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#as much as I would like to erase the imagine of my father dressed up as little red riding hood
tom-whore-dleston · 24 days
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Denial and Devotion
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Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x f. reader
Word Count: 880
This fic contains: preludes to smut, implied smut, amnesia, mentions of squirting and fingering, reader was a Soldier Boy fangirl (like me fr xD), toxic celebrity culture?
Summary: You are in denial that you slept with the Supe you used to crush on.
Notes: I'm just a girl that writes Soldier Boy fanfic at 2am knowing damn well I have work at 9am flksdghk this gif replays in my brain every waking moment of the day I literally hate how hot he is >:( This is my weekly contribution to @flashfictionfridayofficial’s prompt no. 241: Hour of Denial
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The moment you rose from your slumber, you knew something was wrong. First off, you woke up in a room that you did not recognize. Then, you realized the cotton sheets of the unfamiliar bed clung close to your bare skin as if you had slept in it before. 
You attempted to lift yourself out the bed, but your muscles were weak, soreness more prominent in your hips and thighs. As you winced in discomfort, your eyes widened upon the discolored love bites scattered over your body. Your eyes finally glanced to the opposite side of the bed, only to discover the person occupying it was none other than Soldier Boy.
When you were younger, Soldier Boy was your first crush. At the time, he was presumed dead, but your father would tell you stories about how he was one of the greatest superheroes to ever live. Your childhood room was covered in Soldier Boy posters and you had a doll of him that never left the box. As you got older, you conducted more research on the man you worshiped, but eventually learned that he was a monster in a superhero costume. As a result, you ripped the posters to shreds and finessed some cash off the doll in hopes to erase any trace of your Soldier Boy phase. 
You stared in disbelief at the same man that lay peacefully asleep. Your mind raced with questions. The only logical answer to all of them was that you were dreaming. To test the theory, you pinched your forearm as hard as you could. After cursing from the pain, you tried another method by poking Soldier Boy in his meaty bicep. Without fluttering his eyes open, he grunted in annoyance and rolled over. 
If your head wasn’t already spinning, it definitely was at this very moment. You slithered out of the bed, making sure not to disturb the sleeping man, and frantically searched for your clothes. In a hurried attempt, you shimmied back into your little black dress from the night before. Regardless of whether this was all a dream or not, you silently vowed that you are remaining sober for the rest of the month. 
“Where you going so fast, sweetheart?” You turned toward the groggy voice that belonged to Soldier Boy, who was propped up against the bed frame with his muscular torso in view. It felt as if no time had passed since the beginning stages of your devotion to Soldier Boy. Your eyes scanned over his physique with a hunger that only he could satisfy. Heat radiated your body and you stood paralyzed in your unzipped dress, leaving enough uncovered for his imagination to run wild.
As Soldier Boy hopped out of bed, you swiftly turned away as his thick cock unveiled from the thin sheets. He began walking towards you, but you ignored him by fiddling with the zipper on your back. You grew frustrated with the zipper’s defiance the closer the beefy supe inched towards you. His intense stare begged for your attention until he took matters into his own hands by lifting your chin up to his gaze. Your heart pounded against your chest as his green eyes studied your face. Except there was no studying necessary.
“I’m a little embarrassed by this,” you laughed nervously, “but I don’t remember anything from last night.”
Soldier Boy smirked. “Want me to give you a reminder?”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” You paused. You may not have been as infatuated with the supe as much as you once were, but you didn’t want to come off as rude. “I mean…I’m sure last night was great but I shouldn’t impose-“
“Great? Well if you define squirting on my fingers and cock until you begged me to stop as great then maybe I gotta fuck you harder.” 
You were about to let out a moan, but quickly masked it with a sigh. Every part of you wanted to hate him but the ache in between your legs betrayed your voice of reason.
“You can play the ex-fangirl game all you want, but you and I know you never truly get over your first crush.” There wasn’t a more pathetic feeling than regressing back into that naive girl who treated a flawed superhero like a god. 
Suddenly, your back hit the wall and Soldier Boy towered over you, his arm the only thing keeping him from pressing you against the wall to grind into your core. His free hand hooked under the strap of your dress, slowly pulling it off your shoulder. As the dress pooled around your feet, he lightly kissed the crook of your neck, electricity coursing your blood as his beard pricked your skin.
His hot breath fanned over your ear. “There’s no need to deny me anymore, sweetheart. I’m here for you to worship and fulfill all your pretty little fantasies.”
Fuck it.
All your common sense flew out the window as you desperately smashed your lips against his. Gripping your wrists, he pinned you against the wall before grinding his semi hard cock against your wet pussy. 
Soldier Boy may have been the biggest pain in your ass, literally and figuratively, but he was right about you never fully recovering from your first crush.
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header credit: @saradika | divider credit: @firefly-in-darkness
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ophelian-darling · 1 year
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Hi just wanted to say thank you so much for answering my request and you did an amazing job I was wondering if you could do a part 2 to the Platonic Yandere joot with prompts 19 , 26, 34 if that’s too much feel free to skip it anyways have a amazing day/night ❤️
Part One
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"You can't get away from me, now or forever..."
"You're too much for them , they are undeserving of you"
"Just mention another word about them and I'll beat them to death in front of you, wouldn't that be horrible to witness ?"
TW: Murder mention & threat, emotional manipulation, violence, inappropriate use of stands.
Word count: 2.5k words.
enjoy ♡
Jotaro watched you jump around the kitchen, seemingly happy as you prepared tonight's dinner. 
You had gathered enough courage and invited your crush for a small 'date' here tonight (Jotaro refused to let you out with them, excusing his decision by his lingering worry on you) and your eyes pooled with twinkles. 
If it wasn't for this situation, He would've been truly happy to see the smile on your lips now; you jumping joyfully like a fawn between the kitchen and the dining room, preparing the fresh hot meals for the person you're trying to lure. 
He felt disturbed, like you were both in a peaceful paradise together, of your own little life and under his wing and under your blessing of an existence, until the ivies of a mischievous touch crawled into your heaven, threatening to coil around you and steal you away. 
As tough as your dear father may seem, he wasn't tolerant of the idea of losing you to someone else, and his fears were quite logical: He doted on you ever since your first breath (even more than your mother herself could ever offer), accompanied you in every step of life and took full care of you when your mother had given up- an incident he wished he could erase from your memory forever.
Just as the first image of that day was brought up in his imagination, your sweet voice pulled him out of the grim echo "Papa? is everything alright?!" 
He took a good look at you: features, serene and loving as ever, only crossed by a look of concern but never distorting your beauty. new dress donning your form, flowery and tailored to your size as if it was made specifically for you. you were obviously dolling up yourself for them, no surprise. a girl your age has her mind filled with the pictures of love and romance; creating her own fantasy of a warm touch- or a kiss. He wonders how many nights these thoughts have flashed through your consciousness or coloured your dreams pink… have you grown attached to someone else to that extent?! 
"Papa !"
Realizing that he took an uncomfortable amount of time in staring, Jotaro quickly regained his composure and regarded you to speak again.
"You were staring at me for a minute now, are you really okay? Are you tired?" 
Your tone dropped its previous excitement so it is coated with concern now. He felt guilty for making you worried while it was an important night for you. for now, he had to go along for your sake. 
"Nothing at all, don't worry about me" he patted your head and drew a loving smile "Aren't you beautiful?" he complimented, trying to ease off your jarring distress and it obviously worked if your giggling reaction conveyed anything. 
"Do I really look nice? I felt like I bought the dress in a rush and I don't want to ruin my chances" you giggled again, talking to yourself more than waiting for an answer from father. 
"You are definitely the most beautiful girl ever, Sweetheart" He said tenderly, the thick knot in his throat tightened as he let out the lie "I'm sure they would be immediately swooned by you, I'm so happy for you"
The bitter taste on his tongue, the words he just uttered and the dim feeling stirring up to his consciousness was driving him to his limit. You are happy, your happiness is what mattered all along and he achieved it for you, so why the urge to break everything and refuse all of this was getting stronger?! the same urge that morphed into a long trail of thoughts, then words; standing on the tip of his lip with a poisonous odor.
 "Dear…" 
You turned back to him, puzzled at the sudden fall of his voice.
Before He got the chance to pour all of his inner conflicts, a loud ringing filled the intense air.
The doorbell rang, they're here.
You squeaked cheerfully and jumped to the door, what Jotaro was about to say was not a priority now. 
Jotaro felt sick in the stomach watching you greet them in a childish passion, deciding to lift his gaze to another corner, a corner when a pink cake slicer sat on the kitchen's counter. 
He didn't think much of it; just held the tool and examined its edge. 
Not sharp enough, yet capable of the work.
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He drifted away from reality yet again; falling deeper into hatred as it happened right in front of him.
The evening was going terrible, not for you However: your crush was fully conversing with you at the dinner table, casually coaxing and flirting with your shied form while you were at loss for words, putting a sweet smile as a reply.
They introduced themself politely, with all confidence and Charm of a quipster, shamelessly dallying with you in eyes and tones. Jotaro wished if there'd been any reason to hold a grudge against them, or even generally dislike them, but things weren't going his way this time. 
You're happy with someone else- Your dear father dedicated himself for the purpose of your happiness, putting a lot of love and care a human would have in heart into creating a heaven for you and him. The sight of a gleeful smile on your lips could wipe away long years of grief, years he spent lonely until you drew a first breath.
The hatred hauled at the sinews of his heart, twisting all of the confined hopelessness and shaping it to a perfect rage, one that he did never experience, not even onto his worst enemies. coming to think of it, his worst enemy was the human sitting across him on the table. 
"I see why my daughter likes you" he started flatly "You're quite the persona, she's lucky to have your eyes on her" He faked a smile; not wanting to come off as intimidating (So as not to 'embarrass' you, you scolded him more than a time that he regarded others creepily). 
They laughed and rubbed the back of their head "The honor is mine Mr.Kujo, I've never dreamed of getting the chance to talk to your daughter, let alone having dinner with her in her house with her father" 
You switched your sight between the two of them, glad that the both of them are getting along unlike your negative expectations of the whole ordeal. the Blues of your father met the ones of yours, giving you the order before uttering it "Sweetheart, I think it's a fair time for a dessert, why won't we offer our guest some of the delicious chocolate cake you made? I'm sure they'll love to have a bite of it" 
You stared at him for a moment, surprised at the sudden welcoming attitude of his. your father wasn't very social or friendly with strangers, preferring to treat them formally and strictly depending on the situation, so this change of color seemed a little jolting. 
You nodded and went to the kitchen, now he's all alone with them.
"An angel, isn't she?" Jotaro smiled, a lower curve at the corner of his lips stiffed. 
"Huh?" your so called 'crush' were perplexed at the question before answering, unassertive "I-indeed she is, no wonder why I like her" 
"She's too innocent for her own good, too trusting and kind that she was met with the worst of others around her" 
Jotaro broke his gaze at your chair and shifted it to the thing sitting across him. Their silence urged him to continue "I can't count how many times in her life she came back running to me, crying and sobbing in my arms, babbling about how some kid at school bullied her, or how some random chick made fun of her in front of the whole school. I truly love her and do whatever I can: I comfort her, I hug and kiss her on her forehead, I go above and beyond to provide for her… you can say she's my world, not just my only daughter" 
"I-I understand your view, Mr-Kujo…" 
"I went through a lot in the past, I got a lot of wounds and aches, not to mention a lot of scars, which all were painful, But never as painful as her own pain… I can't let her know a meaning or a tiniest taste of pain, or even push harm away from her, I feel like I'm not protecting my precious princess enough" 
"I'm so sorry for whatever you went through Mr.Kujo… I can understand your pain, and… I can reassure you that your daughter means the world to me too-" 
"Does She?!" Jotaro stood up, ambling closer to the thing, taking delight as their expression paled. 
