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Sapsorrow - Chapter 1
Masterlist here, Mood Board here.
Word Count: 6,022
Song Accompaniment: La Petite fille de la mer
This is the first part to a multi-chaptered series. Thank you @feral-artistry for brainstorming with me and shepherding me into the right direction.
Themes: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, forced proximity, lord and subordinate, one bed trope, apprehension, mutual pining, obligation, slow burn, eventual love, protective, "where is my wife" trope.
The cobblestone steps greeted your eyes with an iron and intimidating intensity, your future as uncertain as the words that were addressed to you regarding your newest undertaking. Two wards under the care of the Lord of Kuraigana were allegedly in dire need of training in the art of navigation as they began interacting with the upper classes. At risk of embarrassment, Lord Dracule Mihawk had humbled himself with his carefully and hastily composed words and sent them through to meet your eyes only.
Clasping firm the address within your fingertips, you reopened the rolled scroll to once again read over the words Dracule Mihawk had written to you. You smoothed over your formal title with the pads of your fingertips, reading the carefully crafted words beneath to ensure you did not misunderstand any minor detail:
“I hope this letter finds you well.
I will not dance around the issue at hand with formalities and fluttery words. I need use of your abilities as a trainer and governess.
Your resume speaks volumes, and your many debutants and young lords you have presented under your guiding hands have captured my attention with their attuned supremacy in handling all manner of circumstances. Although my wards are not of debutant age: both much older than the appropriate age of presentation, I find myself out of depths in training them to handle the upper class as fluidly as I know you are capable of doing so.
Two young adults: one young unrefined gentleman in need of carving down to size, and one young lady who I cannot donate my time to attune to her femininity.
I simply can’t - I cannot handle it. - Please can you – I need -
Should you desire to undertake such a challenge, I would humbly request – I expect you could – please find the disclosed location for my castle at Kuraigana.
To run the risk of sounding desperate, I once again reiterate: I need you, Governess.
I look forward to hearing your reply, and should you accept the position, I shall adjust wings accordingly for your stay along with discussing wages.
Kindest regards,
Lord Dracule Mihawk of Castle Kuraigana.”
Rereading his honest words, and smiling at his scratched and stricken notation, you began your ascension up the towering steps towards the large double doors of the keep. Having met the ex-warlord a handful of times at events held by the world government, you had never assumed he had paid heed to many of your accomplishments as a finishing instructor and governess to the upper class. Always professional, never swaying your gaze from your pupils and debutants under your watchful instruction, you could maybe recall a small amount of polite conversation between you and the Lord of Castle Kuraigana.
Again, you found yourself recollecting the handful of times you had spoken to the warlord in the past. He had always been professional, and you had always reciprocated in an appropriate manner to him.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
“Governess,” a smooth voice addressed you at your right hand side. Unmoving your gaze from the young gentleman you had been training for the past eleven months, you smiled and nodded your head in acknowledgement.
“Warlord,” you addressed him in return. Your pupil had finally worked up the courage to ask a young lady to dance, an action prompting you to sigh in both pride and relief.
“One of yours?” He asked, his voice quirking up at the end in question. Although it was deemed impolite to disregard a member of the upper class, you could not tear your eyes away from your young student as he was following the proper mannerisms of courtship. He extended his right hand, bowing politely to the young woman as she accepted by placing her gloved fingertips within his own.
“Indeed,” you drew out your response, cocking your head to the side to follow your pupil with your gaze more thoroughly. Your student began effortlessly twirling the young lady on the dance floor; swaying her to the melody performed by the stringed quartet. The twin violins began to swell, the viola accompanying their melody with harmony while the cello droned the bass notes effortlessly.
“He’s doing quite well,” he complimented with a polite expression within his tone, “I offer my praises to your abilities.”
“They always do,” you replied with a small smile tickling left hand side of your lips, “and thank you for your kind words, Lord Dracule.” Mihawk hummed in response, holding firm his yellow gaze affixed to your young pupil as he spun the debutant within his arms.
Both you and the warlord at your side allowed several moments to pass between you as you witnessed the successful maneuver of carefully articulated dance moves to be initiated by your student.
“Do you dance, Governess?” he asked you with a lazy air of curiosity about him.
“I have an array of many talents at my disposal, Warlord,” your smile broadened, “musicality, linguistics, formal ceremonies, and dance are a few skills I can call on from time to time. However,” you finally allowed yourself to look away from your pupil to focus on the awaiting gaze of the man beside you, “I find myself relishing in the propel of my students rather than to chase the thrill for myself.”
“Indeed,” he nodded, bringing his right hand to clasp the tip of his broad hat within his thumb and index finger, “until the next soiree, Governess.”
“Warlord,” you crossed your right leg behind your left, your toes curling beneath your foot as you bent in a low stooped curtsey. Your eyes shut politely before you rose, dragging your toes against the floor to brandish at your side and turning your back to the gentleman.
Stalking the perimeter of the dance floor, you once again found your pupil: he attempting to engage with the young lady’s chaperone to indicate his intentions of courtship. Another blissful sigh of the night fell from your parted lips, brimming with glee at another successful pupil finding a potential partner within the upper class. Unaware to the two amber eyes honing over your figure, you continued to fix your gaze on the young man, smiling further as he bowed lowly to take his leave and join once more with you.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Drawing the back of your knuckles upwards and rapping politely from the door, you stepped back and smoothed over the front of your formal governess attire. Hearing clangs, clashes and heavy laden footsteps falling in a thud towards the door, your eyes finally met with the warm, hazelnut gaze of a tall man with moss-coloured hair littering his scalp in an array of tussles.
“The fuck do you want-,” he began, halting as soon as a pale palm and slender fingers grasped his cream-coloured shirt and thrust him inside. Hastily closing the door behind him and stepping out into the foyer lay the towering form of the broody warlord who wrote to you.
“Governess,” he addressed you, sucking in an exasperated breath through his teeth. You took in the gentleman falling from the doorframe. His intimidating and intense aura was tainted with a slight amount of dishevelment.
“Warl-,” you halted your words, recognising his relinquishment of his prior status with a small quirk of your chin, “force of habit,” you smiled at him, lacing your fingers behind your back before correcting yourself, “my lord.”
“I will not hold it against you. It takes some adjustment,” he nodded. You bowed your head in a polite curtsey before again raising your gaze to beam against your new employer.
“Your latest protégé, I assume,” you nodded your head towards the door, eyes beaming with a small air of teasing.
“My latest project. As you can see,” he, himself, nodded his head towards the recently shut door, “his manners and language are of the highest priority.”
You hummed in response, looking over your latest recruiter with an intense and examining gaze. He took the opportunity to straighten his attire, rotating his shoulders back to adjust his posture upright and rigid, as was how you had come to acknowledge his stature through your prior interactions.
“Your letter-,” you began, halted by the palm of Mihawk’s hand presenting itself before your eyes.
“-I apologize for my hastily written words. I should have thought about them further before sending for you,” he commented, cutting off your sentence with a bored and dismissive tone. You clenched your jaw, displeased by his silencing of your words. Humming and straightening your own posture, you began looking up at him with a challenging intensity.
“I agree, my lord. Before you interrupted my words,” you coughed to release a small amount of agitation from your throat. “you currently have two wards in your care?” He roughly sucked in an air through his nose, shutting his eyes to rid himself of his own abrasive emotions. He reopened them, his pupils immediately narrowing in on your own.
“Yes,” he gruffly confirmed, his agitation not hidden by his rough words.
“And you require my help with rearing them?” you asked once more, stepping towards his towering form. He again inhaled very slowly to calm the simmer of his anger rising upwards.
“Yes,” he hissed from clenched teeth, again confirming his need for you. You smiled softly at him before turning your gaze towards the door once more.
“How wonderful,” you commented, stooping to reclaim your bags from the doorstep as Mihawk held his honeyed-gaze on your form, “I simply can’t wait to get started.”
“I would not be so eager, if I were you,” he reprimanded, reaching behind him to clasp the handle to reopen the door.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
The ornate hall was decorated from the top of the roof floating all the way to the join against the floor with intricately painted designs. Angelic silhouettes or seraphim and cherubim floated at the highest point of the design, painted clouds parting to reveal the radiant beams of sunlight warming their drawn smiles. This was not a sight you foresaw, judging from the dark and gloomy halls and wings of Castle Kuraigana in the many rooms prior.
No. This room was special. Something truly holy and sacred to contain the vast accumulation of wealth displayed on the ornate, glass shelves and carved marble. Gemstones glittering with colors of the darkest of reds to the pastel hue of a magical and mossy green lay perfectly cataloged along the benches. The golds, silvers, coppers and platinum bands and bangles reflected the light beaming from the stained glass with drawn back, velvety curtains showcasing their majesty.
You should not be here.
Those were the words that you thought as your right arm lay laced within your pink-haired debutant pupil as she guided you throughout the beautiful halls, with your green-haired ‘gentleman in training’ lay sculking behind you with his left hand clutching the neck of a brown-stained beer bottle. You couldn’t hear a word she was uttering through her enthusiastic lips, no doubt informing you of the different historical properties and peculiarities lord Dracule Mihawk managed to procure over his time with piracy, and purchases he made under his former title as Warlord of the Seas. You were simply awestruck by the different paintings, musical instruments and finery fabrics that lay embroidering the perimeter of the room with their carefully attuned presence.
“And this one,” Perona’s voice shook you from your trance as she escorted you to the center of the room, “This one is my favorite. I don’t know exactly why he’s put it on the cushion, but I enjoy trying it on from time to time.”
You drew your gaze to the plush, deep emerald cushion. Laying in the center of the plush object lay a small circlet of gold, the central piece being a smoked piece of moss agate with the green floating across the circular stone. Compared to the other pieces, this one appeared to be of far lesser value in its make and mastery.
Perona pulled you towards the pillar the cushion was sitting comfortably atop, a wide grin pulling at her lips to beautifully decorate her cheeks. Unlacing her arm from within your own, she reached up to take the small ring within her slender fingertips; rolling it over in her palms before trying it on each of her fingers. The band easily slid off each of her long fingers, a small giggle falling from her parted lips as she did so.
“Zoro,” she elevated her tone in addressing her peer, “Come over here, you try it.”
“I’d rather not,” he grunted, raising the beer to his lips and taking a swig.
“And I’d rather you refrained from drinking alcohol so early in the day, young man,” you chastised him, gesturing to the glass bottle clutched tightly in his hands. His brows furrowed in a deep frown at your words. Making unblinking eye contact with you, he raised the tip of the bottle to his lips and hurriedly gulped down the yeasty brew to relinquish its presence within the container.
“I don’t have to do what you tell me, Governess. I neither need you, nor do I want you,” he spat in a gruff grunt, walking over to your place beside the cushion and taking the gold circlet from his peer’s hands. Unable to get the object over the first bended knuckle of his thumb, he tried three of his fingers with similar resistance while continuing to hold his frown against his brow.
“There’s no way this thing is getting on my-,” he halted his words as the ring slipped over his secondary knuckle on his smallest finger; immediately lodging the small band atop it. Looking between you both, eyes now widening with a small air of panic, his words struggled to flee from his lips.
“I-It’s stuck,” he gasped, gulping back his stress within his throat, “I-I can’t get it off. Help,” he quickly darted his eyes between you both, looking down at his swelling pinky finger and back up, “don’t just stand there! Do something!”
Perona, immediately sensing Zoro’s panic, lunged towards him and began pulling and tugging at his fingers. Zoro yelped as the young woman almost dislocated his finger under her strain.
“For fucks sake, Perona! Stop!” Zoro yelped with his voice, cradling his left hand within his right and soothing over the back of his knuckles, “Governess, you do it!”
You shook your head, a small sigh falling from your lips as you slowly drew yourself closer to the towering form of the unrefined swordsman. Clearly Mihawk was telling the truth in your abilities as a trainer and governess being of use to sculpt his wards into shape.
“I thought you didn’t need a governess, Zoro,” you kept a stern air with your voice, presenting your right palm upwards as a gesture to collect his left within it.
“I don’t,” he spat with a small tremble in his tone, immediately placing his swelling hand within your gentle grasp. You smiled and carefully inspected the digit with your examining gaze and the gentle and featherlight touches of your fingertips.
“Clearly,” you jabbed back at him, allowing your touch to attempt to rotate the band circling his pinky finger. The ring had a large amount of resistance, unable to move the object under your gentle touch. You sighed, reaching into your pocket to trace over a variety of hidden objects within your collection. Small scissors, a single bobbin, safety pins, and spools of cotton string jangled around in your pocket as you finally collected the object you were searching for. Drawing it up, you rolled it over beneath the pads of your thumb and index finger and revealed the length of the dark, satin ribbon to Zoro.
“I need to lace this around your finger to tighten the swell,” you said, following through with the action as you informed him, “and should all things go according to plan, I will be able to-,” you heard an echoed footbeat click against the hall outside the large door. All three of your eyes widened as the calculated thump drew nearer and nearer to the treasury door.
“Get to it, then!” Zoro’s harsh whisper commanded you, prompting you to continue tightening the ribbon over his finger. As the area compressed, the ring began moving back over his knuckle and slowly drawing its way down to his fingertip. This is not how you imagined your introduction to the two wards to go, but something you should have prepared for regardless.
Clearly Dracule Mihawk was not exaggerating your overzealousness in commencing your undertaking so hastily. The thumps fell silent as the crescendo of the steps fell in front of the large door. The shadow beneath the wooden frame halted its movement, a small rotation of the handle began to hasten your movements and increase the motion of your hearts rapidity.
Finally, the object was unceremoniously flung from Zoro’s fingertip and rang in a bell-like jingle against the polished marble floor.
“Pick it up, pick it up, pick it up,” Perona hastily whispered her commands to you with a frantic air to her words.
As the door flung open, you backed your way towards the object with your eyes holding firmly against the darkened silhouette. Stooping low and quickly finding the object, you hastily drew back up to your prior, formal posture and held your hands fastened behind your back. Zoro immediately drew himself between you and Perona, his form attempting to shield the velvet pillow from showcasing its bare surface to his mentor.
As your eyes met with the amber, calculated stare of the former warlord in front of you, all thoughts of sense fled from your mind. You immediately slipped the circlet onto the third finger of your left hand, holding it secured for safe-keeping. You were hoping to wait until his back once again turned for you to place it back on its comfortable position atop the dark, green cushion. But alas, not all things go according to plan.
“What are the three of you doing in the treasury?” his eyes narrowed, examining the three of you with a harsh and calculating gaze before immediately drawing his body closer in. He shoved the swordsman out of the way of the pillow, his eyes widening as his sights were met with nothing than the material of the plush pillow.
“W-Where,” he began, coughing slightly to rid himself of his panic, immediately looking to Perona, “where is the ring? Where did you put it, Perona?”
Before the pink-haired ward could answer and was unwilling to wait for you to offer an explanation, Zoro spoke up.
“She wanted to see it,” Zoro nudged his head to your form and laced his arms over his broad chest. You snapped your eyes over to the green-haired swordsman, clenching your teeth hard in anger at his words behind your thinned lips. You drew your eyes back to the lord of Kuraigana as he immediately sought out your forearm and harshly yanked it from its place laced behind your back.
“What are you-,” you began, immediately halting your words within your throat as you witnessed all of the pale color draining from Dracule Mihawk’s face as his expression changed from panic to absolute terror behind his amber eyes. You sucked in a stifled breath as he immediately clutched at your fingertips with both of his hands. He gasped, bringing his eyes over the gold circlet firmly placed effortlessly over your wedding-ring finger.
“N-No,” he stifled out, gently thumbing over the gemstone placed on your finger beneath his firm hands. As his hands clutched yours within his, you could almost feel them trembling beneath your own, “Why would you-, how could-, why would you put it on.”
“I-It was an accident,” Perona’s voice squeaked from beside Zoro, prompting your eyes to look at her in panic.
“You accidentally found yourself within the halls of the treasury?” Mihawk hissed at her, prompting her to cower behind Zoro. A pregnant pause fell between the four of you within the room, tension arising in a swell so suffocating you could tangibly feel it throughout the room.
“I can remove it,” you offered in a small voice, drawing up your right hand and gently placing it over Mihawk’s knuckles. He drew his eyes from their place holding against the ring to your two orbs. A small softness threatened to peak through his intensity, before he sighed and furrowed his brows.
“We are well past that now,” he sighed, removing his hands from their place clutching yours. He moved his neck in a small rotation, relieving the tension with a small ‘click’. He sighed once more, pinching his brows between his thumb and index finger and drawing himself away from the three of you. His boots began rhythmically falling against the floor as he paced from side to side.
“I’m assuming you do not understand the significance of such an object?” He uttered, drawing his eyes against yours once more. You gently shook your head, furrowing your brows at his words.
“All of us had one,” he spoke up, “the warlords and higher ups within the world government. I’m surprised at you, Governess.” Immediate realization hit you in the face with the intensity of a cannonball. You immediately drew up your right hand again to take off the small circlet from your finger.
“If I’d have known-,” you began, stopping only as you felt Mihawk’s hands atop your own to halt your movements.
“-As I said,” he again informed you, “we’re well past that.”
“Will one of you spit it out to clue us in?” Zoro’s gruff voice called to you both, “we’re in the dark here.” You let a shaken breath release from your lips as you looked down to your finger. The beautiful circlet of terror was truly an amazing piece, albeit not as spectacular as the other pieces within the treasury.
“These rings were made specifically to hold a particular covenant,” you uttered darkly, shutting your eyes, “none were the same. Each attuned specifically to the individual who purchased or claimed it.” You shook your head and drew your hand back from within Mihawk’s.
“Why would you have such a thing, my lord?” you asked him, not drawing your eyes back up from its place affixed to the floor, “You do not seem the type to desire marriage or courtship.” Both Perona and Zoro’s jaws fell slack, looking between each other before falling their widening eyes back to their mentor and lord.
“Which is precisely why I commissioned such a piece,” he commented, turning his back away from you and his two wards, “I will write to the appropriate channels to inform them of such an event.”
“I hardly see that as necessary,” you replied while drawing up your right hand to tug at the item attached to your left ring-finger.
“You placed it on your hand,” Mihawk informed you, gesturing to the object attuned to your flesh, “and now, unfortunately, we must bear the consequences of such an idiodic undertaking.”
You sucked in another hissed breath through your teeth, your tongue placed against the back of your top two teeth. Never had you so much as thought about marriage, opting to remain forever in your solitude in training the upper class to begin their courtships with poise and elegance. You were content with working your way through singledom: first achieving the status of Spinster and well on your way to becoming a Thornback or Doomwitch, you had never considered marriage a prospect for yourself.
But this gemstone encrusted within a finely tuned band of promise held a different fate for you. This hand of horrors now held your fate clutched entirely within its circlet of destiny. What this ring was intended for, and was now holding you completely to complete its obligation, was for you now to join with the owner in holy matrimony. Whom shall ever place the ring on your joining finger, and have it fit perfectly beneath its band with no need for alteration, would find themselves committed to wedding the owner of such a prize.
You felt your eyes beginning to sting with a foreign sense of hopelessness as you gazed upon the mighty band atop your ring finger.
“I will simply cut off the finger,” you declared, a rise of destiny swelling your chest alongside its solid intentions.
“It matters not,” Mihawk declared, refusing to turn to look at you, “the sign has already been addressed. We are to wed and, unfortunately, there is nothing either of us can do about it.”
“And if I refuse?” you quirked your head to the side, affixing your eyes to the band on your ring finger once more. Mihawk halted his pacing, looking over his shoulder at you through his peripheral vision.
“You know very well that neither you, nor I, can halt the ribbons of destiny,” he spat in an agitated breath. He was enraged, his thoughts and actions eclipsed with a fury he had not felt in a long time. You sighed, shaking hands drawing themselves down in front of you as you stepped closer to the former warlord before you.
“Fine,” you spat, rotating your shoulders back and affixing your posture to the most rigid state you could make it.
“Fine?” Mihawk questioned, turning to face you once more at his spot firmly placed beneath the door of the treasury. You immediately flung yourself into a trade of impossible circumstances to complete, one thought outrageously eclipsing the other with its demands.
“I require three things in order for us to wed, former warlord of the seas,” you uttered in a low and serious tone. Drawing up the finger containing the moss agate ring, you placed it on your bottom lip to ensure the cursed item did not miss a single syllable of your demands.
