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hiccstrxd · 3 years

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Heaven is you

This was an idea i had for Rayla's birthday and the outline seemed too wholesome to not do it lol. It has family feels and rayllum being soft as always. Read it on ao3.

Summary: Rayla always remembers her past birthdays with fondness. But this one in particular has brought her an abundant amount of joy, filling her heart with the purest of loves.

Or a recollection of Rayla’s birthdays through the years.

Rayla always remembers her past birthdays with fondness.

She recalls being four and waking up to her mum’s soft voice in her ear, a happy birthday, my love being lovingly murmured in the air. She would pretend that she was asleep, cracking one eye open from time to time and doing her best to contain in her laughter as her mother would start to rub her hair soothingly to wake her up. But she would burst into a fit of giggles before her mum could say anything else — even though Rayla is pretty sure she saw past her flimsy excuse of a stoic facade — and her mother would start to laugh alongside her, tickling her belly and asking her when has her little moonbeam gotten this sneaky.

She hadn’t, obviously.

She’d scoop her in her arms and they would go downstairs where her dad would be cooking her favorite breakfast — he’d always go all out when it was her birthday. And he’d see them still laughing as they approached, he’d see them — his two favorite people ever — and he’d come up to them, lifting her in his arms and making her laugh, telling her that today she chose what they would do because today was all hers. Because he’d move earth and sky for his tiny warrior.

And she remembers the glimmer in her mum’s eyes, her father’s beaming smile, her own expression mirroring theirs; she remembers feeling loved, safe, and content.

ii.

Rayla recalls being eleven and coming back after nearly an entire day of training to a cake on the dining table, a sole candle lit on its center, and a neatly folded paper resting beside it. It was rather late, her whole body ached as the practice had been a vigorous one, but upon seeing the homemade gateau she no longer felt the ever consuming exhaustion. No, she felt lighter, more at ease.

Ethari had been sporting the warmest of smiles, his eyes showing every bit of love towards his foster daughter who they had come to care for as their own. Runaan had walked over to where his husband was and stood right next to him, somehow matching his emotion almost instantly — he had been sort of tense before leaving the meadow — and they had wished her the happiest of birthdays, holding her tightly in their embrace, muttering words of comfort and pride and love.

She remembers thinking that there was still a void in her heart as the aftermath of her parents’ absence, but being there surrounded by her two guardians that loved her an abundant amount and whom she loved as much in return, that showed her day after day their support and their care was enough to bring her solace.

She had felt love all the same.

And she always looked forward to reading her parents’ letter at the end of the end. The words were like a warm hug from afar. She became misty-eyed and held the letter close to her heart for hours as if she was keeping her parents in a safe place near her heart.

iii.

She recalls being sixteen and sitting alone in the Xadian forest. She had been wounded and restless, tired and alone. Everywhere and everything hurt, but ironically she had felt numb from head to toe. Somewhere in the back of her mind she vaguely remembered what that day was supposed to be.

And the bittersweet afterthought made matters worse because then the pang in her chest was just a little too hard to ignore.

Rayla had felt cold and empty, being alone with her thoughts was as harmful as it sounded and the unbecoming urge to cry was getting hard to suppress. But she ended up shedding tears, letting them fall freely as they have been welling up and contained in since much too long ago.

It was her birthday, and she had tried to forget it, making herself not feel, perhaps then the pain would subdue.

It hadn’t.

iv.

It was her birthday and she couldn’t get the royal physician’s words out of her head. They were spinning, echoing, repeating themselves. And she felt equal amounts of excitement and trepidation all at once.

Congratulations Your Highness, you’re with child.

They have been trying, of course, they have, so the news shouldn’t be such a surprise to hear that their efforts had actually turned out fructiferous. But they have, and she didn’t know how to assimilate them without cutting the appointment short and leaving a very confused physician behind, one who was patiently waiting for a reaction out of her.

Because she was excited and elated and so beyond happy that it was taking a lot of willpower to remain seated and not run off to find Callum.

“Your Highness? Is everything all right?”

She blinked, “Of course.” Rayla offered them a smile. How could it not be, honestly?

And after a couple of recommendations and how they’d like to see her in the span of a few weeks — after all, the babe was still a halfling and the pregnancy was to be monitored constantly for that matter — they bid her goodbye with another well-meaning congratulation on the way.

Rayla couldn’t help the fast pace in which she was walking nor the beaming smile from breaking out.

“Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking nonstop for you. What did the physician say?” She heard Callum’s voice round the corner; the worried tone of her husband of three years was enough to make her smile deepened because he was just the sweetest person ever and she just knows that he’s going to be the best father out there.

And the mere thought was enough to make her heart burst with adoration.

He took a couple of steps forward and placed one hand on her cheek, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth, “Are you all right?”

“I’m pregnant.”

