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jokeringcutio · 1 year

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I’m the Only One - Arthur Harrow/Reader (unrequited?)

I’m the Only One – Melissa Song Inspired Fic for @impala-dreamer Challenge

Fandom: Moon Knight.

Pairing: Arthur Harrow x Another woman, Arthur Harrow x (afab?) Reader (unrequited?)

Rating: Mature.

Summary: Arthur Harrow wants something from you that he usually gets from another follower. You had claimed you would do anything to save his life, but you would not do that.

“No,” the words came resolutely, you didn’t need a moment’s thought. “I won’t do it.”

Standing up to leave the room, you felt how his hand was placed on yours, halting you in the motion. All around you, sounds of cutlery filled the room while the others continued eating. Like nothing out of the ordinary was happening here.

But there was.

His blue eyes looked up at you, watery, pleading. “Please,” was all he said, voice genuine and raspy with emotion. Was that longing you heard there? Or lust?

You had no doubt that Arthur Harrow was being honest. He had to be, for he was the one to seek you out and corner you during your lunch. He never had done that before. Shit, he never even had noticed. Or so you had thought.

You closed your eyes and heaved a deep sigh, forcing yourself to calm down. This was not happening. A little voice in the back of your mind taunted you that it was.

“You can’t ask this of me,” you said, but your heart was jumping painfully in your chest. The many nights you had lain in bed and fantasized that he would ask this of you, they were uncountable. You had longed for this, craved for his attention. And now that you had it, you refused him. You could hardly believe yourself, but accepting this offer he asked you to make – it was impossible.

With eyes still closed and breath still high up in your chest, you felt your hand clench under his. He did not let go, would not let you leave till you had yielded to his desire.

“I said I would do anything for you, Harrow,” and it was truer than he could possibly imagine. You had vouched to dedicate your life to his cause. You’d sworn to protect him from his enemies, to do all there was in your powers to prevent fate from happening to him. Leaders like him always ended up dead in the most horrific of ways. It was their fate. You would try and stop that. Jump into the way of an arrow, catch a bullet to your chest, walk through fire if you had to save him. “But this,” your eyes opened and you looked at his still innocently pleading expression. Like a man in pain, you thought sardonically. Perhaps he was. But this pain hardly counted in your mind. It was self-inflected. Chosen. “This I will not do. It is unfair to ask me.”

“Why?” his voice was calm, but there was a light rasp to it. You knew he wasn’t going to let go of you this easily. He was the most revered soul around here with everyone always obeying to his whims. He was not a man used to hear no.

Your shoulders dropped and you looked down at your hands on the table. His was still on top of yours, not hovering, but resting upon yours with a feather-light touch. He followed your gaze and something in his expression changed. A slight hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Don’t you have Melissa for this?” He did not even have the audacity to look ashamed at that. He merely looked up to lock eyes with you again.

“So I have,” he agreed. Not even beating around the bush.

You had seen the two of them, had known like everyone else who lived here that your abstaining and penancing cult leader was very much not abstaining from one certain activity. Ever since you had lain eyes on him, you’d been enchanted by his charm. His looks, the sound of his voice, his calm and caring demeanour, they had all drawn you in. And despite your mind telling you otherwise, your heart had surrendered to his charm.

And then you’d seen her. Like you, she was one of his many followers. But the big difference was that she was sometimes behind him. He would turn to her and talk to her. You had seen the both of them stand together and smile. He made her laugh. Touched her skin, brushed her hair from her eyes and bestowed her with his caresses.

It wasn’t made a secret that he called upon her whenever he fancied some stress-relief. And she always obliged, eager to please your leader. Other girls spoke of them in jealous whispers. What did she have that they didn’t? And you felt the same pang of jealousy in your heart whenever your leader Harrow would retire for the night, the woman tugged beneath his arm.

You wanted to be her. You had dreamt of being her.

But that was it. She was so very unlike you that it frightened you. Because if this was his type, you would never stand a chance.

So for him to come to you and ask the same he asked of her, it was impossible. Improbable. Undeniably cruel.