“To wed, I require three items,” you narrowed your eyes and lowered your forehead to the floor. Glancing up at the World’s Greatest Swordsman, he ushered you to enlist your demands before the ring. Grasping at straws, you decided to list three impossible items that dawned on your mind, carelessly spitting them out as they dawned on you.
“For the ceremony; I require a dress that is as radiant as the moon. A dress that glows with a hue so majestic, it eclipses all else with its mastery,” you declared, drawing your irises up to meet the honey-hue of the man who was entrusted to fulfill such an obscure demand.
“And what of the other two, Governess?” he spat in a serious and low tone. Refusing to shy away from such a verbal challenge, you declared another outrageous demand.
“For the reception,” you quirked your head to the side, stepping yourself closer to his towing form, “I require a dress so magnificent, the stars are envious of its sparkling vibrancy. Deep and darkened material accompanied by dust and orbs of glimmering starlight is what I require.”
Refusing to draw down the ring from your lip, you drew yourself uncomfortably close to the lord of Kuraigana and maintained a serious air of propositional eye contact.
“And the final demand?” He questioned, looking to your bottom lip lying flush against the cursed stone wrapped around your second littlest finger on your left hand. You took a moment to collect your thoughts, looking down at the piece clutched firmly against your finger. You sucked in a final, shaken breath through your teeth and parted your lips to release it from your chest with your last request.
“Sunlight,” you uttered quietly, drawing your eyes up to meet with the intense, narrowed gaze of the swordsman before you, “I require a dress that meets the intensity of the sun with its rays of gold and copper. An accumulation of material so outrageously forbidden, it be intended for your eyes alone with its intended purpose. A dress so scantily designed,” you stepped closer in proximity to the man before you, glaring up at him beneath his feathered hat, “that you will find none to ever match its equal in both color and provocative appearance. This be the final demand I ask of you, my lord.”
He sucked in a winced breath through his teeth and snarled at you.
“You ask me to meet three impossible circumstances for me to ever claim you as my bride?” He hissed, stepping closer into you. You felt his intense breaths exiting from his nose onto your face as he continued to snarl at you.
“Yes,” you nodded in confirmation. In your logic, if he was never able to meet those three impossible tasks - you would both get what you desired. Living forever in a dance of singledom, honing in to master your respective industries.
“A dress akin to the glow of the moon,” he confirmed with a curt nod, “another that is as radiant as the stars that litter the night sky.” Stepping closer again to you, drawing the ring away from your bottom lip to claim within both of his hands.
“And-,” he found the final demand catching within his throat. Watching the bob of his Adams apple brought you a sense of glee you did not intend of feeling on the first day you were invited to grace the presence of the castle; as you were initially hired to undertake the training of his two wards.
He uttered in a low tone, barely above a whisper; “lingerie that is as vibrant as the sun, cascading over your body with such radiancy that all those unintended to look upon it will shy away from its beauty.”
It was your turn now to click your neck under a graceful maneuver of rotating your chin. Extending your right hand out to him in a gentle and firm gesture, you confirmed his relay with a few words.
“Bring me such items,” you declared as he drew his hands up to meet with your own, “and we shall marry on the morrow the final demand is met.”
Clutching your right hand within his own right, he drew up his left hand to encase itself around it. Stooping in a low bow, he brought his face closer to your non-encompassed right hand and pressed his lips against the back of your knuckles with a chaste kiss; solidifying his promise to you with an utterance of confirmation.
“We will marry on the morrow.”
As he withdrew his face from your hand, you felt obliged to affix your gaze onto his retreating form. Relinquishing his hold on your hand, he looked to his two wards at his side and uttered a reprimand to scold the two of them.
“Do not think I will ever forget such a betrayal,” he hissed at both Perona and Zoro, swiftly falling his heavy feet against the polished marble towards the exit, “and you-,” You felt your heart rate quicken under his firm chastise, baring your unwavering gaze into his yellowed orbs. He sighed, taking a moment to collect himself before uttering a swift command; “get back to work.”
“Yes, sir,” you clicked your heels together and bowed lowly to the lord of Kuraigana, shutting your eyes to avoid his gaze as the great lord exited the treasury. The loud thump of your heartbeat echoed within the chasms of your hollowed chest, finality of the situation dawning on you.
You were now fixed to marry the former warlord of the seas. The World’s Greatest Swordsman. The never swaying gaze, the ever sought after bachelor of the four corners of the ocean. Something you had never desired; marriage.
After taking a small moment to collect yourself, you turned to face both of the two wards falling within your care. You narrowed your eyes at Zoro, finding a small bead of sweat falling from his temple to drag itself down to his chin. Wordlessly. You drew your eyes over to Perona, watching as she gulped a dry mouthful of breath down into her throat.
“I hope you’re both well pleased with yourselves,” you monotonously informed them, relishing in the slump of their shoulders beneath your chastised words. Stepping forward, you reached your right hand over to Zoro’s, claiming the neck of the brown-stained beer bottle beneath your nimble fingers.
“You will now heed my every word.” you scolded him, drawing up your left hand to collect Zoro’s chin and elevate it for his hazelnut irises to meet your furious gaze. His breath halted in his throat as he was met with your complete ferocity and intensity.
“My word is now law,” your tone continued to hold its low and serious air. Relinquishing your hold on Zoro’s chin, you stepped over to Perona and ensured her eyes would follow you, “Is that understood, pupils?”
Both of them enthusiastically nodded, prompting you to draw your thumb and index finger to your brow, pinching it below the pads of your fingers.
“When I address you,” you warned them, relinquishing your hold on your brow, “You will respond with ‘Yes, my lady’. Is that understood?”
“Yes, my lady,” they both spat out with haste, almost allowing a small stifled chuckle to find anchor within your throat, you hastily stifled it within your chest with a small, curt cough.
“Good, pupils,” you praised them, turning to the door and walking swiftly over to it, “now, the real work begins.”
-.-.-.-.-.-.-BONUS-.-.-.-.-.-.-
As Mihawk shut the iron-barred, wooden door behind him, he allowed himself to have a small emotional outburst as soon as he heard the ‘click’ of the hinges. The lingering warmth against his hands, the illusionary touch of your skin still pressed against his palms and fingertips continued to propel his fury onward.
Why were you in the treasury? What possessed you to ever reach for such an item? Was it fate, or something else entirely?
These words flooded the brain of the dark-haired former warlord as his brows creased in the center with a rage he had not felt in some time. His lips curled back to bare his pearled teeth in a snarl, your demands echoing throughout his mind. He knew without a doubt you were challenging the curse carefully integrated into the moss agate ring.
Were you aware that if he did not complete the challenge, he would die? Absolutely not.
After taking a moment to collect himself, he drew in a final baited breath and began listing the items you had demanded one final time.
“A dress with the glowing hue of the moon, a dress littered with orbs akin to starlight, and-,’ his verbal list halted in his throat as he felt a warmth rise to taint his cheeks with a reddening glow, “-lingerie as forbidden as a kiss from the sun.”
He rotated his shoulders back to rid himself of the swelling tension from behind his new undertaking. Immediately, he began propelling himself closer to his personal wing with a sense of purpose now falling onto him.
“If I am to take a bride,’ he uttered to himself, allowing a small breath of anger to escape from his lips, “she will want for nothing.” He, again, began calculating the price, location and availability of fabrics, seamstresses and designers from all corners of the seas.
Once reaching his office, he stalked over to his desk and unceremoniously plonked himself into the studded, red armchair behind it. His elbows placed firmly against the desk, he cradled his forehead within his palms and allowed a shaken sigh to fall from his parted lips. After collecting himself, he withdrew a large amount of parchment paper and collected an inkpad and quill from his desk drawer. Beginning immediately with his undertaking, he was immediately seeking out the three impossible items.
Reaching up his right hand and shutting his amber-hued irises, he ran his fingertips over his bottom lip as he recollected the smoothed back of your knuckles he caressed with them moments prior. Sighing out a shaken breath, he reopened his eyes and glanced at the parchment paper.
“I will not fail you, my lady,” he uttered to himself, scratching his quill against the parchment with flourish.
Chapter 2
Tag List:
@writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here
#one piece#opla#opla fic#one piece live action#x reader#mihawk#mihawk x reader#dracule mihawk#dracule mihawk x reader#sapsorrow
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As a math major, I am simply enchanted by the idea of Neil Josten, Math Major. Please enjoy this collection of headcanons I came up with to cope with studying mathematics.
Neil is a pure math guy. There are two big camps of mathematics: pure and applied. Applied math is about applying math to other fields (physics, engineering, finance, etc.), while pure math is like math for the sake of doing math (read: a lot less employable). Neil picking the math major because he's good at math and kind of likes it is a very Pure Math thing to do.
Neil has a whiteboard, possibly multiple whiteboards. Whiteboards are the ultimate tool of mathematics. Sometimes Neil gets stuck on a problem for hours; hunched over his mini whiteboard, working through it over and over again. His fingers get covered in the expo marker residue and it leaves a black mark when he scratches his nose. Andrew huffs that he looks like a chimney sweep and rubs it off with his sleeve (he absolutely does NOT find it adorable, shut up, Nicky). Also, around exams Neil will drag Andrew to the library so he can do his practice problems on the Big Whiteboards. The other people in the library stare at them because this little ginger is filling multiple whiteboards with weird symbols and greek letters; Neil doesn't notice because he's oblivious, Andrew notices and it makes him a smug bf.
One time one of the Foxes asks him for help with their statistics homework and he gives it a shot, because how different could it be? They both quickly find out that he knows absolutely nothing about statistics.
"What IS that?"
"That's a matrix, it has the variances in it."
"Well then why does it have an apostrophe by it?"
"That means you flip it around."
"That's TRANSPOSING and you notate it with a T"
"Aren't you supposed to be some kind of math genius? Shouldn't you know how to do this?"
"This isn't math, this is blasphemy."
Aaron has to take calculus for the MCAT and puts it off for as long as possible because he hates math. His TA for the course sucks and he struggles through it for weeks before Katelyn manages to convince him to ask Neil for help. Neil pretends to be annoyed, but he's secretly kind of looking forward to it because calculus is fun and it's nice to do math you already know for a change. When you're an upperclassman in a math degree, though, your brain gets warped by all the theoretical math, and it's hard to get into the mindset to teach something like Calc I. This leads to semiregular hostile tutoring sessions in the dorm, we're talking real Dad Trying to Help You With Your Math Homework at the Kitchen Table type energy.
"BUT HOW DID YOU KNOW TO DO THAT?!"
"It's a vector space, Aaron, I don't see what you're not understanding here."
"A vector WHAT"
Andrew chain smokes through these. He has to start leaving the dorm because he's pretty sure the calculus is going to drive him to lung cancer.
The statistics incident gives Neil a totally reasonable grudge against statistics. He eventually gives it up, but only so he can take an elective about sports statistics, because he has exy brain worms.
#Math Major Neil the man that you are#this is a cry for help#he loves math but math does not always love him back#pure math supremacy#aftg#neil josten#andrew minyard#andreil#this is my first real aftg post and it's about math
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“Epilogue”
Word Count: 19.2k (a long one, but it didn’t feel right to split it up)
(Epilogue for ‘Goodnight and Go’)
Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering (f receiving) and unprotected sex
⋆★★⋆
*Late winter - a little over three years since the wedding*
*It will be notated in the chapter when the song is meant to start. I highly encourage you to start it when it comes into play, but you can also do whatever your sweet heart desires!*
Sitting in my go to cafe, I jot down another thought into my journal as I take a sip of my black coffee. Today had been a heavy mental day, and I just needed to get out of my house to clear my head. My therapist tasked me with taking up journaling at the end of my first month of therapy - my fourth session. She asked me to start out with lists that she would give me, but then after a while she told me just to jot down whatever came to mind. Even though I wasn't actively in therapy anymore, I still held onto this - it was enough for me to not have to go to an appointment every week.
I was proud of myself for that. I've been able to use the tools given to me to be able to tend to my own mind, and to talk myself down - only having to see my therapist when absolutely necessary.
I couldn't pinpoint why today in particular had my mind so boggled though. There wasn't anything upcoming that I was stressed about that I could think of off the top of my head.
My pen continues to scratch over the page, and I feel that my eyebrows are narrowed in concentration as I let out thought after thought. I could feel the fog in my mind starting to ease with each line, but still...it didn't seem to be enough.
As much as I have gotten a good grip on myself and my emotions, there were days that I still just felt...off. Today was definitely one of them. It wasn't so much anxiousness or nervousness that I was feeling - something that I've battled with for the past two years. It was something different. It was something that I couldn't exactly put my finger on, and I think that's what caused my mind to race from the moment I opened my eyes this morning.
The cafe was bustling on this Saturday morning, and I was lucky that I was able to get my usual two seat table in the back corner. Although I can hear the baristas loud and clear from here, the rest of the noise in the cafe seems to drown due to how far back I am.
"Order for Carter!"
My pen stops, and I take a moment to blink at the page.
It can't be her.
Shaking my head, I push the thought from my mind as I chew on my bottom lip - trying to figure out how to phrase what I want to write down next.
It's not until I see a streak of red hair out of my peripheral that I finally look up.
There's no mistaking the woman smiling as she picks up her cup off the counter. She digs into her bag, and I can see that she's given the barista a postcard with an illustration of a flower on it. There's some kind of quote on the back, and by the look on the barista's face, it must be something kind, or inspirational.
Before I can even think about it, I push myself up from my seat to get a better look. My movement must have been caught out of the corner of her eye because it's barely a few seconds later that she's looking at me.
She holds her paper cup in both hands as we stare at each out from a ways across the cafe - her expression unreadable.
I hadn't seen her since the wedding. After that, she disappeared from my life completely. I had tried for months to reach her, but I never got any response. Gwen had told me she had tried to do the same. I'd only found out just in the past year that was a lie.
No one saw Carter that first Christmas after everything.
After that, the holidays were always separated due to the fact that Carter and Gwen's parents divorced only a few months after the wedding. I knew that Carter spent the holidays with her father while Gwen and I spent them with mother. Their parents hardly had any communication with each other, and I knew that their mother hadn't attempted to reach out to Carter at all - something she made very clear whenever she could.
I should've realized then what this all would become.
Carter's brown eyes look around for a moment before she starts to walk over to me, and I immediately feel my hands begin to shake.
"Harry," she says, just barely meeting my eyes now that she was closer to me. "Hi."
"Hi, Carter," my voice almost sounds strained as I speak, and I clear my throat almost immediately. "I...I didn't know you were visiting."
"Oh, no," she shakes her head. "I'm not visiting. I moved back a couple of months ago. This place has become a regular spot for me. I don't live too far from here."
I raise my eyebrows at her words, and it's then I can see she's looking past me to get a view of the table I had been sitting at - as if she were looking for someone else.
"Do you want to sit?" I ask, turning around and gesturing to the chair across from the one I had been occupying. "I'm here by myself."
Carter takes a moment before she nods. "Okay."
I pull the seat out for her, which earns me a small 'thank you', before I sit back in my own seat. Carter turns to hang her bag on the back of her chair before she's facing forward once more - both of her hands finding their way around her cup again.
Her eyes look down at my journal, and I quickly close it - pulling it from the table to slip into the green tote bag I had brought with me.
"You journal?" She asks, tilting her head to the side.
"Uh, yeah," I lift a hand to rub the back of my neck. I've never really talked to anyone but my therapist about my journaling before. "For about a year or so now."
Carter hums as she nods, pursing her lips to the side. "I do too, but I'm going on about two and a half years. I picked it up when I started therapy."
My chest aches as I can see a sheen of sadness in her eyes for a moment before it disappears. "I started it up for the same reason too."
I can tell this surprises her, and silence blankets over us for a moment.
"Are you still tattooing?" I ask - grimacing when I realize just how awkward this feels between us.
"I am," I watch as a large smile creeps onto Carter's face. "I'm actually working at the shop with Duncan again. He was nice enough to hire me back as soon as I told him I'd be moving home. He was thrilled, actually."
"Of course he was," I say, laughing a bit. "You're exceptional at what you do, Carter. Any shop would be lucky to have you."
Carter's cheeks flush due to my compliment, and I watch as she lifts her cup to her mouth. She hisses quickly as she pulls it away, and I know she's burned her tongue.
"Here," I reach forward without hesitation to take the cup from her.
Her eyes are trained on my every move as I pull the lid off the cup, setting it down on a napkin on the table. This was something I did for her quite often when we were in college. There was a bookstore/coffee shop that we frequented a few days a week, and Carter was never one to be patient and wait for her drink to cool properly. I started doing this as a quick solution without her even asking. It just became a habit for me.
I can tell her eyes are on my left hand, and then she looks up at me. "You...you're not..."
"I'm not...what?"
Carter looks back at my hand before looking at my face again. "You're not wearing your ring."
My eyebrows knit together as I look at her. "Carter," I start, and I can tell she's genuinely curious as to why that particular piece of jewelry is missing. "Gwen and I are divorced."
Her eyes widen for a moment, and I watch as the color leaves her face. "O-Oh....oh," she says, straightening up in her chair as she drops her hands to her lap. I can tell she's running her palms over her thighs as she shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Harry, I-I didn't-"
"You didn't know?"
Carter shakes her head again, and I can see with the way her chest is moving that she's trying to take deep breaths.
"Hey," I whisper, leaning forward to take one of her hands in mine from underneath the table - thankful that this table wasn't too big so I was able to reach across to her easily. "It's okay. It actually doesn't surprise me that you wouldn't know."
I run my thumb along her knuckles, and I can tell it's starting to soothe her as she finally looks up from the table to make eye contact with me.
"My dad had said that Gwen moved away, but I figured that meant you did too. That's why I was a bit shocked to see you here," she says, and I can tell she's trying to put it all together. "I don't think he even knows you guys have separated. My mom had only told him about the move."
I can't help but roll my eyes at that. Another thing that didn't shock me. Their mother didn't want their father, or Carter, to know about the divorce. She didn't want Gwen to look like she failed at something.
"She did move," I give Carter's hand one more squeeze before sitting back in my chair - our touch separating. "About five months ago. We've been separated for almost a year and a half. She left a few months after the divorce was completely finalized."
Carter's face shows that she's completely dumbfounded by this information, but she's trying to keep it together. "That's...that's why I moved back, you know? Because I thought you both were gone."
Her words sting, but I can't hold them against her. We wronged her, Gwen and I both, and I don't ever expect her to forgive me for the way that I treated her while I was with Gwen. I know that if anyone had treated me the way I did her, I'd never speak to them again.
"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable by asking you to sit with me. I didn't know you thought I was gone too," I tell her, and now I'm the one gripping my thighs. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to. I more than understand if I'm the last person you ever wish to talk to."
Looking down at my lap, I pick at my cuticles as I wait to hear her chair slide across the floor. But I don't.
I look up to see Carter still looking at me, and she shakes her head. "I chose to sit here, Harry. I'm okay, I promise."
I give her a small nod, but I immediately look back down at my lap.
A few seconds pass before I hear her clear her throat. "I like your hair. I never thought I'd see you with it so short."
I can't help but smile at her words, and I look at her once more. "Yeah? It's not weird without the curls?"
"I mean...it's a little weird," Carter smirks, and I know she's trying to help our playful banter come out again. "But they look like they're on the verge of growing back. I'm enjoying this little faux hawk thing you have going on though."
She lifts her drink to her lips and takes a sip - not flinching away from the liquid this time, so I know it's cooled down properly for her.
"It feels nice," I shrug. "Healthy and all. I buzzed it completely when the divorce was finalized. It was therapeutic, honestly."
"Oh? I wish I could've seen it buzzed," she giggles, pursing her lips to the side before speaking again. "I get the whole changing your hair thing though. I went brunette a few months after I left."
"Did you really?"
"Yeah, let me see. I'm sure I still have some pictures on my phone," she says before digging into her bag.
She swipes on her screen for a while before turning her phone to face me. "See?"
Even though I know it's Carter in this picture, it's not my Carter. She's smiling for the camera, but there's a dimness behind her eyes that I've never seen from her. She was unhappy - that much was clear.
"Oh, wow," I say, giving her a half grin so as to not disappoint her. "It definitely suited you, but I have to be biased when it comes to the red. It's just you."
"Yeah, I like the red too - I like being natural and all that."
She drops her phone back into her purse before I go to speak again.
"So, did you move back by yourself or..."