The words left her mouth before she had time to catch herself, before she had any time to dwell on how to tell him, but after they were out, she knows that there was no better way, no better time. Because seeing those expressive, loving eyes widen in realization, going through every emotion in the span of a second, how his hand stilled its movement on her cheek and how she heard his breath catch in his throat was as heartwarming as if she’d had outlined a grander plan in advance to break the big news to him.

“Really?” He whispered, barely audible.

She hummed.

“You are pregnant?”

She hummed again.

“There’ll be a tiny, perfect mix of the both of us in a couple of months?”

Rayla nodded unable to keep the grin off her face, her arms coming upwards to lace them loosely around his neck and raising herself on her tiptoes to breath small kisses across his cheek — damn those two inches he had gained on her. Their chests were pressed together, and she felt the deep rumble in his chest that soon turned into a peal of boisterous laughter that surely could be heard through the entire hallway. The sound was too contagious to not let out one of her own.

His arms came to encircle her waist, engulfing her in a tight hug, both of them shaking with laughter and happiness and pure delight.

“We’re having a baby.”

“We are.”

They pulled back slightly, faces inches away from each other’s, noses brushing against one another, breaths mingling in their shared space. She wanted to capture this blissful moment in a picture.

And then his lips slowly curved into a smug grin.

“Don’t.” Rayla raised a single brow, looking pointedly at him because she knew where his mind had headed in a matter of seconds. And because she also remembers rather vividly exactly what he had thought about — it had been a very nice anniversary gift, after all. It had carried the promise of fervent love, a burning passion, and a couple’s desire of at last starting a family.

He let out an amused laugh, “I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t have to, I practically saw you thinking about it!” She rolled her eyes playfully and crossed her arms over her chest, letting out a huff in faux disbelief at her husband’s antics. They locked gazes, grass green meeting amethyst violet, a glimmer in both of them. They couldn’t help the small laugh thereafter.

His eyes softened as the laughter ceased, pulling her closer by the waist and planting one tender kiss on the lips, feeling all the love conveyed in such a small action and trying to reciprocate as much as she was receiving.

“I love you.” She said lovingly when they parted, her hands coming up to cup his jaw in a light grasp.

He brought one hand to his lips, kissing the underside softly, “I adore you.”

Rayla knows that it wouldn’t be easy, parenting — motherhood— never was as the rising self-doubts, the exhaustion of both mind and body, the anxiety of diving into the unknown, and all the possible mistakes that were bound to be made. But, she thinks, as long as they have each other — and everyone else who has been there for that matter — this baby would be raised with abundant love and affection. She'd make sure of it.

It was superfluous to say that this birthday by far had brought her one of her greatest joys. A surprise that couldn’t be topped by any other.

#rayllum #rayllum fic #rayllummonth2021 #my writing #rayla #callum #the dragon prince #rayllum fanfic #it's fluff #because i can't write anything else #and they are married #because i say so #there’s also lots of family feels

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songforabarricade · 3 years

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in between the flashes it was sad, it was tragic (ao3 link)

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Ben’s not completely certain that he isn’t going to regret leaving Callum downstairs with his mum and Lola whilst he told Lexi the latest instalment of her bedtime story, not if the sound of giggling is anything to go by as he makes his way back down to the living room. Poking his head around the bottom of the stairs, he sees the two ladies sat on the sofa, Callum in the arm chair, and a box sat on the coffee table between them.

“God he was such a cute child,” Kathy states wistfully.

“What went wrong, eh?” quips Lola, sending chuckles around the three occupants of the room.

Callum’s ears turn a slight shade of pink as he quietly but sincerely states, “he’s still cute.”

Callum's reaction at least clues Ben into knowing that they are talking about him, so he can't help but call out. “And that is why you are my favourite, babe”, as he decides to make his presence known to those in the room.

Perching himself on the arm of Callum’s chair, he can’t stop himself from gently smiling at the gorgeous man beside him. Callum’s face, still tinged a rosy shade, lights up in response, and Ben can’t quite believe that this is his life now, after months of secretly longing for this man – no matter how much he tried to convince himself that his desire for Callum was purely physical.

Turning back to the women occupying the sofa, Ben realises that the box contains piles of old photographs and photo albums. Turning to his mum and sighing dramatically, he can’t help himself from questioning, “did you seriously decide to get my baby photos out now that I’ve bought a man home?”.

“Yes,” Kathy dryly states, unable to stop herself from chuckling as Ben shakes his head at her.

Lola can’t help turning around one of the photos in her hands, featuring a Ben of no older than five, attempting to walk in a pair of Kathy’s heels. She can’t help but say, “I have to wonder whether it’s me or you that Lexi gets it from sometimes.”