"I doubt that she means anything to you, you're just toying with her like everyone else, waiting for the right moment to break her heart, leave her broken for me to fix…" 
"I wouldn't never think of that Mr.Kujo-" 
"You can't love her the way I do… no one can love her the way I do! I'd go as far as to get rid of all the things causing her misery, people like you included!" 
"Okay now what the fuck is wrong with you?!" 
"Papa what's going on-" you hurried into the room, frozen immediately in place. 
In fact, everything froze. 
There were only two cases in which he would have to use Star Platinum : fighting enemies and serving you. No one was expected to survive after making you cry; it wasn't fair that you spilled your tears while they were carrying on with their lives, a punishment had to be in order. 
Your dear father would never tell you that he murdered your bullies, your dear father would never tell you he threatened anyone who got too close to you, Your dear father would never tell you he found out that this scum of a human were planning to use you for their amusement and ruin your innocence. He's sure that you'll understand, that's why you needed a lot of time to realize how deep his love can be. 
Three seconds before the motion would come back. Now that you're in the scene, he can't just kill them like he used to on others, that would crush the image of him in your heart, and he can't lose your love for anything. 
The strong stand delivered a single punch to their face, Jotaro can feel something crushing under his fingers, like a pile of twigs being stepped on all at once. Then a long, red trail streamed down, coating the carpet with blood. It's a short measure of dealing with a nuisance (He'd hoped to end their life and dispose of their carcass; the plan ruined when you entered the scene) and knocking them out. The rest is pretty easy: He'll just subject them to a strong amnesic drug and ditch them on the side of the road. 
Everything ticked at zero and came back to life, the staggering posture of yours moving again- horrified by the sight in front of you.
Your mind was too shaken- unable to grasp on one image of reality and unstable to let the weight of everything sink in. you knew it all along: your father wasn't like any father, and you weren't as ordinary as you thought. He used to be your hero (alas, no longer now) and  the crimes of his twisted show of love unfolded themselves and made you realize how foolish you've been all your life. 
"What the fuck was that for? How dare you do this to them?!" you snarled, checking on the unconscious and bleeding guest. at least they were breathing, you had the vilest scenario in mind and the way the date started resembled a clam before the storm. 
"They were trying to hurt you, I've known their intentions before you brought them here" 
"You stalked them?!" The look you gave him wasn't anything near grateful, you glared at him as if he was a criminal. 
"Why do you always insist on ruining my life?! Why do you push people away from me?!" warmth pooled under your eyelids, it was a sheer heartbreak to know that the dearest living human to you had a thread in your demise. 
"They don't love you! you're oblivious of their intentions, You're too much for them , they are undeserving of you!"
"You still can't do this to someone innocent! you're a fucking maniac you're not my father…" a sob tore its way up lungs  "No wonder my mama ran away…" the stream of tears couldn't stop itself, the forgotten woman surfaced herself in your memory again, spilling the truth he faked to get you by his side. 
"Watch your language with me you selfish brat! be grateful that I'm the reason you're alive now or else you would have ended up dead like her!"
Everything stopped again. It's not his stand this time. 
Your features froze like a marble statue, as if the evening couldn't even become worse, fate decided to land another aching blow to you. 
Neither of you said anything; gazing blindly at each other, blurred words not coming out. nothing of his love and your sweetness can take back what's just been revealed, or save you from the devil in an Angel's robe. 
You stepped back, ready to rush into the door and run away from all this depravity. he mirrored your action, following you with full speed. before your nerves could receive the order of lurching further, his hand caught your tiny shoulder and squeezed, warning you. 
"Let me go! I hate you leave me alone!"
"Don't you dare run or you'll suffer the consequences!" 
"Or you'll kill me too?! just like you killed mama and tried to kill the person I love! and on top of that you expect me to ignore all of this like I did in the past?! I would've been happier if I was with mama or someone else who truly loves me, not treating me the way you do!" 
"Just mention another word about them and I'll beat them to death in front of you!" he violently smacked the table with a hand, the other leaving your shoulder to grab your date's head and rotate it to the side, an audible cracking emphasizing the sincerity of the duress.
"They'll die here at my hands, and you'll have to watch me dispose of their corpse while you can do nothing about it…wouldn't that be horrible to witness?"
All you can reply with was a hopeless stare. From a logical perspective, he was right: none of your mother's family would take you in, your father's family would side with the cruelty of a father you've been cursed with, you hadn't any friends or acquaintances due to his isolation of you and the social services would comply to his authority…in short, it was a dead end for you.
You didn't feel his embrace, the comforting arms that used to placate and mollify are gone, replaced with a cold touch that panicked and horrified, so was the kiss on the crown of your head, it had no warmth in it.
"Good girl… I love you and I can't let you go, you can't get away from me, now or forever…" 
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sircesimblr · 2 months
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Manon: Pardon me?!
Stam: What kind of a suit is that?!
Klaus-Ove: Me? Mine?
Manon: Why, yes!
Orbin: Mine, probably.
Stam: Orbin! You're positively reeking of mothballs! Don't - ugh, don't even think of coming near Rachel in that thing. You'll ruin your... why! am I even saying this?
Orbin: Sorry. It's my father's wedding suit. He wore it on the happiest day of his life. I don't own a suit myself so I figured it "suits", haha, to borrow it, for a special day like this. Don't I look, like, "flashy"?
Manon and Stam: "Flashy"?
Manon: Oh, my eyes are hurting me, Mr. Larsen. I cannot look at you. Flashy? Those colours are thunder flashes to the soul. You may be artistic, little pup, but this isn't exactly a display of good taste and modesty!
Klaus-Ove: And why not?
Manon and Stam: Why not?!
Klaus-Ove: People, look at the big picture. Squint your eyes. I am just a simplified representation of this breathtaking nature all around us: the green and mustard grasses, the grey skies and waters, my seven ginger strands of hair, hahaha. I could've gone a little more with the greys, I admit. But imagine Rachel next to me. She's got her hair up. She wears a long dress, like, teal, or soft flaxen... white? Would she not be the only one, anybody would be looking at, next to me? Exactly. And nothing would make me happier. Mr. Stam "let me show some more of my chest so everyone will notice how hot I am" Hardenes!
Stam: I.. I... Oh, shut it.
Klaus-Ove: Hahaha, just teasing, man. You don't care about looks, I know, it's okay, you probably lost a button when you changed. I'll help you look for it later.
Manon: Oh, this is terrible. Absolutely terrible. My apologies, dear Rachel, this was a true misreckoning on my part. Please, please, erase their formal appearance from your mind when this is over... They were such fine, charming gentlemen before... Do - I urge you - do take them to a taylor's first, before you'll debut with either of them in society! Now, gentlemen, let's not prolong this and take our leave. A final bow, a kiss, to our esteemed lady!
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And with that, Miss Rachel Murray, I feel my little adventure, my story about love, is coming to an end.
It wasn't an easy task, but I'm honoured to feel a little of what it must have been for you. My big little nibbles, presenting their solemnest of hearts to only you, dearest and loveliest you. By now they're all behaving like loosened hosiery, pardon me, but you've seen them. Their ways and wishes, words and dreams, and in between the lines, who they truly are.
Dearest Rachel, I wish you the very best of luck. Meeting my gentlemen, and the many more that seek your friendship and affection. Have fun, dear girl, on your journey. I bow to you too. And please, let me, or let my Watcher know some day, how it all turned out for you. It's not only love, it is life.
So, good-day, Watchers, Authors and Readers! Thank you so very much for spending your time with us. And now: back to our own worlds.
(behind the scenes:)
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The gentlemen: Thanks, Miss de La Haye. A bow and a kiss for you too. Here. Here!
Manon: Stop it. Stop it.
The gentlemen: Well done! Good job. Rachel will be over the moon. We'll take it from here! But we'll forever and always be your big little nibbles too.
Manon: My heart. My goodness. Give me a minute to breathe, to recuperate, before our Watcher just magically poofs us back to where we came from. Please excuse me, lovelies. This is not the easiest thing to say good-bye to...
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My big little nibbles. This desolate, lovely island. My heart, my heart, connecting with these gentle souls, like it does with each and every one of my children... it's, it's - how did I ever get to experience this? How do I go back to Praaven remembering this? Knowing these kind of men exist, knowing this kind of love exists, ready to be given to one special woman... Not me...
How do I live on, with all this inside of me?
What... And what... if she makes me... forget? What if my Watcher makes me forget this ever happened, when she sends me back?!
Heavens, no! To forget what became so dear... I don't want to, no... she can't - is that hell? Will she truly send me through hell, to get back?! All of us?!
My goodness, my goodness!! May the heavens help me!!
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Stam: Guys, something is wrong with our hostess. She's having a ... meltdown? Miss! Miss de La Haye, are you alright?!
Orbin: Miss de La Haye? Are you in pain?
Klaus-Ove: Miss de La Haye!
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(prev)
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callsign-phoenix · 1 year
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I simply wrote this because I got the idea, I hope you like it!
It is a Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x female!reader imagine.
Thank you @footprintsinthesxnd for proofreading!
Warnings: cursing, allusions to smut
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You had never quite been the center of attention at Navy dinners, not like your older sister.
Penny was gorgeous and just the right amount of flirtatious, and with you being the daughters of Admiral Benjamin her desirability only heightened tenfold.
You had never been too popular with the Navy men and you were grateful for it, knowing just how much trouble they could be.
Nevertheless you liked going to the Navy functions your dad invited you to because you liked to look at the young gorgeous men gathered around the table.
You weren’t as limited as them as to how to dress so you took some liberties, you didn’t dress as daring as your older sister but definitely daring enough.
You didn’t know if you wanted to attend another celebratory dinner because you were always a little left out and lonely, but as you said you liked people watching so you didn’t mind.
As expected your older sister got most of the attention, which your dad didn’t like, but at least he knew you knew how to behave yourself.
You were happily behaving yourself when a young man approached you, with a wide grin and eyes that gleamed with humor and mischief.
“You’re looking awfully lonely tonight,” he spoke out and you had to take a look around to realize that he was talking to you.
It took you a few seconds to reply, because you had to come to terms with the fact that a gorgeous sailor had approached you without being forced to lead a conversation with you.
“Are you a shy one?” He went on, chuckling as he moved a bit closer and leaning against the wall with his arm propped up against it.
It was intimidating but also strangely thrilling and attractive, and the fact that his eyes didn’t leave your face only entranced you further.
“I could keep you company tonight if you’d like,” he said in a low voice as another crooked grin appeared on his face, showing his big and bright front teeth as well as the sparkle in his eyes.
“I’m Maverick, section leader of my squadron of fighter pilots, it’s a pleasure to meet you, doll, but as much as I like to hear myself speak I’d like to know more about you too,” he continued, and your eyes searched the room to find your dad in deep conversation with one of his fellow admirals.
You reached out to shake his hand and introduced yourself, deciding to throw all caution into the wind and try to enjoy yourself.
“Benjamin, as in Admiral Benjamin?” He asked and his smile faltered just a little, which made you grin at him for the first time since you met him.
That grin was the reason why Maverick decided to risk it all, redoubling his efforts and broadening his smile again.
