been so cold and numb back then. He knew how much she hated the weakness that came with tears though. It took a lot for her to show emotion like this now.
“He’s not asking to save both of you from the situation that comes after?”
“What situation, Farley’s?” Mare snorted at Daniel’s expression only to spit, “Please. You wouldn’t have let Shade marry Farley to save them from a situation either. So don’t pretend to use that as an excuse now.”
“Does his family know?”
“Julian knows about the engagement, and Sara only knows about the baby because she confirmed it for me. Anabel doesn’t know about either, but that old crone will probably smile to my face and spit at my heels when I turn my back. I don’t care though. I don’t care what she thinks anymore.”
Daniel set his carving aside, and rested his hands on his stomach again to observe Mare. Maybe he had jumped the gun with his quick refusal. It would be difficult to mend the bridge he had burned though. Tapping his thumbs together softly, Daniel looked beyond Mare at the mountains rising in the distance.
“He really wanted your blessing, dad. I know he said we would get married anyway, but I have a feeling he won’t follow through on that even if I push him. It’s going to eat at him until you give permission. I want to get married while I can still fit into a dress though.” Mare added the last part with a snort before sitting back in the chair. Daniel tilted his head and grumbled, “Your mother is going to be very happy when she hears about this baby.”
“I’m sure Gisa already opened her fat mouth and said something.” Mare grumbled as she crossed her arms tighter across her chest. Daniel hadn’t noticed until now that Mare was wearing a very thick, very large sweater. It should have been a dead giveaway. It was more than a little odd given that it was almost the end of spring. No wonder Ruth had begun to suspect something. Mare had been steadily changing her wardrobe over the past few weeks, but the abnormally chilly spring had helped her disguise things. She wouldn’t be able to hide during the summer though.
“When did Gisa find out?”
“A week ago. She came over for breakfast and had to sit there holding my hair for two hours while I vomited everything back up.” Mare grumbled as she looked out over the city.
“You really want this?” Daniel asked when the next breeze whistled between them. He never thought he’d hear his eldest daughter talking about this moment. Gisa, he for sure thought would be married with children before Mare, if his eldest ever got to that point. Then again, he always thought he would have to give Warren his permission if it ever came down to it. Mare had never been the nurturing or domestic type, but already he could see the changes coming over her. For claiming to be such an observant man, Daniel had missed quite a bit.
Mare turned to him again, and even without her speaking, Daniel saw the resolution in her eyes.
“I know I always said I didn’t want kids… or any of that life. But Cal will be a great father, and I’m convinced that he’ll make me a great mother too. I know that we’re going to be happy, that he’s going to make me happy for the rest of my life.” She smiled softly as she spoke, her eyes shining. Daniel was certain she was looking into the future as she spoke, and he felt a bubble of warmth building in his chest that chased away that bitter seed when he saw that light shining from within her.
There was really nothing else he could ask her. He had his answer, even if it smarted the part of him that had already turned Cal down. With a grunt, he pushed himself up from his chair and winced as his knee gave a twinge from sitting too long. Mare leaped up to grab his arm when he went to put weight on that aching joint, but he waved her off. “Where has he run off to lick his wounds?”
Mare blinked at him in surprise, her cheeks flushing as she whispered, “Have you changed your mind?”
“Don’t make me change it again. Where has he gone?”
“I don’t know, probably back to our apartment, or he might have gone to find Julian.”
“I’m not running around this city after him, because then I really will change my mind, so find him.”
“He went back to the apartment.”
Both of them looked up to see Gisa leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed. She tilted her head to side, making her newly cut, chin length hair shift in a shimmering curtain before smirking at them knowingly. “He said he was going there right before he left.”
Daniel sighed at that. He may not have been more than a military grunt, but he knew enough about military strategy to know he would rather have this conversation on his own turf. Still, he was going to have to give ground. Especially if Mare’s happiness was concerned.
“You’ll take me over,” he said to Mare who nodded quietly, and trailed after him.
(///////)
Mare went into the apartment first, calling for Cal as she went. He gave a gruff response from somewhere in the back rooms making her go in search of him and leave Daniel by the door. Closing it softly behind him, Daniel resting his hands on his cane and inhaled the smell of the apartment. It smiled like wood smoke and pine. He didn’t like that he hadn’t been over here that often. Then again, he normally made a point of avoid it when Cal was here.
It was nice though. Warm, inviting, everything he had wished his family’s home had been while they were in Norta. Ruth had a hand in decorating this place, based on the pictures hanging from the walls. She’d probably have an even large hand in the coming months too.
Edging in, feeling more like an intruder than ever before, Daniel paused in the sitting room, and glanced through the windows at the view of the lake. From this angle, it looked red with the sunset. In the heavy silence, he could hear his daughter speaking quietly in the back. He didn’t hear Cal, but he assumed the silver was just listening and determining his next move. Daniel took that time to continue exploring.
His daughter certainly lived here, based on the papers that littered the desk near the windows, and the blankets thrown everywhere on the couch, but the silver was there too. There were more books than his daughter would ever read on the shelves, and on the small coffee table there was a scattering of papers in careful handwriting that Mare would never achieve. There was a perfect little mix of both of them in this room, and Daniel knew if he continued into the apartment that ratio would persist. He could see a child running around this space. He wondered if it would be a perfect mix of the two of them too.
Stepping up to the desk, Daniel shifted a small pile of papers that Mare had purposefully stacked to hide the book underneath. Daniel’s stomach twisted at the title. While he believed his daughter when she told him she was pregnant, it made it so very real to see her reading about it, and preparing for it. A small piece of paper had been tucked halfway through that book. He hesitated for a moment, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he was alone, before pulling it out a bit more to see a list of names in his daughter’s scratchy print. Most of them were scratched out, but at the bottom, written like she was uncertain of it, Mare had written her brother’s name. Daniel pushed the paper back in, feeling like he had just encroached on a secret Mare was not ready to discuss yet.
He pulled the papers back over the book and turned around when he heard light footsteps. Mare stood in the doorway to the sitting room, looking a little nervous. She edged closer and said, “Give him a minute.”
Daniel nodded, and leaned all his weight on his cane again, trying to ignore that continual pain in his knee. Mare sank down onto the couch in response, hugging her knees to her chest. The silver was really only a minute behind her, looking about as disgruntled as Daniel felt.
His face was stone cold as he met Daniel’s eye across the space between them though. Straightening, Daniel cleared his throat and said, “I want to speak with you alone. If I may.” While he may not have been in his own home, he wanted to at least draw the battle lines. Cal tensed, and glanced to Mare, who looked just as uncertain at her father’s tone.
Unfolding herself like a newly blossoming flower though, she whispered, “I’m going to go make tea.” She pushed up from the couch and crossed the room then. Daniel didn’t miss how Cal’s fingers brushed hers for a moment as she reached his side. Pausing for only a heartbeat, she squeezed his fingers back before continuing into the kitchen. She made a show of banging cupboards closed and making more than enough noise the moment she got there, letting them both know that she was trying not to listen in on their conversation.
Neither of them moved through, and Daniel wasn’t sure what would happen if he did. Eventually though, he cleared his throat and said, “There has been… information brought to my attention since our conversation.”
Cal didn’t reply, and his expression remained stormy. Daniel gripped his cane tighter in response and said, “I will admit that I might have been hasty in my answer to you.”
“You made your feelings very clear, sir, and I would like to think in the past few years that I have stopped being as naïve as I was in the past.” Cal edged into the room and leaned against one of the tables where a few pictures had been carefully set up. Clara seemed to be the biggest theme of them. Daniel had a feeling that in a few months there would be a new face on that table.
In Daniel’s continued silence, Cal’s brows dropped and his eyes narrowed. “I know that you have not have seriously changed your mind as drastically as Mare seems to think in less than an hour.”
“The recent information I heard has certainly changed my mind.” Daniel admitted quietly. Cal’s expression changed from disbelief to confusion and finally settled on what Daniel assumed was suspicion. Tapping his cane against the floor to fill the silence, Daniel said, “I did not know that my daughter had already turned you down so many times.”
Cal made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like he was trying to stifle a laugh. Daniel smiled softly, knowing exactly what that felt like. Straightening his back, he said, “I will tell you a secret, something I have never told any of my children, or even my wife.”
Straightening up, Cal eyes darted in the direction of the kitchen. Daniel knew Mare was probably listening at this point, but he wanted her to hear it, to understand his thoughts and his feelings on this matter. “I was younger than both of you when I went to Ruth’s father to ask his permission to marry her. I didn’t even get half as far as you before he denied me. I had no means of caring for his daughter, not a penny to my name, and I had just come back from my first tour of duty.”
Cal’s eyes darkened at the mention of the old conscription orders, but Daniel would not be hindered by the past now. “I told him the same thing you told me and swore on my life I was going to marry his daughter whether he agreed or not. He laughed me off his porch. I was due to leave for the Choke again in two weeks and knew at that point that I couldn’t follow through without putting Ruth in a position that would compromise everything she had.”
Daniel heard and saw his daughter appear in hallway that connected to the kitchen. Her eyes were wide, but she did a marvelous job of hiding her shock when she met her father’s eye. Clearing his throat then, Daniel turned his gaze back to Cal, whose own expression had softened considerably.
“He did not trust me to care for her daughter, and he didn’t have an ounce of respect for me. I asked him three more times, and after the third he told me that if I could convince him that I would be able to care for his daughter and any children we had, then he would let me marry her.”
“I thought of every sweeping declaration, and swore up and down when I left that I would prove myself. I scrounged together every penny to my name and even borrowed from my parents to go to the market to find a ring. I wanted her to have one that every girl in the Stilts was envious of.”
Mare edged into the room completely then, and even though Cal’s arms were crossed, she threaded hers around one of his and hugged herself to his side.
“Every vendor laughed themselves hoarse at me, and I left empty handed. I went back to her house knowing that I was going to have to admit defeat. On the way there, I stopped by a small vendor who was selling carvings. He offered me a half finished carving, and a whittling knife and told me that I would have to finish it myself if I wanted to buy it.”