"Yeah, just me, and my little black cat, Ichabod," I can see her face light up as she mentions her cat, and it causes a warmth in my chest. "I had been seeing this guy for a little over a year, and I broke up with him about...half a year ago now? It just wasn't working out."
"I'm sorry to hear that," I tell her genuinely. "He wasn't bad to you, was he?"
"Oh, no," Carter shakes her head adamantly. "Not at all. He was actually very sweet, but I realized that even though I loved him, I wasn't in love with him anymore. So, I broke it off almost immediately after realizing that. I didn't want to string him along when I wasn't going to be one hundred percent in the relationship."
"And why do you think you weren't?" I ask, and I watch as Carter starts to play with the cardboard sleeve around her cup. "Why do you think you weren't one hundred percent in the relationship?"
Her eyes peer up at me underneath her lashes, but her face is still tilted slightly towards the table. "I think you and I both know why, Harry."
My stomach flutters when I realize what she's alluding to, but I don't want to press that conversation any further. Not here, and not after just seeing her again for the first time in what feels like a lifetime.
"Well, I'm sorry it didn't end up working out. You deserve all the happiness in the world."
"What makes you think that just because that ended that I'm unhappy? I'm actually the happiest I've been in a while since moving back," she tells me, but there's no aggression to her tone as she continues her explanation. "I've just been letting life take me where it wants for the most part, and yeah I get lonely sometimes, but it's okay. The quiet doesn't bother me anymore like it used to."
The confidence that I can see in her now is admirable. She's so sure of herself, and I can tell she means what she says.
Carter is happy.
"Can I ask what it was that you handed the barista earlier?" I have a feeling that whatever that was plays into this newfound self that I can see she has.
"Oh, those are just little postcards I make for fun. I do them in series, I guess? Like right now they're all different flowers, and the quotes on the back have to do with either growth, or rebirth," she explains, leaning forward onto the table a bit. "I keep them in my bag, and I hand them out to people who I feel need them, or someone who's shown me kindness that day. It's nice to see their reactions."
Carter has always had a big heart, and it makes me ecstatic to see that hasn't changed despite what those closest to her have put her through.
As happy as it makes me to see her own growth, there's also a part of me that's sad that I missed it. But the guilt is what chews at me the most. The guilt of just letting her slip through my fingers like I did.
"Oh, shit, what's the time?" I hear Carter ask before she pulls out her phone again. "I need to be at the shop in ten minutes. I'm sorry, I've gotta go."
"That's okay, I was just finishing up too. Let me walk you out?" I ask, and she looks over to me after stopping her slightly frantic movements.
"Sure, yeah."
She puts the lid on her drink as I stand and put the strap of my tote over my shoulder, and soon we're both heading towards the entrance of the cafe. I hold the door open for her as we step outside, and we move over onto the sidewalk so that we're not blocking the door as we stop.
"It was really good seeing you, Carter," I tell her honestly. "And I know it might be too much of me to ask, and you can absolutely say no, but do you think we could meet up again sometime?"
Carter chews on her bottom lip as she contemplates my request before she nods. "Yeah, I think that would be okay. I think I'd like that."
I can tell I have the stupidest smile on my face when I hear her agree. "Okay, yeah, uhm, let me just get my phone out for you to put your new-"
"I have the same number," she interrupts me, and I could tell she was a bit hesitant to say that considering she never once responded to me when I tried to reach out. "And I still have your number too."
I don't say anything in response to that because I understand why she did what she did. I give her a nod, slipping my phone back into my pocket.
"Okay, well, I'll text you so we can plan something, alright?"
"That sounds good."
We stand there for a moment, and I can tell neither of us really know how to end the conversation.
"Did you ever get your heart tattoo?" Carter blurts out, and I can see it was something she had been itching to ask me this whole time.
I laugh softly. "You remember that?"
She nods while giving me a small shrug. "It just stuck with me."
"I haven't, no," I say. "I actually haven't gotten anything since before...everything."
"You mean like before the wedding?"
"Yeah," I sigh, running the tip of my tongue along the inside of my bottom lip. "Didn't really have the motivation or inspiration to get anything new."
Carter stares at me for a moment before speaking again. "Well, if you want to still get it done, I'd be more than happy to do it for you. Just text me when you're free, and I'll see if it lines up with what I have booked right now."
"Wait, are you serious?" I ask. I'm taken completely by surprise that she would offer to do this so quickly after just seeing each other again.
"Well, you told me you wanted me to be the one to do it, right?" She asks playfully as she bumps her shoulder against mine. "I'm not letting anyone else tattoo that on you."
"I guess when you put it that way," I say as if she's twisting my arm, which causes her to let out a noise of disappointment - having her now shove my arm. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding! I wouldn't want anyone else doing it for me either."
Carter looks up at me with a beaming smile, and for a moment I'm transported right back - as if things never changed. "Then it's settled. Just text me."
"I will."
She begins to walk away from me before she stops. "Oh, here!"
Walking back over, she digs in her bag and flips through something for a moment before she's extending one of her postcards out to me. "I think this one belongs to you."
I look down at it for a moment, and by the time I look back up, I can already see her back towards me in the distance. Shaking my head at her with a smile of my own, I look back down at the postcard to really study it.
On the front was just a plain line work illustration of a daffodil. I flip it over on the back, and I see this one in particular has two quotes. I read each of them over once, but then I find myself reading them again, and again once I process what they really mean.
"The people who are meant to be will always gravitate back towards you, no matter how far they wander." - UNKNOWN
•
"Souls tend to go back to who feels like home." - N.R. HART
⋆★★⋆
It's been a couple of weeks since I saw Carter at the coffee shop, but we had been texting almost every day. I didn't seem too eager, so I didn't text her about booking the tattoo until later that evening, and he she was able to fit me in today. Neither of us made any moves to ask about hanging out outside of my tattoo appointment, but I wanted to so badly.
When I got back to my place after running into her that afternoon, I immediately got on my computer and searched what a daffodil symbolizes. I was met with the answer that it meant 'rebirth and new beginnings' among a few other things, but those stuck out to me the most. She was sending me a signal that maybe we could build this again.
I knew that things were going to be different, it was almost impossible for things to go back to the way they were back then, but I desperately craved to be in Carter's presence again.
Her quote that she handed to me was right. She felt like home.
That was a feeling I hadn't experienced in a while - not even when I spent my first Christmas back in Holmes Chapel this past December. It felt weird going back there by myself, but I did find comfort in being back with my mother, especially since the divorce was still pretty fresh. I ended up staying with my parents for a little over a month. I had never been more thankful for my job allowing me to work from home more than during that time.
I didn't realize just how much time I needed away from everything until then. It gave me a chance to help clear my head, and I still met with my therapist over Zoom so that I kept up with my sessions. It wasn't until I got back that I made her aware that I thought I was doing okay on my own, and that I wanted to see her on a per needed basis going forward. She agreed that she thought that was appropriate, and I've only had to see her once since then.
The need to see her came after Gwen was back in town visiting her mother. She told me that after she moved she realized she had taken some stuff of mine, and she wanted to give it back. I had tried to convince her just to leave it on her mother's porch whenever she left, and that I'd come by and grab it once I knew she was gone, but she refused. I was tempted to tell her just to forget it, that I didn't want any of it back, and that was the truth until she rattled off what the box included. It wasn't until she said there was a spiral bound notebook with a tattered red cover that I knew I needed to get that box back.
That notebook was one that Carter and I used to write notes back and forth to each other in during the class where we first met.
It was obvious that Gwen hadn't gone through it. If she had, there was no way she would've wanted to give me something so sentimental back - especially since it included a piece of Carter. When I went over there to get the box from her, she was immediately in my ear the whole time. She was asking if I thought I had made the right decision divorcing her, and if I was happy with myself. She asked if I had found someone new - asked if they felt as good as she did it.
But it wasn't until she brought up Carter that I snapped.
"I swear to god, if you're with my 'pick me' of a little sister, then you're just pathetic," she had said, and that caused me to stop right where I was. I had been trying to get back to my car so I could pack the box up and leave.
"I think you're a bit mistaken, Gwen," I told her as I looked over my shoulder to see her standing there with her hands on her hips. "You've always been the 'pick me' out of the two of you. I thought by now you maybe would've looked in a mirror and seen that you're the problem - not just with me, but with everyone. All I can say is that I'm lucky I can see it now, and I'm glad I got out of our marriage when I did."
That left her completely dumbfounded, and she didn't utter another word as I got into my car and left. I'm hoping that's the last time I'll ever have to see Gwen.
Regardless of how I defended myself and Carter against her, I was still shaken up by the encounter. My therapist was thankfully able to work me in that same day for a visit. She didn't respond much to me - it was more so of a vent session for me anyway. At the end of that session, she told me that I should be proud of finding it within myself to not only see Gwen, but to also stand up to her. That was something I hadn't been able to do at all in my last year with Gwen.
The first six months of marriage was wonderful, but the remaining year was horrific. I had dealt with Gwen coming home and screaming at me almost every day due to stress from her work. It wasn't until things got physical that I knew I had to leave.
At first it was a slap, and she apologized profusely for it - telling me she would never mean to hurt me, and she couldn't explain why she did it. I let it slide because I knew how much pressure she was under. The next time she hit me it was her closed fist connecting harshly with my chest. The final time, she had attempted to throw a vase at my head. She was lucky I was able to move out of the way quickly, and I avoided it.
I left that night, packing up what I absolutely needed, and I told her that I would be back to get the rest of my things. It took me about a week to get everything out, except for that one box of stuff apparently, and I made sure that I checked our Ring camera for movement before going over so I could see if she was at work. I didn't want to see her anymore at all. The thought of being in her presence made my skin crawl.
The whole thing made me wonder if the physical part of her anger was only just towards me, or if she had ever gotten physical like that with Carter. It broke me to think that Carter could've been on the receiving end of her wrath in that way, and I prayed that I was wrong in thinking that it maybe had happened in the past.
I let Gwen keep the house because I didn't want it. I didn't want the awful memories those walls held, and I knew that with the divorce I'd end up getting some money back for it considering we bought it together. Once I got the money from everything, I ended up getting a house of my own. Thankfully Gwen told the courts the divorce was amicable even though she really didn't want it, and the only reason why she agreed to that was because I agreed to not bring up her abuse if she did so.
I just wanted it all to be over. I wanted to start fresh, and I needed to be rid of her.
I'm drawn out of my thoughts when I realize I'm close to the tattoo shop, and I do my best to force the negativity out of my mind. Today was going to be a positive experience. I also think that today is going to set the tone of where things go from here with Carter. I'm hoping the outcome is us trying to rebuild our friendship, but I would be more than understanding if Carter didn't wish to get close with me again in that capacity. She had every right to deny me.
I parallel park on the street right out front of the shop, just across the street, and hop out. Once I'm inside, I'm immediately drawn to her red hair as she stands at her station. I can see that she's applying some second skin to the forearm of the girl sitting on her table.
"Harry, right?" I hear my name being called, and I look over to see Duncan.
"Yeah, that's right," I give him a small nod while sending him a smile. "It's been a while, Duncan. How are you?"
"I've been good, man, really good," Duncan says as he leans against the check-out counter, arms crossed over his chest. "Business has been great, and I just moved into a new house with my wife and little girl. No complaints. How about you? Carter mentioned that you would be coming in."
I can't help but laugh a bit when I try to think of how to answer Duncan's question. I've never been one to dump my feelings on people when they casually ask how you're doing. "I'm getting better," I tell him honestly. "Had some things happen over the past couple of years, but I'm definitely finding myself again."
Duncan doesn't get a chance to respond as Carter starts walking her client up to the counter. "Hi, Harry," she says, her smile growing the closer she gets to me. "I'll be just another minute or so."
"Take your time," I tell her, shoving my hands into my front pockets.
"You can go ahead and wait by my station if you'd like. I'll just need to get everything sanitized once I'm back over there, then we can start," she tells me, and I give her a nod before following her instructions.
I sit down on one of the stools she had over there as I wait for Carter, but I find it hard to keep my eyes off of her from across the shop. It's clear to see that she's definitely gotten more sure of herself over these past few years. She holds a smile the whole time she checks the client out, and I can see this newfound charisma that I caught at the cafe the other day just seeping out of her.
Once she finishes up, she heads back over to me, and I witness a softness pooling in her eyes as she stands next to me. "How are you?"
I stand up from the stool, and out of habit I go to wrap my arms around her. Carter's eyes widen slightly, but she doesn't stop me, if anything, she's quick to reciprocate. Her cheek rests against my chest, and I feel her let out a large exhale as her fingers curl into the loose jumper I was wearing.
"I'm good," I speak, finally replying to her question - moving around so my own cheek is now lying on the top of her head. "How about you?"
I feel Carter nod against me for a moment before we separate. "I'm good as well."
She moves away from me to slip on a pair of gloves, and she begins to wipe her table down completely. Once done, she motions for me to sit there, and she starts to get her station ready.
"Are you nervous?" She peeks at me over her shoulder with a smirk before looking back to her task at hand.
"A little bit, actually," I chuckle, running my hands over the tops of my thighs. "It's been a while, and I think I remember how it feels, but I'm questioning if I really do or not."
"Oh god," Carter gasps as she turns around completely, tugging on my jumper to signal it's time to take it off. "You're not going to pass out on me, are you?"
I can tell she's still being playful with me, and I shake my head. "I think we're good unless I somehow randomly see someone getting their tongue pierced."
Carter tilts her head back with a large laugh, clapping her hands together as I pull my jumper over my head. I'm wearing a black tank top underneath to make it easier for her to access the inside of my bicep. "I'll make sure to have Duncan tell me if someone comes in for one of those so we can make sure you don't get up to go to the bathroom and pass the piercing room at that time."
I roll my eyes at her while she pulls her hair into a bun on the top of her head as I hang my jumper on the small coat rack she has in the corner.
As I walk back over, I see that Carter is slipping the drawing she's made of the heart I wanted out of the front of her binder. The front of her binder is usually reserved for fun little sketches of hers, much like the ones I first noticed when we were in college. I look at the side of her face as I watch her, knowing she usually keeps her stencils in one of the clear sleeves she had inside.
"Did you just finish that up last night? Is that why it's in the front?" I ask, gesturing to the drawing as I sit down on the side of the table.
Carter glances at me out of the corner of her eye as she shakes her head. "Uh no...I've had this done for a while," she says, and she quickly clears her throat. "I just need to get it all prepared, I'll be right back."
My eyes watch her as she goes, but she returns quickly with another fresh pair of gloves on, and the stencil of the heart in her hand. "You said you wanted this on the inside of your bicep, right?"
I nod as I lay back on the table, and I extend my arm out for her. Carter sits down on her stool, rolling over to me before holding the edges of the stencil between the pads of her thumb and index finger on each of her hands. Tilting her head to the side, she tries different positions before it, and I see her eyes light up when she gets it right. She lays the stencil down - smoothing it over to make sure it all gets on my skin.
"Have a look," she says as she pulls it off, and I stand from the table one more to take a look at it in the full length mirror.
I move my arm in all different directions to make sure none of them make it look funny before I nod. "That's perfect, Carter. It looks great."
Once I lay back down on the table, she grabs her gun and scoots as close as possible to me. "You ready?
"Yep," I sigh, looking at the ceiling as I hear the buzzing start.
It's only a few seconds later that I feel that familiar scratch across my skin, and I grimace slightly from how long it's been since I've felt it. I take in a deep breath as I can tell she's trying to warm me up a little bit before she really gets started.
"Doing okay?" Carter checks in on me, giving my upper bicep a reassuring squeeze as she dips back into the ink for a moment.
"Yeah, feels like I remember," I say, earning a small giggle from her.
"Well, that's good then, yeah?"
I nod as she starts up again, and it's silent between the two of us for a while before Carter speaks.
"I've had the heart finished since before...everything," she whispers, and I move my head to the side so I can look at her properly. Her eyes stay focused on her work, but she flicks them up to meet mine for just a moment. "I was going to show you the drawing that night, sort of as a surprise present, I guess."
It's as if I almost feel my heart actually crack in my chest at her confession. I couldn't believe that she had finished it up back then, but I also couldn't believe that she had held onto it for this long. Part of that gives me hope that she was just waiting for the opportunity for us to reconnect at some point, like we have now.
I had thought about her so much since the last time I saw her, but she had grown even heavier on my mind since I started therapy. My therapist really helped me work through my feelings, and the more I worked through them, the more I realized just how much I had fucked up with Carter. I've beaten myself up time, and time again while looking back on how I treated her, and how I allowed her to be treated.
The image of her standing in that groom's suite, begging me to reconsider my marriage is forever engraved in my mind. Her body trembling with her arms wrapped around herself, tears streaming down her cheeks as she cowered away from me. I thought that night I found her outside at the formal was going to be the worst I'd ever seen her, and the fact that I was the cause of an even worse reaction than that...I'll never be able to forgive myself. My therapist has told me time and time again that I needed to find it within me to do so, but I don't see how it's possible.
"And I'd really like to talk everything over at some point," Carter speaks up again, but now she keeps her sight down, and off my face. "But for now, I think it would be nice to just get to know each other again, if that's something you're okay with. Once we feel like we're in a comfortable place, then I'd like for us to be able to put it all out on the table. I have a lot I feel like I need to say, and a lot I need to ask."
"I think I'd really like that too, Carter," I agree, reaching my hand out when she stops tattooing me for a moment. I wrap my palm around her forearm, rubbing my thumb against her smooth skin. "You don't know how nervous I've been these past couple of weeks. I was just holding onto hope that you would give me another chance."
"I still have a lot of hurt feelings," she explains as I drop my hand to allow her to start up her work again. "But I also didn't handle things in the right way. I was hoping that seeing each other would open up that opportunity for us to reconnect."
Looking up at me again for just a second, we give each other soft smiles.
It's a couple hours later that Carter finishes up my tattoo completely. My bicep now felt like a bunch of pins and needles, but I didn't want to have to come back for another session. I've always been one to complete my tattoos in one session, if possible. Carter had already let me look at the tattoo, and put the second skin on it before I walked over to the coat rack to grab my jumper.
"Here, let me help you," I hear her say after she disposes of her gloves. "Go ahead and put your arms in, and I'll help pull it down."
I do as she asks, keeping my arms above her head, and only starting to lower them down as I feel her pulling the hem of my jumper down as well. Once it was on properly, she gave me a nod. "I'm going to just clean up really quick since you were my last one of the day, and then I'll meet you at the counter, okay?"
I head over to the lobby section of the shop and sit down on one of the couches, beginning to scroll through my phone as I wait for her. I can hear her holding conversations with a couple of people around the shop over the next few minutes, and finally I hear her calling my name.
Walking over to the counter, she tells me my total, and my eyebrows narrow. "Carter, you know that's not right," I tell her with a small laugh.
"Friends and family discount," she shrugs, giving me a smug smile.
I roll my eyes, but I allow her to charge me what she wants - handing my card over. Once everything was settled, we head out of the shop, and I point to my car that's parked across the street. "That's me."
"That's me," she mimics, pointing to her car that was just a little ways down on the same side of the street.
"I'll walk you."
Carter nods, and I rest my hand against the small of her back to keep her on the inner part of the sidewalk as we make our way towards her car. Once there, she turns to face me, a tender look on her face.
"It was nice getting to tattoo you again," her voice is warm as she speaks, and I feel my stomach fluttering with how sincere she sounds. "I haven't tattooed a friend since Kieran, and that was a couple of years ago, so this was wonderful."
"Well, I'm glad it was you that could give me another tattoo after so long," I tell her, reaching out to rub my hand up and down her arm for a moment before dropping it.
"I'll text you, and maybe we can plan on meeting up to do something sometime next week? The weather is getting warmer, so I was hoping to spend some more time outside."
"Yeah, that sounds great. We can definitely figure something out," I respond, biting down on my bottom lip.
"Before I go, I wanted to give you this," Carter says before digging into her bag, much like she did before she walked away from me at the cafe. "Wait to read it until you're in your car but...I think this explains what I felt all those years ago a little better than I did back then, and how I've felt going forward."
Looking down at the postcard, I see that there's now a line illustration of a nightingale instead of a daffodil. "This drawing is beautiful, Carter."
"Thank you," she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before clearing her throat. "I'm sorry to dart off so quickly, but I promised my dad I'd come over and make us some dinner tonight."