It sends more laughs around the room, and Ben can’t help but glance at Callum, and is amazed at the soft eyes and genuine mirth upon the taller man’s face. The sudden rush of wanting to be enveloped in his arms runs through Ben’s body, so he decides to hurry the ladies up so they can begin a quiet night in.

“Right that’s enough you two. Mum, don’t you have to get to the Albert. And Lo, I know that you were due to meet Jay ten minutes ago, so you might want to get a move on.”

It takes a couple of minutes, but eventually the boys find themselves alone. Ben is unable to stop himself sliding into Callum’s lap, his hand snaking around Callum’s neck as his fingers start to stroke through his hair, whilst Callum’s arms comes around his waist tightly.

“Hi,” Callum smiles softly at him, and Ben finds himself leaning forward to kiss the corner of his mouth, before smiling back at him. “Hi yourself.”

For a couple of weeks now, Ben has found himself inextricably… happy. It is a feeling he still isn’t quite used to, a feeling he knows is largely down to the man whose eyes he is looking into deeply. He leans his forehead against Callum’s, raising his left arm up to hold his face close to his, and lets his eyes fall shut for several seconds as he just breathes him, and the moment, in. And whilst he can feel his heart racing with the feelings that are quickly developing for this beautiful man, Ben can’t help but enjoy the peacefulness of the moment, especially given the contrast to the chaos that is usually his life.

After several moments, Callum pulls away, though he keeps his arms around Ben’s waist, keeping him in place, before he tells him, “you were a cute kid”.

Ben shakes his head, before turning slightly towards the pile of photos beside the box, ones he assumes his mum and Lola had already gone through.

“You probably gave my mum all the encouragement she didn’t need to get these out, didn’t ya?”, Ben says, retrieving the photos before leaning back, settling himself comfortably at an angle that allows him to enjoy all of Callum’s warmth as well as his face.

“God, I haven’t looked at these pictures in years,” he murmurs, partly to himself, but not attempting to hide the words, or the emotions that spread across his face as he looks through them from Callum – which he counts as an achievement in itself.

The photo at the top of the stack shows three children grinning at the camera. In the middle sits a toddler version of Ben himself dressed in a set of blue dungarees, whilst either side of him, a slightly older Peter and Lucy, and all three have chocolate smeared across their faces. There is part of him that can’t help but get introspective about where those three children went – one the other side of the world, one six feet in the ground, and the boy sat in the middle, who has caused more pain than happiness and is still in the spot where all three began.

“I doubt anyone could of seen what would of happened to those three kids back then” Ben says quietly, moving the photo to the back of the pile. The next image causes him to tense as memories wash over him, the pain experienced by his eleven-year-old self evident in the eyes looking back at him, even if the smile on his face attempted to hide it as he stood next to an older Peter.

Ben glances up at Callum, seeing the curiosity sparking in the older man’s blue eyes, prompting Ben to try to find the resolve to tell him the story behind the photograph. Or rather, tell the story behind his reaction to the photograph. There is a part of him begging him to run, the flight response kicking in, to not give Callum another piece of himself, despite the fact that he has inadvertently been handing him the broken shards to hold onto since the day he shook his hand over the bar at the Vic.

However, it’s the gentle stroke of Callum’s fingers just above his knee that gives him the courage to tell the story.

“The trip this was taken on, we were in a car accident. Me, Peter, Dad and Ian.” Feeling tears welling up in his eyes, Ben looks up towards the ceiling, blinking them away before he takes a deep breath to continue. “When we got back, my dad’s girlfriend…Stella, she told me the crash was my fault. I believed it was all down to me…”

He gasps, however, when he feels Callum take hold of one of his hands, and he can’t stop himself from looking at him, desperately hoping that he doesn’t see pity. Instead, he finds a look of sympathy, a look of someone who understands some of the pain that he experienced, but also the small spark of anger in Callum’s eyes. And not anger towards him. Anger for him. It shocks Ben, and at the same time doesn’t, the knowledge that they are intertwining their lives and histories at a rapid rate. But it still takes Ben by surprise when Callum breaks the silence of the room with a whispered voice.

“You don’t have to, Ben. Not for me. I’ve heard… some of it. You don’t need to go back there for me.”

Whilst there is a part of Ben that is relieved that he doesn’t have to go into details with Callum, another part is bitter that the opportunity to tell him himself has been taken away from him, and he can’t stop that bitterness from tinging his words when he says, “well, it’s not like it isn’t common knowledge on this damn square.”

He finds himself turning away from Callum, desperate to stop himself returning to his thoughts around that time in his life. Ben practically throws the photographs back on the table, but the stack is uneven and several end up scattered across the floor. He tries to get up, but Callum’s arms around his waist stop him from getting very far, and he finds he doesn’t have the energy to fight against him, not when all he wants is for those arms to hold him close whilst he falls apart. But he’s still Ben Mitchell, so he makes an attempt to slump begrudgingly in his original position on Callum’s lap, face turned down to look at where one of Callum’s hands has resettled against his leg.