“I took that carving and sat on Ruth’s porch trying to finish that carving while her father watched me. It was the ugliest thing I ever made, and I cut my hands up doing it. When I finished and handed it to him saying it was all I could offer, he told me that if I was willing ruin my hands to the point that I couldn’t hold a gun at the Choke, then I obviously carried more about his daughter than my own life.” Daniel wasn’t quite sure if either of them knew where he was going, and he honestly wasn’t sure either. He had never told this story. There had never been a reason too. Swallowing around the tightness in his throat, he whispered, “while I know you have done things in the past that are unforgivable, I know that you have cut your hands up trying to atone for them, and have willing thrown yourself in the line of fire to protect and care for my daughter.”
Cal glanced down at Mare for a moment, who gave him a tiny smile in response and squeezed his arm lightly.
Clearing his throat to get their attention again, Daniel finished, “And while I may not completely trust you, my daughter does, enough to change the vision she always had of her future to be with you.”
Cal’s face twisted with confusion, and he glanced down at Mare who blushed a dark red and whispered, “I’ll tell you after.”
“I think I’d rather know now.”
“Later,” Mare insisted with a smirk, as she nudged him and nodded in Daniel’s direction before giving him a smile that could probably light up Ascendent for the next few years.
Daniel couldn’t ignore that his next words were probably going to make Mare happier than ever before. It would probably pale in comparison to the next few months of her life though, and the moments that would come after. “I have decided to give you my blessing. You have my permission to marry my daughter, so long as you agree to continue cutting up your hands to love her.”
Cal didn’t move for a few seconds, and in that time, Mare’s smile began to fall as she looked at him expecting a response. Unfolding his arm from her grip, Cal approached Daniel, closing the space between them in two slow steps. Daniel straightened up to stand at the same height as Cal when he got there. They stood toe to toe for a moment, until Cal held his hand out and said, “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Daniel slipped his hand around the silver’s and squeezed tightly. Perhaps another reason he had resisted this moment initially was because he was going to have to let go of Mare, and trust someone else to protect her. For some reason, he had thought he would always be the one to protect her. He had stopped holding that duty a long time ago though.
When they dropped hands, Mare wormed her way between them to hug Daniel. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and closed his eyes as she squeezed tightly. He hadn’t realized how much she had grown up. It felt like yesterday that she had squared her shoulders and flown back to Norta to stop an invasion.
“We’re going to be okay, you know that right?” She whispered in his ear, and he nodded slowly before replying quietly, “I do.”
She pulled away then, and glanced back at Cal before reaching for his hand. He gripped hers tightly and Daniel let Mare slide out of his arms reluctantly so that Cal could engulf her in his. They smiled at each other, and Daniel cleared his throat again before saying, “I except your mother will want to hear that good news.”
“I’ll take you back—” Mare began, only for Daniel to shake his head and start across the living room.
“I’ll walk back. Besides, you two have things to discuss. Things this old man doesn’t want to be concerned with for a few more months.” He chuckled as he left, already hearing Cal demanding to understand before he even closed the door to the apartment.
#red queen#glass sword#kings cage#war storm#broken throne#post broken throne#it is in fact one of my headcanons#in this headcanon cal asks mare to marry him like seven times before she says yes#also#I headcanon that mare was pregnant before they got married#I am unashamed to have that in here#marecal#cal asks the awkward questions#low key it was kind of fun to write as Daniel#hmmm#maybe I'll explore him somemore#did I completely make up his propasal?#absolutely#victoria said shit all about daniel and ruth so I did it myself#ya welcome#enjoy everyone#Like Real People Do#my writing#my fanfics#I got tired halfway through#can you tell?
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Drummer!Cal
-is very thoughtful in interviews. Always engages theories and questions and anything about production. Takes his time to consider the process for the music and the fact that several writers are at the table in the band and it’s not so much about getting every idea out perfectly the first time but about collaborating and making every idea the best version of itself.
-However, comma, the second Calum steps out onto that stage and climbs onto the riser and his foot is thumping away at the bass drum, it’s all over. He literally becomes an animal on the drums. One show, he breaks not just one, not two, but three drumsticks. The guys make a joke that all the tour budget is going towards replacement sticks.
-The thing is, on stage, Calum’s not really Calum. It is Calum, but it’s not Calum. His awareness is different. All he can think about is the music, the thump under his feet and the sticks in his hand. Literally nothing else matters. Doesn’t matter if he dropped his sandwich that day on the walk back to the bus. Doesn’t matter if he got lost exploring the city and missed ten minutes of sound check. Doesn’t matter if in the middle of FaceTiming or video chatting with his S.O. that his laptop dies and it takes him nearly ten minutes to find the charger again. Nope, none of that matters on that riser, on that stool, during the set.
-A lot of photos of Calum drumming of him smiling. Hard. The eye crinkles are out in full effect and he’s just so damn happy to be playing music with his bros. Videos will show him almost dancing on the drum stool, swaying along as his biceps bulge beneath the sleeves of his shirt.
-Speaking of shirts, they don’t last long. Calum got too excited once, caught the arm of long sleeved shirt on one of the bolts to his drum kit and there went that long sleeve tee shirt into a muscle tee. Ocassionally, Calum opts for a mesh shirt while performing. Yes, that mesh shirt.
-Back to performing, he gets into it into it. Calum will stand from the stood, sticks in hand, mic pressed to his lips, pointing out to the crowd, “You’re not loud enough for me tonight. I need you to scream!” And the crowd, roars. It’s still not loud enough, so with his index finger and middle finger he motions for the crowd to get enough louder. They do. “Nah, nah, nah, I said I want you guys to scream for me tonight!” Calum won’t let a crowd off the hook until he’s positive someone’s lost a voice in the crowd.
-Even though Calum is mostly smiley on stage, a few interesting pictures surface, mostly from the tour diaries. A drum cam is set up and Calum plays to it all the time, pointing with his fingers or stick. He’ll turn to it, tongue out, rocking out to the song. The screenshots float around after every show of anyone get the famous Calum photo drumming: Calum, standing from the stool, pointing to the crowd, two fingers motioning with his tongue out. It happens at least once a show. Always more though.
-And then in interviews, if he’s asked about what fuels his performance style and if they comment on the energy levels being different, Calum usually responds with, “Shows are different. People came out to have a good time, to have some fun. I want to make sure they had a good time and had some fun with me that’s all. In interviews it’s more relaxed.”
-If his S.O. visits while he’s on tour, he always tries to get them to settle down on the stool and give the drums a whirl. “Oh, you can do it, I know you can.” And they give it a whirl, always because it’s Calum with those big brown eyes that look like the night could swallow them up and they’d happily go into that good night. And as Calum hangs back, teaching them a thing or two, he plants a kiss to their cheek. And maybe sticks get forgotten and hands explore bodies under t-shirt until someone bumps up against the symbols and the crash sounds and the drum lesson ends for the day.
-Backstage before a show, Calum’s running drills on his pad, along the wall, on the cases of their clothes and even he knows how annoying it is, so he always steps out from the room to do it. Literally everyone is like, by god my dude, it’s your instrument no one’s mad. But to be honest, Calum likes the alone time. It kind of reminds him of right before a big football game, his blood would thump in his veins and he’d find himself floating. But not in a spacey way, like he was losing focus, but floating from everyday Calum who doesn’t talk much, keeps quiet into the man that shines on stage that’s an animal on the drums, that’s completely transformed--a showoff, cocky. But through it all, Calum knows it can go at any moment. He can blink and it’s all done. So he tries to make each show unique. He tries to make each show worth coming too.
-There’s nothing better than looking out at the crowd, singing back the words you wrote, jamming out to progression and chords and beat that you made. And the sight almost always produces a tear or two in Calum. Because, godamn he’s so goddamn lucky to be doing this with his life. And he never wants to take it for granted. And sure whenever he gets a moment to talk during a set or joke with the audience, he makes a joke about how his skills aren’t that great and that he’s blessed to see such a full crowd. And it happens, without fail, at every show because at every show, Calum is floored at the outpouring of love and support by fans.
-People compliment Calum about his drumming and the joke about all the ripped sleeves/shirts, about the times halfway through a set he’s quickly shedded his shirt and let all see the tattoos and sweat glisten down a toned chest, and Calum always turns blushy. He accepts the compliment and dodges it all at the same time. And though him and Ashton joke about the rhythm section holding the whole band together, Calum is quick to offer praise to Luke and Michael as well. Because he knows without his other three brothers, Calum alone, as the drummer, is nothing but noise. He is a storm alone on a sea if Ashton, Luke, and Michael aren’t there playing and writing alongside him. He’s grateful for the three of them.
-And when the stage hand leads him up to the riser in the dark, only the light of the flashlight in hand, guiding them, Calum lets himself go. The wood in his hands and between his fingers feel like extensions of himself and with one hand on the stage hands back, they go-half jogging together towards the drum riser, the stoll, the crowd waiting eagerly and maybe even desperately for them, for him that night. They run towards paradise. And the thing about paradise is that it don’t always last forever, but as long as it happens, is all that matters.
@notinthesameguey @calumscalm @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles
Works Cited Page
H, A Collection of the Muse, 2020.
A Happy Bub, 2018.
#calum hood#calum hood blurb#calum hood headcannon#calum hood imagine#5sos#5sos blurb#h writes#you're welcome#drummer!calum is NEXT LEVEL#drummer!calum#i have to go into hiding bc of school soon but i'm messy and want to wreak some HAVOC before i go
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Hi. Omg i just read your response to that anon about Calanthe’s grief and the comment about Calanthe’s death was soooo painful to read but I’d never considered that element of her su*cide. When I originally watched the series I just that her choice was just to avoid being violated and killed by Nilfgaardian soldiers; but I wonder now if she knew that they might keep her alive to get to Ciri. Maybe she knew she could do no more and just desperately needed to get back to Eist. The scenes following his death show a desperate and lost part of her that we don’t see at any other point in the series. I think it differs from the banquet scene because she actually is lashing out then, but after Eist dies she just accepts that she can no longer fight, Can no longer live. Ughhhhh I have a lot of feelings about this 🥺
Listen.
I have Feelings™ about Calanthe's final scene and what her motivations were/might have been. Once again, unending blessings upon the head of Jodhi May for giving us such fucking depth 🙌🙌🙌
So originally I saw it as her finally just giving up. Eist's death wrecks her and she's also badly injured when she returns (I mean you know she went full on murder gremlin beserker trying to get to Cahir once Eist was shot). She knows she can't fight, and she can't run. She tried to save her city but failed. So...as she's told Ciri before, she knows it's time to stop. Now she survives long enough to ensure she's ended the pain of as many of her citizens as possible, and that Cirilla and Mousesack have escaped.