"Don't apologize, we practically spent the afternoon together."
We step forward to wrap ourselves in another embrace - all while being mindful of my fresh tattoo.
"You smell the same," I hear Carter whisper after a moment, and I look down to see her snuggling her nose into my chest. "I've missed it."
Swallowing harshly, I force away the tears that want to spring in my eyes. "You smell the same too. I've missed it...missed you so, so much."
I take a chance, and I press my lips against the crown of her head. I feel Carter's cheeks round out against my torso before she's looking up at me with a wide smile. "I'll see you soon."
"See you soon."
We separate, and I stand on the sidewalk to make sure she takes off safely. She waves at me through her window as she drives off, and I make my way over to my car. I'm immediately pulling up google on my phone to look up the symbolism of a nightingale, and the tears I had just wished away come crawling back.
"Found in Persian culture, through poetry and music, the nightingale has been celebrated as a symbol of unrequited love."
I press my tongue against the inside of my cheek as I look out my window, feeling moisture beginning to wet my face. My hand shakes as I continue to hold the postcard, but I can't look back down at it. I'm scared of what the other side, the quote, will bring.
I give myself a moment or two, sniffling softly before I look down - flipping the card over.
"No matter how much you wish you could, you cannot control how another person feels and loves.
Just because someone fails to see your worth, it doesn't make them a bad person, and it doesn't mean you are unlovable. It simply means that they aren't meant for you.
You should never have to spend your days and nights wondering if you are good enough for somebody. You are enough. You are more than enough for the right person.
Always remember that your happiness comes first. Focus on loving yourself, really loving yourself and you will see your value and find the strength to walk away from unrequited love.
Weeks, months, years will pass and you'll look back and wonder why on earth it took you so long to see that all along you deserved everything you always wished you had.
- CHARLOTTE FREEMAN"
⋆★★⋆
It's a Saturday night, and I've been sitting outside of Carter's house for the past fifteen minutes - just staring down at the bundle of daffodils in my hand. My mind is going a mile a minute, and I know I have to calm myself down before I go up and knock on her door. I got here early for this specific reason. I knew that I would probably work myself up, and sure enough, I have.
This was the first time either of us had agreed to meet at one of our houses. Over the past three and a half months, we've been seeing each other only in public spaces.
I was more than okay with us only meeting out in public. We both made the decision to take things slow as we rebuild our relationship with each other, and we both know that this relationship will more than likely be similar to our previous one, but there's no way it could ever be the same.
I think the scariest thing for me was that I found myself falling back in love with Carter easily.
Through therapy I realized that I never really stopped loving her in that way, I had just suppressed my feelings because I thought she didn't feel the same.
Going to therapy made me remember a lot of things I had pushed to the back of my mind when it came to the transition of my feelings for Carter into my feelings for Gwen. I had forgotten about how anytime Carter was out of the house, Gwen was telling me that she was out with a boy. I thought that Carter was hiding a relationship from me, and subconsciously, that's why I hid my relationship with Gwen. It wasn't until years later that I found out that Gwen had been feeding me lies.
Bottom line - Gwen manipulated me our entire relationship.
I know I'm not completely innocent, and that her manipulation isn't a complete excuse for the way that I acted, but it made me realize just how much she lied to me. She did anything she could to keep her hooks in me until she knew she had me fully secured, and then it was already too late with Carter. I had already separated myself from her to keep myself from getting hurt even further, and I had already started to fall in love with Gwen.
I know that I loved Gwen at one point. I know that I was still in love with her even when she hit me, but I know I fell right out of love with her the night she could've caused me irreparable damage.
Fuck, I didn't need to be thinking about all of this right now.
Tucking my chin to my chest, I suck in a deep breath as I lift my hand to pinch at the bridge of my nose. Reminiscing on the past in this very moment wasn't helping me calm down.
Instead I try to focus on the positive. Carter somehow found it in her heart to give me a second chance, and our reconnecting felt different to than I had anticipated. I could tell by the way she looked at me that she felt the same way too. We exchange small intimate touches every now and then, but that's as far as it's gone. I've also noticed that we're a lot more flirty with each other than we used to be. It's almost as if we were a couple that had separated, and now we're trying to figure out if time apart could make it work again. It didn't feel like we were necessarily rebuilding just a friendship.
It wasn't until this past Tuesday when we were sitting on a bench in the park that I asked her to dinner.
Carter had been talking about getting a corn-dog from this street cart for a few days, and I finally suggested to her that we just go and get them together. She was more than ecstatic when I told her that I wanted to go too. She got a regular corn-dog, and I got one with a plant-based hotdog inside. While we sat on the bench, her legs were draped over my lap as she leaned against the arm rest, ankles crossed one over the other.
Her heart shaped sunglasses were perched on her nose as I traced my fingertips up down one of her legs as we ate.
"I'm so happy right now," she said, using her hand to cover her mouth full of food as she spoke - as if she couldn't wait to tell me. "Thank you for coming with me, Harry. We picked such a good day too. It's beautiful out."
I swallowed the bite I was chewing before responding to her. "Of course I was going to come with you. I had to see the look on your face once you finally got your corndog."
The giggle that left her warmed my heart as her nose scrunched up, and I gave her thigh a squeeze. Humming, she let her free hand travel down to wrap around my fingers, and we remained like that for the rest of the time that we ate.
We stayed at the park for about an hour total, and it wasn't until we were about to get up and leave that I finally grew the balls to ask her what I had been wanting to ask her for a few weeks at that point.
That's when I asked her about grabbing dinner together, something we hadn't done yet.
"Yeah, of course we can grab dinner sometime. That would be fun!"
I remember my palms immediately going clammy, and Carter could instantly tell that something was wrong.
"Hey, are you okay?" Her palm found my back, and she began to move in circles.
"Well...I just-" I stumbled over my words like an idiot, finally clearing my throat when I felt like I had myself somewhat together. "How would you feel about considering it a date?"
Even though Carter had her sunglasses on, the lenses were pretty transparent, and I watched as her eyes went wide - her pink lips parting in surprise. I immediately had to look away from her, and I looked down at my hands as I nervously rubbed them together.
"Sorry...I'm sorry," I whispered, closing my eyes tight as if that was going to just make what I had asked disappear. "Forget it. We don't have to. I just ruined this whole fucking thing."
It was a few seconds later that I felt Carter's hand leave my back, and soon her palm was cradling one of my cheeks. She turned my face so I was looking at her - causing me to reluctantly open my eyes.
"It can be a date, Harry," she told me, and I instantly felt a knot form in my stomach. It wasn't out of anxiousness though, it was out of excitement. "I'm a little nervous given the past, but I'd like for it to be a date too."
When we separated that day, she let me give her a kiss on the cheek, and it made me tingle all over when I saw her face flush.
We haven't really spoken about our feelings at all, and we haven't discussed any expectations of each other either. I have a feeling that both of those things are bound to come up tonight. That's probably another reason why I'm so incredibly nervous.
My eyes glance over at the clock, and I see that it's now the time that I told her I would pick her up.
I suck in a deep breath as I get out of the car, my hands shaking as I keep a grip on the daffodils, and I head up to her door. Lifting my finger, I ring her doorbell before taking a small step back so that I'm not crowding her immediately.
The door opens after a moment, and once Carter's eyes connect with mine, a large smile takes over her features. "Hi, H," she says. She looks me over for a moment before looking back at my face. "You look so handsome."
It's as if my breath was sucked from my lungs when she opened that door. The dress she has on fits her perfectly, and she has her hair slightly curled so that it bounces a bit as she moves. I couldn't help but internally laugh out in adoration when I saw she had all black Vans old skools platforms on her feet.
Some things never change.
"Wow, Carter," I breathe, shaking my head. "You look gorgeous."
Carter's face flushes just like it did the other day. "I'm in protest against heels at the moment, so I hope Vans are okay," she says before her eyes drop to the flowers in my hand.
"Oh!" I exclaim with a chuckle, extending them out to her. "These are for you. I was trying to figure out what flowers to get, but these seemed rather fitting."
"Hmm," she hums, giving me a playful grin. "I wonder why."
She peeks over her shoulder for a moment before looking back to me. "I'm just going to put these in some water and then we can go. I'd invite you in, but I know Ichabod's hair is going to cling to you if you come inside and he rubs on you."
"That's alright, take your time," I tell her with a nod.
She shuts the door, and it's only a minute or so later that she's stepping back out. A thin black cardigan is now on her arms, and she has a purse draped over her shoulder. She locks up her door before facing me. "Ready?"
"Ready," I say, placing my hand on her lower back as we make our way to my car.
I open the passenger door for her, which she thanks me for, and I make sure she's in securely before I shut her in. My hands continue to shake as I head over to the driver's side, and I get in before starting the car up.
I can see Carter looking over at me out of the corner of my eye, and she almost instantly reaches out to take one of my hands off the wheel.
"Why are you shaking so bad?" She holds my one hand in both of hers - lazily intertwining one set of her fingers with mine while the fingertips on the other trace over the back of my hand. "We don't have to go anymore if it's going to make you so nervous, Harry. I don't want you to be-"
"No," I shake my head quickly, squeezing my fingers around hers. "I mean, yes, I'm nervous, but I don't want to not do this because of that. I've just...I'm really bad about getting in my head these days, and I just overthink things. I've been overthinking all day."
Carter frowns, and she brings my hand up - pressing her lips against my knuckles. "If it helps at all, I'm really glad that we're doing this. I've been looking forward to it since you asked on Tuesday."
"Yeah?" I ask, feeling her confession ease my nerves some.
"Yeah," she nods, biting down on her bottom lip.
"I can never thank you enough for agreeing."
Carter's eyes wander over my face for a moment before settling back on my own. "I told you...I've missed you. It's been long enough that I'm okay to let myself be open with you again, and I'm sure we'll touch on that more later, but I just know I'm ready for this. Whatever this ends up being after we talk everything out. Okay?"
"Okay," I bring her hand up to my mouth just like she did to me earlier - mimicking her same actions.
I let my lips rest against her skin a little longer than she did mine before I lower our hands back down. I go to pull my hand away so that I can place both hands on the wheel, but Carter tightens her grip. "Can I keep holding it?"
My heart palpitates in the best way at her question, and I feel warmth in my face. "Yeah, of course."
"Okay, good," she giggles before dropping my hand into her lap.
I bite back a larger smile as I put my car in drive, and I start heading towards the restaurant where I had made us reservations for tonight.
Music plays quietly in the car as we make our way down the road, and Carter and I keep stealing glances at each other as we do so. Eventually she moves her other hand down to completely encompass the one she had already been holding once again, alternating between smoothing her fingertips over my knuckles, and then the back of my hand.
I haven't had contact like this from someone in so long, and it feels nice. The tenderness of her touches makes me feel wanted and comforted all at the same time - two feelings that Carter used to bring me previously before everything went to shit.
Our conversation on the way there was light, just asking how our work week went, and she was telling me about a large back piece she had just finished up on a client.
Once we arrive at the restaurant, I open the passenger side of the car for Carter. Instead of letting me just place my hand on her back, she takes my hand in hers - lacing our fingers together. I stroke my thumb along the back of her hand as we head inside, and I can see that Carter is a bit shocked at the place I've picked out.
"Harry," she says, looking up at me with worry. "This place is so nice, and I'm wearing Vans. Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you wanted to wear Vans," I respond, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Besides, they look cute on you, and if they want to say something about them, then I don't want to give them my business anyway."
Carter shakes her head briskly at me as we approach the host stand. "Two for Styles."
The host nods and grabs a couple of menus before we're guided to our table. I smile when I see they've remembered to set it up the way I wanted, with two candles lit in the middle, and two glasses of red wine already poured.
I can hear Carter gasp behind me, but she doesn't say anything yet as I pull her chair out for her to sit.
The host places the menus down as I sit as well, and I thank them before they walk away. I keep my eyes down on the menu that was placed in front of me, but I can feel Carter's on me.
"Harry," she speaks up after a moment, sweetness laced throughout her tone. "Did you have them do this for us?"
I nibble on my bottom lip before nodding. "Yeah, I did. I just wanted tonight to be special. For you...for us."
Carter reaches out across the table, curling her hand around mine. "Thank you so much. This was a nice surprise, and this restaurant is beautiful."
She gives my hand a squeeze before pulling away, and we begin to properly look over our menus.
"What are you thinking?" Carter asks, and I tilt my head to the side.
"I'm eying the pasta pescatore, how about you?"
"I think I'll do the lobster and mushroom risotto," I look up as she twirls a curl around her finger - lips pursed to the side.
I'm completely captivated by the way the candlelight hits her face, capturing her beauty in a way that has my stomach swirling.
After a moment, a waiter comes over with a couple of waters to accompany our wine, and he asks if we're ready to order.
"You first," I say, gesturing my hand towards, and Carter smiles.
We each order our food, and the waiter heads off as we grab our glasses of wine. I clear my throat, my other hand gripping to my knee as Carter's round eyes stare at me.
"This might seem silly, but I just wanted to say a couple of things," I chuckle nervously.
Carter gives me a reassuring nod before sinking her teeth into her bottom lip.
"First off, I want to thank you again for saying 'yes' to dinner, and especially having it be a date. I'm really trying to be more straightforward with my feelings in general, but especially when it comes to you now that we've reconnected," I start off, my fingers curling tighter to my glass as I feel I could drop it at any moment. "I also wanted you to know that these past few weeks of getting to see you again have been the best weeks I've had in the past two years or so.
"Like you said before, I know there's still a lot that's left unsaid on both of our parts, but I really don't know what I would do if I lost you again, Carter. Losing you the first time completely changed me as a person, even though I didn't see it at the time. But with that being said, if you realize that this isn't going to work out, and this isn't what you want, then you walk away whenever you want. Put yourself first - always."
Carter blinks at me, and I can tell that I've caught her off guard with my words, but telling her that the ball was in her court when it came to us was something I needed her to know. I didn't want her to let the guilt of knowing I'd be upset to lose her again be the cause of her putting herself into something she didn't want.
"Wow, Harry," she opens and closes her mouth a couple times - clearly trying to figure out how to respond. "These few weeks have been really great for me too, and like I told you, I've missed you. I allowed for this to be a date just as much as you did, so I hope you don't feel like you forced me to label it as that.
As of right now, I'm more than happy with how things are going, but I can't lie to you and say that may change after we really talk things out. I don't think it will, but I just want you to know that's a possibility, okay?"
I move my head in agreement with her words. "Of course, Carter - of course."
I watch her shoulders deflate, as if she's let out a sigh of relief before we're both extending our glasses forward - clinking them together.
"To us," she speaks up first, a large smile back on her face.
"To us."
We each sip our wine, and she hums out in appreciation. "Oh my god, Harry," she licks over her bottom lip. "This wine is delicious."
"Yeah? I went over their selection online, and I tried to pick out what I remembered you liking."
"It's perfect. Thank you."
I watch as she looks around the restaurant a bit before looking back over to me. "Well, I guess now is as good of a time as any to start, huh?"
"If you're ready, then absolutely," I reassure her.
"I should probably start with me figuring things out about my mom and Gwen since that all ties in to how everything happened, especially with us," she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before continuing. "One of the first things my therapist had me focus on was my emotions towards them, but most importantly their emotions towards me.
"She had me write down times throughout my life where my mom yelled at me, which wasn't often, but I came to the conclusion that she only ever did when it involved something with Gwen. Whether it be me trying to play with one of her toys, or if Gwen and I were fighting about her borrowing something of mine when Gwen knew that I would be needing it, my mother always took Gwen's side - even when she was clearly wrong."
Reaching forward, she takes a large sip of wine before she continues. "I also realized that my mom and Gwen have extremely jealous tendencies. So, when the wedding came around, it was such a big thing for Gwen, and the way they treated me just magnified. They wanted it to go perfectly for her, and they didn't want me to ruin it. That's when I became their pin cushion."
I grimace at her use of words, but I know she's not wrong.
"Also, I don't know if Gwen ever told you, but she caught me leaving the groom's suite that day," she places her hands on the table, and I can see they're slightly trembling. "She told me she knew of my feelings for you, that she always did, and she couldn't believe I told you on your wedding day of all days. That's when she said she never wanted to see me again, and for me to stay away from you both. I listened to her because I knew you loved her, and I knew she made you happy, and I didn't want to take that away from you."
My heart aches at her words. Gwen never told me she had seen her after her confession to me. I didn't know that she ever knew that Carter had feelings for me.
"She didn't tell me," I whispered, shaking my head.
"I also need to apologize to you, Harry. I need to tell you sorry for never telling you my feelings sooner, and I also need to tell you I'm sorry for when I chose to tell you about them," I can see tears are now gathering in Carter's eyes, and she takes a minute to collect herself before she's blinking them away.
"I never wanted to tell you about my feelings because I didn't want to ruin what we had, but it seems that's exactly what I did because I waited so long. Maybe if I had just kept my mouth shut, none of this would've ever happened, and I-"
"Carter, I'm going to stop you right there," I butt in, not being able to listen to her blaming herself in this way. "Do not apologize to me for that. I won't let you blame yourself for what happened. There's only one person to blame for our friendship falling apart, and that's me."
Carter keeps quiet as I continue. "I should've never let Gwen keep me from you like she did, and I should've never let her treat you the way she did. Things would've been different if I had put my foot down. If I had refused to let her wedge her way between us, but I didn't do that.
"She fed me lies our entire relationship when it came to you. She knew I liked you, she revealed that to me during our divorce process. Whenever you were out of the house hanging out with Kieran, she told me you were seeing different guys, and I don't know why I believed her. Then she started dropping hints that she liked me. One thing led to another, and it just happened. The last thing she really lied to me about was her trying to contact you after the wedding. She led me to believe that she was trying just as hard as I was to reach you, and in our last big fight, I found out that wasn't the case."
Now I'm the one reaching for my glass of wine, taking two large sips. "I realized in therapy that I never truly lost my feelings for you, Carter. I just shoved them down, and I suppressed them once I started having feelings for Gwen. I convinced myself that they were gone because how could I love two people at once? But, my love for you was never like my love for Gwen. The love I had for you..."
I swallow harshly before I look down at my lap, shaking my head. It's only a second later that I feel the tips of Carter's fingers brushing over my knuckles.
"Tell me, please."
Looking back up, I meet her eyes, and I can tell she's pleading with me to be honest. It was hard to act like I was talking about the past. My love for has only grown more since being around her again.
"It was everything. Even if I didn't think it was reciprocated, and even though I didn't even tell you about it."
Carter opens her mouth to speak, but we're interrupted by the waiter setting out dishes down in front of us. We each thank him, placing our napkins into our laps as we grab our silverware.
"Let's just enjoy our meals for now," I reach out to grab her hand, and I kiss the back of it quickly. "And if we want to talk more later, we can."
"Okay," Carter breathes, and we both begin to dig into our food.
The rest of our time at the restaurant consists of us talking about much lighter topics while stealing bites of each other's food.
Now we're sitting outside of her house in my car, my hand placed on the inside of Carter's knee as she twists my rings around my fingers.
"Is there anything else you wanted to talk about before I head in?" Carter rests her head back against the headrest, looking over at me.
I know that what I'm about to bring up is serious, but it's something that's eaten away at me for too long.
"I didn't want to ask in the restaurant, and you can decline to answer if it's too personal, but it's something that's been weighing on me. Did...did Gwen ever get physical with you when you guys would argue?"
I'm hesitant to look at her, but I'm met with narrowed brows on her face. "I mean, we used to wrestle as little kids, but when we got older, no," she shakes her head. "Why? Did she get physical with you?"
I stay silent as I look down to stare at my steering wheel, and I can hear Carter inhale sharply when I don't answer after a moment.
It's not even a second later that I feel her arms around me, and she's pulling my face into her neck. "I'm so sorry, Harry," she whispers, pressing a kiss to my temple.
I feel tears welling in my eyes as I lift a hand to wrap around her wrist. I feel her nails scraping against my scalp to comfort me as her other hand caresses my back.
"You didn't deserve that. You'll never deserve that."
We stay in the same position for a while as she continues to comfort me silently before she speaks again. "You know that right? That you didn't deserve that?"
I nod, sniffling as I lift my hand up - pushing the tears off my cheeks with the heel of my palm as I sit back. "I know. I know I didn't deserve it."
"Good," Carter says softly, and I can see the worry behind her eyes as she stares at me.