After several moments, Callum calls his name and Ben’s longing for him wins out over his stubbornness, and he finds himself falling into the oceans looking back at him.

Taking a deep breath and refusing to look away, Callum states calmly, “You were just a child, and it wasn’t your fault.”

“You don’t know that. Not like you were there,” Ben spits out, but it seems Callum recognises it as the defensive mechanism that it is, as he simply continues.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Callum repeats, the determination evident in his tone of voice. “You might have scars, and bruises. Ones that the world can’t see at first glance. Or any glance at all unless you let them in. But you are strong Ben, you’re a fighter, and you can tell me all about it when you are ready, or you never have to tell me at all. But none of it was your fault.”

Ben blinks several times, trying to keep the tears at bay and make himself believe this man whose arms are clasped around his waist. This man, with his gorgeous face and his stunning blue eyes and his heart of pure gold, sincerity oozing through every pore of his body, who has been to hell and back multiple times himself. Who despite everything, is wants to take a chance at standing by his side in the cruel world that Ben occupies, and is still going to confidently say that these moments from Ben’s past were not down to him, were not his fault. It takes Ben’s breath away sometimes, what Callum does to him.

Choked up, and unable to look at Callum anymore for fear he might break, Ben hides his face in the crook of Callum’s neck, taking in a deep breath and inhaling the musk that is Callum after a long day. Knowing that bit by bit, he is falling ever deeper for him.

As Callum’s hands begin to thread through his hair, he knows that one day he will reveal every piece of his story to him. Some of those pieces may be soft and some may be brittle, whilst others may be sharp and jagged, but he has a feeling that Callum will do nothing but handle them with care and keep them safe, just as Ben wants to do with the pieces of Callum’s life that get handed to him.

And in the meantime, he has found a person who will guard and keep him safe whilst he puts those pieces back together himself.

#bm2020 #benmitchellweek2020 #eastenders #ben x callum #ballum #my fic #this was supposed to be really happy and light and then it found itself going to a darker place #anyway this was the first day ive actually been able to write this week so i thought fuck it and joined in the fun #hope you enjoy <3

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ahtohallan-calling · 4 years

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chapter 4 of promises to keep is here!

[kristanna / 18th c scotland au / love and angst and kiltstoff in equal measure / rated t / 2.5k words this chapter / cw for death and a brief reference to suicide]

masterpost

What would Kristoff think of me now? she thought, the corner of her mouth curling up in amusement. All covered in dirt and with mortar spilled on my dress.

She knew exactly what he’d say: he’d tease her at first, pretend not to recognize her, and then he’d catch her up in his arms and kiss her so soundly the past months would fall away, and once more they would only be Anna and Kristoff, on the hill together worried about nothing but who would lead the next embrace.

chapter 4: the call of the sea

“Miss Anna! Someone’s coming!” the carpenter’s son shouted from the branches of the oak tree where he perched every afternoon waiting for his father to come home.

“How many, Ross?” she called back, her heart already pounding, half afraid and half wondrous. It was mid-May, and there’d been no news since the start of April. She and the rest of the townsfolk were all at their wits’ end; only two more months and a bit, and it would be a full year since the men had ridden off to a war that was supposed to have finished before Christmas.

She wiped her hands on her bodice in an attempt to clean them of the dust they had collected as she had worked to repair a crack in the side of the well in the center of town. What would Kristoff think of me now? she thought, the corner of her mouth curling up in amusement. All covered in dirt and with mortar spilled on my dress.

The men who rode up to her, Ross still trailing them, were gray-faced and solemn. “Welcome,” Anna said, curtsying deeply as if she were in a silk gown and not dingy muslin that she wore on the days she worked outside like this. “What news have you?”

“We’re looking for Eleanor MacLeod, the wife of your chief.”

She stood as tall as she could. “My aunt went to the Lord’s side three months past.”

The men exchanged an uneasy look. “Are you the chief’s next of kin, then?”

“Aye, suppose I am. What news have you that’s so important it needs this pageantry?” she asked, doing her utmost to keep her tone light.

They dismounted and, to her surprise, bowed their heads. “We were sent by our own chief, John MacLeod of Dundee, to bring you news of our kinsmen.”

“Well, spit it out, then,” Anna said impatiently.

How long the silence lasted, she didn’t know; it could have been a second, a minute, an hour, but later, when she stood alone on the hill after sharing the news with the rest of the villagers. she wished desperately that it had dragged on forever, or that she had never been born to hear, “I’m sorry, miss, but they’re gone.”

—

Nearly half the village, gone just like that. A few they had already had news of, the ones who were on the front lines and paved the way for early victories, but the rest had been cut down just south of Culloden. An hour, that’s what the two messengers had told her; that was all it took, and just like that the war was ended, for the soldiers, at least.