Over time (and yes several rewatches later) I started putting in bits of other parts of Calanthe's story and her sense of the world, as seen through the few glimpses we have of her before her death. And...it got a little more complex than that. Mainly because until this moment, we see that Calanthe isn’t someone who just rolls over and accepts her fate. She very much will give the gods themselves the middle finger while yelling out in explicit detail exactly what they can go do with their fate and destiny.
Calanthe's fatal flaw, like every Greek tragic hero, is hubris. And in tragedies, there is almost always only one price to be paid for it: your life. Obviously Greek tragedies don't exist in their world, but the concept of hubris and downfall obviously do. She's aware of her faults, even if she refuses to correct them, and I think she genuinely believes her spirit and determination to be greater than any consequence her faults might create, to be honest.
We see it at the betrothal feast: Calanthe hubristically refuses to bow to destiny and "any law made by men who have never borne a child" (fucking icon, we stan). She nearly loses her life because of it--as well as Eist's, potentially, and possibly destroying any chance of reconciling with her daughter. Even when Pavetta insists on making her own choice, Calanthe pushes against it, because she just can't let Destiny fucking win, even on a technicality. She believes, right up until Pavetta's power is revealed, that she can trick her way around it and murder Duny to prevent the marriage (granted, there’s more at play here--I think she genuinely believes she’s making the right choice for Pavetta).
Now, she gets knocked onto her arse, quite literally, and sees sense, somewhat (I theorize that she now knows that Pavetta can defend herself and doesn't need a powerful marriage alliance to help her hold onto the crown, which is the only reason she doesn't simply try to murder Duny again).
But she gets thrown for another loop minutes later as she helplessly watches history repeat with Duny giving away her unborn grandchild to the Witcher. In the book, we learn that Calanthe was so fucking set on breaking Destiny’s hold that she commanded Mousesack to kill Cirilla before she was even born. However, once the child is born, Calanthe suddenly rescinds her order (I think perhaps actually holding the baby and realizing the full extent of what she was asking finally kicked in...plus Ciri obviously looks like her mother and I think it triggered some nostalgia for Cal).
Calanthe learns a lesson of sorts (one she won’t fully learn/accept until the sacking of Cintra, though): when you push against Destiny, it always pushes back harder and takes more than it originally asked for. For every refusal, there is an added cost.
When Geralt comes back to claim Ciri (granted, to save her), Calanthe once again wages war against Destiny with her “will Destiny carry a banner into battle?” speech. Even when she most likely sees the logic of Geralt’s argument (and maybe even believes that he would bring her back), she simply cannot let go of this fight against a fucking supernatural divine concept. She let it go once, and in her mind, it is ultimately what cost her Pavetta’s life.
And so, when her city is burning around her, and her lover is dead and abandoned on a field of war, and her own life is slowly bleeding away as her granddaughter’s life enters a new and dangerous phase--Calanthe finally tries to bargain with Destiny.
I genuinely think that is partially what Calanthe’s death is, in her mind: she made a foolish choice, and lost, and now fears losing Ciri in the bargain as well--because remember: Destiny will push back harder and take more now, in Calanthe’s mind. So in an effort to appease Destiny, she accepts her fate and stops fighting, and gives her own life, hoping that it is enough of a defeat/apology to ensure that Destiny does not punish Cirilla for Calanthe’s prideful and arrogant choices.
Because as disdainful as Calanthe is about it, I think she genuinely does believe in Destiny as a supernatural force. She just thinks she can overcome it, right until the very last moments of her life. And in the very last moments of her life, she thinks she can bargain with it, in order to save her granddaughter.
There is also this to consider: Calanthe’s discussions with Mousesack and some of her final comments to Cirilla imply that she’s well-aware of why Nilfgaard is coming here, and what they’re really after. Which means she might know the truth about Duny, somehow. If she does, then her death is one last “ha, fuck you, you can’t kill me because I kill myself!”
It also aligns with a phrase I feel like she genuinely lives by (and I have had her utter in a few fics): death before dishonor. It is interesting to note that two potential reasons for choosing death over capture (degradation/mutilation of her body, and potentially being used to find/lure Ciri) are still enacted, even after her death: her body is mutilated by the mage who eats the bit of her arm to track Ciri. Once again, Calanthe’s attempts to prevent a situation are met with Destiny choosing its own way, regardless.
I know Sapkowski was influenced by a LOT of various countries and cultures, but I feel like Calanthe and Eist’s story in particular is extremely reminiscent of Greek tragedies (I mean, Eist sees his fate in the stars and still chooses to pursue it? Calanthe is hubris personified, on steriods?). While obviously I get super emosh thinking about how their story ended, I do have to applaud the original storyteller for how well he crafted it, and how fitting it was, in the grand scheme.
#thanks love!#i could go on about this ALL DAMN DAY#geerlynotgirly#asks#calanthe of cintra#the witcher#headcanons
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If Prue had lived, what do you think her kids would have been like, and how do you think they would have affected the various power level structures of the next gen?
okay so i think there are a couple options based on who’s the father of the child that would yield different results so in a very me fashion imma make this a very long post and break down all of them. this is 2.5k. it’s going under a cut.
andy so i think had andy not died he and prue would have definitely gotten married first i would say somewhere around the season 2 finale maybe the penultimate episode to end on a sweet high note while still setting up season 3 or something i think he and prue would have their first child ehh probably announced in the s3 finale. i think she’d be a girl i think she’d be a telekinetic like her mama and i think her name would definitely be patricia (and i wanna say in her teenage years she’d go by trix) i think her powers would definitely grow to advanced telekinesis by the time she’s of a fighting age. if i were writing her i would give her a gradual power development of like telekinetically lifting herself up in fights (like what we sometimes saw prue do) to levitation to flight if i wanna get really jiggy w it). i would think prue would definitely want multiple kids (ideally three daughters) and i think andy would definitely Also want sorta that white picket fence family. i think that piper and leo would still be pregnant at the end of season four, with prue’s second pregnancy occuring around beginning to mid season five. i also think about halfway through prue’s second pregnancy she and andy would choose to move out into their own home bc well let’s face it the manor’s a lil crowded (paige is also here in the au don’t ask me how). so wyatt matthews halliwell would be born in february prue and andy would probably move out in april their second child would be born hmm let’s say september. a girl named hmm it has to be a p name i’m firm on that but i don’t really wanna go penelope bc then i feel like it’s too locked in to a naming after ancestors thing but like also it would still be a very prue name & prue is already named after her ancestors so what the hell i’ll name her penelope. let’s talk powers. baby wyatt will keep his whitelighter based powers such as an orb shield, orbing, and healing, but he won’t be a telekinetic. he still has the power of projection. the twice blessed isn’t a thing. penelope i think would be the molecular witch, with powers of molecular deceleration & acceleration (but not freezing or combustion) as well as the ability to adjust her own molecular structure and “phase” (a la kitty pryde from xmen). next in the halliwell line would be chris who would still be born in october of 03 with powers of orbing, telekinesis, and telekinetic orbing, followed then by andy and prue’s third daughter born in utopia in s7 lemme go check the family tree for names there aren’t actually that many p names on there so now i guess lemme make one up one that sounds appropriately vintage like okay so i personally hc p bowen (prue’s past life) to be named pearl, p baxter as pauline, and p russel as phyllis out of all of those i think i’d chose pearl okay so i googled 19th century baby names p names i found were parthena permilia philippa pamela patience and priscilla. okay so i’m actually deciding now that the name philippa comes from andy’s side of the family and that’s the name of the third daughter who will follow suit with the charmed one’s schtick and have premonitions, which includes both precognition and retrocognition, as well as clairvoyance and limited telepathy (she’s basically a human lie detector, but if she actually wants to hear someone’s thoughts, she was to have physical contact and be in a quasi-meditative state). piper be pregnant with melinda at the end of s8, melinda’s powers would be empathy along with the whitelighter powers of healing orbing and photokinesis. next would be the twins tam and kat who would still split molecular combustion and immobilization as well as the whitelighter powers basically i wouldn’t change their powers from what they already have henry jr is also here, still a mortal. pj would not be named pj as Prue Isn’t Dead but i think phoebe would still really wanna stick with the p names. since prue’s already burned through the family tree i think she’d pick a more modern name (and i’m sticking with the gender neutral theme all of phoebe’s kids have) so like percy pax pemberley i’m also really tempted by pisces. hmm. pemberly. who i’d give astral projection and then also um well possession. like yeah y’know projecting her astral form into somebody else and being able to like read them while in their bodies all that. parker stays with premonition and uhh i just recently came up with a power progression for parker that i would love to employ but like i think i really wanna keep it a secret for now but i might end up talking about it later peyton would still be a telekinetic and all three cupitches can still beam and sense love. okay!
jack jack gets an obligatory section bc he was one of the few love interests to last more than one episode but uhh that baby would definitely be a whoopsie! or should i say,,, babies that’s right it’s twins. and i don’t think prue and jack would together romantically but i think they’d still be like y’know friends i think jack would be there to support prue & his kids but i do think prue would be the primary caregiver i think jack would maybe get them like on weekends or like every third week of the month. and i’m Really tempted to give them last name first names and have the kids be names warren and sheridan and Yes they’d be both boys. i sorta wanna melinda warren both of em and just like. give em all three powers what the hell. given that it’s so many powers stacked in one witch i don’t think their powers would ever greatly develop i don’t think there’d be any advanced telekinesis or molecular combustion or like astral premonitions but i do think they have all three powers. and they are identical. so they’re both born in 2000, flash foward to 2002 wyatt is born wyatt matthew halliwell with orbing, orb sheild, healing, telekinetic orbing, and telekinesis. cut forward to 2004 piper has her second child who is in this reality a girl, with orbing, molecular combustion/immobilization, & invisibility. her name would be melinda christina halliwell. i think we can fast forward the timeline a bit i think the piper and leo would have their third child at the end of s8 another boy named john after grams’s maiden name, orbing, premonition, levitation. i feel like cosmically we’ve already filled our twin quotient so no tam & kat in this universe so paige and henry only have one kid a daughter i always pick from shakespeare baby names for not!tam&kat bc like. they’ve got shakespeare names. in the past i’ve used isabel and beatrice this time i’m gonna go for jourdain who has the power of projection, as well as the whitelighter power of omnilingualism. henry & paige still end up accidentally adopting a mortal in this au, but here she’s a girl, so instead of making the henry jr joke henry calls her paige jr the name sticks she goes by pj. cupitches once again we’re going pemberley parker and peyton and once again i’m sticking with the same power set from the andy timeline.