“Well, Miss Benjamin, how about I get you a drink? Daddy wouldn’t mind, would he?” He asked as he leaned even closer, you could feel his breath brush your mouth and yor eyes lowered to glance at his lips, which were still tugged upwards playfully.
“Daddy doesn’t have to know,” you answered purposely choosing the same word he had, just to rile him up.
Maverick chuckled and disappeared, telling you that he’d be back as quickly as possible.
He did indeed like to talk but over the course of the evening he got a little more handsy, taking the liberty to hold you by your waist or stroke your cheek whenever the opportunity presented itself.
You could honestly say that you loved the way he held you and what he had to say, even if he bragged a little more than necessary.
It was charming and by the end of the night you were ready to go however far he’d like to go as well, your father entirely erased from your mind.
Maverick pulled you by your wrist when the dinner had officially ended and you found a spot that was a little more secluded in another room, with your lips immediately latching onto his when he closed the door.
You were absolutely entranced by him, his smile, his smell and the way his hands felt on your body, following him when he pressed you backwards against a desk, jumping onto it so he could stand between your legs.
Maverick’s hands roamed your back, from your shoulder blades down to the crease of your ass through your dress and you grew more and more breathless, holding onto him and letting desperate moans fall from your lips.
You were so far gone that you didn’t hear your father call your name nor Commander Jardian, whom your father had apparently asked to help look for you.
Maverick’s fingers just enclosed around the zipper on the back of your dress when the door opened and the lights went on, making you and Maverick jump apart immediately.
Your hair and dress was in disarray and so was Maverick’s and his dress uniform, the first few buttons opened and the end of his belt tucked out of his trousers so that you could open it.
You were breathless when you glanced at the door to find Tom, one of your father’s friends look at you in utter disbelief.
Your eyes fell to the floor in shame and Stinger closed the door taking a deep breath before his face and the rest of his bald head turned a deep and unhealthy shade of red.
“Missy, I’m not even going to start with you because you’re not my responsibility but if I see you in another situation like this I will alert your father,” he told you sternly, his breathing got increasingly heavy as he tried to keep his calm, but that failed once his eyes turned to Maverick.
“And you, Mitchell, you just lost yourself your qualifications as section leader! I expected better from the both of you but you can be lucky I won’t strip you of your fucking wings!” He shouted, his anger evident, which had both you and Maverick shrinking in shame.
Stinger had made his way into the room further and he was staring Maverick down as if he wanted to end him, which would have looked funny had you not had part fault in the situation.
“I’ll leave and you’ll sure as fuck follow me quickly, before I forget myself,” he continued and you were sure you saw some spit landing on Maverick’s face, but he didn’t move a muscle.
Tom once again glanced at you before he stormed outside, purposely not bothering to close the door.
There was a moment of silence between the two of you before Maverick spoke again, giving you a cocky grin and reaching for a pen beside you.
He scribbled something down before he gave the piece of paper to you, looking at you intensely and leaning in to give you another quick kiss to the lips.
“This is my number, use it,” he winked, before he exited the room and left you dazed and breathless by yourself.
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When Maverick and Goose were called in after the stunt Mav pulled while saving Cougar Maverick knew he was going to be in trouble, but he tried to stay positive.
You had called him the next day and despite Stinger’s warnings Maverick had kept seeing you, keeping you his little secret, even from his RIO.
Commander Jardian continued to drone on about discipline and then addressed Mav directly.
“You’ve been busted, you lost your qualifications as section leader three times. Put in hack twice by me. With a history of high-speed passes over five air-control towers and one admiral’s daughter,” he exclaimed, to which Goose turned to Mav shortly.
“Penny Benjamin?” He questioned in a whisper, but Maverick swiftly shook his head.
“Her little sister,” he whispered with a grin that prompted raised eyebrows from Goose, but both was erased by Stinger continuing his banter.
Maverick didn’t let anyone tell him what to do, and he liked you far too much to let a bald choleric convince him otherwise.
A challenge that would soon arise to your newly formed relationship was that you got to know that he had slept with your sister multiple times before meeting you, but Maverick was hopeful that you wouldn’t pay that any mind.
part two
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zamateeshares · 2 years
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The Photo Album.
I’ve been obsessed with taking pictures since I was 4. For real.
There’s lots of work out there expressing the need for photography in the words of talented artists within that field. They’re supported with award winning shots. There are YouTube interviews or Ted Talks about it. I haven’t read many of those, but the consensus has been the need to show life. Specifically, life in motion. There are economical reasons too. People will pay you big money to get some good snaps on their wedding day. There’s plenty of reasons why someone would pick up photography. None of the available reasons felt close enough to mine when people asked me, “Why do you like photography?”. No one is willing to believe that I just like pictures. They’re missing out on a lot of backstory and emotional context that I’ve never had the energy to share. Here I am now, sharing too much.
For as long as I can remember, my family has had a collection of photographs that visualise our timeline. There was the wedding album - the only evidence that my parents had a life before us. Anything that happened during their weddings is immortalised in that album. My mother’s peachy reception dress, my father’s sharp fade, the midnight black Gusheshe that escorted them to the venue, and my father’s face as he struggled to lift my mother in his arms. I know about everything that happened at those ceremonies from listening to my mother explain a picture in detail. Who was there, where the absent ones are, why that child is standing ahead of them at the church.
This principle applies to our lives too. The album where I - baby Zamatshezi - made my first appearance follows me well into my toddler years. A random visitor in our home with the opportunity to glance through our albums can watch me grow up right before their eyes, all because my parents made sure they never missed a moment. As a child, I never thought about it too deeply. I was conceited and enjoyed the documentation. Those were the golden times. With adolescence, came self-image issues. I was berated with body shaming from adults trying to tell me my eleven year old body was unhealthy and unappealing. Not in hidden messages, nor passive comments, just direct critiques to a child’s face. I’ve spoken about the impact those early years had on me and how they influence my perception issues to this day. If I speak again, I will scream. What I hardly speak of, is how this destroyed my love for pictures. I’d moved from being a child that rushed to be in front of a lens, to feeling disgusted at every picture I was in. Being thirteen is all about doing silly things with your friends and documenting all that foolishness. I spent thirteen trying to erase any physical or digital image that my body existed in primary school. Sometimes I forget how I looked in grade 5 and I can’t reach for a picture and jog my memory because of this decision I made when I still hated myself. My personal disdain didn’t stop me from loving photography. It merely pushed me behind the camera.
My father bought me a small Canon when I was in grade 6. He had given me something that enriched my world more than he knew. I documented everything I could. There was a time where I made a horror movie with a few friends using nothing but the school grounds, a creepy basement in my best friend’s house, and the scary atmosphere of the trees on your way to school. It was five minutes long and horrible. A24 reject. However, my home class teacher found it genius. Well, genius at our level. I get it now. At the bright age of twelve, we’d found a way to create a cinematic sample of our imagination. Inspirational stuff like that. That has formed the basis of my style of photography: life in motion pictures.
My favourite pictures are the ones where people didn’t see me or, for a short frame, they stop trying too hard to look posed. Those semi candid, natural snaps. I like those the most. This idea that in a snap image, you’re captured in a specific moment just being yourself and it always looks beautiful. It becomes a still frame in a cinematic sense. People do not understand how beautiful they look when they’re unaware. Awareness shows in pictures - I love working with people that come with angles and looks and are generous subjects. There’s simply a nostalgic element to those candids. Something that reminds me of those thick photo albums back home stacked with random, candid photographs. My parents weren’t positioning my toddler siblings and I into place to look picture ready. We were just being.
More than anything, I wanted to create my own collection that would one day be in my own photo album. Again, I documented as much as I could. Every picture I’ve taken since 2015 exists in living colour on my first laptop. My enthusiasm and skills were translated into a passion. I was quickly appointed the family photographer. A role that allowed me to do two things: control the shots that we got and avoid being a part of any. I was still hiding from the lens. In those years, I grew to be quite skilled. My eldest brother - who became my next greatest patron and supporter - brought me into the world of photography as an art form. A visual storytelling style that I had believed I was too amateur for. I hadn’t thought about making another film since that grade 6 production. At the time, my brother encouraged my efforts and assured me that I possessed all the skills of someone that could be great. I needed practice, patience, and a proper camera. Fast forward to my twenty-second birthday, I was gifted Artemis (a Canon 2000D; I like to name my possessions) from my brother and father.
Artemis has expanded upon my skills in more ways than I can count. Working with people I know, working with strangers, working with babies that cannot hear you - everything I’ve done with her so far has made me so much better than when I started. There are lows in our journey. For one, I have creative lulls where nothing feels quite good enough for me. I am my toughest critic; it’s really difficult to get my own seal of approval on things that I’m working on. I need a council to make a decision and that creative process often drains me. However, the days aren’t dark forever. Soon I snap out of it and I’m faced with my second problem. I’m running out of storage quickly. Like I said, the photo museum of my life between now and 2015 currently exists on my laptop. That, plus various digital junk that I’ve hoarded over the years. Recently, I had to spring clean my space and rid myself of the useless junk, but in the process I risked losing all these wonderful pictures I’ve been saving. Then it became a toss up, what was more valuable to me: the pictures or the memories? It was a tough choice because I feared the same thing would happen. I feared the absence of that physical proof would take away how I remembered it happening. It took me a while to think about. Then I realised the memories wouldn’t fade with the pictures. Nothing digital ever truly feels lost in our new tech fueled world. Instagram has watched me for over two years and those stories are a click away (still hate Instagram). I’m also relaxing more because living within the moment feels more important than capturing it. I can have an undocumented good time and it stay with me simply because it made me happy. I’m making peace with that fear while also dipping back into documenting myself on every available platform.
I’m in front of the camera, behind the camera, on the mic, on tape talking to people. I’ve really cemented my online visibility, but now without all the animosity about perception. I am allowing myself to be myself on the internet and in the open. The beauty and majesty that I see in the subjects of my photography is how I should see myself. I am life in motion picture. I need to remember the photos, but more importantly, I want to remember myself and where I was at in the photos. In short, that is my answer to the question. I like photography because we are beautiful people living in motion pictures and I want to remember that when I reach for a photo album sitting on my coffee table.
RIP Makazi Unathi, one of my favourite models. I'll always keep you in my heart and my photo album.
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tedl-ass-o · 2 years
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For Halloween, Roy and Keeley do a couples costume dressing up as little red riding hood and the big bad wolf. Keeley is the wolf.
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ventisehe · 3 years
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crying on their wedding day / genshin impact / part one
this was a request from my old account and i am only transferring it here. there is a part two to this but i got busy with school and organizing my new account, as well as thinking over deleting my old account.
since bennett is fifteen or sixteen, his part will be a little different from the others. with aether, he is hundred years old so his part if just like the rest. this is unedited and i wrote it at night when i was supposed to be farming so please bear with me hehe.
requested by: @bakuhoe-is-my-bakubro
includes: diluc, zhongli, childe/tartaglia, aether, bennett
warning: unedited, not proofread
part two
THOSE WHO WOULD SHED A SINGLE TEAR
     DILUC
       After losing his father and his horrible fall out with Kaeya, Diluc has become a firm believer that a man can truly live as an island, to some extent. As much as possible, he kept to himself and worked alone. Having people share his burdens with him did not appeal to him. In fact, it miffed him, as it made him feel indebted to them.
          He limited his interaction with everyone, especially those who are part of the Knights of Favonius, favoring solitude above else. But of course, this did not entail bad social ethics to others.