Biting down on her bottom lip, she grabs her purse that was on the floorboard, and she shuffles through it. She looks back over to me, and that's when I see she has another postcard in her hand. "I had two of these in my bag tonight. I figured this whole thing could've gone one way or the other. "
She extends the card out to me, and I take it from her. I look down to see a line illustration of a butterfly on the front. I know that she did this on purpose because we each have butterfly tattoos, and it has me feeling hopeful.
"Will this quote tell me which way it went?" I ask her with a soft chuckle, and it causes her to giggle as well while she shrugs.
"Flip it over and find out."
Taking in a deep breath, I flip the postcard over, and I read over the quote a few times to really take it in.
"Rewinding time is not possible, but "do-over's" are. Sometimes we get another chance to do something right the second time that we got wrong the first time." - UNKNOWN
I look back over to her after a moment, and her expression is one filled with such kindness that I feel like I could cry again. "In case that wasn't enough to tell you...would you like to come in?"
My eyebrows raise, as I'm a bit shocked that she was asking me to do so, but I didn't give her any time to think that I was hesitating. "Yeah, yes, please," I laugh nervously, and she tilts her head.
"Come on then."
We both get out of the car, and we head up to the door which she unlocks. As we walk inside, she flips on some lights, and I instantly hear small thumps coming from her hallway while we take off our shoes.
"Hello, Mr. Crane," Carter coos as she lowers herself down to pet the petite black cat that's come to greet her. "This is Ichabod."
The image in front of me has my heart completely bursting from how sweet it is, and I follow Carter's actions - bending down to be closer to them both. "Hello Ichabod, I'm Harry."
I hold my hand out, and Ichabod sniffs it for a bit before rubbing back across the front of Carter's legs for a while, but he keeps his eyes on me.
"He's really nice, I promise," Carter says as she continues to rub over his back, and eventually Ichabod makes his way over to me.
I begin to scratch underneath his chin, and behind his ears as Carter stands.
"Do you want some more wine?"
Glancing over, I watch as she walks into her kitchen - loose red curls bouncing as she goes.
"Yeah, I'll have another glass," I tell her, giving Ichabod a few more pets before standing up myself. "Just one is probably good though considering I have to drive."
"What do you think I'm trying to do? Get you drunk so you have to stay over?" Carter looks at me over her shoulder with a shiteating smirk, and I shake my head at her. Knowing that the atmosphere around us has turned playful, I decide to feed into it as well.
"I don't know," I shrug before crossing my arms over my chest as I lean against one of her counters. "Are you?"
Carter hums as she turns back around to grab a bottle of wine out of her wine fridge, and then she walks over to the cabinet housing her wine glasses. "I mean, would you staying be the absolute worst thing in the world?"
My adrenaline perks up slightly at her words, and I quickly clear my throat. "No, I-I don't think that, I just didn't know-"
"Harry," Carter walks over to the counter next to the one I was leaning against - setting the glasses down. "I was just kidding. You didn't think I was that easy, did you?"
Groaning, I look up to the ceiling as I smile.
She's really busting my balls here.
"I'm not used to being one step ahead of you when it comes to picking on each other," she bumps her hip against mine to have me looking down at her again. "I guess I'm making up for all those years you had me blushing like an idiot."
"Yeah, now that's me," I laugh, leaning down to pinch at her waist - causing her to yelp.
Carter eventually uncorks the bottle, and she pours us each a glass of wine as we move over to sit on the couch. Ichabod makes his way over to the cat tree in the corner of the living room, and he makes his way to the top tier - quickly curling into himself and falling asleep.
"He's so cute," I compliment her. "How old is he?"
"Just a little over a year old," she says, looking over to the cat tree for a moment before looking over to me. "I actually found him outside of the shop I was working at while I was gone."
"You're kidding."
Carter shakes her head, swallowing down her sip of wine before continuing. "It was early spring, and it was raining so bad outside. It was chilly, and windy on top of that. I was closing up the shop, and I went around back to throw the trash into the dumpster before getting in my car, and I could hear him crying underneath it after I threw the bag inside.
"I pulled my phone out so I could use my flashlight, and I looked under, and there he was. He was by himself, and shaking, and I knew I couldn't leave him. To be honest, I didn't think I'd have the time to take on a kitten, so I had every intention of keeping him for a few days to get him better before taking him to the shelter. As you can see, I got way too attached and that didn't happen. It worked out for the both of us though. I don't know what I would do without him. He's my little buddy."
"You know it's funny, I had been contemplating getting a cat myself before I ran into you," I tell her. "Now you've kind of convinced me that I need one. The house is so quiet by myself."
"I definitely get what you mean. I've lived alone since I first moved away, and now I couldn't imagine not hearing his little paws on the floors, or hearing him eating his food in the kitchen while I'm sketching at my dining table. You should get one, H," she says, tapping her foot against my thigh. "They're a lot of fun."
"Yeah, I think I might," I say, dropping my hand to wrap it around her foot, running the pad of my thumb over the arch of it. "Would you come to the shelter with me?"
"Of course! I'd love to. Plus, I think I should have a say considering they're going to be around Mr. Crane. I need to make sure they're a suitable candidate for his friendship," she smirks, taking another sip of wine.
"That's fair enough."
It's quiet for a moment before she makes a small noise as she swallows her sip - as if she's remembered something. "Hold on, I'll be right back."
Carter sets her wine glass down on the table, and she slips down the hallway for a moment. I can't help but smile to myself as she's gone - not believing that I'm in her home with her right now, us sharing wine together and talking as if nothing has changed.
This is all I've wanted for so long.
I hear her coming back after a minute or so, and she sits down while passing me a piece of paper. As I study the piece of paper, I see she picks her wine glass back up, and she moves to drape her legs over my lap like she did in the park the other day.
"I drew that while I was in therapy," she said, tapping her fingertips against her glass. "She told me to draw something that provided me comfort in the past, and I came up with this. While I was drawing it, I was thinking of how you used to always hold my hand when we were out with friends if you could tell I wasn't having a good time, or if something was making me anxious. I've been meaning to bring it to show you when we've been hanging out, I just kept forgetting."
My eyes study the drawing, and I wait to ask what immediately comes to mind. "Do you think you could tattoo this on me?"
Carter's eyes look like they're about to bulge out of her head once I look back to her. "What?"
"I really like it, and you drew it perfectly. It reminds me of us too," I nod. "I'd really like for you to tattoo it on me, if you're comfortable with that."
"Harry, you know I'm always more than happy to ink you up. I'm just a little shocked - that's all. I'm more than comfortable with you getting it."
"Maybe in a couple months? I'm thinking on the back of my arm," I tilt my head to the side as I continue to stare at the drawing of two hands holding.
"I think that will look really good, H."
I only intended on staying at Carter's for maybe an hour at the most, but as she indulged in another glass of wine, I decided to stay so she could tell me all about the city she had been living in before moving back home. It was interesting to hear about the life she had without me in it, and I was actually able to listen to her talk about it without feeling a sadness in my chest.
I have her back now, and that's what matters.
Looking over to the clock, I can see it's nearing midnight, and I know it's time to go home.
"Well, I should probably get going," I sigh as I finish up my glass of wine. Only having the one glass at dinner, and then the two glasses here, I was more than fine to drive - especially with pasta sitting in my stomach.
"Oh, only if you're sure," Carter says, setting her almost finished wine down on the coffee table as I stand up. "You're not keeping me up or anything."
"I know, but I don't want to overstay my welcome," I chuckle, walking to set my empty wine glass in the sink in her kitchen.
When I walk back over Ichabod hops off his cat tree and follows me towards the door, circling my feet as he looks up at me.
"I think somebody doesn't want you to leave," Carter giggles as she walks closer to me, fiddling with her fingers behind her back.
"I'm sure I'll see you again soon, bud," I kneel down to give Ichabod a few head scratches before I stand up and look over at Carter. "Do you think that we could do this again?"
"Harry," Carter closes all space between us as she drops her hands to the side. "Have I not made it obvious enough that I more than enjoyed myself tonight? I would absolutely love to do this again."
I let out a small laugh of relief, scratching the back of my neck for a moment while looking down at my feet. Pursing my lips to the side, I look back up at Carter. "Can I kiss you?"
I can tell my request takes Carter by surprise, and I immediately feel like an idiot. "Shit, I'm sorry," I apologize. "I didn't mean to be so forward. You just look so beautiful, and I had such a good time that I thought maybe-"
I'm cut off when I feel Carter's hands cupping my cheeks as she pushes herself on her tiptoes, her taking the complete initiative to have her lips meet mine.
After a moment, I hum in satisfaction, and I drop my arms to wrap them around her. One of them wraps around her waist, while the other curls to the middle of her torso - my hand pressing against her shoulder blades to keep her flush against me. Carter is much shorter than me, and I can tell she's struggling to stay on her toes, so I gently lift her off the floor just a bit using the strength in my arm around her waist - causing her to squeal against my lips.
"Stay," Carter whispers, as she pulls away, her eyes dancing over my face. "Please stay."
My mouth runs dry when I realize exactly what she's saying, and I don't hesitate to give her a nod. "Okay, I'll stay."
Carter smiles, and I reach down to have both arms around her waist before I'm pulling her up higher. She wraps her arms around my neck, and her legs around my hips, as she leans down to reconnect our lips. "Bedroom is at the end of the hall," she mumbles against them.
I follow her orders, carrying her with ease down the hallway until we're in her room. After a few more moments of letting our lips mold against one another, I lower her down so that she's standing in front of me again.
"Are you sure?" I ask.
"I'm sure," Carter says as she takes a step back, peeling her cardigan off her shoulders. "Take your clothes off."
My cock twitches in my pants at her words, and it takes a minute for my body to catch up with my mind. I pull my vest off and toss it to the side before I start to undo the buttons of my dress shirt. I watch as she reaches up to undo the ribbon tied at the top of her dress, pulling it so that it loosens, and she's able to slip her arms out of the material. She pauses for a minute with her hand pressed against her chest to still keep her dress up, watching me with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.
I shrug my shirt off before I reach down to my pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them - leaving me in just my briefs.
Carter drops her dress, and my breath catches in the back of my throat when I see that her top is completely bare - only a black lace long left on her body. "This...this isn't weird for you, is it?"
I shake my head as I walk forward, my eyes shamelessly roaming over her. I'm taking her all in, as if she could disappear, or like I could wake at any moment - like this was all a dream.
"It's not weird at all," I tell her honestly, and Carter reaches out to wrap her hands around my wrists.
Her head tilts to the side as she moves me around until my hands are on her full breasts, and I sigh as I run the pads of my thumbs over her pebbled nipples. She gasps while throwing her head back - her eyes slipping shut.
Hearing that sound leave her, and seeing that just the smallest touch was bringing her such pleasure, it's like something in me snaps. I walk forward to where she's back against her dresser, and her eyes shoot open.
Carter watches me as I begin to lower myself down her body, pressing kisses to her neck and over her sternum. Once I reach her breasts, I rest the undersides of them in my palms before closing my lips around one of her nipples. She lets out a breathy moan, but we don't sever eye contact. Her hands wrap around the edge of her dresser, her elbows slightly pointed up to her ceiling as I pay the same amount of attention to her other nipple.
"Harry," my name leaving her mouth has me humming against her skin, and she rolls her head on her shoulders for just a moment before her eyes are right back on mine.
Abandoning her chest, I slip all the way down so I'm kneeling in front of her as I kiss over her stomach - hooking my fingers into the sides of her thong. I still hold her eyes, silently asking for permission, and she gives me a nod. I continue to sponge kisses down her body, all while pulling her underwear down at the same time. She's squirming underneath me, and I can tell she's aching for more now.
Once her underwear hit the floor, Carter lifts one leg to step out, but when she lifts the other, I quickly wrap my hand around her ankle - throwing her leg over my shoulder as I toss her underwear to the side.
"Can I taste you, Carter?" I ask, my eyes slipping shut for the first time since I've had my hands on her - the smell of her arousal filling my nose while I latch my lips to the inside of her thigh.
"Please," she whines, and my mouth finds its way between her legs before I can even process. “Oh, god."
One of Carter's hands leaves the dresser to make its home on the back of my head as she arches into me. My tongue is immediately met with her wetness, and I groan at just how much had accrued in such a short amount of time. I lick my way back up until I'm sucking her clit between my lips, and I open my eyes to look up at her.
Her head is back as she pants into the air, her face displaying absolute pleasure as I lift my hand to massage her thigh that's resting beside my head. My touch alerts her, and she looks down at me with pink cheeks.
"Good. 'S so good," she moans deliriously before she tilts her head to the side to rest her cheek on her shoulder - eyes slipping shut again.
I move back down to lap at her dripping entrance before I plunge my tongue inside - teeth scraping over her swollen clit. A strangled, but loud "uh" leaves her as she now curls forward, and the hand on the back of my head is pushing me even further into her core while her other hand drops to grip at my shoulder not cradling her thigh.
Everything about this is causing me to leak profusely into my briefs, and I know that I'm the hardest I've been in a long time. I creep my hand up from her thigh to grip one of the rounds of her ass - feeling her skin pushing through the gaps between my fingers.
"Wait, w-wait," I hear Carter gasp, and I pull away immediately. She sees the look of worry on my face, causing her to laugh breathlessly. "You didn't do anything wrong, don't worry. I just want to make you come twice."
I close my eyes and drop a hand to my briefs to apply pressure to my throbbing bulge at her words - willing away the urge to come right then. After a moment, I feel her slip her leg off my shoulder, pulling my cheek to rest against her stomach as she runs her fingers through the top of my hair.
"Can I do that for you, Harry? Can I have you come in my mouth, and then while you recuperate, you can make me come?" She slides one hand down my back - nails grazing against my skin. "And then when I come, I'll need you inside me, and I hope you'll be hard again. I want you so bad."
I turn my face to kiss along her stomach much like I did before. I'm riddled speechless by her want for me. It had been so long since anyone had talked about me in such a way, and it was causing me to feel so many different emotions.
"Please, baby," Carter whispers, and I slowly feel her lowering her body. I blink my eyes open to see her kneeling in front of me - moving her hands to cradle my face. "Let me make you feel good."
The pet name she uses ignites a fire in me, and I wrap my arms around her to pull her forward - having her thighs straddle one of my own as I press my lips against hers. Her thumbs swipe over my cheek as we kiss, and I tangle one of my hands into the back of her hair. Our lips part to have our tongues rolling against one another which causes goosebumps to coat my skin. We make our way off the ground, but we don't let our lips disconnect as she lays me down on the bed.
My hands wander all over her body as our tongues ebb and flow, and I give her plush hips a squeeze before she's pulling away from me. She runs her lips down my body, and just like I did earlier to her, she starts pulling on the waistband of my briefs.
"Lift your hips," she tells me, and I blindly obey.
Once my briefs are down to the tops of my thighs, my prick springs out and slaps against my stomach - smearing precome onto my skin.
"Shit," Carter's mouth gapes as she stares at me, and I feel myself twitch under her gaze.
She makes quick work of getting my briefs the rest of the way down before pushing herself between my legs. She's knelt down, back arched to have her plump ass in the air - right in my line of vision.
"Fuck, Carter," I whisper, feeling myself leaking even more at the sight. "You're so sexy. I don't think I've ever been this hard."
Carter licks over her bottom lip as she wraps her hand around my dripping cock, her other hand snaking up my chest to rest over one of my pecs - her palm grazing over my taut nipple. She works the hand on my prick up to gather my precome onto her hand before she slicks it down my length. Beginning to pump me, she nuzzles her nose into the trimmed hairs framing my base.
"I can't tell you how long I've wanted this," she tells me, planting kisses all around me.
I try to keep my eyes on her for as long as possible, but the pleasure is overwhelming. If she didn't get her mouth on me in the next few seconds, I was going to end up coming all over my stomach and her hand.
"I can't believe you're even more toned than before," she plants a kiss against my balls, causing my stomach to clench. "So pretty. Everything about you is pretty. You have a pretty face, a pretty body, and a pretty cock."
Her words have me moaning as my toes curl into the fabric of her comforter. I never once would've guessed that Carter was so vocal in the bedroom, and it's causing my head to spin. She was a true vision, and I found myself so lucky to be underneath her at this very moment.
I can't help but slip my eyes shut once her mouth is on my tip, and she lowers herself halfway down my shaft before pulling back up. I find myself biting down on the insides of my cheeks as she kitten licks at my slit - resulting in more precome pouring out of me.
"Carter," I gasp, one hand gripping to the pillow case my head was resting on while the other reached out to wrap her hair around my palm. "I'm not going to last very long right now."
She kisses my tip before I feel her nudge the side of her nose against it. "That's okay. This is about you right now. If you come in five seconds, I don't care."
Carter's mouth closes against me once again, and this time she lowers herself almost all the way down. I feel the tip of her nose against my happy trail as she zig zags her tongue along the underside of my shaft, and I can feel the ball of her tongue piercing pressing against every vein in her wake.
She bobs her head up and down before she presses all the way down, and I feel her swallow around me.
"Fuck," I choke on a moan, squeezing my eyes shut tight as I try to make this last as long as possible. "You're so fucking good at this."
Carter hums in response, causing a vibration up my shaft which has my abs jumping. I now feel my orgasm truly building in my lower abdomen. She pulls up to where just my tip is in her mouth, and I flutter my eyes open to see her looking at me - wiggling her ass in the air. She keeps me stable with one hand, and she parts her lips to show me that my tip is just resting against her tongue.
She shakes her head from side to side for a moment before she focuses on rolling the ball of her piercing over the prominent vein right underneath my tip again and again.
"I'm gonna come," I strangle out, my hand tightening in her hair. "I can't hold it."
Carter holds my eyes as she closes her mouth around me again, and she uses the hand that was holding me in place to start pumping me once more. My eyes roll into the back of my head as I feel myself releasing onto her tongue, groaning out as I buck my hips up subconsciously. It causes a small squeal to leave her, and if I was in the right stand of mind I'd immediately be apologizing, but my brain has gone completely fuzzy. She guides me through my orgasm fully, and I wince in sensitivity as I feel how tight she has her lips against me to make sure none spills out.
My eyes blink open just in time to see her popping off me entirely, and I watch as she swallows - the smallest bit of my come seeping from the corner of her mouth. Her tongue darts out to collect it while she begins to rub her hands up and down the tops of my thighs.
"You okay?" She asks, moving her way up my body so that she's hovering over me.
"I'm more than okay," I laugh, causing one to leave Carter as well. I wrap my hand around the back of her neck. "Come here."
I pull her down to meet my mouth again, and I hum as I taste myself on her tongue. As we kiss, I turn us over to where she's now underneath me. She hikes one of her knees up against my hip while resting her hands on the sides of my neck. Using one hand to hold up the crease of her leg, I dance my other one down between her legs.
I cup her cunt in my hand and give it a squeeze, causing her to gasp against my mouth. Smirking softly, I curl my middle and ring fingers to slip the tips of them through her drenched slit, and I'm almost certain I could already get hard again when she immediately coats my fingers in her arousal.
"You got so wet, Carter," I lick at her top lip before bumping the tip of my nose against hers. "Did getting me off turn you on that much?"
She nods, her hands beginning to roam all over my torso. "Sexiest thing I've ever seen was your face when you came just now."
"You're giving me an ego," I tell her, nipping my teeth against her jawline.
"You deserve to have one," she breathes as I feel her nails digging into my skin.
Swirling my fingertips around her entrance, I let her get accustomed to the feeling before I'm easily gliding them inside of her due to how open she already is for me. She mewls while automatically lifting her hips to meet my fingers, and I help satisfy her even more by tapping against her spongy spot.
"Yes," she whines, her chest now flush against mine - hard nipples grazing my skin. "Please, Harry, don't stop."
"I'm not going to, baby," I assure her, sucking on the junction where her neck and shoulder meet. "Not stopping until your come is covering my fingers, understood?"
"Mhmm," she lets out a high pitched hum as I begin to thrust my fingers in and out of her, making sure to continue curling them every now and again. "I understand."
Carter's heavy breathing fills the room once more as writhes underneath me. I can feel her clenching around me in what seems like intervals, and I know she's probably just as close as I was once she got her mouth on me.
"God, I can't believe I get to have you like this right now," I tell her, testing the waters to see if talking turns her on like it does for me. "Never thought this would be a reality for me. I thought I fucked up so bad that you'd never speak to me again, and now I've got you naked and open for me. I'm the luckiest man in the whole world to be here with you."