bane okay so give me a sign they have sex prue is pregnanté bane is in jail. charges of racketeering, tax evasion, money laundering and embezzlement, but like okay he’s a career criminal, meaning their notoriously hard to catch. and i think he’s have a good lawyer. max sentence for racketeering is 20 years, tax evasion 5, money laundering 20, embezzlement 3. i’m not a law student i don’t know shit about like,, douple jeopardy all that but like. imma say sentenced to ten years in jail let out in 7 on good behavior + they’re all nonviolent crimes so. is that how it works? okay but basically baby #1 prolly a sagittarius born in 2000. i’m saying girl. i think again like with the jack situation this really isn’t prue’s white picket fence family this is strange and rebellious and unprecedented meaning it’s not guaranteed to be a “p” name but nothing’s like. immediately coming to mind. i feel like it has to be a name that captures prue’s rebellious spirit and the sorta intense passion she keeps below the surface so i wanna go for something outta left field. i also feel like prue cares a lot about the meaning / origin of her baby name so i’m gonna pick from a list of witches of myth. hecate’s obvi out as she’s a demon in charmed verse so i’m thinking circe or freyja. i feel like circe’s more associate with turning men into pigs than anything else so i’m gonna settle with freyja who’s technically a goddess and not a witch but like. minutia. i’m giving her the same power set as patricia / trix which is advance telekinesis + eventual flight. yada yada yada baby wyatt chris & melinda are born, powers as in canon (including empathy for melinda which is in fact Not Canon but like canon in my heart). tamora and kat are born, powers as in canon, bane is out of jail, pemberley is born, astral projection + possession, henry jr is there, prue and bane have another kid in ‘08, a girl (i’m sticking with the badass women of myth theme) named atalanta, nicknamed tal rhymes with the cal in calorie. yes i know i’m very white. powers of molecular immobilization & cryokinesis. next born in 09 cupitch parker still with cupid powers and premonition, then prue and bane’s third daughter born in 2010 (i’m telling you bane def has that like white picket fence adoring family dream. he frickin loves kids & like dutifully drives them to ballet practice every day after school type thing. loves the idea of being able to yell “honey! i’m home!” total sap) her name’s probs gonna be like. morrigan. her powers are a riff on the premonition aspect of thee power of three, she can pick up on “psychic reverb” and sense if a great act of magic has happened somewhere as well as sense great good, great evil, and immense power. also with the her psychic power she can mark crossroads and tell if a decision is about to be altering, though she can’t sense which outcome is the “best”. finally baby peyton still a telekinetic cupitch born in 2011.
justin congrats, bud. the only other prue love interest to make it past a single episode. too bad we really don’t know shit about this guy. simp? we can assume? yeah so in this timeline they come together basically when piper & leo are getting married so in this timeline we are still getting wyatt first with all his canonically op self. then we’re getting chris, same as in canon i guess i feel like he should have more powers give him combustive orbing what the fuck why not. okay so like maybe ‘03-’04 prue and justin move out / move in together, married by late ’04 (just before utopia in s7). they have their first daughter in 2005 still s7 once again named patricia and she’s a telekinetic like prue. we’ll push melinda up to ’06 still an empath + other whitelighter powers & tlk orb. 2007 will have both tam & kat with their canon powers, followed by penelope with cryokinesis, closed out with pemberley with astral projection. jump to 09 parker born with premonition in spring and i said philippa was an andy’s family name so patience in the fall. and she can uhh same thing as morrigan she’s psychic. 2011 the final baby is born it’s peyton telekinetic + cupitch powers as always. henry jr is also here placed where he normally is (slightly younger than pj/pemberley)
bonus round!dency addition okay so idk if i’ve said this before but i’ve actually sorted out dency’s relatives in her world one sec i gotta pull up the google doc okay dency born first only child the source’s heir next up is melinda penelope “penn” halliwell the only child of leo & piper aka the twice blessed followed by paige’s sons taran & kai, twins, the ultimate power. but now prue’s in the mix! i’m pairing her with andy bc that was her most significant relationship. as previously stated i think prue and andy’s first child would be born in early season four as patricia, same powers as stated earlier with advanced telekinesis & flight. dency technically would no longer be named dency in this au as once again, prue is not dead. she would be named victoria after her grandfather. same powers that she already holds (pyrokinesis, cryokinesis, flaming, limited telepathy (only the lie detector part) & super strength). her power rivals that of patricia’s despite not being the first born in the generation bc she was infused with the source. she would be born early s5. then keeping with the timeline piper & leo’s firstborn comes mid s5, another girl named melinda. melinda’s powers are orbing, molecular immobilization, and advanced healing. at this point prue is Pregnant Again and calls dibs on the name penelope so that does not become melinda’s middle name. in the dency au coop shows up earlier, which in turn accelerates paige and henry ending up together because i said so. piper is pregnant at the beginning of s6. prue and andy have their second daughter penelope, paige and henry get together, piper and leo have their second daughter christina. s6 ends. penelope gets molecular deceleration & acceleration. christina has orbing, telekinesis, & an orb shield. s7. whoops paige is pregnant. hey it’s twins! tamora & kat. tamora is the physical while kat is the spiritual. tamora can orb, telekinetically orb, and has normal telekinesis. kat has premonitions, clairvoyance, and omnilingualism. s8. prue gets pregnant again at some point. season finale. philippa is born. she can astral project, and will later develop suggestion. piper is pregnant again. it’s still 2006. now it’s 2007. piper’s baby is born. it’s a boy??? meet baby john. an empath. omnilingual. can orb. henry jr also shows up. at this point it’s been like 5 years since phoebe’s traumatic incident with cole / the source and she decides she wants to have kids again. she and coop have their first daughter in 2008, a girl they name leona. cupid powers of beaming & sensing love, and levitation that will eventually develop into flight. limited precognition. 2010. they have another child, this time a boy, warren. beaming, sensing love, telekinesis, telekinetic beaming. 2011 they final baby of the generation is born, phoebe and coop’s daughter let’s call her charlotte. she doesn’t have molecular immobilization, that magic mix with a cupid’s control over time. she has temporal stasis (& beaming & sensing love)
#zoo wee mama#charmed#prue halliwell#i didn't get too much into the familiar dynamics and relationships bc like#holy shit there are so many of them#wow#anyway this was fun!#next gen#charmed next generation#💌#i don't think this counts as a mini essay this is more like#hmm#a catalogue
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Genre: Smut
Pairings: Michael Clifford/Male Reader
Word Count: 4.3k
Trigger warnings: Strong language, explicit sexual content, public sex
A/N: I thought it was about time I did something else for the guys of the fandom again. I hope you enjoy this! Title taken from ‘take me home’ by Cher
Kofi
Queer!sos Masterlist // Michael Masterlist // Main Masterlist
***
You’d been in two minds whether to even come out tonight.
Your mood had been getting progressively darker over the last few days and the last thing you wanted was to make small talk with your friends and some strangers you couldn’t care less about.
It was Ashton’s birthday, though and all he wanted was a few drinks with his buddies and he counted you amongst that select few. Considering everything he’s done for you over the years, the least you could do was spare him a couple of hours of your Friday night.
The evening had started about an hour ago and so far it’s gone exactly as you’d imagined. Ashton’s chosen bar is fairly typical of his taste. The large room is dimly lit, minimalist in it’s décor and the music playing over the speakers is a mixture of modern alternative pop and more classic soft rock tunes. The birthday boy had reserved a large booth in the back of the bar, he’d already been seated in it with a few of his work buddies and Luke, one of his oldest friends.
There’d already been an open bottle of vodka and Jack Daniels on the table along with a few jugs of mixers and pitchers of beer, which Ashton had insisted you help yourself to, while gesturing to a stack of clean glasses next to the alcohol. A couple of the girls sitting next to Ashton smiled at you, offering flirtatious greetings as you slid into the booth next to Luke. Before you even had a chance to respond, A tipsy Ashton had informed them that their attempts to woo you would be wasted as your interests lie purely in men.
The girls looked mildly disappointed for a split second but Luke had been quick to swoop in and distract them with some clumsy flirting of his own.
After a couple of drinks, you’d started to relax a bit, although your anxiety began to rear its ugly head a little each time a new person joined your little group. You didn’t know most of them and they all seemed too interested in Ashton or other people that they were already acquainted with, to bother to get to know you. Part of you was glad of the lack of attention, however as the minutes had stretched by without anyone offering you so much as a sliver of small talk, a hint of loneliness had begun to set in.
You’re just trying to decide how much longer you have to stay until it’s acceptable for you to leave when a familiar face emerges from the growing crowd in the bar. You’ve met Calum a few times at various gatherings and he’s always been fun to chat to. You were just about to offer him the seat next to you, when you notice that he isn’t alone. He’s accompanied by, quite possibly, the cutest man you’ve ever seen in your life.
“Cal! Michael!” Ashton grinned tipsily as he greeted the newcomers enthusiastically. “Grab a drink…”
You’re vaguely aware of Calum greeting everyone but your focus is mainly on the pretty blonde man hovering nervously beside him. You’ve never seen him before, you’d definitely remember if you had. When he locks eyes with you, your heart immediately starts to pound faster and a dopey smile finds itself spreading across your face.
“You take that seat, Mike.” Calum offers casually as he glances around the nearby tables. “I’ll grab a spare chair from somewhere…”
Michael offers you a shy smile as he slips into the booth beside you. He looks even prettier close up. He has the most beautiful green eyes that you could happily get lost in and his pink lips are so kissable that you immediately start imagining how soft they’d feel against yours. His clothes are fairly casual, black skinny jeans, a loose flannel shirt, buttoned all the way up to his neck, he’s the only man at the table not to have most of his chest out. Luke, Ashton and Calum are well known for using less than half of the buttons on their shirts. You can’t be too mad about it though, you tend to like to show off a little of your own chest, too.