    He treated his maids and employees with civility and respect, the same can be said with his patrons whenever he worked behind the counter (it would certainly be bad for his business if he behaved aloof to them) and those he was once close friends with. He always behaved appropriately to them, although he must admit he can be quite insulting to the Knight, he always stood behind an invisible barrier, careful not to cross it and grow attached to anyone.
        He has long given up with amorous relationships. After all, what good would he be as a lover if he could not provide his woman the love and care she deserved? Surely, he cannot let a maiden suffer with his inadequacy as a potential husband. He is aware of how hectic his schedule is (he hardly has enough time for himself so spending time with his lover would be proven difficult) and how poorly he expresses his feelings, thoughts, and emotions. In a relationship, in marriage, communication is the key for it to be successful, and already then, he has failed. He may be a cold man at first glance, but he will not put a woman in s distressing dilemma, not intentionally anyway.
                    Being the richest man in Mondstadt and being considered attractive by many, Diluc was not foreign to having women throw themselves at him, attempting to seduce him. If maintaining a relationship with a woman with his current tribulations was hard, finding a woman who truly love and understand him was even harder. He has no means of deciphering who were pure with their intentions and those who sought him for his money and influence.
     And he accepted his fate without easily, without question. This was the way it was supposed to be in the first place. Diluc Ragnvindr - a lone man, who lived in too big mansion, sleeping on a bed too big for him. It was all he knew. The bright days of his childhood long forgotten.
    But then you came to his life so suddenly.
                          "Master Diluc," Began Jean, a polite smile over her lips. "This is ( Your Name )".
              All it took was for you to give him shy smile to have his walls broken down, and for his heart to yearn for what he has resolutely denied himself of for years. And it twisted him, and not in a way he welcomed.
          Diluc tried so damn hard to push you away. He avoided your presence, and made it his point to show you he wanted nothing to do with you, and made no attempt to cover it and ignored how his heart broke every time your smile fell. He resolutely refused to yield to your sincere advances.
                                     He treated you the same way be treated everyone, to show you how you were no different from everyone. You were just another dot in his life waiting to be erased and thrown in the back of his mind.
                                                       But the harder he pushed, the harder you pulled. In his brightest days and in his darkest days, you have never strayed far and welcomed him with open arms. You always went out of your way for him.
          It was hard not to fall in love with you? Why did you have to make things so difficult?
                        It wasn't too long until he was falling asleep in his bed with you in his embrace, his heart feeling light, warm and content. He hasn't feel like this in a long time - safe, and at home. Diluc found home from someone he tried to push away.
                                      The horror of what could have happened if he had been successful weighed down on him, and it took quite an assurance from you to make him remember that he has failed, and you were his, as he was yours.
                          Back then, he thought your persistence was bothersome. But as he stood at the altar right now, watching you enter with your white wedding dress, he was grateful you never gave up on him.
Diluc cannot describe how beautiful you looked as you graced everyone in the place with your presence.
Your eyes locked with him, and his heart soared in his chest. And when you smiled at him, an excited gleam in your eyes - he cannot help but smile back.
Time cannot be any slower, and the aisle cannot be any longer. And have you always walked this slow? Or were you just teasing him?
Diluc's breath hitched - Perhaps you knew how much he wanted to get this over with so he can have you all to himself in the comfort of his room.
And when he saw you smiling mischievously at him, he knew that he was right.
His words failed to describe how beautiful you looked. His words failed the joy he was feeling. May Barbatos have mercy on him
But the tear that escaped the corner of his eye explained everything.
"Oh, what is this?" His best man whispered beside him, a teasing tone lacing his voice. "Master Diluc is crying. Why, I never thought I'd see the day."
Diluc shot him a glare. "Do not make me regret making you my best man, Kaeya."
Kaeya laughed. "Ah, ah, ah," He chimed. "Your wife won't be pleased if we fight at your wedding day."
A warm and pleasant feeling coursed through him. His wife.
"She's not my wife yet." Said Diluc.
Kaeya looked at you as you walked down the aisle. "And in just a few minutes, I'll have two Ragnvindr to annoy." He patted his brother on the back, smiling a genuine smile for the first time. "Congratulations, Diluc."
     ZHONGLI
       Zhongli, or Rex Lapis for that time, has watched over Teyvat for thousands of years and has witnessed firsthand how kings and tyrants rose and fell, how kingdoms were born, how camaraderie are conducted, how romance makes a man foolish and blinded, how society flourished in the hands of mortals as Archons guarded them from their resting place, and throughout the tales of humans, his eyes has laid upon many beauties.
                   But you? Oh, even the most esteemed bard of all realms could never bring the satisfactory glory to your name and pulchritude.
            How dearly Zhongli missed the unspeakable power, money and authority he had back before he revoked his own position as a deity, keeping a close eye over Liyue and his people. But if ever presented with the opportunity to return to his rightful place as part of the Seven, he shall graciously decline, casting his gaze away and simply returning to your side.
                               After all, what benefit would he gain from it when he already has his heart is content in the possession of a mere mortal, a mortal he loved and adored. He would dream of ever choosing his old power over you, and that can be affirmed when he asked for your hand as the two of you took an evening stroll outside Liyue.
                 He has fallen for you and he cannot rise again. A gentle and kind woman with an understanding and patience which knows no bounds. If not for his revelation that he has accomplished all his duties and has come to decide to resign from his reign, your existence may be another reason for him to take the form or a mortal and ask for your hand.
                      He can still recall that faithful day when he first met you at the harbor. He stood by a high balcony, overlooking Liyue Harbor with arms crossed. The sun beat down against Liyue grounds and his skin, but it also casted an ethereal glow on you as you exited one of the ships that stopoed at the docks. And may he boldly say the sun was outshined that day, and his heart has been taken.
                                         Zhongli can only imagine how many men has chased after you, but failed to woo you.
                   Zhongli understood the concept of love. After all, Liyue and every living being that sought shelter in its walls were close to his heart, but never in his life has he felt the way he felt for you. It was the sort of phenomena he observed between lovers for centuries - unconditional love and care, a sanctuary in the arms of their beloved, an individual to trust and come home to whether the day has been kind or unkind.
           What he thought were trivial matters and the means of mortals for survival he has tasted its sweet flavor, and it was by your hand did he receive it. And he was thankful that you have found him worthy of being with you, and soon, being one with him in the contract of marriage.
And thus came the faithful day, the very day he longed to come ever since you have accepted him as your husband to be, and the day you have dreamt of every night you laid with him.
Zhongli counted the months, weeks, days, and if he had the ability to, minutes until the day of your wedding. He has a calendar in his room and everyday, he enthusiastically crossed out every passing day, watching as his wedding with you grow closer.
And when it finally arrived, Zhongli followed a meticulous routine to prepare himself, using expensive oils and perfume to which the Fatui money has provided splendidly. After all, he wanted to look the best he can for you. You deserved only the best of things, and he shall not hold back on anything to please you.
Though Zhongli, most of the time, was a calm man even under the eye of tribulations, when he stood at the altar in front of his close friends and colleagues, he can't help but feel anxious.
Of course he has no doubt in your love for him. He holds on your every word of love and affection as true, and his love for you was as hard as stone. Rather, it was he who doubted himself and his capabilities.
He wondered if he would be able to take care of you, love you the way you should be, bring a smile to your lips, and a laugh out of your mouth. If he had been Rex Lapis still, he would have easily uphold his duties as your husband. After all, what can an Archon not do?
It would be Childe, his best man, who would console him. He would tell Zhongli he is more than capable to care for you. He has a stable job (not to mention his connection with the Fatui), he was eager to please you and give you about everything if he can, he has a kind heart, he was a man who can manage his time wisely and never choose his profession over you, and above all, he loved you. Not many men can afford the luxury of being this perfect, but Zhongli was no man, not originally at least.
He will be unconvinced of what Childe has said. This unease in him was hard to diminish. Not being enough for you will tear him apart. The thought of it just gnawed at him. Will he make you happy? Will you regret marrying him when you realized life married to him wasn't as you expected?
It was only when the doors opened, and his wide and anticipative eyes darted over to the other end of the place did every little doubt in his mind is erased.
You stood by the entrance wearing the white dress you have fought hard not to show him until this day.
That bright smile on your face, those eyes that shimmered at the sight of him, the faint red on your cheeks - Zhongli did not even notice how love stricken he looked, and nor did he notice a tear cascade from corner of eye.
It was only when Childe stifled a laugh and pointed it out did he feel the dampness at the side of his face.
He forgot how to breathe when you finally stood before him. Even a veil cannot conceal your beauty.
With twinkling eyes, you smiled at him - like he was the only person in the room.
"Are you crying?" You ask playfully.
Zhongli will let out a chuckle, and as he take your hands in his, he said, "In such a beautiful day like this with the loveliest lady in Teyvat before me, how can I not?"
Indeed it was a beautiful day, made better when your lips met his.
He can't stop a few more tears from slipping.
THOSE WHO WOULD BAWL THEIR EYES OUT
     CHILDE/TARTAGLIA
                 Childe understood his duties as a Harbinger even if his playful and flirtatious facade may say otherwise. He kissed hands of women and paid them golden compliments until their mind went hazy with his feigned affection, but he was still a Fatui at the end of the day - a ruthless and greedy scoundrel who had too much Mora in his hands.
              And it was because of his line of work that he decided never to commit himself. If he was to find himself infatuated with a woman and she reciprocated his feelings and desired to pursue a relationship with him, it would inevitably drag her to the dangers entailed to his position.
                                       The last thing he wanted was someone to dear to him to be harmed, not to mention his lover could become his weakness, she could be taken by his enemies and be used against him, thus, making things more complicated and harder for him to fulfill his duties to the Tsaritsa.
             To him, nothing is more important than seeing through his mission with the finest quality of work he can give.
                   So damn you for coming into his life and distracting him. Damn you for bringing another bright to his life. Damn you for taking care of his family when he was gone. Just - damn you for making him fall for you.
      He hated this - the feeling of being weak, of being vulnerable, of laying his guard down. One touch from you and he's no better than the people he despised for being so frail and powerless.
                                              How ever do you possess this prowess to make him so dependent on you, to relish in your voice when you sing to him as the two of you laid together in his bed, how he let his defenses crumble when you whisper his name, the tug of his heart when you he sees you getting along so well with his family.
                          Childe wanted you. He wanted you more than anything and anyone in Teyvat. He was going crazy thinking about you.
             He refused to acknowledge his feelings at first, thinking perhaps he can use you to comfort him and his family in these troubling times. That's all you were supposed to be, a tool for him to make his family feel better whenever he goes off to accomplish his work as a Harbinger.
                              But he couldn't stomach the thought of using you like that. He didn't want you to treat like a toy. And it did not help that one day, when he was returning from a mission, you come rushing to him and blurting out your feelings and your worry for his safety.
               You loved him. Did he hear you right? You love a Fatui, and a Harbinger, no less. Surely, you aren't that stupid to fall for him.
     And yet he smiled a sincere smile at your confession, and he too followed your steps. That night, he was at his weakest. Just relishing in your arms and ridding all the responsibilities over his shoulders. He can forget all his faults for a moment, with you. A peace of mind and heart was found in you.
     Childe watched as you played with his fingers, and then he spoke. “Aren’t you afraid?”
       You hummed. “Afraid? Of what?”
                   Childe shook his head and held your hand which toyed with his digits. You looked up at him, puzzled.
              “Of me.” Said Childe, pulling your hand and holding it close to his chest. He closed his eyes, almost terrified of what your answer can be. “Of what I can bring to your life. I’m a Harbinger, [ Your Name ]. Your life is at stake just being with me. Do you know what you’re in for for loving me?”