She cries out as I drop my hand from her leg to slip between our chests so I can roll one of her nipples between my index finger and my thumb. I can see a sheen of sweat forming on her hairline, and I slip a third finger into her to try to get her to her climax faster - not wanting her to feel like I was teasing too much.
"Harry," she whimpers, opening her eyes to look up at me.
"You're right there, hm?" I ask, tilting my head to the side, and I watch as he nods in response to me. "Come on, flower. Let go for me."
The old nickname I used to call her seems to be what sends her over the edge.
Carter's head tilts slightly back, and I watch as her lips part. A lewd moan starts to escape her as I feel her completely clamp down on my fingers, but I don't take my eyes off her face. She keeps her eyes on me as she comes, her orgasm coating me just like I asked as I continue to ride her through it. She wiggles her hips, as if she's trying to move away from, and that's when I remove my fingers - knowing that she's coming back down.
Her eyes watch my every move as I bring my fingers up to my mouth, sealing my lips around them as I suck them clean. I close my eyes once I have her taste on my tongue again, swallowing down a moan so I don't look absolutely pathetic.
I open my eyes to look down at Carter, and I see her smiling up at me. "Thank you," her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath. "That felt so good."
Looking down at the same time, we both see that my cock is about half hard, but I know it won't take much longer for me to get fully there when I know where this is going next. I lower myself down to kiss her body like I had before, and I take the time to really examine her skin.
"You got a lot of new tattoos," I say, giving one of her breasts a small squeeze.
"Mhmm," she hums, wrapping one hand around my forearm that was connected to the hand on her chest - rubbing her palm up and down my skin. "A pretty good amount, I'd say."
Lowering myself down onto her, I begin to press my lips over the ones that I know I haven't seen, whispering 'new' as I do so. It causes Carter to giggle as I locate each one, and she tucks her bottom lip between her teeth as she watches me closely, but her smile still shines through.
"I have another," she tells me, tapping me to lift up a bit before she flips over onto her stomach.
I look down and see ink right under the crease between one of her ass cheeks and her thigh. "Also new."
Smirking, I lean down to press my lips against that one as well as she looks at me over her shoulder. I trail my lips up just slightly, biting down playfully on her ass cheek - causing a laughter filled squeal to leave her, and I feel her lightly kicking her feet.
I lift up onto my knees, grasping her hips to flip her over once more, and I feel that I've grown fully hard again.
"You're really sure, Carter?" I ask her, and she nods.
"I've never been so sure about something before. I want you, Harry. Fuck, I need you. I think I'll cry if you're not in me in the next few minutes."
That causes me to chuckle softly. "I'm going to put on some music, is that okay?"
"Yeah, of course."
I stand up from the bed and grab my phone that's in my pants pocket. Flipping through my apps, I locate Spotify and quickly search the song I had in mind. Once I find it, I place my phone on her nightstand before crawling back over her. The intro starts, and my eyes wander over Carter's face before the vocals kick in.
"I get so lost, sometimes.
Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart.
When I want to run away I drive off in my car, but whichever way I go
I come back to the place you are."
"Harry," she whispers as she trails her fingertips down my biceps, and I see tears filling her eyes.
"Don't cry, please," I lean down to press a kiss against each of her cheeks. "It's how I've pictured this moment for so long."
"You mean to this song?"
"To this song," I nod, reaching down to massage her hips in each of my hands. "This is how I felt about you then, and I haven't been completely honest with you because...this is also how I feel about you now too. I meant what I said earlier. You mean everything to me, Carter Adams."
"How are you going to tell me not to cry, and then say something like that?" Carter laughs, but I can hear the tears filling it.
"Sorry, I just needed to let you know," I lean down to press my lips gently against hers before pulling back just slightly. "Do you have a condom?"
"I do, but...are you okay if we don't use one? I have an IUD, and I'm clean. I got checked after my break up, and I haven't been with anyone since," she cradles my jaw in her palms, the pad of her thumb brushing over my lips. "I just really want to feel you."
"I'm clean as well," I nod, running my hands down from her hips to the outside of her thighs to pull her knees up against me once more. "I'd really like to feel you completely too, Carter."
Reaching out, I grab a pillow from the other side of the bed that she wasn't lying on, and I slip it underneath her hips to have her angled up slightly. "Good?"
"Good," she responds, and I can tell that we're both a bit nervous now that we know this is actually going to happen.
With one hand cupping her waist, I wrap my other hand around my length to guide myself to her. I allow my tip to run through her folds to collect her arousal for a moment before I'm pushing inside. My jaw goes slack, and I choke on a groan when I feel just how tight she is around me with me barely being inside.
"Oh," she moans, grasping to the creases of my arms.
I look up from where we're connected to check on Carter, and she gives me a nod - telling me silently to keep going. I'm slow as I continue to push forward, and once I'm completely inside, I hear a flooded whine leave her.
"H-Harry," she says, and she's immediately demanding my attention when I hear how much emotion is behind my name. "I love you."
Those three words that I never thought I'd hear her say to me again, at least not in context, have me crumbling.
My bottom lip trembles as I cup her cheek in my hand. "I love you too, Carter. I love you so much."
Leaning down, I connect our lips in a passionate kiss, neither of us caring as we feel our tears smearing over each other's cheeks. We stay still for a while, hands caressing each other's bodies while our tongues melt together. It was incredible how perfectly we fit together, and my heart was pounding against my chest due to the intimacy that was surrounding us in every way imaginable.
Our mouths separate with a large 'smack' bouncing off the walls, and smiles are immediately pulling at the corners of our lips.
"I'm gonna start moving, okay?"
"Okay," Carter gives my arms a squeeze, and I draw my hips back halfway before allowing myself to fill her to the brim again.
She sighs out, leaning her head to the side to press her lips against my heart tattoo. My eyes catch hers, and she sends me another soft smile. "New," she mumbles against my skin.
That small gesture has a knot forming in my throat again, but I power through. The only thing I want right now is to give her even more pleasure than I did before. I want to show her how much I love her now, and how much I loved her even before.
After a few more moments of letting her adjust, I begin to fall into a rhythm of plunging my slick cock in and out of her weeping cunt. Carter's walls flutter around me every time I'm fully sheathed back inside, and I look down to see her clit all puffy and inviting. I push one of her legs down onto the bed, and then drape the knee of her other leg over the crease of my arm. Moving onto my knees just a bit more, I begin to thrust at a new angle, and her muscles clamp down the hardest they have.
"That it, baby?" I ask, dropping my free hand to rub the pad of my thumb against her clit. I can feel it pulsing, and I know that she's close to another orgasm already.
"Jesus Christ, Harry," she groans, nails digging into my skin as I keep up my pace. "Splitting me open."
Her words have my prick twitching inside of her, and I know that I'm not going to be able to hold out as long as I want to.
I'll just have to make a promise to make it up to her in the morning.
"Yeah? Got you feeling full?"
"So full," Carter shakes her head from side to side, and her eyes are droopy. I can tell she's trying her hardest to keep them open, and on me.
"You feel so good around me, flower," I compliment, licking over my bottom lip. "Prettiest, and sweetest little pussy squeezing me. Can't get enough can you, hm?"
I watch as her body trembles underneath me, and she opens her mouth to say something, but I feel her walls tightening. Looking down, I can see her second orgasm coating my length, and that causes me to start slipping in and out of her even easier than before.
"That's a good girl," I lean down to press my lips to the corner of hers. "You're 's good for me, Carter."
Carter clutches to me, and I allow her to lift her knees to my hips again so that I can be closer to her. I pant against the side of her neck as my feel my own orgasm festering at the bottom of my spine.
"Where do you want me to come?" I ask, and she's quick to press her heels against the small of my back - forcing me to barely move in and out of her now.
"Inside, please," she begs me, and that's all it takes for me to find my second release.
I can't help but bite down on her shoulder as I pump everything I have inside of her sensitive cunt, and I hear her letting out small mewls and whimpers each time I thrust back in. Once I know she's taken everything from me, I collapse on top of her, but I'm mindful not to bare all my weight.
We cling to each other, sharing small kisses and caresses as we come down from our highs. When I finally find the strength, I push myself up onto one of my palms, my other hand reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind Carter's ear.
"I love you," I tell her, and she smiles up at me - corners of her eyes squinting.
"I love you too."
As I hover over the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, I wonder how I could have ever been so stupid to let her slip away the first time, but I have to remind myself that's in the past. Tonight truly marks the new beginning of this relationship, and I know that it'll bring us both nothing but happiness.
I look at her, and I see not only my future, but also my soulmate. Regardless of what happened before, I know one thing is absolutely true - Carter Adams has always been the love of my life.
#harry styles#harry styles au#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic#harry styles writing#harry edward styles#harry styles smut#harry styles ff#harry styles smutty fanfic#harry styles short story#harry smut#harry styles fanfic#harry styles x oc#Spotify
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Happy Binderary 2024!! Kicking things off with the fantastic Never understood a single word he said by dear friend @aboxthecolourofheartache. I had the best time beta'ing this for Box and just had to have it on my shelf! More pics and process info under the cut:
had an absolute blast packing as many easter eggs as I could into this one! it's a roadtrip gone wrong fic heh, so I went for a scrapbook/collage cover made of the same kraft paper I usually use for paperbacks, but left the hinge + spine exposed. I tore each piece from a different sheet of scrapbook paper, so the resulting texture is really fun:
I also went to town with references to some of the events in the story, particularly on the back of the cover. the postcard is probably my favorite element; here are my few first practice runs on scratch paper (along with some of my colored pencil testings for the markings on the map) before I went for it on the real cover!
I repurposed the ribbon graphics I originally drew for another bind (@feralrookie's right where I should be ❤️). the music notes on the first page notate the rhythm of the opening lines of the song the fic is based on, Three Dog Night's "Joy to the World," which I had on loop while I was typesetting this! ("Jeremiah was a bullfrog/Was a good friend of mine.") Box's taste in trigun-themed country and blues is impeccable, and I have a whole spotify playlist made almost entirely of her recs ehe :3
the blank/empty ribbon appears between chapter 1 and the epilogue for story reasons ehe; really wanted to convey the feeling of "where did the music go?", because I also listened to American Pie a lot while making this lolol.
also added little camera graphic at the end, which reminded me of meryl's occupation as a journalist, but the hands/lack of a face holding the camera also gives me the uncanny feeling of being watched/photographed (also plot relevant heh). camera graphic and the house graphic at the beginning are both sourced from Heritage Type's free vintage illustrations, from a series of packs called "Hands Holding Stuff."
the hand holding the house on the title page gave me wolfwood's confessional-on-the-go vibes, BUT it was originally held straight like this:
so I decided to tilt it to give it more of that feeling of instability and "oh shit my entire world is being turned upside down rn god the exits WHERE ARE THE EXITS (there are no exits)" feeling present in the fic :D so I guess it's more of a knives reference?? still, the kind of "what is even going on here?" reaction I had when I first saw it fits well with the title, so I went with it!
and that's it for now!! I'll be out of town for the next week or so, but I have a bunch more projects I'm really excited to share this month, along with some long-overdue author copies that I'm excited to get mailed to their rightful homes!
finally, thank you SO much for letting me bind your work, Box!!! it's always such a pleasure <333
#trigun#vash the stampede#meryl stryfe#nicholas d. wolfwood#fanbinding#bookbinding#ficbinding#binderary 2024#Never understood a single word he said#aboxthecolourofheartache
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thinking about borrowers
while borrower human interactions are very fun, i think its just as nice to imagine how borrowers live on their own. how their unique living situations influence their lives and what they do when no humans are around.
thinking about borrowers making connections with the animals that roam the house/apartment they hide within. a borrower taking a dog treat they need to handle with both hands in order to befriend the canine. a borrower creating a makeshift cat toy out of random scraps of fabric and feathers pulled from pillows. getting so close with the animal they are able to ride them around.
thinking about borrowers making art out of the bits and bobbles they collect, turning all the possessions they know won't be missed into their own creative expression. a borrower snapping of the graphite end of a pencil and tearing off a corner of a notebook page so they can sketch like they've seen a human do. a borrower learning they like to paint and draw and make and write.
thinking about borrowers having unique notation to communicate important information silently. borrowers scratching symbols into the wood of their crawl spaces to show what times are safe to venture into human territory, what kind of room it is, if there are any animals to look out for, directions to take. since light is a dangerous giveaway, borrowers will have to learn how to navigate these dark passageways relying on their sense of touch.
thinking about borrowers constantly wondering what the world is like when it is built for your size. a borrower gazing up and up at the elevated kitchen cabinets, almost being unable to think about being able to reach up to them without effort. a borrower seeing all the things that the humans have made for them, when everything they possess has needed to be made or taken. a borrower wishing that just once they could tower and stretch and fit into places.
thinking about borrowers making meals together, cramped in the small unnoticed spaces of the foundation, using recipies passed down for generations using bits and pieces of different foods whose absense wouldn't be noticed. borrowers laughing together over small mistakes and teaching each other the techniqes of how to properly heat something over candlewick. borrowers eating together with their hands, using bottlecaps as plates.
#g/t#g/t community#giant/tiny#g/t writing#g/t prompts#borrowers make my brain go wrrrrrrrrr#all the possibilities are delicious
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The weird little deer man haunts my every waking moment, so I’m posting this tiny part of what I’ve been writing just to get it out of my brain (and my notes app).
Yes, it’s an OC; crucify me.
For context; Takes place a few days after Alastor’s fight with Vox. Serena (OC in question) is Alastor’s wife. She’s got bird attributes and siren-like powers. She and Vox have a… complicated relationship.
Usage of powers are notated in purple. Also with fancy text, if it doesn't mess with the format too much (lmk I'll remove it).
Tags: brief violence, Vox getting his ass kicked, Language (duh), Obligatory OC, Alastor x OC, Established Relationship, Angst, Wife is missing her husband, Southern Woman getting mad, Being married to Alastor should be a warning in and of itself
A zip of electricity notified her to his presence before he spoke. “What are you doing here, Serena?” Vox’s voice came from a dark corner to her left, notably lacking the annoyingly bright grandiosity that it usually possessed. He sounded tired, defeated, and the rage boiling in Serena’s gut quelled for just a moment, confusion taking its place. She turned in the direction she’d heard him, searching him out. He was easy to find, despite the darkness of the room, the light emanating from the screen that served as his head making him unable to hide for very long. She gasped at the sight of him, broken and beaten before her, his screen covered in scratches and cracks, a sizable portion of it completely black. A pang of sadness ran through her, sympathy for the demon that she and her husband had once called ‘friend,’ who, despite being a fucking asshole, had never been anything but kind and considerate to her.
Serena shook her head to wave off the feeling, recollecting her anger, reminding her why she had come here in the first place. She glared up at him, hissing through gritted teeth, “Where is he?”
Vox blinked. “Who are we talking about?”
Serena growled, her fury reigniting in full force. “Where is my husband, Vox?” She stepped closer to him, her wings beginning to unfurl from where they wrapped around her shoulders, her fingers itching as she resisted the urge to claw the rest of his screen apart.
Vox huffed, crossing his arms, one hand moving to press against the center of his face, where his nose would be, if he’d only had one. “Oh, yeah, that asshole,” he grumbled, “I don’t know; haven’t seen him since our little spat.” Vox’s calm demeanor dropped as Serena abruptly closed the distance between them, backing him against the wall, one hand holding him in place by his tie, the other’s claws digging into the stone only inches from his screen.
She was angrier than he’d ever seen her, looming above him, her wings fully inflated, keeping her in the air, their hulking size blocking out any path of escape, staring down at him with the most lethal expression he had ever seen. "D̳̻̽̒O̪̟͔ͧͥ ̼̙͓̝̂̈́N̰͎͚̭̭̳̻̊̐͆O̪̟͔̝̦ͧͥȚͬ ̹͖̈́͑̋͑͑L͎͕̦̀ͫ̊̊ͨ͑I̗E̺̭͆̈͋̈́ͅ ̝̦Ț̳̻ͬO̪̟͔ͧͥ ͫͮͭ̃M̰̖ͤ̚E̺̭͆̈͋̈́ͅ!”
Her scream echoed in his bones, the words vibrating, burning into his skin, taking his body and bending him to her command. Her gaze was so intense, the neon of her irises was painful to look at, but he couldn’t look anywhere else, their glow lulling him back each time his eyes attempted to venture too far. Even once they were shut, her light called to him, but Vox resisted. “Alastor was here! He came HERE to meet with YOU, and now he is GONE! Where the F̣̙̣̟̺̳̭̖̦͒̐̒̀͑̾U̱̬̙̠̗͓̩ͩ̃͑̏C͕͓̝̝͉͉͖͔͑̈̉̋̒̉K̮͈̤̭͎̽̈́̌̋ IS MY HUSBAND?!”
The answer was pulled from Vox before its thought could even form, ripped from his tongue by some unseen force, “I DON'T KNOW!” Serena stiffened above him, but the hold on his tie faltered. The sensation of her loosening grip drew Vox’s attention, and he willed himself to face her glare once more. She was still angry, so furious that his knees wobbled in response, but there was something else written across her face, nearly outshined by the glow her eyes emitted; sadness, grief, a dam of tears that threatened to burst at a moments notice.
Her breaths were rapid, shallow puffs of air, blowing past his face, the scent floral and bloody. “What,” her voice hitched, breaking under the weight of the question that followed, “w-what did you do to him?”
#alastor#alastor the radio demon#alastor altruist#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#radio demon#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fandom#hazbin#hazbin hotel au#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel oc#hazbin oc#oc#hazbin hotel fanfiction#alastor x reader
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the long wind down
Shadowgast, rated G, 1276 words. An ode to burnout.
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"Of course I am not fine."
Caleb's tone was waspish, and only their growing familiarity with each other told Essek that the sharpness was not meant for him, though he had catalyzed it. Strudel the tawny longhair cat had no such wisdom, and leapt down from Caleb’s lap, offended.
"We are in the final waiting period of the old man's sentencing, Beauregard has unearthed new dirt on the Martinet that we cannot pursue yet because of political bullshit, and Soltryce has changed the composition of their teaching offer four times. I am not fine, Essek. I am going insane." Caleb clenched his hands in the air as though he could seize reality itself and shake it, then sagged back in his armchair, strings cut. He rubbed his forehead. "I am tired and wired at the same time, in equal and contradicting parts. It has been nonstop for months."
"Caleb Widogast." Up close, the lines creasing Caleb's face were even more evident in the flickering candlelight. Essek sat on the arm of the chair and rested his palm against Caleb's scruffy beard. "What can I do?" His thumb soothed the cheekbone beneath it.
"Nothing," Caleb sighed, turning his face into the touch.
"I can distract you, if you wish."
The offer earned him a faint flash of a grin. "I do enjoy your skills at distraction, Herr Thelyss." But he did not move, his posture still slumped, the weight of him and the world on his shoulders pressing down into the chair, and so the question and its answer passed between them unspoken in that tender space of knowing.
Essek frowned. "And you cannot rest?"
"Nein," Caleb looked up at him wearily. "My mind wants something to chew. It is hungry. But as soon as I try, and pick up this or that, I get lost in the details or else make stupid mistakes like a schoolboy trying his hand at advanced magic. I have been going for so long, I can't stop, but I have hit a point where I can’t string two coherent thoughts together either." His eyes drifted shut, but his continued unease was betrayed by the way he plucked at his sleeve in his lap, a precursor to his bad habit of scratching.
Essek’s mind was not fully refreshed either, such was his life of evasion these days, but his retreat from his Dynasty connections was also a retreat from the obligations and noise that came with them. It was rather the reverse of Caleb’s plight — while his friend sought to put down roots in his home country and make change, Essek was pulling up his roots and casting himself into the wind. But he remembered the years he’d spent climbing through the Dynasty, and with that recollection, he found he had a solution.
He tilted his head. "I have just the thing. Perhaps."
"Do you?" Caleb straightened up fractionally, focusing on Essek once more.
“Perhaps.” Essek drew away, but only to free his hands for casting. “It is a trivial invention of mine from my early days at court, when I first achieved the rank of Shadowhand. There was always a great deal to be done, many things happening at once, but each with their own restrictions and tediums and frustrations. Politics. At times waiting, able to do nothing while some goal became more and more urgent. Interlacing plans, advancing at different paces. I found it hard to rest, then, too. The mind is reluctant to let go, once put to such… hm. Overclocking?”