It would never be over for her, nor for the rest of the women and fathers and sons who’d been too old or young to go; the rest of their lives would be spent trying to climb back from the abyss of despair they’d been unceremoniously thrown into.

Anna did her best to keep a brave face on. Elsa defaulted to her, and the rest of the townsfolk, even the men who had bounced her on their knees when she’d been a babe, followed suit, and so she was the one who had broken the news to each household, held each widow while she wailed, brought food around from the castle’s larders to anyone who couldn’t bring themselves to move, let alone keep hungry mouths fed.

And she was the one who, tormented by sleepless nights of wondering where Kristoff rested now and whether she might ever be able to grieve him there, brought them together on the first of June, a stone held tightly in each of her hands, and led them to the crest of the hill where she had wasted their last night waiting for a man who hadn’t come to her and now never would again.

She set down the larger of the two first. “For my uncle Lachlan,” she said, proud and fierce as she could manage despite the tears already threatening, “one of the greatest men I ever knew.”

She placed the other next to it. “And for my…for Kristoff,” she said, digging her nails into her palm to keep her voice steady, and though she couldn’t bring herself to say more she knew they all understood.

Bridget and her son were next; she knelt down and laid the stone as carefully as she could while the little boy clung to her collar, wide-eyed. “For our Callum,” she said, her voice barely audible but steady all the same. “The finest husband and father we could have asked for.”

On and on it went, until the cairn rose to her waist and the others had dispersed to her homes and she was left standing alone next to it in darkness. She reached out with a trembling hand to rest her fingertips on top of the final stone, the one a little girl had stood on her tiptoes to place as she whispered, “For my grandpapa.”

“Rest well,” she said, dry-eyed and hollowed as an ancient bone. “And know we’ll not forget you.”

—

On the eve of the three hundred and sixty-fifth day without him, she mounted the hill just after twilight and looked down at all the houses and their shuttered windows and let herself be swallowed up by silence.

She sat, pulling her knees to her chest and tucking her chin against them, and closed her eyes, for once not looking for a person who needed comforting or a job that needed doing, and instead allowing it all to wash over her.

It didn’t hurt at first, the thought of Callum and her uncle and Kristoff lying in unmarked graves, of the tears in the tapestry of her life that they had left behind. She felt detached from it somehow, like it was a simple fact she had read once in a book, they are dead and gone and your heart is buried with them. She wished it did hurt. Then she could cry, could scream, could wail until her voice broke against her grief like a wave slamming to shore– could do anything besides sit here feeling this unending emptiness.

She hated herself for it, for not being able to mourn them properly, the way they deserved. All she could do was stand back and organize the rest of the ones left behind and help them make sense of it all as best they could, distant and unfeeling as if she had never loved them at all.

I did, she thought, wishing she could pray it somehow and be assured that they would hear. More than my own life.

What a cruel twist of fate, then, to be left with the lesser of the two.

—

It was her sister at last who pulled her aside.

“Your dress keeps falling off your shoulders.”

“Because it’s worn out and I’ve not had the time to make a new one.”

“Because you’re running yourself ragged,” Elsa said softly, “and not eating enough, and come winter the winds will be strong enough to blow you away.”

Anna averted her eyes. “The people need me. And it’s not much, really, not compared to all the correspondence and– and money things you do here, and so it’s the least I can–”

“You need to take better care of yourself, Annie,” she said softly, and the nickname sent a jolt through her, reminded her of Callum and how he’d laughed and called her that since they were children, how they’d been Annie and Ellie to him, and they’d tease back and call him Callie and he’d scowl and fling bits of mud at them in revenge and–

“Stay with me,” her sister said again, louder this time, as she pressed cool hands to Anna’s cheeks.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she mumbles.

“You look like you’re about to faint.”

Anna sighed. “I’m fine.”

“You need to go and…and do whatever it is you need today. We all know what day it is. We knew the two of you long enough, we knew–”

“Stop,” Anna said, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears. “I don’t want to talk about it. It was just– just a silly, childish thing, since we didn’t really know his birthday– it doesn’t matter–”

“It mattered to you, didn’t it?”

Anna went silent, casting her eyes downward. “I thought it did.”

Elsa sighed and dropped her hands. “Tell me, Anna. Tell me why you won’t even take the time to mourn him.”

“I tried. I– I just can’t, Elsa, I– and I know it’s wrong and horrid of me, and what you must think of me–”

“What I think of you?”

“You– you still wear your mourning clothes, and it’s been three years now, and here I am unable to even cry–”

“It’s different for everyone,” Elsa said softly, “and– and I think in this case especially. I didn’t feel about Julien the way you felt– feel– about Kristoff.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend, I– I know you must have loved him ten times as much–”

“Not…like that.”