Resuming your initial observation of the newcomer, you notice that Michael’s bleached blonde hair is sort of dishevelled, like he can’t quite tame it but you like that, you’ve always had a soft spot for the ones that are a little rough around the edges. Michael definitely ticks that box. In fact, he ticks all of your boxes. He’s cute, bashful, doesn’t seem to take himself too seriously and he smells pretty good; like coconut shower gel and some mid-range cologne that you faintly recognise.
Michael introduces himself to you first, offering his hand for you to shake. “Hi, I’m Michael…” He informs you. “Most people call me Mike or Mikey, I don’t mind any of those really.”
You shake his hand, trying not to stare at him too intently as you introduce yourself. He repeats your name in a soft tone that almost melts you. Suddenly, you’re pretty pleased that you decided to come out tonight...
***
A couple of hours slip by in a blur of booze, jokes and bar snacks.
As much as you’ve tried to give everyone at the table an equal slice of your attention, you always end up focusing on Michael. He seems to get more perfect with every moment. Every story he tells makes it a little bit clearer that he’s perfect for you. He’s funny, sweet and he looks too adorable when he laughs.
With every sip of Jack Daniels and cola you take, you relax a little more and it’s not long before that liquid courage starts to set in. You gradually stop trying to force an interest in everyone else and give into your need to know more about Michael.
He happily answers your casual questions about what he does for a living and how he knows Calum, Luke and Ashton before encouraging you to answer the same ones. You find yourself trying a little too hard to make him laugh because every time he does, his face lights up beautifully, his emerald eyes sparkling.
As you get lost in pleasant conversation, you find yourself subconsciously moving closer to him, to the point where your thigh ends up pressed against his. Michael doesn’t shuffle away or call you out on it in any way, in fact he seems to lean into the contact, shooting you an almost knowing smile as he reaches for another drink.
“Do you want another JD?” He asks, his voice low but cheerful.
You nod, handing him your glass, ensuring that your fingers brush with his as you do so.
A slight blush rises in Michael’s cheeks and he sort of melts under your gaze. If you were a braver person, you’d have upped the flirting in that moment, made it more obvious that you were into him, but your nerve fails. You simply drop your hand to rest on the table, trying to ignore the tingling of your skin where you’d just made contact with Michael.
Unfortunately, Michael seems to take your moment of self doubt as a sign that you’re not into him. He pours your drink and then promptly excuses himself for a bathroom break.
You don’t have much time to curse yourself before Ashton reaches across the table and nudges your arm playfully. “Are you gonna make a move on him or what?” The birthday boy laughs. “You two couldn’t be more into each other, it’s like torture, watching all of your shy glances and fleeting touches.”
“Yeah, Michael’s a bit shy when it comes to this stuff but I’ve been his friend for long enough to know what he means when he smiles at someone like that.” Calum explains, although there’s a faint note of something like warning in his voice. Even in your slightly tipsy state, you recognise this protective friend tone. You’ve used it on people before too, whenever you’ve suspected someone of having ill intentions with one of your buddies.
You have no reason to feel threatened by Calum. You’d never intentionally hurt his friend, but you feel the need to get him on your side anyway. “You really think he likes me like that?” You ask, knowing that making yourself sound like the lucky one is key here. Not that it’s difficult, of course. You do feel pretty fucking lucky right about now. “He comes across as such a nice guy, I thought he was just being friendly.”
The rest of the table bursts into laughter.
“Yeah but he saves his ‘fuck me’ eyes for people he wants to take to bed.” Ashton chuckles lightly. “Trust me, he’s into you!”
You feel the need for Calum’s blessing, knowing that it’ll be his wrath you face if things don’t go well between you and his best friend. You turn to the dark-haired man as he takes another drink from his beer bottle. “You really think so?” You question, “he seems amazing, I don’t wanna come across as-“
“Ashton’s right.” Calum cuts in. “He’s into you, he’s gonna need to see you reciprocate a little before he lets his guard down anymore, though. You might want to flirt a bit harder.”
Before you can ask for any tips from Michael’s friends, the man in question returns, shooting you a lopsided smile as he slips back into the booths beside you. “Hope you didn’t miss me too much.” He shrugs, his smile turning into a faintly mischievous smirk.
“Most of us didn’t even notice you were gone mate!” Luke laughs.
“But one of us was pining like a dog whose owner just left him tied up outside in the street.” Ashton interjects, quirking his eyebrow suggestively in your direction.
Michael glances at you, his cheeks turning a pretty rosy pink. “Well if anyone was gonna miss me, I’d have hoped it was you, handsome.”
The way Michael held your gaze, albeit a little shyly, gave you more confidence and you gave a small shrug of your shoulders. “How could I not miss that pretty face of yours?”
From that moment the flirting between the two of you became much more brasen. After a few more sips of your JD, you casually flung your arm around Michael’s shoulders as the two of you talked to Calum about the latest episode of a show you all shared an interest in.
Michael immediately leans into your side, presumably to let you know that he liked the gesture.
Calum seemed pleased with the way you were treating his friend and his defenses gradually crumbled, making you less nervous.
When Michael lays his head on your shoulder a little while later, you feel your heart jump in your chest. His pink lips are so close, it’d be so easy for you to kiss them. You don’t want an audience for your first kiss with him, though, so you resist the urge, deciding to stroke his shoulder gently through his shirt instead.
“I think someone’s getting a little sleepy over there.” Luke smirks, nodding at Michael. “Maybe someone should walk him home…” His glazed blue eyes land on you as his smirk grows. “I’m sure you’ll volunteer, right? He doesn’t live far from here y’know.”
Michael shifts his head so that he can meet your gaze, “I’d like that, if you wouldn’t mind.” He whispers, his green eyes sparkling with an unmistakable lust.
“Of course, baby.” You reply, hoping that your tone is as smooth as you intend it to be. “I’d be happy to walk you home. You ready now, or…”
Michael nods, his cheeks reading from the pet name you’d given him. The way he offers you a sideways smile that could almost be a smirk, tells you that he enjoyed it and you make a mental note of it, hoping to be able to put that word to much better use a bit later on. Michael reaches for his jacket before straightening up in his seat to slip it on. You immediately miss his warmth pressing into your side but you’re eager to spend some time with him alone, even if it’s just the short walk to his apartment. You hope that you can at least impress him enough that he’ll give you his number so that you can arrange a date or something.
After hugging everyone goodbye and wishing Ashton Happy Birthday one more time, you lead Michael out of the bar.
Even though you’re full of alcohol, the chilly night air hits the two of you hard and Michael instinctively curls into your side for warmth. You’ve never been so thankful for this changeable climate as you are right now, with the cutest boy you’ve ever met burrowing beneath your arm.
“It shouldn’t be this cold in July, should it?” Michael giggles, glancing at you through his lashes.
“I’m not complaining!” You reply with a tiny smirk, wrapping one arm around Michael’s shoulders to keep him close to you. “So which way is home, baby?”
Once again, Michael melts at the fond nickname and points to the left. “I’m about ten minutes that way.” He answers, but as you take a step in that direction, Michael stops you, shaking his head and pulling you back. “I have a question to ask you first.” He drops his gaze to your lips and wets his own with a flick of his tongue. The simple gesture sends shivers through you but you hold it together just enough to arch your eyebrow questioningly. “Are you ever gonna kiss me, handsome?” Michael asks, shifting his head to that his lips are just about as close as they can be to yours without them touching.
You answer by closing the tiny gap, pressing your lips to his as softly as your lust-filled brain will allow.
Michael wraps both arms around your waist, gripping the back of your jacket as his lips part in a tiny moan, allowing you to slip your tongue past them and work it against his.
You’ve never had someone respond to one of your kisses so hungrily, it takes you a bit by surprise but you grasp Michael’s upper arms firmly as you draw out the kiss as long as you can before needing to take a breath.
“That was worth the wait.” Michael grins dopily as he rests his forehead against yours. “You still wanna take me home?”
You nod eagerly, all pretence of being cool, calm and collected abandoned along with the misplaced shame that you’d been taught to feel about falling for people so easily. Michael obviously wants you as much as you want him and if that level of longing is acceptable enough for someone as amazing as him, you could hardly argue with it.
Michael nestles back under your arm, wrapping his own around your waist to keep him in place.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all night, y’know.” You offer, wanting to ensure that Michael knows he’s not been pining alone. “I just… well I wanted to make sure you liked me as much as the others said you did and-”
“Oh so you boys were all talking about me when I left the table, were you?” Michael interrupts with a tiny chuckle. “I should have known they’d be trying to talk you into making a move. They all like to think of themselves as matchmakers.”
You shake your head. “They didn’t have to convince me to make a move at all. Kissing you was already all I was thinking about, I just… well I was scared you didn’t want me to.”
Michael laughed, resting his head on your shoulder. “I didn’t want to come across as too easy, but I guess the fact that you’re taking me home now has given me away.”
“And here I was thinking that you just wanted some company on your walk home.” You gasp in faux horror. “Now I wish I’d put on my best underwear.” You try to keep your tone light and joking but you’re a bit concerned that a) The Deadpool underwear you’d chosen to put on earlier was a very bad decision and will instantly kill the mood when Michael sees them. b) You’re being a little too forward. Despite Michael’s last comment, neither of you have specified what you hope to happen once you arrive at his apartment. There’s still a huge question mark as to whether he actually wants to see your underwear and what’s beneath them.
Michael rolls his eyes fondly and jabs you gently in the ribs with his free hand. “Don’t make me feel like more of a whore than I already do.” He laughs, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment. “I don’t even know your last name but my mind keeps racing over stuff I wanna do with you the second my front door is closed.” His tone is low and shy but his words ease your nerves considerably. It means that you only have to worry about your nerdy underwear now.
“I hope they match up with the things running through my mind.” You smirk, wiggling your eyebrows mischievously. “Just as long as you keep the lights off so you don’t see my very unsexy boxers.”
Before Michael can answer, a rain shower begins. A few tiny droplets land on your head but you ignore them, focusing on the way Michael giggles as the chilly raindrops start to trickle down his face. “This rain shower couldn’t have held off for a few more minutes?” He chuckles. “We’re like five minutes away!”