                        You gazed at him, and he can’t see anything in your eyes. He let out a small gasp when you leaned in and kissed his cheek.
            “I’m not afraid of you or anything this world can throw at me.” You confessed. “You’re going to protect me, Tartaglia. I know you will. I trust you. I love you.”
                            And fucking hell, did he protect you.
                                          He tried to hide you from his fellow Harbingers, and especially to his enemies. Not because they will use you to get the upper hand against him, a leverage. No, he wanted to hide you, as long as he can anyway (because it won't be long until his secret is out, walls do have ears), to protect you. No one will lay a hand or even get a single strand of your hair. May the Archons have mercy on anyone who dares put you in the middle of the dangers of his job, because he surely won't.
Because of this, you and Childe decided to get married in secret, with no one else but Zhongli, the traveler, and their floating companion to be your witnesses in becoming one. The two of you knew well of the consequences your decision shall birth, but it's the one you're making. Nothing in this can stop Childe from making you his wife, and treating you as such.
Childe could not wait for the ceremony to begin. Even with such a small crowd - very small indeed - he did not hold back to make this day special for you. The finest of everything is what you deserved, and if he could give more, he would. But for now, all he can give you is himself, and he dearly wished he was enough.
The whole time, as he waited for you to emerge from the doors of the small cathedral the two of you chose to be wed in, he kept imagining how his life would be like with you.
Waking up beside you was the thing he looked forward to the most. When the sunrays peeked from closed curtains and cascaded down your slumbering form, a gentle and even breaths leaving your lips, a soft expression of rest - the thought of it filled his heart with warmth, a kind of warmth only you can evoke from him.
Waking up at your side on his bed always reminded him thst you were indeed there, and his. Soon, he'll be waking up beside you with a soft smile on his lips, a reminder that you were there, but now as his wife.
Childe never really considered him emotional. It was part of his discipline as a Harbinger never to let his emotions get the better of him. But when you stepped into the cathedral wearing the wedding dress you personally chose and had hidden from him for so long, a veil over your face but the soft smile still just as bright as the morning sun, it all came crashing down to him.
Childe wanted a lot of things in life. But what he wanted the most was to spend the rest of his life with you - providing for you, protecting you, comforting you, falling deeper in love with your every single day. All this he will do until his dying breath, and he knew you'd do the same.
His dream was walking towards him, never taking her eye off him as she approached the altar.
He can hear Paimon clapping and the Traveler reprimanding her for being a little too loud. He can hear Zhongli saying something to him but he couldn't understand a word he said. But he was too lost in his realization that you're going to marry him.
You chose him, a man with too many faults and imperfections.
Just as you arrived at the small steps leading towards the altar, the tears Childe has been trying to hold back streamed down his face, small hiccups escaping his lips.
You stared at him, worried. "Tartaglia, are you alright?"
Childe would try to formulate an answer but through his tears and hiccups, he couldn't make a single comprehensible word. His posture was regal and proper, as though he was trying to fool everyone that he wasn't crying.
How can you ask if he was alright? How can his heart handle how beautiful you looked right now?
"Excuse me, ( Your Name )," Zhongli interjected as he stepped beside Childe. "It seems that your soon to be husband needs a moment to collect himself. Please, excuse us."
Zhongli led Childe back to his room, and the Harbinger did not fight back. He was still crying even when the doors has closed behind him. Zhongli stood by the door, watching the Fatui sit on his bed, trying to stop himself from bawling.
Childe can feel guilt crawling up to him as he realized what he had done. What was supposed to the most perfect day, your most perfect day, was ruined because of him.
He was scared to think what you thought of him now. Were you resenting him for what happened? Did you still wish to marry him?
If only he had controlled his emotions much better. He shouldn't have let his joy break through him in tears.
"She was crying too, you know," Spoke Zhongli.
Childe raised his head to look at the former Archon. "Huh?"
"Your bride, she - " He smiled at him. " - she was crying too. She's happy to be marrying you."
Childe can feel his heart hammering against his chest in delight at what he said.
"So don't keep her waiting."
Childe bawled his eyes out once more when the words - "I do," - left your lips.
     AETHER
                 When his sister was taken from him, Aether was a lost and wandering soul in Teyvat with the sole purpose of finding her.
              Throughout his journey, he met different people from different regions. He learned their values and cultures, he grew to love the world he used to be a stranger to, he was able to utilize different sorts of Visions, and yet, despite all of this, Aether was lonely. Paimon - bless her pure soul - tried her best to keep his spirits and bring a smile to his face (he assumed she too felt the hollowness inside of him) but it was all futile as he often find himself seeking solitude and gazing out in an open field wondering where his twin could be and how she was fairing on her own.
                He will let the cool breeze comfort him, but all it left was a searing kiss of reality that his search might have been all for naught. That very concept his mind was conjured haunted him in his every waking days. Is he still journeying through Teyvat and reaching out to all Archons with a solid purpose? Was he no wasting his time looking high and low for someone who could not be looking at the sky as he?
                     "And what if she is?"
                                     Your words is what got his attention. Aether met you in the evening when the stars and the moon was absent from the skies. He sat on a fallen log overlooking the city of Mondstadt, alone and cold. Paimon has insisted in him accompanying him, but he had snuck away before she can chase after him. He needed to be alone with his thoughts, and with the scarce time he has for himself, he has to make the most of every night that comes.
                 Lumine was in his mind, and worry was gnashing its teeth at him. He was deep in his own world, sinking to the hands of his tragic thoughts, that he did not hear footsteps trekking the hillock he was at. Nor did he realize he was speaking his own worries in the air, eyes distant and staring blankly at nothing.
       "What if she's not even looking for me?" That's what he remembered saying that time.
                                       Then you made your presence known with an answer that refuted his initial thought. He whirled his head to the side, wide eyes with surprise. You stood next to him with a faint smile, hands behind your back and the moon slowly peeking from the shroud of clouds. A light in the darkness, the moon was. And so you were you to him.
                "Sorry," You apologized, sheepishly giving him a smile as you rubbed the back of your neck. "I didn't mean to interrupt. You were speaking out loud and-and I just had a feeling I needed to say something." You took in a deep breath, and Aether found the pink dusting your cheeks adorable. "I . . . I'll just go now - "
              Aether didn't regret asking you to stay.
                                   Before you came to his life, Aether did not know how much he was dwelling in the own hell he made. His inner tribulations, his worries, his insecurities - he only took notice the torture he was putting on himself when you keep saving him from his own mind.
                   At first, all he thought of you was a precious friend - someone he leaned on and entrusted with everything, whether it be secrets or help with his quests. He told you about his past, his twin, how exactly he was different from the people of Teyvat, how he and sister fought an unknown god, how she slipped from his fingers when he reached out for her, how much he wanted her back. He was terrified of what you may think of him when he told you these things, but to his surprise, all you did was wrap him in your arms and comforted him.
                                      Along with Paimon, you were his dearest friend.
             But as time passed, the longer you accompany him and Paimon in his travels, he noticed something strange. The way his heart skipped a beat when you smile at him, how he can't keep his eyes off you when you laugh at one of his tales, how his heart hammered ceaselessly when you press a chaste kiss on his cheek, the relief that seeps in his system when he sees you unscathed from a battle, how irritated he becomes when someone makes an offense against you, the joy that seizes him when he listens to you talking about something you loved, and how much he adored it when you scold him for being a little too reckless in fighting.
                           Aether, despite being older than he seems, did not know what to make of what he was feeling. It was strange, a good kind of strange - the kind of feeling that makes him feel like he was floating in the sky. All he thought of it was an overwhelming adoration for a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.
                  It wasn't until Paimon pointed it out did he realize what he was feeling for you.
                                           Upon learning his feelings for you, Aether couldn't sleep for many nights. He was plagued with the desires of his heart and his insecurities. It was like falling back to the same hellish pattern before you came along.
              He was in this world for one reason only - to find his twin. And when he does - and he fucking will - he will depart from here with her and continue their travels. Leaving you was the last thing he wanted. He couldn't bear the thought of it. It felt like leaving a piece of him behind in Teyvat, a hole in the shape of your name.
                            The solution he had for this is directly confessing to you. Of course, the blond was a nervous wreck when he approached you and asked for a moment of your time. Paimon knew of his plan and wandered away for the time being, wanting to give the two of your privacy.
              If you did not share the same feelings as he, he can already imagine the pain he will have to deal with, but it'll be much easier to leave. At least then he knows you won't be as hurt as he thought once he takes his leave. He never entertained the idea of you reciprocating his feelings. It would be foolish to - surely you can't find anything appealing with someone like him ; to which you rendered him speechless and a bumbling mess when you pressed your lips against his when he was in the middle of his confession.
                                 Aether shouldn't be this happy with you. He loved you too much to see you hurt when he tells you that he must leave. He was not welcome in this world, he was an outsider, a being not under the authority or influence of any Archons.
     But still, he spent months loving you, caring for you, doing anything to come back to you no matter what is thrown at him. He loved having you in his arms when you slept, he loved watching the stars with you at night, he loved you even with the inevitable arguments you two have - Aether was utterly and hopeless in love with you.
                     And thus, he decided to tell you what will happen after he finds his sister.
                      He knew he would be heart broken in seeing you cry, but it hurt more to see you smile at to him so genuinely and embraced him, saying, "You used to doubt you'll ever find your sister. It broke my heart everyday seeing you so hopeless, and I - " You composed yourself, shaking your head as your tried to gather your thoughts. " - now look at you," You cupped his cheek, the corners of your eyes wrinkling as your smile broadened. "I always knew the day will come when you have to leave me. When you told me you weren't from this world, I knew then I'll have to let go of you someday. But until that day comes - Aether - "
               What a shock it came to him when you got down on one knee and presented to him a glittering ring - there was unconditional love and hope in your eyes. It was like looking back at his reflection. "Marry me, Aether, let me make you happy for the rest of the days we still have remaining until you leave."
                                   Aether can never say no to you.
To his surprise, Master Diluc has already agreed to host your wedding at Dawn Winery. Aether was puzzled as to why he seemed unsurprised by the news of his engagement with you, and the Claymore wielding male answered, "( Your Name ) came to me for help when she planned to propose to you."
Aether knew Diluc, as much as possible, wanted to be alone. A lone wolf, he was. But with gratitude for what he has done, he asked him to be his best man. Diluc was startled by this requests but obliged. The red head might not show it but he was immensely flattered by Aether asking him to be his best now (and now time to subtly show it off to Kaeya).
At the day of the wedding, contrary to what he thought he would feel, Aether woke up with his an ache in his chest. He found himself looking out the window of his room, torn between his happiness and sorrow.
In a few hours, Aether will be able to adorn a ring on your finger, symbolizing your promises with one another. He shall be granted the sole blessing of calling your his wife. It was something he was looking forward to - seeing you in your wedding dress, watching as you walk down the aisle -
But Aether's mind kept drifting back to his sister - She would have wanted to be here. He thought.
Aether felt like he was committing a crime when he decided to take a walk just hours before his wedding. But he needed to clear his mind. Lumine never left his mind. He always thought that they would always be there for one another, or at least in big moments like this.
And yet she was still nowhere to be seen.
Is she still alive? Have I been wasting time? Is she still in danger? Is she lost in Teyvat as well?
"Didn't expect to run into you here."
His body tensed when he heard your voice, and he twirled around only to have his breath taken away.