A faint blush was coloring her cheeks now, and Anna frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He was a dear friend, to be sure, and I miss him terribly even now, but…it wasn’t like that between us. He had, ah…someone else. Guillaume, to be precise.”

Anna’s eyebrows flew upward. “But you spoke of him so often afterwards, and– and you still–”

“I was a stranger in a strange land, and he was my only friend for a long time. But now, I confess, I still wear my widow’s garb so I’m not pressed into another marriage. I know I won’t be as lucky a second time.”

Anna mulled over this for a long moment. It was the sort of thing she had suspected more than once, but never dared to question aloud. “But you grieved him. You…you wept over him, still. And I…I cannot even feel anything. I just feel…empty. Numb.”

“For everyone it’s different. Julien’s mother was the same until the day I boarded the ship home, and then it all came over her at once. But you want to mourn, don’t you?”

“Yes. I…it’s what he deserves. What all of them do.”

“Then give yourself the time for it. Go to the sea today like you used to. The village can live a day without you.”

And so she did, sitting on the edge of the cliffs that overlooked the water and swinging her legs. She had never dared to do this– or rather, she had wondered how it would feel and crept ever closer to the edge, but whenever she turned back Kristoff would be pale, never out of arm’s reach, and so she would never go too far before turning to him and suggesting they go down to the shore instead. And the last time they had been here together, she had gone further than ever, overtaken by a sudden wild impulse, and had asked him, “Doesn’t it make you want to jump? Just to see how it feels?”, not looking at him as she peered down.

He had wrapped a thick arm around her waist, pulling her back against his chest hard enough that she had opened her mouth to protest before realizing she could feel his heart hammering against her spine. “No,” he had murmured, barely audible over the crash of the surf below, and she had leaned her head back against his shoulder and closed her eyes and known then that the love she felt for him that she had put off for years as a childish fancy was in fact the most solid and wonderful and real thing in the world.

People jumped from places like this. It was the sort of thing she thought she ought to consider; that was what you did, didn’t you, when you lost your true love?

She didn’t want to do that. She wanted to turn back and look over her shoulder and see him standing there, white-faced and reaching for her, and to run to him and hold on and promise never to give him such a fright again. She wanted to feel the press of his palm against her back, the rise and fall of his chest and the brush of his breath over her hair, wanted to hear the rumble of his laugh and see the twinkle in his eyes and taste on his lips the sweetness of all his promises and know he meant to keep every one of them.

She lifted her eyes from her lap towards the sea that had brought him to her and wondered what had taken him away; if it had been a musket or a noose or a fever, if he had lingered or been gone in a flash, if he had known that given the chance she would have stayed by his side and held his hand and made sure that the last thing he knew was how greatly he was loved.

And then, at last, she did weep for fear that perhaps he had been entirely alone, that perhaps his last thought hadn’t been that she loved him but that she might not forgive him for not coming home.

“I do,” she choked out, her voice whipped away by the wind, “I do, Kristoff, I do.”

—

There had been a time in his life when he had been able to come and go as he pleased, when his work had made him proud, when he had been able to stand without pain and breathe in the fresh highland air and look up to see the stars, a time when he had been content and hopeful and so very naive.

And he had been loved so much it took his breath away, even now when he leaned against the damp corner of a dank cell listening to the rattle of a key as it locked him back in once more after a job sufficiently done. His leg ached and his hands were blistered and he was so tired he didn’t know if he’d wake up in the morning, but he closed his eyes and saw a girl with a smile that shamed the stars and a heart so full of love it had always frightened him, how easily she gave it, for fear that she might run out and not have enough left over for him anymore.

He hoped that wasn’t the case, that she remembered him still, because he had a promise to keep.

#hope u enjoyed the peek into elsa's backstory #and that u like the ending better this time #kristanna #ptk #my fics #old scotland au

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sweetcandygirl21 · 4 years

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Christmas Eve

Ballum Advent Calendar Day 18! @ballum-fic-wishes

I wrote a little fic that I have had in my head for a while. Here’s a trigger warning for violence and abuse but it ends on a good note, I promise. Enjoy and Merry (Ballum!) Christmas :))))

They both lay panting staring up at the ceiling. Callum could feel the sweat drying on his skin, and it felt uncomfortable, but he couldn’t be bothered to move just yet. It still shocked him that he could feel that good, that Ben could make him feel that way. Fear had made him miss out on this his entire life. No more.

Ben was eerily quiet, so Callum turned to look at him and met light blue eyes.

“You OK?” Callum said, more to break the silence than anything else.

“Yeah” grunted Ben without losing eye contact, a little smile appearing on his face afterwards.