“Then go to her,” you said, voice broken despite wanting to sound resolute and strong. Go to her for your caresses and comfort, you thought, anger welling up inside of you. You enjoy her sweet embrace and the whispers that everything is going to be all right, you wanted to say. Go to her to hide from the demons that haunt you, wake up in her arms like the cruel man you are and think yourself a saint. But don’t taint me any further than you already have.

Perhaps you’d been deceived upon arriving here, lured into staying. But you had made your bed and you were determined to lay in it. But it would be on your own terms. You’d keep true to yourself, even if your heart was consumed by feelings for this demonic man who did not deserve it.

If it wasn’t love, it was surely just as strong. And despite having resolved to stop thinking of him, you had not been able to forget about the feelings you felt when around him. He was in your dreams, he dictated your world. You still wanted to have him, but the Arthur Harrow that you first met. The one who delivered sweet sermons and dried children's tears. The one who wasn’t the dangerous lunatic with a wish to bring back a goddess by all means necessary, even violence.

You knew him different now. A man who killed those very same children whose tears he had dried, when they were deemed unworthy. Who slept with other women. Who wasn't a stranger to murder.

“What if I would rather be with you?” he tilted his head as he asked this, as if he was curious what that question would do to you. And it did a lot. Your heart jumped again in your chest. A heat spread through your body, setting your core alight. You pressed your legs closer together, urging yourself not to let it show what his voice and gaze did to you.

“Is she ill or something?” You tried to pierce him with your gaze, pinning him to his chair with it. It did not quite work, because Arthur’s brow furrowed, as if the question wasn’t what he had expected of you as an answer.

“No,” he answered, voice dry. He licked his lips, his eyes drifting to yours for only a fleeting moment. But the hint was clear, he imagined kissing you there. Devouring you in a kiss. “I do not see why this should be of importance to answer my question?”

His thumb slowly started to rub past your skin. How badly you wanted to pull your hand back, away from his comforting touch. But you knew if you did that, he would take offence to it. And he was a man too mighty to trifle with.

So you swallowed your pride and looked at his eyes again instead. “You go to her,” you started, voice quiet but you knew he could hear. You did not want any of the others around to overhear your conversation, to hear you turn down your leader like this. “Whenever you have needs you seek her out.”

His voice was remarkably calm, like he needed to soothe you, when he spoke again. “And now I came to you.” Dread that smile of his. You had to grit your teeth together. Was this some kind of joke to him? To toy with your feelings and emotions like you were just a puppet? Did his people mean so little to him? Without them, he’d be no one.

“What do you seek this time, that you came to me?” Your eyes were piercing his, but this time you saw something in there. A flicker of emotion. Even if it were only there for a brief moment, easily missed. You had seen it. Was that affection? It could not be.

“Love,” Arthur’s reply came like a whisper. The touch of your hand weakened. His lips remained parted, as if still caught in the sigh of the word. Love. You were certain you held it for him. His true love, it was buried deep in your core. It covered your heart, smothered your soul, and it all belonged to him. And him alone. Love. You knew you were the only one to own the love he was searching for. That you were the only one to give him the love he craved, it was a cruel twist of fate. And you would be even crueller.

Now that the hold of his hand on yours had loosened, you quickly pulled it away, cradling your hand against your chest while you took a step away from him. “I cannot do this for you, Harrow.”

His eyes burned as he looked into yours. There was rage there, rage at being denied that which he longed for. But you decided to deny seeing it, to ignore it and stay true to yourself. “I am not willing to give you what you ask of me.”

If only he had asked you properly. If only he would show that he truly understood what kind of love it was that you carried within you – the love that drowned your soul. No, you would not be a cheap whore like the woman he slept with on a regular basis. In contrast to her, your love was not given away that easily. And even a man like Harrow would have to earn it.

Standing straight, you gave him a final glance to see him seething on his chair. But you walked past him before he had the chance to grab you or stop you again. You could hear the sliding of a chair, the tap of his cane, and the sound of broken glass in his step as rose from his chair and walked. The sounds drifting behind you. He was coming your way. Following.