“It’s just a little shower…” you shrug, cuddling Michael closer into your side. “I'm sure you look just as gorgeous, if not more so when you’re wet.”
Michael pokes you in the ribs again good-naturedly, “you can stop with the flattery, I already want to suck the life out of you, handsome.”
There’s no way to stop the groan that escapes you. That would probably only be classed as the mildest form of dirty talk, but coming from Michael, in that innocent but slightly gruff voice, it felt like the dirtiest and most exciting proposition you’ve ever had in your life.
As though nature itself was trying to give you a cold shower to clear your head, the rain begins to fall harder and faster, turning into a torrential downpour in a matter of seconds.
Michael lets out an adorable little squeal as he pulls you off the main street onto a much quieter road. The two of you break into a run but Michael threads his fingers through yours so that you stay connected.
You’re both already soaked by the time you reach the shelter of a disused railway bridge. You laugh, although the sound dies in your throat when you catch sight of Michael leaning against the brickwork. You were 100% correct, he looks somehow even more gorgeous wet. He shakes his head like a naughty little dog, sending flecks of cold water everywhere and leaving his bleached blonde hair hanging limply around his face.
He looks like something out of your wildest dreams, pale and almost angelic in the hazy light from the street lamps lining the road you’ve just come from.
You step towards him, unable to stop yourself from wiping your thumb across his cheek, following the line of his cheekbone as your gaze drifts to his lips. “This fucking storm is delaying us. You have no idea how much I want to feel and taste every inch of you, gorgeous.”
Michael lets out a tiny whimper, wrapping his arms around your neck. “Same, handsome.” He replies. “In the meantime you could kiss me again?”
You don’t need to be asked twice. You close the gap between your own lips and his, cupping Michael’s face in one hand as you swallow his first needy little whine.
It becomes clear very quickly that kissing Michael in a secluded, aleit very public place, was a bad idea. He proves all-too intoxicating with his sinful lips and innocent whimpers as you press your body close to his.
He slides his fingers into your hair and tugs slightly, drawing a growl from you as you nip his bottom lip in retaliation. The slight pain only seems to heighten Michael’s arousal. He throws back his head, exposing a long expanse of his pale neck that’s just too inviting. You move your kisses away from the blonde’s lips and along his jaw until you reach the pale, sensitive skin below his ear. The noises that the soft contact coaxes from Michael are every bit as delicious as you’d hoped.
Michael whines. “Uh, your lips-” he cuts himself off on a harsh gasp as you suck harder on his neck, intent upon leaving a mark. “Fuck!” The blonde moans. “You’re really testing my resolve here, handsome.” His voice is breathy and filled with lust.
Your body reacts exactly the way it always does when it’s pressed against a hot guy. It seems to move without your permission, your hips rolling against Michael’s as you wriggle one of your thighs between both of his. “I lost mine the second you pulled me in here, gorgeous.” You mumble into his neck. “If I could take you right now I would…”
“Soon…” Michael breathes tugging at your hair again. “I promised to suck the life out of your first.”
As much as you’d love to throw caution to the wind and urge Michael to his knees right now, the risk of being caught by a passer-by is still too high. You figure that you’ll need some sort of release before you continue your journey to Michael’s place, but it has to be a bit more discreet than a blowjob.
“I’ll hold you to that when we get to your apartment.” You whisper, working your kisses back towards Michael’s lips. “Can’t have a pretty angel like you dropping to his knees on the wet pavement.”
Michael pouts at you, widening his eyes like a kitten that’s just had his favourite toy confiscated. “But I wanna taste you so bad…”
“And you will, angel.” You promise, working your thigh against his stiffening cock in a slow but firm rhythm. “I can’t wait to see what you can do with this dirty mouth.” You run your thumb over his bottom lip teasingly, as you rest your forehead against his, revelling in the way his breath hitches in his throat when he starts to rut against you in search of more friction. “I just know it’s gonna be even better than I’m imagining.”
Michael nods, gasping into your mouth as he initiates another heated kiss. “I can take whatever you’ve got to give to me, handsome.” He confirms once you pull away for air. “Can’t wait to see what I’m working with.” He drops one of his hands, hesitantly slipping it between your bodies as he fixes you with a questioning glance, silently asking if he can touch you.
Not wanting to waste more time on words, you loosely grasp his wrist and thrust your clothed dick into his palm. “Fuck, handsome…You feel big.” Michael groans hungrily. “Uh, I can’t wait to get my mouth on you.”
The way Michael seems to happily follow your lead with every movement you make, gives you an added confidence as well as turning you on even more. Words start to spill from your mouth without engaging your filter first. “Yeah? If you do a good enough job of sucking me off, maybe I’ll give you something in return…” To give him a better idea of what you mean without being too intense, you reach around to grasp his ass.
“Mmm, please!” Michael gasps. “Want to feel you fill me up.”
The words cause your cock to twitch with interest as you thrust into Michael’s hand. “Yeah, angel! I bet you’d feel so fucking good.” You bury your face into his neck, keeping a firm grip on his ass cheeks.
“P-please touch me, handsome!” Michael whimpers, “need you!”
The pounding of the rain on the pavement seems to sync with that of your heart as you slide one hand around to palm at Michael through his jeans. His desperate whines bring you to the very brink of your orgasm. “Fuck, baby!” You groan into his skin. “Can’t wait to see you come apart for me!”
That does it. Michael tumbles over the edge, the broken moans of your name as he spills into his underwear has you following him immediately. A stream of curses slip past your lips as you thrust into Michael’s hand a few times to ride out your climax.
Michael wraps both of his arms around your neck, clinging to you as he fights to control his ragged breaths. “Shit… handsome.” He gasps. “I haven’t cum in my pants since I was in high school.” He gives you a tiny laugh and you wrap your arms around him to keep as close as possible.
“Same.” You chuckle, “I guess we have this damn storm to blame for that.”
Michael hums in response, glancing out at the persistent rain. “How long do you think it’ll last?”
Following his gaze you give a lazy shrug. “I dunno, it looks pretty set in for the night if you ask me.”
“Then I guess we’ll just have to get wet again.” Michael smirks. “After that little preview, I’m even more impatient to get you into my bed.”
***
Tag list: @h0tsos @byxthexway @afuckingunicornn @painkillerash @moonchildsblack @calumbbyyy @loveroflrh @sexgodashton @megz1985 @myfalsedevotion @aulxna @honeyedlashton @tea4sykes @ghostofmashton @fairyintheglass @cashworthy @cashtonasfuck @opheliaaurora23 @5sosnsfw @wildmichaelflower @wildfl0wer-meg @irwinkitten @cxddlyash @wildmalumflower @cashtonasff5sos @iovehemmings @lowpowermodex @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles @celticclifford @5-secondsofcolor @queer-5sos @Secret-Diary-of-an-Aquarius-blog @babylon-corgis @paradigmax @koalacal @treatallwithkindness @lovelybonesetc @morguleth @atlcalm @mantlereid @calumsmermaid @lashtonswildflower @mermaidcashton @mysticalhood
#michael clifford#5sos#michael clifford imagine#michael clifford blurb#michael clifford fic#male reader#michael clifford smut#5sos imagine#5sos blurb#5sos fic#5sos smut#michael#michael imagine#michael blurb#michael fic#michael smut#my writing
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Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 13
aka Caleo uni au
Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…
Chapter summary: Calypso meets Jason (domestic moments part 3)
A/N: I wrote a little longer rant on ao3 but let me just say that bless au:s. The fact that I can progress things my own way keeps me want to continue this fic.
I hope you guys enjoy, and remember that I cherish every comment I get! (Ps. some drama is coming, let’s just enjoy the fluff for now!)
Characters in this ch: Calypso, Leo. Jason, Piper
Words: 2021
Genre: romance & hurt/comfort
Warnings: none
previous chapter / next chapter / AO3
...
Calypso and Leo didn’t have time to recover from the electric moment before there was already a knock on the door. After Leo opened the door and greeted the newcomers, they soon noticed Calypso still standing near the kitchen counter with a tint of red on her face. Piper, who had already met her, just waved her hand happily as a greeting, but Jason stepped closer, offered his hand to her and said: “So, you must be Calypso. I’m Jason, the one who used to live in your room.”
“Y-yes, Leo mentioned that,” Calypso stuttered as she shook his hand. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. And Piper you already know.” He gestured towards the brunette who nodded. “She told me about her visit. Leo, on the other hand, has been kind of vague about you.”
“Oh? The flatmate I know can be quite a loudmouth when he wants to.” Calypso looked at Leo with surprise.
“You two just met and she’s already roasting me to you…” Leo said, pretending to be embarrassed. “This is my life now.”
Jason snorted. “Maybe that’s good for Mr. Super Sized McShizzle’s ego.”
“Super Sized McShizzle? Oh my gods, the nicknames never end. Did he give that to himself?” Calypso asked, having to stifle a laughter.
“He did,” Piper confirmed and Calypso couldn’t stop herself from laughing. Even if she was doing it at his expense, Leo was happy to realize it was already the second time she laughed that day, in a short period of time. For some reason the thought made something bubble in his chest.
“OK, now that we have that established, can we move on?” Leo asked impatiently.
“No.” Piper smirked playfully, apparently interested in the current topic. “What does he call you, Calypso?”
“Sunshine. I don’t really know why, though.” Calypso shrugged. “Maybe he’s being sarcastic.”
“Aww, sarcastic or not, I think that’s cute,” Piper said. “His nickname for me is Beauty Queen. I hate that nickname, to be honest. He knows I don’t really care about how I look.”
“What about you, Jason? What’s his nickname for you?” Calypso asked, already feeling more relaxed with the guests.
“Well, sometimes he calls me Lightning Boy because I used to help around at an electronics store and once I accidentally blew a fuse there… It was easily fixed, though, but Leo thought it was funny. Sometimes he also likes to use Sparky or the nicknames my friend Percy has given me: Golden Boy and Blonde Superman. Don’t ask.” Jason rolled his eyes.
Calypso’s eyes flashed strangely when she heard the name Percy but then she probably decided that the name must have simply been a coincidence because soon she asked Jason something else. Leo was relieved to see that Calypso seemed to like both of his best friends as they kept up a light hearted conversation while setting the table for the dinner.