Callum turned his whole body towards Ben as best he could in the double bed that was too small for him to feel entirely comfortable. He’d gotten used to his feet sticking out at the bottom of the sheets. He brought his hand up to Ben’s face to stroke at his stubble. Ben mewled into the touch and turned his head to kiss Callum’s palm. The gesture made Callum’s heart skip a beat. He felt so lucky to have Ben in his life. He hoped this was coming across in the way he was looking at him.

“What’s wrong?” asked Ben, a worried crinkle appearing between his eyebrows.

Callum exhaled loudly. He had been thinking about today for a long time. He hated Christmas Eve. There was always a dark cloud hanging over him on the run up to the day. Whitney never seemed to notice but this year he had caught Ben side eyeing him during quiet moments and he knew he suspected something was off.

Ben was searching his face for an answer. He didn’t want to keep it from him.

“I hate Christmas Eve.”

Ben looked a little confused before replying. “Oh. Erm…how come?”

Callum fell back onto his pillow and returned his eyes to the ceiling. It was easier not to look at Ben whilst he explained but knew he was being watched intently.

“I was 8 years old. I was in the house on my own. My dad had gone to the pub and Stuart was supposed to be looking after me. Mick came to knock on and they talked at the door for a bit. He told him he had to look after me but after a bit of convincing from Mick he came to tell me to stay put. I asked him where he was going but he wouldn’t tell me, just told me to watch my cartoons and stay inside. I did as he said. There wasn’t much to do apart from watch tv anyway. I remember being hungry, so I went into the kitchen to look for something to eat. The fridge was full of booze and not much else, so I moved on to the bread bin. There were a few slices left so I folded them and ate them dry. Stuart had been gone a while so when I heard the door open, I thought it was him. I was excited cos he’d usually bring some food with him if he went out in the afternoon- a pizza to share, some chicken wings or bag of chips with lots of vinegar, just how I liked them. But it wasn’t him.”

Callum took the opportunity to look across at Ben. His eyes looked glassy and he swallowed before asking “what happened?”

“It was dad. He was swaying where he stood in the doorway and he didn’t seem to be focusing on me properly. I knew he was drunk. He stumbled past me without saying hello and went straight to the fridge. He grabbed a can then went further into the kitchen. I remember going to close the front door cos he’d left it open and I jumped cos I heard something smash in the kitchen. He sounded like he was wrecking the place, but it turns out he was looking for something to eat.”

Callum mimicked Jonno’s voice: “’Boy, boy! Where’s the bread?’” He came in to view in the kitchen doorway, but he didn’t seem that drunk anymore. His face had changed. He looked furious.

‘I know for a fact I left some bread in there this morning, so where is it, eh?’

He was moving towards me and all I could do was watch. It was as if it was slow motion, but it couldn’t’ve been cos the next second, he’d grabbed the front of my t-shirt and started shouting in my face.

‘Where is it? I said, where is it?’ He was shaking me, and I just remember being frozen in terror. My mouth was open, but nothing came out.”

Callum took a deep breath and looked back up at the ceiling.

“The next thing I knew I was thrown to the other side of the room by the sheer force of the slap he gave to my face. I’d never felt pain like it. My face felt hot and I couldn’t see properly because of the tears stinging my eyes. They stung my cheek too, where he’d hit me.

I stayed on the ground and cried for a while. He left me there. Didn’t ask if I was alright or come to apologise or anything. Eventually I got up and went to my room. He didn’t bother me again although I heard him every so often shouting at the TV. When Stuart eventually came home, I heard them arguing downstairs. I laid on my bed trying to make out the words, but it was all muffled. When Stuart came upstairs, he looked annoyed but thankfully he had brought a pizza with him. I don’t think I’ve eaten anything so quickly in my life! Burnt my tongue a little!”

Callum smiled and looked over at Ben who didn’t return the gesture. He looked up at Callum and a tear escaped down his cheek. Callum quickly went to wipe it and cup his face with his hand.

“I can’t believe that happened to you.”

Callum looked away. “I know. The next day was Christmas and he didn’t speak to me. I didn’t have any presents that year, so I pretty much just spent the whole day in front of the TV again. I remember hating school holidays when I was younger. I was always so bored when my dad was drinking ‘cos he’d never let me play out. Every so often he’d try to give up the booze. He was like a proper dad then. Almost made up for all the times he hurt us.”

Callum drifted off.

“But not quite, eh?”

Callum’s eyes drifted back to Ben’s. “No, not quite.”

“So that’s why you have been in a world of your own for the last couple of weeks then, eh?”

“I knew you’d noticed. I’m sorry.”

Ben sat up and leaned against the headrest. When he spoke, his voice was soft but determined.

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about babe. I was just worried. I figured something was wrong, but I didn’t wanna crowd you or try to force it out of you. I figured you’d tell me eventually.”

Callum smiled up at Ben as he leaned in for a chaste kiss.