You stood before him in the white dress he had longed to see ever since you proposed to him. He thought he would see a frown on your face, dismayed for his impromptu walk, but you wore a soft smile - a soft and understanding smile.
Aether did know what to say to you. He just stared at you, overwhelmed.
He opened his mouth to speak but he couldn't say anything. His shoulders slumped, and he sighed.
You approached him and kissed his cheek. He hummed in delight, eyes closing. "I hope you're not having second thoughts on marrying me." You told him.
Aether was quick to respond. He took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles. He looked into your eyes with affirming hues, "There is nothing I'm more sure of than marrying you."
You beamed at him. Seeing your face brighten up is always a beautiful sight for Aether, and it was enough for him to feel enlightened in the midst of his internal crisis.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Of course you can already tell something is bothering him. Aether shook his head. He has already ruined a small part of what is supposed to be a perfect day, he can't risk another mistake.
"I'm not going to push you to tell me anything." You stated.
Aether smiled. "Thank you." He replied. He gazed at you for a little while, taking you in. "Why are you out here anyway? And in your wedding dress too."
Your eyes widened and you looked down to assess his evaluation. "Oh Archons," You mewled. "I forgot I was wearing this." You let out a groan. "Great, now my surprise is ruined. I won't be able to see you cry when you see me walk down the aisle."
He laughed a little. "But still happy as ever to see you." He said. "So why are you outside?"
"Just . . . " You began, and Aether can detect a hint of nervousness in your voice. " . . . picking some flowers."
"I thought we already ordered flowers." Aether thought, frowning. "Did someone forget to deliver the flowers? I can call someone if - "
"No, I just wanted to pick some flowers, randomly. Like how you wanted to take a walk, randomly."
He looked at you with hesitant eyes. He didn't believe you. There was something hidden behind your motive to be out here. But like how you didn't press him with what was the problem, he did the same for you.
"Okay," He breathed out. "What flowers did you pick then?"
Aether's breath hitched when you pulled out a bundle of Windwheel Asters and several more flowers that was all too familiar with him.
He stared at the white flowers that combined with your Windwheel Asters, the very flowers that he remembered adorned his sister's hair.
"Aether? Aether are you okay?"
He stared at you with glistening eyes, his heart blossoming with adoration and gratitude. Without even meaning to, you managed to make everything alright.
"Yeah," He smiled at you. "I'm okay."
Aether thought when he stood at the altar, he would have Diluc trying to soothe his nerves as his insecurities slowly sink in his mind. But it didn't happen. Diluc merely stood by him with a relaxed expression, glancing at him every now and then.
"You don't look nervous at all." Diluc remarked.
Aether chuckled. "This is the only decision I fully know I won't regret."
Aether felt like it was his first time seeing you in your wedding dress. His heart was filled with the brim with utmost joy, but what caught his attention was the bouquet of flowers in your hands.
You told him before that you will have roses as your bouquet, but to his surprise, he can see the Windwheel Asters and the white flowers that reminded him of his sister.
His emotions was all over the place. He had no idea how he could look so calm. Somehow he managed to hold himself together until you finally stood before him.
When you stared at him behind the veil, he couldn't take it anymore. You were too perfect. How could he be so blessed with you?
Tears sprung to his eyes when you reached out to take his hands in yours. He retracted one of them to rub his arm across his eyes, wiping away the wetness that streamed to his face.
Why am I crying like a child in my wedding? Stop it!
He couldn't.
He only cried harder when you leaned forward, removed his arm from his eyes, made him look into your vibrant hues, to give a small peck on his lips - "You're okay, Aether."
     BENNETT
                 Bennett understood his bad luck more than anyone. He had lived with and through it his entire life he graced the surface of the earth. It was almost pitiful to see the boy smiling ever so brightly as misfortune after misfortune comes hurtling his way, but to him? It was an everyday and normal occurrence, nothing he hasn't seen or experienced before. His spirits has never let their roaring flame vanish, however, and if it had not been for his bad luck, everyone would have been drawn to his warm, welcoming, affable, and cheerful soul.
                                 But just because he was used to the constant array of debacle thrown his way, doesn't mean there were never days where he won't be upset over everything it brought to his life, and others as well, and wonder how long it will take until his unluckiness will lead him back to the very situation he was rescued from when he was a mere baby.
          He forgot how long it was when he had experienced something good, miraculously so. The only time he can recall being so was when he encountered the Honorary Knight, convened with them as a temporary adventure team, and found a treasure chest containing items he has only dreamed of in his sleep deep within a domain. However, that was many moons ago, and nothing has ever compared to it ever since. The moment he departed from the Honorary Knight, his bad luck came instantly to bite him.
                 It was far too long ago. Sometimes, Bennett wondered if that would be the only good thing that can happen to him in his lifetime, and thank the Archons he was wrong because the very worst day that came upon him is a day he will never exchange for another - the day he met you. When it was raining, thunder in the distance, lightning striking trees and soil, his bruised and bleeding form hardly covered under a small and flimsy tent, you graced him with your presence, and an umbrella which you used to cover both of you.
                                    He had never stopped admiring you ever since. His eyes always followed you, wide and shining. He remembered the warmth in his chest and the redness tinting his cheeks when you brought him to your abode and treated his wounds with care gentler than the Deaconess. When he told you what happened to him, he anticipated to he shoved out of the house immediately and have your front door slammed on his face, but you did not. When he warned you about his curse, telling you how you will be affected when you spend a little too much time with him, the look of fright did not cross your visage and you even insisted that he not leave your house until you were sure he was capable of moving without pain, even if you had instantly been affected by his unluckiness (you pricked your finger quite badly when you were stitching a deep wound of his. He always felt guilty for that and has not stopped offering his apologies whenever it pricks the corner of his mind).
                   Other than the team of adventurers who had saved him from peril when he was a baby, it was difficult to find someone who will stay with him, through bad times and more of it. One cannot simply imagine and comprehend the confusion and happiness that seized him when he found out you were spending more and more time with him, not out pity but because you enjoy his company (which was weird, but he'll take it).
                              You possessed no Vision, but Bennett never saw you in an inferior light. In fact, it impressed him how you can hold yourself without the aid of any power. Enemies took a little longer to eradicate but ultimately, you were always successful. He held you in high regard, and very much like a certain blond traveler, the poor boy thought it was merely friendship and respect he felt towards you. After all, wouldn't a friend accompany him in his adventures no matter what disappointing or gratifying the outcome is? Wouldn't a friend prepare meals for him before he goes off on a solo expedition? Wouldn't a friend stay up late up waiting for him to return after? Wouldn't a friend welcome him by the entrance of Mondstadt upon his arrival? Wouldn't a friend give him butterflies in his stomach? Wouldn't a friend make his heart pound in a way
                  It had taken the Traveler and his floating companion for Bennett to learn about how exactly he was feeling for you.
           He liked you, and not in the way he liked the traveler or Razor - he liked liked you.
                               When he realized about his feelings, Bennett nearly short circuit every time you go near him. His face flush a rich color of vermillion, his confident posture stripped down to a coy and uncertain stance, his eyes darted and never meeting yours for too long, a sheepish smile painted over his brims - Bennett had never felt this way before. It was foreign to him - liking someone - and it was worse for him because you were his one of his few friends (you, Razor, the Traveler and their floating friend), and having you withdraw from him if you ever learned his feelings frightened him more than any Ruin Guard could.
    He didn't bother entertaining the idea of you returning his feelings. With his bad luck, it was bound to end in a rejection, and he didn't believe he had the heart to accept the hurt that would come.
                 Bennett tried to keep his feeling a secret, he really, genuinely, did. He locked his feelings for you in a box and stowed away somewhere behind his mind. But it didn't take you too long to catch on. Bennett's theatrics wasn't as impenetrable as he originally thought because there was no other reason for you to corner him in a street in Mondstadt after he tried to avoid crossing paths with you, and admit your feelings to him.
                                  "( Your Name )," Stuttered Bennett, eyes darting to the side to avoid your eyes as he pressed his back against the wall behind him. You gazed at him, a tint of red over your cheek.
                 Archon, how are you so adorable?
                   "Uh, hi," He greeted meekly, as he rubbed the back of his head. "I-I was just about to leave for an adventure - "
                               "Bennett," You spoke, and he froze at the tone of your voice.
                   He looked at you properly, gulping. Shy eyes, shy smile, shy, shy, shy - and yet somehow, Bennett thought the worse - that you found out about his feelings and was about to turn him down.
          He almost got down on his knees and press his hands together in a praying position, head bowed, and beg to keep your friendship. It didn't matter if you did not share his feelings. You were more important than his stupid feelings. He can deal with the hurt of rejection that will soon to come, but losing you completely? Can he even come to terms with that?
                                But before he can do such humiliating display, you leaned in and pressed a kiss on his cheek,
                  It was almost too good to be true, and with someone like him, Bennett had to take a moment to comprehend what has happened. His feelings were reciprocated, opposite of what should have been considering his dilemma. How can this be? He was sure your friendship would be put to an end when you learn about what he felt for you. How did you even know that he liked you? Has he been too obvious? Surely not (he was). Perhaps you were merely toying with him, discovering his feelings and choosing to use it as a way to alleviate your boredom -
                                           Horror struck him when he processed the message behind his doubt. How could he think so little of you? Someone as sweet and kind as you would be repulsed by the intention of the actions he thought you were presenting to him. Prideful as this may sound, Bennett believed he knew you enough to know you were sincere in everything you do.
            But even if both your feelings are revealed to be mutual, the two of you agreed to wait until a certain age before forming a romantic relationship. The two of you are young and there are a lot more the world can offer outside Mondstadt. There are countless of opportunities to grow and be mature, to be able to have a set of qualities to take of one another.
                            But that didn't mean the two of you easily managed to hold back showcasing your favor for the other. Bennett will always find himself exchanging secret glances and smile with you whenever a third party joins in on your adventure. He would stick by your side in situations he think could potentially lead you to a major injury. He will attempt (and fail, unfortunately) to whip you up with something delicious when he has free time. And you did the same to him.
                  With you, there was never a time where his heart wasn't beating against his chest. He can't stop himself from bounding recklessly through his adventures whenever you accompany him, although he will still keep a close eye on you just in case something bad happens to you (but it's always him who ends up injured).
                                              But what he liked the most are the kisses the two of you share. Short, chaste, and shy - whether it be behind closed doors, when others are looking away, or when the two of you set of on an adventure.
            Bennett would lay in his bed with a smile on his face, his thundering heart preventing him from sleeping. He'll often find himself burying his face against his pillow, grinning from ear to ear.
                         This smile was different. This wasn't smile that he usually wore, the kind of smile that persevered through hardship after another. No, it was the sort of smile that was too carefree and too full of utmost joy, no worries or doubts in his heart. Everyday he always woke up to the excitement of adventure, but now, the excitement of it and seeing you once again always had him brimming with the want for the night to be over with so he can chase after his dreams with you. Chasing his dreams with you, what a life.
      His world is full of a bad luck, but he thanked the Archons for giving him someone he can depend on in the troubling waters he always he seem to drown in.
Bennett, embarrassing it may sound, often laid on his bed imagining about marrying you.
He can see himself making a fool out of himself when he gets down on one knee and propose to you. It'll be set in the most beautiful place he discovered in one of his adventure, somewhere quiet. Like maybe on top of a mountain overseeing a vast field.
Because of his bad luck, he'll try to prepare for every outcome. To be very sure everything will be saved, he made sure he created a plan B for his plan A, a plan C for his plan B, and so on, and so forth.