He traced some symbols in the air, leaving a softly glowing indigo afterimage. These symbols unspooled themselves and rearranged into a new display: a blank rectangular grid with notation at each row and column. “The numerals are in Undercommon, but I never envisioned an application for this outside of my own personal use.” He then touched a square in the grid with a spark of magic, and it filled with a soothing blue-purple color. “It is a simple logic puzzle. There is an underlying pattern — I took pains for the spell to generate it at random, unknown to the caster — and can be solved by marking the squares to match it. I will tell you no more of the rules. Try it.”
Caleb leaned up, the light reflected in his eyes. He tapped a square, and it lit up like Essek’s had. Another: this one flashed red and then faded dull and grey.
“An incorrect choice?”
“Yes.”
His eyes flitting over the puzzle, Caleb tested a number of other squares in rapid succession, noting whether they glowed a successful blue or a failed grey. And he did fail a number of times, his brow wrinkling, but he had about him that drive of experimentation they shared when inventing spellwork: failure was not failure, only information to be utilized in the pursuit of understanding.
“Hm. I think I have it.”
Essek inclined his head. “Show me.” He waved his hand and dispelled the game board, replacing it with a new one of larger dimensions.
Caleb indicated a row. “Here there are 10 squares, and it is marked with a 1, 3, and 2. This means there are groupings of tiles in that composition, in that order, that are neighbors but do not touch. You must cross-reference with other rows and columns to surmise where they can occur to be in harmony with the patterns of other rows and columns. And you cannot always do it all at once.” He tapped a few successful tiles. Then, quickly engrossed, he continued on.
It was unsurprising that Caleb had quickly deduced the Undercommon numerals by their context, and that he had figured out the simple rules, but there was always pleasure in observing his mind work. Essek watched Caleb’s face instead of the puzzle.
In the work of a few minutes, he was tapping the last tile of the pattern. The whole grid pulsed with faint light, and dissolved into stardust.
“Oh, pretty.” Caleb tilted his head back to smile at Essek. “You invented this? It is a remarkable bit of spellwork.”
Essek preened. “It is useless except for this, of course. A pastime, nothing more. But when the need arises… I have always found it soothing.”
“May I copy it down?” Caleb rubbed at his eyes and cast around for pen and ink from the nearby table where their research papers were cast about like autumn leaves.
“Tomorrow.” Essek stayed Caleb in his chair with a hand on his shoulder. “It will take an hour or two, and we have just established that you are in need of rest. Please, allow me. I will cast them until you wish to stop. They require minimal arcane power.”
Caleb’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and drew Essek’s hand from his shoulder and kissed the palm of it. “If you insist, dear.”
Essek smiled. “I do.”
Nine and half puzzles later, Caleb was leaned on his elbow, dozing.
With a flick of his wrist, Essek dispelled the half-finished puzzle and eased himself off the arm of the chair, found a throw blanket, and draped it over Caleb’s lap. The sleek tabby cat Bartolomew was quick to follow, and Strudel — the earlier insult forgotten — joined soon after, but Caleb did not stir at the added weight, used to his cats making themselves comfortable anywhere at any hour.
Essek’s feet made no sound as he floated to the kitchen and puttered about making tea. He would have to leave in the morning, but for now, in the quiet broken only by the clank of the teapot and Caleb’s snoring, this was home.
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This ficlet is based off of nonogram puzzles. If you'd like to try one online, I recommend this site!
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Hi. Love your work. It’s my Birthday today. Any chance of a story turning me into a younger, cigar smoking jock from my 40 year old white collar suburban everyday 9-5.
love your work even if not :)
You open the door, startled by such a forceful knock at this time of the day. Looking around, you see nobody anywhere nearby, if anything, an unnerving quiet had fallen over your neighborhood as if you were the only one around for a mile. Just as you were preparing to shut the door and return to whatever you were doing, you feel the tip of your toe hit something as you retreat back into your home. Looking down, a small package in nondescript brown packaging sat ominously at your feet.
No label, no return address, nothing. It was your birthday, so you thought to yourself that perhaps one of your neighbors was being kind and wanted to do something nice for a change. You pick up the box and gently shake it. Something loose inside of it rattles about, clearly not heavy, nor breakable. You take the box inside, sitting down onto the couch and begin to tear the brown paper from it. Atop the taped cardboard box, a small note was attached.
"Happy Birthday. Hopefully this brings you memories of a simpler time. Enjoy." The letter was unsigned, written in inhuman, clear lettering. Intrigued, you open the box. Inside, rolling around was a single cigar. You pick it up, feeling the smooth cylinder glide between your fingers. Smiling, you light it up, ready to unwind for just a moment. It is your birthday after all.
Taking one deep drag, you lean back into the sofa, exhaling a huge cloud of thick tobacco smoke. The cigar tastes funky, salty almost. The unexpected flavor takes you aback for a moment, though even stopping for one moment made you crave one more drag. Bringing it to your lips, you take another inhale, feeling your chest rise and fall as the cloud escapes your lips. The cigar feels at home between your lips as they plump up and stubble begins to crawl down from your sharpening jaw to your chest.
You rub your itching pecs as they begin to grow, your shoulders widen and square out with thick deltoids and traps. You take another drag. The sensation of smoke flows deep into you, coursing through your veins, filling your expanding biceps and rock hard forearms. Between your callousing fingers, worn from hard labor and barbell scratches, you roll your cigar and savor the newfound vitality which overwhelms your thickening muscles.
You slide your pants off as your quads inflate, setting off a stirring in your groin. Your balls grow heavy and pendulous, filled with thick, juicy, potent seed. Pre begins to leak out of the lengthening shaft, your new funky musk wafting from your damp pits and sweaty balls drives you wild as you begin to paw at your rock hard bulge. Slipping your increasingly moist boxers off, your 11" cock slams against your cum gutters throbbing with each burst of muscle growth in your calves. Taking it in your hand, you beat your musty donkey dick as you feel your toes strain against the confines of your socks, sweat pouring into the cotton fibers before the loud tearing sounds of the fabric giving way notate their inevitable demise.
You stroke faster and harder, your balls swinging and jumping with every tug of the meaty member. Your slick cockhead slipping in and out of the sticky foreskin inches you closer and closer until you can't contain yourself any longer. With one final slamming down of your fist onto your groin, ropes of sticky, thick cum shoot out of your cock like a geyser. Every shot your face grows younger, fuller, sharper. Your brows fall downward into a permanently furrowed look as your hair curls wildly, becoming a sweaty mop atop your chiseled skull.
Breathing out, you exhale the last remnants of yourself. Sitting there, covered in your own splooge, you chuckle to yourself as you rub the baby batter into your skin. You crack your toe knuckles and jump up, slipping on your favorite pair of Wrangler jeans and your ripe Timberland boots. Being sure not to forget your gifted cigar, you sauntered out the door, looking to find a good time to make your perfect birthday complete.
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If the Sky Comes Falling Down (For You)
First posted: January 25, 2019
Focuses on: Jason Todd and his various siblings
Favorite bookmark: "A variety of permutations and flavors of Robin h/c featuring Jason! The Baskin Robins of BatFam h/c, if you will."
Second favorite bookmark: "and so, step by step, the prodigal stray coaxes himself home."
Tier: #3 in hits & kudos & subscriptions, #4 in comment threads, #2 in bookmarks
This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Individual chapter notations below the cuts.
Chapter One
First, to note, the title came last and is from "Hey Brother" by Avicii because it was already on my BatFam playlist and gave me strong sibling feels, so it worked!
Okay if I remember correctly, this fic came about because 1) I had jotted down story ideas, all surrounding Jason, that were all just a bit too similar for me to feel comfortable doing them as one-offs, and 2) it was late 2018 when I start writing so I was deep in 5+1 IronDad fics.
This fic was so deeply indulgent from start to finish, which I think might be why people liked it so much? Like, if you're into the tropes into this fic, you're really into them. It scratches the itch just right, because it's my itch and I wrote it for me.
The plan was to do like I did for my other multi-chapter fics (except Nature and Nurture, RIP me) and write it all out before posting anything, so I could be sure that I would actually finish. I don't have that kind of self-restraint anymore. But it was a fun challenge to figure out what should happen to whom and in what order.
Jason didn’t sleep much anymore. He’d always been a rough sleeper, his years spent in low-security public housing and then on the street grinding away at his ability to rest with ease. He slept lightly, his consciousness skimming just below the surface, ready to spring awake at the softest noise.
As I've said before, sometimes I have an idea for a fic but then, when trying to start it, a sentence pops up immediately as my opener. That's always a wild ride because sometimes it seems to have nothing at all to do with where I want to go, so then I have to backtrack and figure out but why tho????
Moving to the Manor had helped some, after he’d assured himself that no one was going to scratch at his door or steal his shoes. The cold mornings had been the best, spent curled under a mound of the softest blankets imaginable atop a mattress so perfectly contoured to his bones that it’d felt like floating on the surface of a pool. He’d slept, truly slept, at the Manor.
I like the idea of, even at Jason's most toxic and vitriolic, the Manor itself still representing safety and comfort. Maybe sometimes he would twist it into stifling or grossly indulgent, but I think deep in his stomach he would know that distortion was a lie. The Manor was safer than anywhere else, even with his mom.
Those days of rest were long gone. The Pit had done a number on his brain—intensifying and altering his emotions, erasing some old habits and dialing up others, leaving dark chasms where memories should be.
I've seen other fics play with the idea of the trauma of Jason's injuries, death, resurrection, and the Pit all combining to some degree or another to swiss-cheese his brain (a phrase I lovingly borrow from Quantum Leap.) And that of course leaves a bunch of really fun room to play with—how much does Jason know he's missing vs. how much is gone or totally distorted without him even being aware? (Again, another thing I tease out in various fics like N&N.)
It was like someone had jammed a stick in his skull and given his brain a good stir. Or maybe that was just the crowbar.
Ha.
I made myself snicker with that one. It's so voiceily Jason but also that ha is so guttural and specific in my head, you all will never know.
He was making progress with his budding criminal empire—splashy progress, as displayed on the crusting cuffs of his sleeves and the splattered toes of his boots, but also more subtle progress, too. The subtle form was harder, so much harder, but he knew its changes would be more permanent, in the long run. Splashy got people talking. Subtle got them bowing.
Jason! Todd! Is! No! Thug! He is smart and cunning and uses violence to make an impact and that's that on that.
And though he’d heard her speak before in the careful neutral of the middle-class, the sounds being beat out of her now were Crime Alley crooked.
I like the idea of Steph and Jason growing up in the same neighborhood. It's not a hill I'd die on, but it makes for some interesting fic.
The girl put up a good fight. She was rough, no finesse, no real training. All knuckles and elbows and feet and knees. He spotted some of the Bat basics pop up in the way she ducked and spun, but she wasn’t lithe like Nightwing or crafty like the Replacement. She was a brawler. And she was losing.
She is who he might have been, without Bruce and Alfred and Dick. A decent fighter, stubborn, willing to brawl it out, but ultimately destined to lose.
It sucked in an abstract way, the way it sucked that someone was going hungry halfway around the world, the way it sucked when a stranger missed his bus. It sucked, but it wasn’t Jason’s problem, and he couldn’t really bring himself to care. B needed to learn to pick up his toys.
Starting with Steph made the most sense to me. She wasn't (and isn't) a member I know super well, with so much of her canon backstory being things I have no interest in, and she's part of the Family but in that awkward "we're maybe siblings but also I have a mom and also I dated one of you too??" ways, so she's got a little bit of distance, for me as a writer and also Jason. She doesn't have the emotional heat of the others. He doesn't hate her, just what she represents. He also doesn't care what happens to her, except—
The knife glinted in the amber streetlight and cast a shadow across the yellow emblem on her chest.
She's not Batman. She's not a Robin. She's Batgirl. And that's a different thing entirely.
Jason knew what they saw when they looked at him. He was big now, broad-shouldered and massive in a way he had only ever dreamed of being as a scrawny, malnourished street kid. His helmet was blood-red and gleaming, its angles sculpted to subtly suggest a skull. And his clothes were still stained with actual blood. He was an Alley myth, a nightmare with more bite than the Bat, because he wasn’t afraid to do real damage. He was death.
Jason Peter Todd is scary smart, and he knows how to make the exact impact he wants.
“I don’t know you, but I know your colors. You’re Ibanescu’s boys.”
I had to google Gotham crime families. I know literally nothing other than the name.
It was one thing to let her get the snot beat out of her. And even if someone else had taken a shot at her, he wouldn’t have minded. But he couldn’t. Not in that suit.
:3
“It’s not about you,” Jason repeated, his voice gravelly and rough. He pointed toward the yellow symbol on her chest, the symbol that, in the world he’d left, the world he remembered, belonged to someone else. “I owe her a debt. And now it’s paid.”
Jason was a murderer. A thief. A criminal. A drug lord. He had no illusions as to his own goodness anymore, no hope for redemption or grace. But he had his values, the few precious things that he would not allow. One of those, it seemed, was watch a man restrain and stab a Batgirl while he did nothing.
Someday I'll write more about that. The partner and friend and maybe mentor who was still reeling from trauma and hadn't yet found her way when Jason was snuffed out of existence.
Jason was tired, but the night was just beginning.
So that's where it starts. Jason tired, literally caked with dried blood, stepping in not because of love or hate or curiosity or concern but because he felt he owed a debt to someone else and that debt instead landed on the person in front of him.
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Jason who comes back to life but he's not quite right. The Lazarus pit - something went wrong. He's crazed as they all are when they reemerge, angry, and raging, but there's a difference, a change.
He bites down on the nearest person, some low-level assassin, and tears their throat out with his teeth. They fall to the ground, limp and choking for air they cannot receive. The others ready themselves. Their weapons are poised for attack.
But it doesn't happen.
Jason swallows flesh and blood and sinks to his knees, tearing and ripping at the dying below him. He hungers, he thirsts, and he consumes every bit of what is available. Blood, guts, flesh and heart.
Oh, does he savour that heart.
It becomes a threat to trainees. Fail, and you'll be offered up to the man that flanks Talia's side, that carries her young son, as protective as a bear. The man with teeth so sharp, and nails like claws.
Fail, and he will consume you whole, devour you while you still breathe, and feast on your screams.
It never quite goes away, but as time passes, it becomes controlled, a loud itch at the back of his mind, but nothing he can't adjust around. How many years on the street did he itch for things he couldn't have? Countless. Even homed and housed, he itched.
He knows how to repress the itch, to let it sit, angry and demanding at the back of his head. So strong, sometimes he fears only a drill to his skull will scratch it out.
He leaves the League behind. Becomes a fearsome creature. Hides his teeth behind a red mask, and his claws behind warm leather gloves. But as he slashes and shoots and decapitates, the itch burns. Blood flows, flesh sits limp. The still pumping organs, working and moving with the last words of a dying brain.
What a waste to leave it all behind, the itch whispers.
He agrees.
What a waste.
He doesn't eat in Gotham. His acts are a message, and there's no message if there's no body. But he ventures outside it, for bounties, for treats. Never too often. If he feeds the itch too much, it'll overpower him. But just enough. A birthday present to himself. A new years celebration.
Small tastes scattered sparsely through the year.
Damian emerges, young and feisty like his mother, and Jason remembers a toddler sucking on a pacifier as he organizes knives by size. How much the boy has changed since then. How little he has. Growth and personality.
The biggest change is the kill. Blood doesn't drip down his hands. Doesn't freckle his face with meaningless splatter. Swords have been discarded. He doesn't touch Jason's guns as they're disassembled to be cleans. He knows how. He's used them.
Jason remembers holding tiny hands around a pistol, a small frame against his chest, steadied, before the deadly shot. He remembers the sound. How Damian didn't flinch. Remembers the blood. The curious eyes staring down at a gasping body.
He remembers eating. Digging in, more civilized than eating a person should be, and remembers wide young eyes watching. Watching. Then tucking a tissue to the blood soaking his chin and wiping it away.
Unbothered and uncaring to the person below. But mimicking kindness he was taught to the beast in front of him.
No wonder Goliath followed him home.
Damian has always had more love for monsters than humans.
Love that shows in the late night of Jason's birthday. When he emerges through the window into the tiny apartment he's hidden himself in this month, and finds a helpless woman sitting, naked and gagged, in the middle of the floor. She is kept near motionless with strong rope. There's a note taped to her face.
Happy birthday. Enjoy your gift.
The delicate handwriting needs no signature.
There's a folder beside her. Jason ignores her gagged cries to pick it up. There are many papers inside it - police reports of domestic violence, a CPS report that ends with a reluctant acceptance of no actionable strategies, x-rays of small broken bones and pictures of bruises on young faces. There are tiny notations written in delicate handwriting - all fact, no opinions.
Jason reads and seethes. Some people forget that mothers can be terrible to their children too. Jason doesn't.
He can't.
So he eats.
#happy talks dc#jason todd#when i wrote that first sentence i was immediately like ah man ive written this sentence a lot for Jason and then i had to pause#like no lmao you've written it a lot for GRACE. not Todd. but anyway#zombie Jason for the win!! zombie jason who eats terrible people like child abusers and serial killers!!#my writing#my fanfic
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11:43pm
mark fluff + smut - college au
“Oh god, I’m so tired,” you sighed, flopping down on your bed with your books still splayed in front of you.
Mark laughed at your defeated display. You had both been studying at your apartment since your last evening class ended, going on nearly four hours now. It was nearing the end of the semester, and finals were on the horizon. This class happened to be the most difficult for you to study for, with both of you endlessly trying to cram in as much information as possible.
“Let’s take a break then, okay?” Mark murmured, collapsing next to you and pulling you into his arms. You closed your eyes and curled into his embrace.
“Mmm you’re warm,” you mumbled. “I’m going to fall asleep if we stay like this.”
Your boyfriend smiled and held you tighter.
“That’s fine with me, Y/N,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. You sighed.
“As much as I wish I could, I probably should at least try to finish this chapter before we tap out for the night.”
Mark reluctantly let you go as you moved to sit up straight again. He joined you after letting his eyes wander to the exposed small of your back.
You often dressed comfortably, casual, but effortlessly put-together. Mark always insisted that the less-put-together side of you was the most beautiful, and that was certainly the side of you that was on display tonight.
Gently, Mark traced his fingers along your spine. You shivered as he made contact with your bare skin.
“Mark, if you keep doing that I’m not going to want to study much longer,” you teased, only half-joking.
Mark continued his actions, disregarding your words in favor of adding more pressure to his touch.
You blushed, and began to focus more on the movement of his fingers than the words on the page in front of you.
“Mark, I swear to god,” you sighed.
Your boyfriend laughed.
“Sorry, Y/N. I really think we need a break,” he insisted, running his fingers through your hair and gently scratching your scalp. His touch sent pleasurable tingles through your body.
“I don’t know, I’m feeling so unprepared,” you muttered, briefly closing your eyes to focus on the feeling of his fingers.
“Maybe I can help us both,” Mark murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, slowly increasing the pressure of his lips as he trailed lower. You felt yourself shiver yet again.
“What exactly do you have in mind?” You asked, hesitantly. You could feel Mark smile against your skin.
“You just keep studying, Y/N. Don’t mind me,” he whispered.
You gasped as his lips trailed lower, his fingers carefully slipping underneath your cropped sweater. His hands ghosted across your stomach, tracing your ribs before gently cupping your bare breasts.
You steeled your nerves and turned the page of your textbook, determined to cram in another chapter of material.
You let out an involuntary sigh as Mark’s fingers teased your perked nipples under your clothes. He sucked roughly at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, making you tilt your head back to give him more room.
“Eyes on your textbook, pretty girl…” he murmured teasingly, flicking your nipple for emphasis.
You bit your bottom lip and attempted to shift your focus back to your studying.
Mark shifted behind you and began trailing his right hand down your stomach to the hem of your pajama shorts, toying with the strings that cinched them at your hips.
You deliberately chose to ignore his teasing, and made sure your eyes never left your notes. You pulled out a highlighter and began to turn the heavily-notated page of text. You barely registered when Mark’s fingers slipped inside your shorts and began to push aside your panties.
“Ah!” You moaned suddenly, throwing your head back to rest on Mark’s shoulder as his fingers found your most sensitive bud and began to tease it.