Once they were ready to start eating, Jason asked Calypso: “By the way, feel free to ignore my question if you think it’s too personal, but I noticed that you said ‘oh my gods’ in plural at one point. Do you have any specific reason for that?”
“I guess I kinda do,” Calypso confessed as she sat down on her seat and crossed her hands over her lap. “The thing is, I’ve never believed in just one God. I’ve done a lot of research on the Greek Mythology and… I don’t know, I like the idea that different things, say, for example weather, have different forces affecting them. Now, I’m not saying that I believe in the stories of Greek mythology to the letter - there are a lot of crazy myths out there - but when you look at the bigger picture, there’s a lot that makes sense to me. I don’t know. People always think I’m weird when I say that.”
“I don’t think that’s weird,” Jason said. “I’m interested in the old cultures as well and I’ve always wanted to do my share so that they wouldn’t be forgotten. That is one of the reasons why I wanted to become a teacher.”
“Oh! That sounds great,” Calypso said approvingly. “I’ve sometimes debated in my mind if I should become a teacher as well because a lot of history majors do but… so far I think I’m more interested in the research…”
Jason was going to say something more but Leo decided to interrupt. Even though he was happy Calypso got along with his friends, he had to admit to himself that he was a little bit jealous because his own beginning with her had been a lot bumpier than his friends’.
“Alright, nerds, that’s great and all but why don’t we start eating? The sauce supreme won’t be waiting!”
“Who are you calling nerds?” Calypso retorted back, attempting to throw her long braid over the shoulder before remembering that her hair was short now. “You must remember every single mathematical, physical and chemical formula by heart, and besides, I heard you humming the theme of Game of Thrones the other day.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Leo asked, surprised Calypso knew about his humming.
“I think it proves that you are such as much of a nerd as we are and probably even more,” Calypso teased.
“But I need those formulas to complete my job and that theme is epic… Eh, whatever. Let’s all be nerds then. Cheers!” he raised his glass of soda and took a huge sip. Jason and Piper looked at each other with amusement. The Leo they knew was very stubborn and might not have stopped the debate quite that easily. It must have been the Calypso effect.
For a while the group ate in silence, before Leo broke it again.
“Well, what do you guys think? How’s the papa Grace approved taco sauce tasting?”
“It’s good, Leo, just like the ones you made when I was living here,” Jason answered, maintaining his poker face.
“I think this has a little less spunk, this time, though,” Piper said, but after seeing Leo’s expression she added quickly: “Which is a good thing! I don’t need fluids coming out of my nose no matter what you say.”
“Make fun of me all you want, I know you like it.” Leo pouted but soon he started grinning again. “Hey, what’s you guys’ opinion on olives?”
“I like them,” Piper said and to prove her point, she took more of Calypso’s Greek salad on her plate.
“They’re OK,” Jason chorused. “Why do you ask?”
“We had a little debate…” Leo said before he had time to regret it.
“A debate?” Piper asked curiously, turning her head from Leo to Calypso.
“About olives,” Leo replied. “I said I’d eat all my olives in the salad nicely if she tasted this chili right here.” He showed her friends the half of the chili that Calypso hadn’t tasted, not caring about their horrified expressions.
“Eww, dude, I’ve once tasted those and I had to drink like 2 liters of milk after that! Why would you make her do that?” Jason asked.
“Because she wanted to,” Leo said defensively.
“Is that true, Cal?” Piper turned to her.
“Well…” it was Calypso’s turn to get embarrassed. “It kinda is. I did say I was up for the challenge.”
“Okay,” Piper said with amusement. “Then what happened?”
“She only tasted a tiny bit and I claimed that wasn’t enough for me to eat the olives,” Leo answered.
“And I started chasing him and…” Calypso started but she realized that it might be better if she didn’t continue that sentence. After all, she herself wasn’t sure what exactly had happened in that moment.
“And?” Piper wanted to know.
“That’s when you guys arrived.” Leo covered for Calypso.
Piper had a feeling that there was still a bit more to the story but she knew where to put the limit so she just ended up chuckling a bit and saying: “Oh, that chasing part explains why you seemed a little out of breath when we arrived.”
Leo and Calypso looked at each other and nodded in unison.
“That sounds like something we would have wanted to witness,” Piper said, trying to stop herself from laughing out loud.
“Some of us play tag, some of us play Pokémon,” Leo decided to pay back. “We can have some fun too.”
“They play Pokémon?” Calypso looked at Leo with a funny expression. “You know what, Valdez? I used to be pretty good at it back in the day when I played it with my… um, when I played it as a kid. Maybe we should have a battle with them one day.”
Leo did notice the hesitation in Calypso’s voice when she mentioned she had played it as a kid, but decided to ask about it later. He grinned at her in response.
“Now we’re talking, Sunshine! Jason, how about you bring your Switch here next weekend and we’ll have a battle then! We can also play Mario Kart for the good ol’ nostalgia’s sake.”
“It’s a deal!” Jason agreed and Leo and he shook hands to seal the promise.
“We’re gonna have to have a strategy meeting before that,” Leo turned to Calypso again. “These two have played more so they have the advantage.”
“Oh yes, for sure,” Calypso agreed. “I didn’t know you had a Switch, though. Haven’t seen you use it.”
“I do, though. One customer broke theirs and I told them I couldn’t fix it…”
“Leonidas!” Calypso said disapprovingly.
“Relax, I’m just kidding. Gotta try to keep up my bad boy supreme image. In reality I bought it because I wanted to give Georgie a reason to come visit me more often, but between my studies and work I haven’t really had a chance to use it much.”
“You are not a bad boy supreme, you are a doting brother. I’m sure Georgie would like to spend time with you either way, though.” Calypso said as much to her as Leo’s surprise.
“Guys, as much fun as this is to listen to, your food is getting cold,” Piper pointed out as she stuffed more of her tofu tacos (Leo had made both meat and vegan options) into her mouth. The two quickly turned their attention back to their dinner while Jason and Piper casted knowing looks at each other. Leo may not have admitted it out loud but there definitely was something going on between the two. It was the way they casted shy looks at each other when they thought the other one wasn’t looking, how their faces softened when the other one said something they liked, and how they pretended to bicker but neither really wasn’t too serious with their words. Maybe they weren’t quite sure themselves what to think but Piper had a strong feeling eventually they would figure it out.
The group continued a relaxed conversation as they ate about all things possible; university, weird customers Leo ran into in his work, food, games, how Piper and Jason had met Leo, and so on. After the guests thanked for the food and said their goodbyes, Leo asked Calypso:
“So, those were my friends. What do ya think?”
“I think they are great! I admit I was quite nervous at first but… they seem to be easy to hang out with.”
“Good! Um, listen,” Leo said, suddenly feeling a bit awkward. “I still have one project to finish today and I have early classes tomorrow, ugh… But I had a good time today. So thanks.”
“I had a good time too.” Calypso smiled. “Despite that chili!” she decided to remind him.
“Oh, right, sorry about that.” Leo ruffled his hair. “I won’t make you do that again. Maybe.”
“You’d better not,” Calypso said but not in a mean spirited way. “Anyway, I have some homework to do as well, so… Good night, Leo.” She smiled at him before withdrawing into her room.
“Good night, Cal.” He waved at her, noticing that one part of his brain was already looking forward to talking to her again later.
#caleo#leo valdez#calypso#heroes of olympus#percy jackson and the olympians#trials of apollo#my fics#caleo uni au#ps. oh imagine cal meeting jason in canon... oh right she can't. haha
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Who: Caleb
With: Ollie ( @sxncerelyme )
Verse: Makin’ Magic.
Prompt: send me a 💏 and i will randomise a number in order for my muse to kiss yours... 20. on a scar.
Caleb had never been a particularly violent man.
His Ma and Pa had been simple folk, farmers, and not even particularly large- scale ones at that. They’d been the kind of peasants that treasured their small herd of sheep like their lives had depended on it, and it had. Their sheep and their garden had been what kept them from starving.
They’d had no business at all taking in the screaming infant they’d found left abandoned on the rocky shoreline on their way home from a trip to the capitol city, but as his Ma had always put it- they’d had no choice, from a moral standpoint. And, she always told him, you’ve been the greatest blessing we ever could have asked for.
It had been years since the plague had taken them, and they’d never been able to conceive any other children. In a community like theirs, Caleb hadn’t ever really been completely alone- he and his neighbors had a policy of helping where they could and with them all banding together, with them all scrabbling at a different livelihood and specialty, they managed to form a trading circle that ensured they all got what they needed to survive, even if some years or seasons stretched awful thin.
Still, there was a difference between the shelter of community and the bond of a family. Perhaps Caleb had been desperate for that kind of love when he’d brought home a nearly dead witch and nursed him back to health.
Something- someone- had attacked him.
Caleb had been terrified, looking at the bloody body unconscious near the treeline at the very edge of his property. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to dig a grave. He’d done so twice when he was eleven. He was nineteen now and stronger, he could do it- but the corpse had let out a startling raspy moan when he’d went to bundle it up and move it and of course the only thing left to do was cart it to his little two- room shack and take care of it. Him.
It was the edge of winter now, and he had barely enough stored away to feel secure that he’d feed himself. But from a moral standpoint, he didn’t have a choice. And who knew? Maybe it would be a blessing. Maybe his greatest blessing ever.
And as time went on, Caleb grew more and more convinced that it was.
It turned out the man’s name was Ollie. It also turned out that Ollie was even more handsome cleaned up and fed and conscious than he was bloody and dirty and nearly- dead looking, and Ollie was funny and smart and pretty and he made Caleb feel warm and happy even on the dreariest winter days. It had taken him a while to get better, and much as Caleb doted on him, much as he fretted over his wellbeing- the stronger Ollie got the sadder Caleb became. He’d grown a little too attached. A little too fond. The thought of him leaving opened up a yawning chasm inside Caleb’s chest, something terrible and hungry, and he didn’t- he didn’t know how he was meant to let him go.
And there was another thing about Ollie, too.
He was a witch.
Caleb had been a little afraid when he’d first learned, but curiosity had quickly overtaken the fear and he’d begged and pleaded to see the magic and had bombarded the other boy with questions, his eyes lit up with sheer, unadulterated joy. Ollie’d been a little confused that Caleb hadn’t been one too- he’d said something about how he could feel it. Feel the magic. But Caleb wasn’t and never had been a witch, never would be, and the little experiments Ollie tried went to prove that.