He can imagine himself fumbling over his words, blushing a bright red was made prominent because of his white hair, holding a bunch of hand picked flowers a little too tightly, sweat pouring from his face, his suit and hair a little ruffled -
If you say yes (spoiler alert, you will), he will most probably go haywire with shock and happiness, causing him to drop the ring down the mountain, and the two of you will spend quite some time looking for it. But in the end, you two will find it somewhere deep underground or deep underwater (to which you will ask help to retrieve) (Bennett offered to go down to get the ring but you can’t take any chances) and then you can start planning the wedding.
If Bennett had backup plans for his proposal, then expect there'll be much more backups with your wedding. He needed this day to be perfect for you, and his bad luck won't stop him from providing it for you. Even if he had to fight through horde after horde of Hilichurls (please stop him when he does, he definitely will do that for you), making you happy is his top priority.
Bennett will be extremely anxious the day before the wedding. He'll be pacing around his room, and has half a mind of running over to your place and spending the night there to reassure himself that you still want to marry him, and that you’re absolutely sure you want to spend the rest of your life with him. It will be Razor - who the Traveler spent hours teaching the basic information of the role of Best Man to - who will calm his nerves. He’ll stop Bennett from reaching your house and carry him back to his own, and giving him a lecture (he did his best) like the best man he was.
Was he having second thoughts on marrying you? No way! He will just be nervous about how the wedding will go. With his bad luck, something horrible is bound to happen.
At the day of the wedding, Bennett can imagine himself constantly seeking reassurance from his best man.
"What if I mess up?" Questions Bennett to Razor, anxious hands fiddling with his tie.
"Messing up is . . . normal." Razor will reassure him, but Bennett will shake his head.
“But it's me. When I mess up, it's always . . . catastrophic . . . ”
Bennett hoped that at least for his wedding way, everything will go smoothly. A perfect day, for you and for him. He won't embarrass you or himself. He won't forget the rings, he won't have his clothes tucked inside out, he will not spill any food or drinks on himself or on his guests, there will be no random Hilichurl attacks - none of that.
He really hoped for the Archons to spare him from his bad luck. 
He will be able to stand by the altar with confidence and a smile, waiting for you to walk down the aisle.
As Bennett is consumed with his thoughts, his eyes drew to the small table at the side of his bed and caught sight of the picture of the two of you perched on the surface. It was a picture you took with a kamera after one of his adventures. The two of you smiling happily as he showcased the loot of vegetables and wheat he gathered in numerous luxurious chests. It was good day, that picture was. He found more resources than usual. Of course, he learned from the Traveler that most of the chest they found contained treasures but hey, vegetables are better than nothing, right?
Bennett stared at your smiling face and can feel the heat creep on his cheeks as he imagined you in a pretty, white wedding dress, smiling at him so shyly and cute - oh, Archons, help him. May them have mercy on him. Of course, you always looked pretty to him - so, so pretty - but in your wedding day? Archons, he doesn't know if he can take that. It'll be too much for his big heart.
He can only imagine how your wedding will play out, but there is one thing he was sure of and that is that he will burst into tears once he laid his eyes upon you - and not the soft cry most men do in their wedding, oh, not at all like that. His heart is too big with too much love for you, and too soft to control his emotions properly.
Bennett will cry (bawl, actually), his tears of joy coming in streams, and it was loud enough for strangers to think he was grieving over a deceased loved one. He was hiccupping and sobbing, will probably be holding on to his vest tightly as if his entire lifeline depended on the pressure of how he crumpled the fabric. He hoped that in that time, Razor or the Traveler will lend him a hand and calm him down before he can ruin his own wedding.
Bennett, as he happily imagined that fateful day to come in the future (spoilers again, it will) did not feel a tear slip from the corner of his eye as he drifted off to a pleasant slumber with a beaming smile.
The boy absolutely adores you.
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brellhal96 · 3 years
Text
It’s... pretty complicated
Summary: College dramas in the life of a third-year student who decides to start, not a relationship, but something with a renowned professor.
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Okay the GIF is not very related to the subject, but this man dressed in black has me at his feet.
Notes: This is quite cliché actually, but what does it matter, it is worth dreaming. It is planned to be written in several chapters, so the first is mostly to give context to the story, I hope you like it.
I base myself on Loki's physique, although I will mention Tom Hiddleston as the star of the scene, but my perfect image is in the essence of Loki in a black suit.
I study a completely different area to numbers and physics, don't be rigorous with me on the subject, only I think it an excellent area to show Loki's personality, I do not know why.
I will show at the beginning of the series a somewhat possessive relationship, but with the outcome I promise to shape this. It should be noted that not in a toxic sense.
I didn't mention a specific university, country, or geographic location.ical location.
It's the first time I've written anything obscene, I hope you like it.
Precautions: 18+, mention of fear or anxiety, unprotected sex, a relationship at the beginning somewhat possessive.
CHAPTER 1
I NEVER SAID I WASN'T INTERESTED.
Notes: Okay this chapter is kind of weird honestly, I didn't really put so much emphasis on the obscene, but I feel like it ended up fine, I hope you like it.
Word count: 6389
You had gotten used to the hot weather of the beginning of the year, in fact you had always preferred that climate. You spent the summer with your parents on a beach, sometimes you missed them too much, but your father's job and the university of your dreams were right at the opposite ends of the country. The first year was quite complicated, but then you got used to living alone, you actually lived two blocks from campus so your bike was the perfect means of transportation.
You made some friends here, Jared had become your best friend, his bond of trust scared you a bit as you could tell him anything without fear, but it was quite comforting to have someone like that by your side.
You had earned a scholarship for academic excellence, your studies were your priority since you were a child and you loved that. The only unpleasant thing about this scholarship is that it restricted your choice of teachers in half of your subjects since you were supposed to be with “teachers of excellence”.
When you compared your subject strip to Jared and Diane, they only shared one class the three of them together, Diane another, and Jared two more. In the end you weren't going to be alone in all the classes so that calmed you a little, studying physics wasn't so complicated, it was easy for you, but socializing wasn't much for you.
You went to building C, your first class was analytical mechanics and later thermodynamics, the teacher in the second was assigned to you by the institute, a Doctor Hiddleston, you've never heard of him, you just hoped it wasn't a headache. Your mechanics teacher was a love and with the first class you knew it was going to be one of your favorite subjects.
When you finished you went to your other class, you sat right in the middle in the third row, several were in groups apparently with their friends from previous years. You took your computer and got ready to take notes. Suddenly the door closed tightly and everyone sat a little scared.
A very good-looking man came in, tall, thin and dressed completely in black, I honestly he caused you curiosity why for some reason you felt that you had seen him before.
Without seeing the class began to write on the board quickly "I am Professor Tom Hiddleston and I will teach the subject of Thermodynamics" His voice was strong and deep and you immediately recognized it. You frowned when you remembered last year's science fair, you won first place in the area of electromagnetism prototypes against a fourth-year kid, which made you feel completely proud, yet two of the judges had not been what we call nice to the two.
When you remembered Professor Hiddleston's deep look at you that day, the judges asked random questions to the fourth-year kid and you, but apparently your future thermodynamics teacher was one of those who enjoyed making students nervous with difficult questions. His sidekick on that occasion was your freshman professor, analytic geometry, Professor Scott Lawford a fucking genius, you had cried with his subject, but passed with an A +.
They both enjoyed seeing the nerves invading you and your opponent, whispering to each other with their answers. At one point Professor Hiddleston asked you and you remember perfectly well that when you finished speaking he only looked at you and smiled mockingly for then wrote something on his ballot. In the end you won by three points of the total vote and the fourth year boy, currently fifth, became your friend, both came to the same conclusion, the two teachers were crazy.
He began to write down on the board the evaluation and the issues that are always mentioned at the beginning of the year. For a moment you panicked when he wrote that one of the exams was oral, you could not imagine the martyrdom he would create just to get a passing grade.
He took 20 minutes to explain and let us out to start the next class with the course. When you came out unintentionally you stared at him while he was erasing the blackboard, but apparently your look was uncomfortable enough for him that for a second he turn and he stared at you, you rushed out of the classroom after that. When you told Jared about this future journey that you had to go through you felt immense despair, but then you remembered that, if you could the previous years with teachers equal or worse to him, this was only one step more.
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The first three weeks of class were pretty normal, you made two more friends and breakfast in the cafeteria with Jared and Diane made you forget about the pressures of school, but just the moment you felt like you were fitting in perfectly with your new year, the thermodynamics class became strange.
The classes with Tom were very pleasant, he was kinder than his body language showed, only he was certainly of a very volatile character, there were days when he seemed angry and others when he seemed happy, it was weird, but it was even weirder that you were attracted to him.
Your previous class had lasted longer than expected and the teacher extended 5 minutes out of her time which translates into being late for thermodynamics. You panicked when you saw the locked door of the classroom, wondered if it was better not to enter the class and pretend a headache straight to the infirmary, but in the end you breathed for a second and you'd decided get ready to knock the door.
“Can I help you with something?"You had never noticed that he was quite tall, it was the first time you were quite close to him.
"Sorry my mechanics teacher accidentally spread...”
"You were able to leave her class to get to mine on time, don't you think?"His gaze was quite penetrating up close.
“I really sorry, won't happen again,” Your hands were shaking, but in reality, not for fear, but his presence so formal, so rigid and secure made you feel strangely attracted to him, when you thought that, you actually invaded the shame, how do you fall in love of a teacher as strange as him.
He just opened the door and walked aside to let you through. "I asked them to work in pairs, look for your partner and ask him to explain what I already explain”
On the board were written several formulas, you wondered how he managed in 7 minutes to score so much.
You asked several guys over there, but apparently the whole damn world already had a partner, in the end you decided to do it alone, you just hoped he wouldn't flunk you for it. A girl explained the instructions to you, apparently you had to pick up one of the sheets that the professor had placed on the desk and solve it with the formulas on the blackboard, you even had to sit up to the top rows because all the other seats were occupied.
You started cursing internally while taking one of the paper sheets from the desk. "Who are you going to work with?"The professor asked you without seeing you while making notes with a rather nice pen of Indian ink.
"I'll do it alone, I already asked ... ”
"Don't you understand what couples are?"He interrupted you and this time he gave you a rather intimidating gaze.
"Yes, but apparently all my companions already have one and I figured I could do it alone then" Your hands trembled again with the paper sheet between them.
"Who doesn't have a partner?"he looked back at his papers and yelled at the whole group. It was pretty funny for you because he himself proved you were right, no one was missing a partner. When he looked up and saw that no one answered he saw you again and then looked at the blackboard behind his back.
"Well, I'll do it with you then" He got up and brought a chair that was at the end of the living room for you right next to his desk.
For a moment you wanted to run out of there, you knew you shouldn't make a mistake or say something stupid because otherwise you'd die trying.
"Get your stuff and start working it out, just let me finish a few things. To be fair with your colleagues and with you I will let you do it alone and answer any doubts you have, because obviously I know how this is solved, but I also consider that it is a lot of work for one person, do you agree?" His gaze became a little kinder.
"Yes, thank you,” you smiled faintly, but felt an internal shock as he winked at you and continued to write with his fine pen. You sat right in the corner of his desk, they were just three problems but they really left you with little desire to live. The first one, you felt was quite easy to solve, even at one point you felt the professor's gaze on you when you were so focused on your operations.
"Don't you have any doubts?"His eyebrows were puckered and his gaze was no longer mocking but rather with bona fide interests.
"No, not really, well I go in the second exercise, possibly I do" You smiled as you watched your operations with inner pride.