Mark continued to suck at your neck while his talented hands worked you into a state of bliss.
“M-Mark, oh god—“ your breathing became heavier as he slipped his fingers inside you, letting his palm stimulate your clit.
All too quickly, Mark removed his fingers and hovered them teasingly about your aching core. You whimpered at the loss of contact. Mark smirked.
“Tell me about chapter five and I’ll start again,” he murmured, ghosting his fingers across your heat in encouragement. You closed your eyes and desperately wracked your brain for information.
“Ch-Chapter five is about the integumentary system… it provides the body with protection and includes the skin, the body’s largest organ,” you squeaked out your answer, eager for him to pleasure you again.
“Good girl,” Mark cooed, gently stroking his fingers across your swollen clit.
“Ah— Mark!” you cried, your legs beginning to shake.
“And chapter 8?” He murmured, removing his fingers once again.
“Reproductive systems,” you moaned.
“Very good,” he whispered, gently massaging your inner thighs, so close to where you wanted him.
“Now, tell me what this is…” Mark’s fingers brushed against your most sensitive bud, circling it slowly. You held back a desperate moan.
“M-Mark, that’s the clitoris…” you whined, grasping at his arm to keep him in place.
“And these?” Mark shifted his fingers to your entrance, rubbing it carefully.
“Those are the v-vestibular glands…” you mumbled, squirming in his hold to get some release.
“You got it,” he murmured. “Now let me give you your reward…”
Mark returned to his teasing, pinching and soothing your sensitive clit with his fingers and licking and biting your pretty neck.
“Mark, I’m gonna—“ you cried out as he pushed you over the edge.
He continued to tease you through your high, reveling in the feeling of you fluttering around his fingers.
He eventually slipped out of you, turning you around in his arms and kissing you gently.
“That wasn’t so bad, now was it?” He said, smiling at your satisfied and blissful smile. You quickly buried your face in his shoulder.
“Mark Lee, I can’t believe you did that to me,” you whined, embarrassed, but secretly reeling at how hot that was.
Your boyfriend laughed, pulling you close.
“It helped, didn’t it?” He said, smiling at you. You eventually gave in and met his loving gaze.
“Yes,” you mumbled. “I think I know more than I thought I did.”
“I knew it,” Mark replied, gingerly brushing your unruly hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ear. “My precious girl. You’re going to be just fine.”
You blushed deeply at his words, and pulled him in for another soft kiss.
“So, do you need any help studying, Mark?”
#nct#nct mark#nct mark smut#nct mark fluff#mark lee fluff#mark lee smut#mark lee#nct 127#nct 127 smut#nct 127 fluff#nct scenarios#listen. again—#I don’t know why I’ve suddenly hopped on the mark train but it has left the station with me#and there’s no getting off of it now#also I’m such a sucker for college bf mark oh my GOD#I hope y’all enjoy#another non-request#I promise I’ll get back to the drabble prompts as soon as mark releases his hold on me#love y’all#sof’s nct writing ✍🏻
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Could you maybe write something Holloweane? They are my world 🤍
Of course I can, anon! I could've made this maybe the angstiest thing ever, because god only knows the two of them have potential for it,,, but let's save that for Holloweane week, shall we?
"Duke, good god, you need to rest."
Miss Holloway was starting to get the impression that Duke Keane didn't believe in sleep. He was the undisputed king of working himself to the bone, with the excuse that there was always something else to do, or someone else to help. He was in her diner for coffee every morning, and not only because he wanted a good chat with the famous Miss Retro... Because he'd come in groggy and lacking any of the energy he needed for the day, and she'd started insisting on giving him coffee to tide him over.
She was sure he'd forgotten about it, but there was one occasion she caught him sleeping in the backseat of his station wagon between hasty stacks of manila envelopes. After asking him about it, he'd admitted that he just crashed, and that was it for a good hour or more.
At the moment, he was sitting on one of the barstools at the corner of the counter, scribbling hurriedly into a case file and trying to update his notes on something that had clearly gotten his interest. She'd managed a glimpse at his notes, and they were just as haphazard as she would've come to expect from him. Clearly nobody else looked at these files, because his way of organising the notes and data within the file seemed to be... Unique to just him. If it wasn't, she'd be genuinely surprised.
He looked up at her, seemingly registering her presence for the first time, though she'd been standing there on the other side of the counter the whole time, for a lack of anything better to do. "I'm good, I'm on my way to finishing this stack."
She rolled her eyes. "That's not the point... If you keep going now these aren't going to make any sense to you when you next read em!" Somehow, she was going to play into a part of his mind where it made sense to take a break, because she was frankly worried that one of these days, he was going to work himself to death.
"I've gotta write this up again anyway, someone complained they couldn't read my writing, so eventually I've gotta go through this again and type it." he shrugged, looking back towards the paper. Her eyes followed his, like she hadn't already tried to decipher what he was trying to write. Was he seriously using a college notation method to write up official cases? Did she really recognise it as a college notation method?
Maybe this was on her.
"Isn't that all the more reason why you should save it? C'mon, Duke, when was the last time you got a good night in?"
"Why are you so bothered how much I sleep?" the question wasn't malicious in any way, merely Duke playing into his curiosities without looking up from the page he was scribbling on.
"Because it's been the same routine for months now? You come in here every morning before work, and I'm lucky if I actually get to see you alert and well rested before you order the coffee. don't you think there's even a chance you're working yourself too hard?"
His pen stopped. She hadn't realised how much she'd been relying on it as background noise until it stopped scratching against the page.
"Huh."
He was more than aware that she paid attention to him. The two of them had some rather interesting conversations first thing on a morning, but come to think of it, most of those had been fuelled by her absolutely heavenly coffee. At this point, it was a subconscious effort to keep himself going for as long as possible, because that meant he got more done. And if he got more done, then he had more of a chance to get to the conclusion of a case, to reach the point where he could stop and say... Yeah. He finally made a difference. A real difference.
"Y'know, maybe I am..."
Holloway's shoulders dropped with relief; she hadn't even realised there had been a tension there in the first place. Duke's eyes flitted between her, the notes, and an empty space on the desk next to him.
"Just let me-"
"Duke..."
Her hand fell on top of his, stopping him from witing another word (and bringing a sudden flush to his cheeks, but he elected to ignore that one). She gently shifted his hand out of the way, closing the file over the written notes with her other hand. He stared at the glossy sheen on her brightly painted nails until he snapped himself out of his working trance, at least for the time being.
"I'm gonna hold this file hostage if you're not careful, least that'll be one way to actually get you to sleep for once..."
After thinking about this, and coming to the realisation that he was likely going to be back in the morning anyway, he figured that there was only one way to keep him distracted from work long enough to get him to do anything else. "... Could you?"
"What?"
"Keep the file. I'll be back for it tomorrow morning, but you want me to sleep, and there's a bit of me that wants me to sleep too... So-"
She slipped the file under the counter without another word, a smile resting on her lips. "It'd be my pleasure. Now... I swear to god, if you don't sleep tonight I'm burning this."
A laugh escaped him, genuine as it was weary. "Fine, fine, I can take a hint." He stood up from his barstool and took a moment to grin over at her before he turned on his heel and headed towards the door. Before he could leave, he shot a final glance back. "Please don't burn it... That's a week's worth of work..."
"Get some rest, then," she teased, folding her arms.
"G'night, Miss Holloway."
"Goodnight, Duke."
#starkid#duke keane#miss holloway#holloweane#void offering#nova's tags →#you phrased this ask so nicely i couldn't possibly give you angst#i mean i'm more than capable of it#but i have enough of that queued for next month ahaha#so.... i'll try something light for once#none of this 'he was watching the fireworks' jazz#star mail
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Homestuck Kids and Which TMA Entity They're Associated With: A Second List By Static, with ADDITIONAL NOTATION That None Of This Is An Insult to Anyone
Read the first of these, featuring the OG troll gang: here
John: Desolation, and hear me out. Much like the argument I made for Sollux, everything gets ripped away from John over and over again. He loses his world, then his house, then his LIFE, then his DAD, then his FRIENDS, then his LIFE (again). John is continually losing everything he cares about, and it forms a weirdly core part of his character, especially considering the fact that he keeps repressing that loss and presenting a chipper face over it.
Rose: Eye. Rose is all about finding secrets (how she fell in with Doc Scratch) and breaking the game in the most interesting way possible. She stumbles across the game because she's looking for information about how to bring Jaspers back. She's constantly looking to shed light on secrets and discover answers, which is definitely eye-aligned. She's even willing to make a pact with the Horrorterrors to find out information about the Green Sun and the end of the game, which makes her an avatar in my book.
Dave: This might just be the overarching entity for all Time players, actually, but Dave-- much like Aradia-- is End aligned due to his reoccurring fascination with dead things. The man outright admits it several times-- he's just as fascinated by death as she is, with perhaps even a more morbid tilt than traditional archaeology. He's also a time traveler, which makes him continually privy to information about how the others will die unless he does something (with Davesprite as a noteable example). If he took on a more passive role (Knights are an active class) I think this might present itself a little more heavily, much like Aradia's connection is more prominent. Basically maybe aradia and dave should just hang outsometime they might be friends ahave we considered this yet hang on wait where are you going---
Jade: Vast, but heavily influenced by the Lonely. We can't talk about Jade without discussing the heavy influences that her isolation has had over her life, but her powers align so heavily with the Vast that that isolation takes on an entirely different context. She's separated from everyone but Bec by vast expanses of ocean. She has the ability to make things Vast or not-Vast by virtue of being a Space player. She is, once again, separated from everyone during the Yard by vast expanses of paradox space. She is continually alone, but in that alone-ness she's physically isolated, which overall pushes her from Lonely to a proper Vast categorization.
Jane: Extinction. In the alpha timeline, Jane is the herald of the end, but she's more than that. She's the heiress to CrockerCorp, the establishment that will eventually fucking TERRAFORM the entire earth-- which, if that doesn't classify as an extinction-level event, I don't know what does. Jane's also our introductory character for a dead session, wherein all of the consorts are literally extinct. Really the CrockerCorp stuff is more important, though-- Jane oftentimes remains loyal to the company, even going as far as to restart it on Earth C, despite what CrockerCorp has previously been responsible. She's constantly a herald of change, and death.
Roxy: Dark. It's low-hanging fruit, sure, but she's heavily textually involved with the obscuring of information. I DISTINCTLY REMEMBER, although I cannot find the text sources for it, that when she's drunk, Calliope can't see her, which is VERY Dark-aligned. Roxy's methods are also obscured, since she's a void player, and she's a Derse dreamer, which means her mental state is . . . also pretty dark, if just metaphorically. Due to her position in the retcon, as well, Roxy's past is obscured, lost to another universe entirely.
Dirk: This motherfucker is hard to sort, but in a pinch I think I'd say Stranger over Web. He does have definite ties to the Web-- if it were a thing in TMA, I'd say he serves both simultaneously, but that's a purely fanon construct so we're gonna play it safe. Dirk is constantly hiding his true self behind layers of masks, mirrors, and splinters. Nobody can every talk to the real Dirk Strider-- instead, they end up talking to Hal or DreamGhostDirk or some other similar entity. The puppet stuff draws into this, as well-- the original Lil Cal is Dirk's, before LE takes over the body, and Lil Cal is a horrorshow of Stranger imagery. (He's also just a horrorshow) Dirk is obsessed with building almost-human constructions (see Squarewave and Sawtooth), as well as hiding behind these constructs to conceal himself or his motives. Overall, Stranger, with heavy ties to the Web.
Jake: Lonely. Even when he's around people, Jake has trouble connecting. Whereas Jade is separated physically, Jake is also separated socially. He can't seem to make the relationship with Dirk ever work out (even if a chunk of that is Dirk's fault). He can't talk to Jane about anything, ever, especially that he's not interested in her.
#john egbert#rose lalonde#dave strider#jade harley#jane crocker#roxy lalonde#dirk strider#jake english#homestuck#mindfang-srevenge#tma
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maybe some comfort from the others when The Events finally take their toll on silence's body?
Her lethargy has her so deep after a week of meetings that on returning to Rhodes, she only wakes the next day, sunlight bright through the window of her room—with Saria at her desk, pen scratching quiet but sure, and adding to the pile of notated papers, contents summarised and marked for who needs to see them.
"You've been awake as long as me," is what she comments after she drinks her fill from the cup of lemon tea handed to her, and is denied the chance to stand up.
"I can shut off my phone without fear of national displeasure," is the low but not unkind rebuttal, and Saria moves to place a tray of slightly mangled omelette before her. "And they still think you'll bend more easily than me. A misconception, of course, but they have been quicker to say what they want, when I tell them I'll pass on the message."
Silence sighs, but she takes up her fork. "Will you at least catch me up on what I've missed?"
"Of course. Though we'll have to pause when Ifrit comes by again. She'll want to see if you liked her eggs."
Silence pauses, smiles. "Mhm. Of course we should have time for that."
#yashkonu#war replies#fanfiction#arknights#arknights spoilers#saria (arknights)#silence (arknights)#rhine lab fam
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I have been itching to teach someone some math for a while and I desperately need to scratch it.
To start, look at this totally amazing gif I once made for a discrete math class.
This is the proof that the square root of 2 is irrational (infinitely long, non repeating decimal value which cannot be represented as a fraction of two numbers). This proof is actually one of the most important proofs out there because it opened the door to new fields in continuous mathematics.
People also died trying to prove this because there was a mathematic religious cult (the Pythagoreans) that believed irrational numbers do not exist.
Read more for discussion and proof explanation.
Welcome aboard. I'll try to make this as understandable as possible. First we'll do some onboarding so you know how the proof methodology works, then we'll do the actual proof.
Prerequisite Knowledge
Implication
Here's a basic implication statement in mathematic notation:
p->q
In human words that means "If statement p is true, statement q will also be true."
Here's a quick exercise. Think of a standard-issue cat. The cat has no unusual features about it, it is as normal and average as can be.
Does your cat have four legs? How about whiskers? A mouth?
I bet I'm right and that's because those are things that are naturally true if you are thinking about a cat.
So back to the implication definition. If p = "I am thinking of a standard-issue cat" and q = "I am thinking of something with four legs, whiskers, and a mouth." then
"I am thinking of a standard-issue cat" -> "I am thinking of something with four legs, whiskers, and a mouth."
Or in human,
"If I am thinking of a standard-issue cat, then I am thinking of something with four legs, whiskers, and a mouth."
While not necessary for the proof, I want to make something clear, p->q is NOT the same as q->p. Just because standard-issue cats have four legs, whiskers, and a mouth doesn't mean everything with those characteristics is a cat.
Proof by Contradiction
So now that you know what implication is about, here's a question:
What happens when p being true leads to a statement that can only be false?
The answer: You have a contradictory statement and p cannot be true.
Now recall that a standard-issue cat has four legs. What if I told you I am thinking of something with 57 legs. Well a cat can't simultaneously have only 4 legs and 57 legs. Therefore, I can't be thinking of a standard-issue cat because if I was, then two contradictory statements would be true.
So proof by contradiction works as follows:
Assume the opposite of what you want to prove
Show what would be true if that assumption were true
Repeat until you have two contradicting statements
Close the proof by saying the assumed statement is false
Definition of even numbers
Okay. I'll try to explain this slowly, since Tumblr doesn't understand what odd and even numbers are.
Let's say X is some arbitrary even number. That means numbers like 0, 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, etc, and -2, -4, -6, -8, -10, etc. X can be any even number. Just fill in the blank.
If X is even, there's some other whole number (whole number means you don't need a decimal. 1.5 or any other number that needs a . in it is NOT a whole number.) that when multiplied by 2 equals X.
0 is even because 2 * 0 = 0. 2 is even because 2 * 1 = 2. 17 is NOT even because 2 * 8.5 = 17 and 8.5 is NOT a whole number. Negative numbers can also be even. -10 is even because 2 * -5 = -10.
Similarly, if you take any whole number and multiply it by 2, the result will be even.
Greatest common divisor
The greatest common divisor (gcd for short) is the largest number that can evenly divide two numbers. The gcd of 9 and 21 is 3 for example. If two numbers have nothing in common, their gcd is 1.
I'll use gcd(x,y) as shorthand for the gcd of two numbers.
A fraction is in lowest terms when the gcd of the numerator(top value) and denominator (bottom value) is 1.
2/3 is in lowest terms because gcd(2,3) = 1.
4/6 is not in lowest terms because gcd(4,6) = 2
Rational vs Irrational numbers
A rational number can be represented as a fraction of two whole numbers in lowest terms.
.25 is rational because it is equal to 1/4
1.3333333..... is rational because it is equal to 4/3
10 is rational because it is equal to 10/1
Irrational numbers cannot be represented as a fraction of two whole numbers. Pi is a classic example. Irrational numbers are non-repeating, meaning there's never a point where the value is repeating the same sequence forever. Don't worry about wrapping your head around this. Human brains aren't made to comprehend infinite. Just understand that you can't write it as a fraction of two whole numbers.
Misc
I'm just going to fill in some additional things here in case you're rusty on high school math.
The square root of a number is whatever value times itself equals the original number. The square root of 16 is 4 because 4 * 4 = 16. Since Tumblr doesn't support math notation (as far as I can tell), I'll use sqrt(x) to mean the square root of a value.
The opposite of the square root is the exponential power of 2. Normally, the exponent is represented as a smaller-size number floating to the right of the number (called a superscript) but since Tumblr doesn't support math notation, I'll use x^2 to mean a value to the power of 2.
Exponents mean you are multiplying a number by itself as many times as the power. So 4^3 = 4 * 4 * 4 = 64.
If you square a square root, they cancel each other out. (sqrt(25))^2 = 25 because sqrt(25) = 5, and then 5 * 5 = 25.
If you multiply and divide something by the same value, they cancel each other out. 3 * 2 / 2 = 3 because 3 * 2 = 6 and then 6 / 2 = 3.
When you have an equation, you can do the same thing to both sides and the equation is still equal. If a/2 = b, then I can multiply both sides by 2 and the equation is now a = 2*b.
The actual proof
So we want to prove sqrt(2) is irrational.
To start, we'll use Proof by Contradiction and say sqrt(2) is rational.
This IMPLIES sqrt(2) can be represented as a fraction of two whole numbers. We don't care what those numbers are so we'll just use a and b as placeholders.
sqrt(2) = a/b
And since a/b is the fraction representation of sqrt(2) this implies
gcd(a,b) = 1
Now we'll move onto some equation finagling. square root and square power are opposites so if we square both sides, we can remove the square root part.
sqrt(2) = a/b
(sqrt(2))^2 = (a/b)^2
2 = (a/b)^2
Exponential power means we're multiplying something by itself however many times the power is so (a/b)^2 = a / b * a / b. We can rearrange these because they're in the same priority on PEMDAS. So a/b*a/b = a*a/b/b = a^2 / b^2
2 = (a/b)^2
2 = a^2 / b^2
Now we can multiply both sides by b^2 to get rid of the division
2 = a^2 / b^2
2b^2 = a^2
a^2 and b^2 are whole numbers. a^2 is equal to 2 times a whole number. This means a^2 is even. a^2 = a * a and a is either even or odd. When you multiply two odd numbers, you get another odd number. When you multiply two even numbers, you get an even number. So a must be even.
If a is even, then there is some other whole number (We don't care what it is so we'll use c as a placeholder) such that a = 2 * c.
And if a = 2*c, then a^2 = (2*c)^2 = 2*c*2*c = 4c^2
2b^2 = a^2 = 4c^2
2b^2 = 4c^2
We can divide both sides by 2.
2b^2 = 4c^2
b^2 = 2c^2
And now we can do the same song and dance for b^2 that we did with a^2 and conclude b must be even.
And now we get to the contradiction part of Proof by contradiction. We earlier said gcd(a,b) = 1 because a/b was a fraction in lowest terms. But we also showed that a and b are even which means gcd(a,b) is at least 2. So we have two contradictory statements gcd(a,b)=1 and gcd(a,b) > 1.
So if sqrt(2) was rational, it would lead to a scenario where a fraction both is and is not in lowest terms. Therefore, we conclude sqrt(2) is irrational.
Now that you have this forbidden knowledge beware the Pythagoreans, lest you too meet your end.
Note: Any genuine questions asking for clarification will be answered in the comments. Any "Um, ackually" comments will be ignored unless you actually are pointing out a genuine mistake I made, which I will correct and acknowledge.
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