But you would not let him win.

#Arthur harrow x female follower #Arthur Harrow moon knight #Arthur Harrow x Reader #Arthur Harrow x you #unrequited love?#Not willing to give the love he needs #prompt fill #challenge fill #impala-dreamer #another woman #moon knight fanfiction #ethan hawke fandom #ethan hawke

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alia199778 · 1 year

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سواء في التجمعات التي اشهدها

أو عبر وسائل التواصل

يستفزني كثيراً حالة الهلع التي تستحوذ على النساء من فقد الجمال نتيجة العمر

ودائما لدي فكرة أحاول تمريرها وهي بأن المرأة تكبر وهي تحمل على عاتقها فكرة الجمال والمحافظة عليه بشتى السبل وبالطبع الاعلانات المسيرة لهذا الهدف تلاحقها اينما كانت ولكن لم اشهد او ربما لا اجد امرأة تتطرق إلى الاستعداد الفكري والنفسي هل عندما تسابقت النساء لحقن الفيلر والبوتكس لتأخير آثار العمر ، في الوقت نفسه هل توليتي حقن نفسك معنوياً هل تم اعداد المرأة لكي تحصل على سلامها الداخلي عندما تكبر او تم اعدادها طوال الوقت لمحاربة الكبر حتى تصل إليه وهي محمله بالكره والغضب والحسرة على شبابها فبدلاً من ان يكون الكبر هي مرحلة قمة النضح والتصالح مع الذات وليس معنى التصالح فقط أن تكون المرأة متصالحة بنوع من الغصة والتصبر بل تكون متصالحة بمعنى الرضا التام والسلام الذي تستشعره

يضيع عمر المرأة في مراقبته وبالطبع العالم بكل مؤسساته الذكورية سعى أن تكون قيمة المرأة بعمر زمني محدد ، حتى الطب بكل معلوماته التي نتاقلها اغلبها معلومات ذكورية لا تمت للصحة بصلة أو على اقل تقدير مبالغ بها تخيل أن تظل طوال عمرك تراقب وتهلع من سنوات عمرك التي هي في حقيقتها تجاربك وذكرياتك التي عشتها ولكنك تشعر بالخوف منها لانها مرتبطة بشيء اسمه عمر رقم !!! الاعداد النفسي لمراحل العمر المختلفة اجدها لا تعيرها المرأة أهمية منهمكة في مراقبة الأثر الذي تتركه السنوات على وجهها

العمر تراكم خبرات وتجارب ومعاناة فكري جيداً كيف تمحيني أثرها من روحك وماأن تكبرين تجدين على عتبات هذا العمر ينتظرك السلام الداخلي ولا اعلم لماذا نحاول تكريس مفهوم الخوف من العمر !!! لماذا لايكون هو عمر الحرية يتحرر الإنسان من لعنة الإطارات التي تحيط بعمر الشباب ، لماذا لايكون هو العمر الذي يتفرغ فيه الإنسان لهواياته يعطيها كل سنوات خبراته ومعاناته وتجاربه وتعطيه هي السلام الذي لا تستطيع منحه عمليات الشد واالنفخ الاهم أن لانصل إلى مرحلة عمرية متقدمة ونجد بأننا حياتنا خاوية من المعنى ونكتشف بأن أضعنا سنوات عمرنا في مراقبة الزمن وأثره علينا ،الجمال فكرة ينبغي عدم تكريسها لأنه شيء يفنى أو يخف وهجه ولكن هناك أمور من المحال أن تفنى ، علينا أن نفكر في مستقبل حياتنا الفكرية وانعكاس أثرها على شخصياتنا وسلوكنا وأجمل وصف استشعرته هو امرأة لا تسمح لنفسها أن تشعر ، عندما تبرمج المرأة على أنها عمر رقم عندها بالفعل تصبح حياتها باردة لأنها لم تسمح لنفسها أن تشعر ولم تسمح لعقلها أن يفكر ويكون له نهج خاص به يميزه عن غيره

#تمبلر #سينما #افلام #Another Woman #قراءاتي

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