There was a part of him that was still worried, but not in the sense that he believed Ollie was any sort of scary, evil creature. Everyone knew that those with magic would end up dead, executed by the guard if the people around them didn’t get to them first. Harboring a witch.... well. Caleb was sure nothing favorable could come of that being discovered, but he wasn’t sorry, and he didn’t want Ollie to leave.
Hadn’t, at least, until he’d let Ollie journey to the creek to catch a few fish for their dinner and he came back hurt.
A smaller- scale attack this time, and a fought he’d won, but there was a slash on his neck that was still gushing blood, too much, and something--
Something happened to Caleb.
Something weird.
It had started with his jaw, with his teeth. Started with something shifting and rearranging, growing sharper, serrated. And his eyes, going a milky- blue and glowing, and his skin--
“I’ll kill them,” He spat. “I’ll kill them all, they touched you, they hurt you-” He was shaking, that fucked up, flaky- thick- scaly- distortion spreading up from his nailbeds, nails gone long and curved and inky black, and it was taking over his hands, spreading up his arms- if he’d thought to focus on it, he would’ve realized the same thing was happening to his feet, patchy scales taking over his skin. Changing.
He’d never felt that sort of fury. The kind of anger that sang hot through every vein in his body, casting a hazy red- hot veil over his vision, the kind of anger that made him lust for blood. There hadn’t been a single part of him that hadn’t wanted to give in to it, sink further into that mindless, furious hunger, and fucking devastate whatever monster had done this to Ollie. To his Ollie. His witch.
But Ollie was there. There, with his hands cradling Caleb’s face, warm flesh overtop Caleb’s clammy scales, having spread upwards to form patches along his cheeks. There with wide eyes filled with something inexplicable and a voice that was warm and honey- sweet even against the backdrop of whatever horrible inhuman noise was coming from Caleb’s throat as he shook and envisioned the bloodiest of deaths for whoever’d laid a hand on Ollie.
He was saying something. Something to the extent of It’s okay, probably, or calm down. Something like that. Something that Caleb didn’t hear overtop the sound of that furious, snarly, clicking- high- pitched chirpy noise he’d been making, but something that his mind and body registered nonetheless.
It started in his teeth again this time, but in reverse. Slowly. His vision grew sharper and his skin began changing, nails began receding, vocal cords twisted and changed once more until all that he was was a boy that looked like a human, teary-eyed and keening over this injured witch he’d wanted so desperately to care for.
“Ollie,” He said, brain fuzzy and unwilling to process whatever it was that had just happened. “Ollie. You’re hurt. Let me- let’s go inside, please, I need to take care of you. Please, Ollie. Please. Please.” And, perhaps in the interest of preventing another episode, or perhaps just because the man really was bleeding out and looking rather unsteady on his feet, Caleb had gotten his way.
He’d applied pressure and frantically, fretfully fetched ingredients for a poultice, one that Ollie had imbued with magic before he’d passed out, and Caleb hadn’t taken his eyes off him since. Or his hands off of him. Or legs. He’d carried him from the bed to the chair by the fire because his skin had felt cold, colder than normal, and he hadn’t thought twice about crawling up into his lap and curling around him while he slept. Just sleeping. A heavy sleep, one he apparently wasn’t interested in waking from- but from here, Caleb could press his ear to Ollies chest and feel his heart beating. He could slip his fingers beneath his shirt and feel it beating if he wanted. He could hear and feel every inhale the witch took, each little noise he made in his sleep, could keep track of the way his lashes flickered or his lips twitched as he dreamt. Could take in the scent that belonged solely to him, faint as it was beneath the copper tang of blood that clung to him no matter how carefully Caleb had cleaned him and the bitter- sweet aroma of the sticky mishmash of herbs slathered on his skin beneath the bandage.
It had been hours of this, now. Hours of Caleb mumbling and begging the sleepy witch to be okay. Hours of him petting his messy curly hair and brushing careful fingers across his perfect cheekbones. At some point Caleb’s legs had gone numb, knees squeezed in the chair on either side of Ollie’s hips and his lower legs squished beneath his own weight, but they could fall off for all he cared. He wasn’t leaving. Couldn’t. He’d thought about it once, just in the interest of making soup for whenever Ollie woke, but he’d started shaking again and his heart had started pounding and he’d pressed his nose against Ollie’s collarbone and tried not to let it happen again. That thing, from earlier.
Whatever it was.
He was still there, now, though his face had shifted slightly so that his cheek was pressed against Ollie’s shoulder. If he’d been any less on guard, he would have fallen asleep long ago, lulled by the warmth and comfort of being close. He was still idly running his fingers down Ollie’s arms, but at some point- he wasn’t sure when and wasn’t inclined to examine it or stop- he’d started pressing little barely- there kisses to the bandage that covered a wound that would have killed a lesser man. Would have killed a human. A wound that would leave a scar that only magic and intent would ever take away. And kisses that wandered elsewhere, too, to his jawline, to what little of his throat was left unmarred, to his collarbone. Maybe a nibble there, but Ollie wasn’t awake to know or care- or. Oh. Maybe he was.
Cal should have bitten him forever ago if that would do the magic trick of waking him up, he thought, though he knew it was doubtful such a little thing had been the cause of the end of Ollie’s great slumber and was likely just coincided with it.
Perhaps he should be worrying, now, as the shallow breaths of sleep deepened into those that accompanied wakefulness. Perhaps he should keep his lips to himself. Give the man a bit of space, pretend to be a decent and respectable person. Instead, he dragged his nose along the underside of Ollie’s jaw, inhaling shamelessly before pressing another pointed but oh- so- gentle kiss to the bandage that covered Ollie’s wound. “How are you feeling?” He rumbled, voice husky, just a tang of that something other marring it again. Something not human.
He wasn’t a witch, but he wasn’t a human, either.
But that wasn’t his focus right now. He tried to regain control of his thoughts again, tried to reroute his focus away from how close he’d come to losing Ollie.
“Are you hungry?” He asked, scoring his nails down Ollie’s arms slightly without ever turning to look at him. “Thirsty? Does it hurt? I’ll get you something. Anything. Just tell me what you need. Please.”
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Mental health
This is really an outburst of emotion, but I finally ( at the ripe age of 24) admit that there has also been a deep and emotional (out of considered norm with me).
.Through school i struggled with attention during lessons.
When it came to home work in with my family., I had a mental breakdown every time. “ just do it like this, it’s easy”, echoing words from my mother and father and me saying “ I can’t do it”, “ I don’t get it”, “ I don’t understand how”. all of this every time homework was contented or anything that seemed normal to everyone else.
. I just shut down and struggled in silence. In the end, I shut off. I was’n t the most confident child, I was considered not smart, but I cause no trouble and just got on with it, thought silently I struggled with every question with every sentence a teacher projected.
. I couldn't focus. I remember being in extra maths tuition and I was just doodling away because I didn’t understand what’s going on
. I would always feel the need to explain myself when to came to expressing my self
e.g.
“” I want a dragon for my name tag,because I really like dragons”
but this took me, from my memory ages to ask my teacher if it’s okay to express my interest., and they came along and said “ yeah it’s fine”
And you know, sitting back and realising at 24 that I was always the black sheep( I mean throughout entire life I felt odd and even people will say that “ there was always something there”. for example:
> I am from a divorced family, but I saw the official divorce coming miles away, whiles my two younger siblings didn't( them being 8 and 5 at the time) and they emotionally. hit hard the most., while I at 12 saw it coming and had no reaction from it. I remember at 12, most people talked about there parents getting divorced and even said to me “ it’s hard isn’t it”. and I remember stood there and going along with this divorce narrative and saying “ yeah, it feels bad” when in reality I felt nothing. I saw the divorce coming, yet I felt nothing.
here comes a list of how I have always felt:
> I can’t stand touch from anyone in my family
> If I am touched I am put on edge as growing up, this was not a normality
> I find it hard to pay attention to others
> I’ can not make eye -contact with others and if I every do, I am not listening to what they are saying to me, as am 100% focused on making eye contact.
> Everyone thinks I am odd/weird, but will just say “ oh that;s me being scatty”, oh “ that’s me being forgetful”. I’ve always felt people dodge a bullet around me and that’s because they know that there is something odd about me or out of “normal” with me”
> I am so so so emotional. I react to the slightest criticism even though, In know they are not direction it with me.
> I find it so hard to concentrate. If someone says “ can you do this” and then another person says “ can you do this for me”. I have a mental breakdown on what to prioritise first and then I start feeling down on myself and I start to feel; worthless and that in realty I feel like I am really worthless and I can’t switch these emotions off
> I am at constant fight with myself o how I feel e.g. :
me: I need to call a friend after a long time not talking to them
Brain: yeah.. but you don’t really
Me: I really do, I like them
> brain: but if you do call the, they might say no and make you feel like shit
me: I see your point, but, I still need to cal them I like them a lot
> brain: but do they lie you, you;re not worth it}
me: I suppose you’re right, but i;ll still call mayhem
me: calls them, they have other plans but to sort out a date soon
m,e: that’s fine, i’ll see em another time
brain:@ they hate you., you're; worthless. You’re not worth anyone's time.
you know what, at the end of the day:
> I don’;t have the normal family bond. IO can;t stand] if any of them comes near me. It makes me stressed and on edge. bluntly do not have any care towards my family
> I struggle so much every day t keeping to deadlines and tasks and the stereotypical, way bof conditioning
> I over think
> If I am supposed to be back at at 12:00 and I am back t 12:02, I have a breakdown and feel like I am worthlessness
> I am a hardcore people please
> certain sounds, make my hands go to my ears
> my attention is all over the place
> I over-react to crisis
> I am lost
> I am the black sheep and have afterthought there is something off with me, nearly everyone has said the same thing ( oh it’s me, it’s just how she is
> i have no emotional attachment to my family, never have, never will.
I feel all over the place and from past few months to be honest my life I havve always felt to of place and that my emotions have got pushed assigned because they are not stereotypical normal.
I know and people who are close to me know, that there has always been something off me with developmentally through my life and has ( bless them) accepted it, but now it is my time to find answers to the way I think and act.
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