“Look, I know you have bad memories, but I promise you, this year is going to be different. Me and you, we’re gonna spend it together and I’m gonna make it magical, the best Christmas ever, I swear babe.”

Callum looked up at Ben and saw the sincerity and excitement in his eyes. He sat up and pulled him in for another kiss, this one a little less chaste. There was something he wanted to say to Ben, something he had been thinking for a few weeks now. But it could wait a little longer…

#ballum advent calender #ballum advent calendar day 18 #ballum #eastenders #ee #ballum fic #FOR BALLUM #bbc eastenders #ben mitchell #callum highway #ben x callum

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lovingminter-blog · 7 years

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moody//calfreezy

request: Can you write an imagine where cal is all moody and stuff while with the guys and they call you up to straighten him out and when you get there he gets all happy and stuff?

this is quite short and the request was literally only just requested but i instantly had an idea for it!

requests are open!

love you all xo

All you had done for the past week was work and work and work. Your job had never usually been so demanding but since some of your co workers had caught a bug that had been spreading, you had to fill in their hours. This meant you’ve had very little sleep, barely had any time to yourself and you also haven’t seen your boyfriend for a little over a week.

Now, a week doesn’t sound that long but it felt like forever. With Callum’s usual busy schedule, you typically only just have a little bit of time together anyway however this week you had only spoke to him on the phone a few times with the odd text throughout the day.

It wasn’t the first time you hadn’t seen each other in a while, you had been together for a year and within that year there had been many holidays that you had gone on with your friends and it was the same with him. However, there was something about living only a few minutes away from Cal and not getting to see him that made it worse than when one of you was out of the country.

After what felt like years, your co workers returned and your boss treated you to a few days off for your hard work and owed hours. You had not long gotten home for the night, ready to enjoy a nice relaxing bath and an early night when your phone rang.

“Hello?” You didn’t look at the caller ID but immediately recognised Callux’s voice.

“Hi, (Y/N), are you still in work?”

“No, I’ve just got home,” you answered, a little confused at the question and your mind immediately began to think the worst. “Is everything okay? Is Cal alright?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, Cal is being a moody little bitch at the moment.” Lux said through gritted teeth, “the boys and I were wondering if you could come and straighten him out? We reckon it’s because he hasn’t seen you in a while.”

Your heart melted a little at the thought of Cal being upset because he hasn’t seen you for a week, so you quickly began to put your shoes and jacket back on. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

It was probably a miracle you got to the Tower in one piece as you kept nearly falling asleep behind the wheel. Your eyes would drop shut every time you had stopped at a red light.

As soon as you knocked at the door, Tobi answered within seconds and pulled you into a quick hug. “Please cheer him up, I think we’re all about to murder him.” He said into you ear which caused you to laugh. “He’s in his room. Good luck.”

With a playful roll of your eyes, you head to your boyfriends room and knock on the door. “Guys, I just want to be left alone for a bit!” He yelled through the door, his voice laced with annoyance that forced you to roll your eyes once again.

When you walked in you saw that Callum was sitting up against the headboard with his laptop on his lap and a pout on his lips; exactly like a moody teenager. “Did you not hear me?” Cal snapped without looking up and you were slightly taken a back by his attitude; he really was being a little bitch.

“Right, I guess I’ll just go home then.” As soon as the words had passed your lips, Callum’s head shot up and a huge grin grew on his face.

“Babe! I didn’t know you were coming.” He practically jumped off of his bed and pulled you straight into a hug, which you quickly melted into.

“I’ve missed you so much,” you said, breathing in the familiar smell you had missed that never failed to comfort you.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he mumbled before lifting your chin up and placing his lips on yours. Soon, you both pulled away and Callum raised his eyebrows at you when he noticed you were still in your works clothes, which you constantly say is the most uncomfortable uniform in the world. “Did you come straight from work?”

“Well, I had to, I heard you were being very moody and a moody Calfreezy is the worst,” you teased and he rolled his eyes but the beaming smile never fell from his face. A loud yawn fell from your lips and you were suddenly reminded about how tired you actually were.

“Hey, you’ve been busy at work all week, do you wanna go to sleep?” Cal asked softly, his hands playing with ends of your hair. You do nothing but nod and Cal presses a kiss to your forehead before grabbing you a t shirt from his drawers for you to get changed into.

You practically collapsed onto his bed once you were changed and Callum soon joined you after turning the lights off. He pulled you into him with one swift movement and pressed another kiss to the top of your head. “I love you so much,” he whispered into your ear as he traced patterns on your skin.

“I love you, too, Cal.”

Even though it had only been a week, you were so happy to be back in his arms again because it was exactly what you both needed.

#calfreezy #calfreezy imagines #callum airey #callum airey imagines #youtube #youtuber imagines #sidemen friends #sidemen #sidemen imagines #lovingminter writings

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