"Can I see?"He extended his hand to give him the leaves you had carried until then. You gave them to him, just hoping he'd tell you you had everything terribly wrong.
As he watched your leaves you watched him, he was quite attractive now that you saw him without fear that he would not let you into class, his hair was dark and apparently a lover of black to wear, his eyes were cute and quite tender while they examined your answers.
"Go on, I don't want to confuse you” He put the paper sheets on the desk and saw you with a small smile on your lips as a sign that you were on the right track.
Just 10 minutes before the class ended you finished all three exercises, you had only asked him one question and it was about whether it was a 4 or a 9 in a formula that wrote the board, so you felt pretty happy that you did it alone.
"Ready" You smiled broadly, you were the first to finish and the only one who had done it alone.
"Are you sure?”
"Yeah, well, I hope it's not a 0 at the end of the day,” you laughed to yourself, and in the end you wondered if you had thought about it or said it.
”Then let's see " took his pen and began to review your work. You froze when you saw that he framed something in your results, but he didn't tell you anything. "Well, I really didn't expect less from the winner of last year's science fair, maybe punctuality, but what does it matter”
You smiled when you saw that your grade was an A, only that he kept the papers, apparently he had to register them on his lists or something. Just as you were about to get up to leave, he asked you to stay at the end of class.
You sat back in the seats vacated by the peers that have already gone, but for a second, remembered what you said I didn't expected less from the winner of the science fair last year, he remembered you, you know that he remembered you, sonreíste for yourself when thinking that.
When the whole room was half empty, he started putting away his things. ”Come with me, " he said as he walked out with a firm and fast pace, so much so that you had to walk faster than normal. You wondered where they were going, it was pretty strange since you'd never been through the labs where it went.
“I've noticed that you're pretty good in the area, actually amazing, I even remember your answers about your prototype against the fourth year kid, former student of mine, you were much better than his” he opened the door of one of the labs and with his arm gave you a signal to enter.
“Thank you, I actually always dreamed of doing this, " you said as you walked into the lab, quite big, you assumed they were the ones that grad boys used.
"I want to propose you something” You sat at one of the practice tables and he leaned with both hands on his desk. "Would you like to work with me on a project I have?, is related to thermodynamics”
For a second you saw him with an expression of if he was joking with you or if he was serious and he seemed to read your mind.
"It's seriously, I'm working on a model related to the second law" he approached you sitting in the chair in front of yours.
"I would love to then, but I do not know how I could be of help”
"In many things" he smiled
For a moment you wondered why suddenly the man who seemed bitter about life was being so kind to you.
“You do not have to tell me your answer now, I will send you the files I have of my progress by mail if you like and you could think about it”
"Sure, I will" You smiled and he too, for a moment everything was silent, somewhat uncomfortable to be honest but his look no longer caused you fear, but somehow attracted you to him.
It was quite strange because they both got up at the same time so you were right next to him and his height difference was no small one.
"Well I think I have to go, I'll see you the next class”
"Wait, I wanted to give you something that I kept here," he went to the back cellar of the lab and came back with a bun that said first place. "I'm sorry, I was supposed to give it to you that day you won, but I honestly didn't remember where I left it, so this belongs to you.”
When you saw the bun with your name on it, you were very happy. "I thought they didn't give anything," you laughed as you put it in your backpack.
"Yeah, excuse me, I tend to be a little clueless about those things.”
"No problem," you smiled and shyly walked out of the room.
The weekend you started to question why Professor Hiddleston made you feel so nervous, now you knew that you were one of his star students, to the degree that you could be his future colleague, but why couldn't you even hold his gaze? you know, for a moment you thought about flatly refusing his project if you couldn't even see it in the eyes, but after you thought about it, you figured it would possibly be a good idea, you could even learn more things by being his apprentice.
It was Monday's class, you didn't know why, but you were in the lab on Friday, apparently you were doing an experiment on the tables with some microscopes on. ”You did it " There was Professor Hiddleston next to you, his command was on your waist and suddenly he began to approach you to kiss you on the lips and it was even stranger because it was quite nice for you, to reciprocate.
Right then you woke up, you're fucking in love with your thermodynamics professor, "Excellent Y / N, that's all that was missing."
Monday's class didn't even look him in the eye and you sat up to the top rows, you felt pretty uncomfortable with yourself thinking of a teacher that way.
"Y / N wait" Just when class ended you rushed to pack your things and run out of the classroom, but it still didn't work. "Did you think about what I told you?"The professor actually looked pretty excited about his own project.
"Yes, I just wondered if the meetings or the times we work could be on Fridays, that would make things a lot easier for me" You said without seeing the professor in the eyes, it was somewhat uncomfortable after that strange dream of the weekend.
"Sure, then it's a deal,” he held out his hand as if they were going to close the deal with a strong squeeze.
"Deal" You shook his hand and when you saw him you felt that his look was not only kind, but he was actually trying to tell you something.
The classes went on normally, you felt a little excited being sincere that you went to work with the professor who was now at the same time your impossible love, but you had to be careful for him not to notice. They agreed to meet after your last class at the lab on Fridays, at 15:00 hours. You knew it wasn't right, but from the moment you were attracted to the professor every time you saw him, you started using lip gloss and curling your hair.
For several weeks they worked on their project, now you understood their sudden mood swings, it was quite frustrating to feel that you had advanced in something and then realized that something did not fit with the rest of the procedure.
One Friday when you arrived he was making notes on the blackboard, had taken off his coat and tie and folded the sleeves of his shirt in a way that looked spectacularly attractive.
"Y / N pass," he smiled when he saw you in the driveway. "Did you read the documents I sent you?"On Wednesday he sent you a very interesting document about some theories related to the project.
"Yes, I just made some notes from some parts that I honestly didn't understand" You left your backpack in one of the buckets at the ends of the room " I'm not very good at some things”
"Neither do I, but don't worry,” he winked at you and you felt like you were melting internally.
For an hour they tried to solve one of the most difficult equations within the theory they chose, it was quite fun as sometimes you would collapse and sometimes he, but both tried to cheer up so as not to erase the whole slate of despair.
”Ready," you said when you finally managed to solve the equation.
”You did it!" saw the board quite surprised and so did you. "Your boyfriend is lucky" For a second he himself kept quiet knowing that the last thing he said wasn't quite right.
"Boyfriend? that species is extinct within my social radar" You laughed trying to keep him from feeling uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that." He saw you trying to analyze your expression.
"Well sometimes the unconscious makes us a bad move" You smiled broadly "besides I guess the lucky one is his girlfriend" you returned the same move trying to tempt the ground.
"It's also an extinct species to me," he smiled, but he avoid your gaze.
"Well, then we're free to go looking for it.”
"I thought you had a boyfriend," he said as he started writing the equation on the board on the computer.
"Why?"you sat at the desk, watching him write on the computer quite nervous.
"Nothing else" You knew he was lying to you.
"Nothing else?”
"Well you're a very cute and smart girl, I figured a lot of guys are interested in you.” He didn't even look you in the eye when he said that.
”I'm not really interested in anyone" You saw through the window as you answered" well, only in someone, but it's impossible” Oh God, now the unconscious had made the wrong move to you talking too much.
”Nothing is impossible" he looked up and seemed to know what you meant.
"Well, it's just that if I just had a sign I could know it's not impossible" You started fiddling with your wrist bracelet nervously.
"How what a sign?" he stopped writing and stood right in front of you, you were still sitting at the desk.
"I don't know" You felt the adrenaline start to accelerate your pulse as it approached you.
"A date, a kiss, or even invite you to work on a project?" He placed his hands on the edge of the desk rubbing your legs.
”Yes, that sounds good " Clearly you knew what he meant, his look and yours were fixed, you appreciated that the door was closed and it was the third level, the windows were facing nowhere, so no one could see what was happening.
"Well sometimes it is necessary that you also give signals, don't you think?" His gaze and yours really seemed to be completely fixed.
"Yeah, that sounds fair." You started breathing deeper.
Slowly, he tempting the ground, began to approach, for a moment you knew that this was not right, that it was not right, but fuck, your body wanted it as you have no idea. Slowly he started to kiss you, he was nice and actually a very good kisser, then he started to get a little rougher, but both you and he knew you wanted him, his arm held your hip and your hands hugged his neck holding on to him.
"Dr. Hiddleston, I bring the copies you ordered." Someone knocked on the door and immediately the feeling of running out overwhelmed you.
"Sure, I'm coming" saw you and he wiped the lip gloss you had left on him. You packed your stuff fast and when I was going to close the door again you walked out without seeing him in the face.
"Until Monday" You started walking fast.
"Y / N wait" was the last thing you heard when you started going down the stairs two at a time.
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You, Diane and Jared planned to go out that weekend, you weren't feeling well, but you also didn't want to leave them after you had planned this for days.
"Hey, you look pale," Jared saw you worried as they waited for food at the mall.
"Do you feel well Y/N?" Diane picked up a lock of your hair as you looked at nothingness.
”I'm a little worried," you said looking at the table now  "Can I ask for some advice?”
”You know you can Y/N" Jared saw you even more worried.
"What should I do if I like someone I shouldn't like?" Dress up Jared.
"Does he have a girlfriend or is he a fuck boy?" Diane asked pretty quickly.
"None, it's just...”
”Then I see no reason why you shouldn't like it."
”It's not that, but, he's like, I don't know how to say this" You didn't want to tell them that he was your thermodynamics professor, you would never actually do it. "I met him some time ago in the cinema, he's cute and kind to me, but he's older than me” you lied a little about it.
"How much are we talking about?”
"14 years, I think" you've never actually asked him about his age, but on one occasion while you were typing on his computer you saw his college professor card that had all his data on it by the way.
”Look at that, my best friend a whole league men" Diane actually got excited, started asking you what he was like and if you had already had something with him which was pretty strange, but Jared's expression wasn't really emotional.
"I can only tell you to be very careful Y/N" Jared took your hand " Do not let the pretty words lead you down a path other than the one you seek. And well, if he like you and you like him, I see no problem”
The weekend you thought about the kiss his gave, it was quite nice really nice, you had only had three boyfriends before and honestly their kiss had been better than all the previous ones. The problem was what were you going to do on Monday when you see him? Well that day you decided to wear a pink dress that your mother given you at Christmas, you never wore this type of clothes so it was going to be something quite new, you combed your hair differently even, you knew that if you were at least going to talk to him and he told you that it was a mistake he would miss something great.
Your legs started shaking when you walked into the classsroom, you sat as usual in the third row, Tom wasn't there yet, so that calmed you down a little more. You noticed that in this class you had not made friends, so to avoid the panic of seeing him in the eyes when he entered in the classroom you preferred to start talking to the girl who always sat next to you.
"He took a while, didn't it?" you smiled so you didn't look crazy.
"Yes something, but for me no problem" the girl smiled as well
"My name is Y / N, and you?”
"Meghan, you're going with the teacher Fox in relativity, aren't you?”
"Yeah, you too?”
"No but my boyfriend does, I've seen you come out of there when I expect it”
"Well, I don't really know many people.”
"Well, college is exhausting," they both smiled, actually Meghan seemed like a pretty nice girl.
"Speaking of the king of Rome, he's arrive." When she said that and you heard the door shut, fear invaded you, so you didn't look at him. You just focused on your computer monitor, but you knew he saw you.
The class felt as if it had lasted 20 minutes and not an hour and a half, the desire to leave was enough.
"Hey if you want we could have breakfast together today, apparently you don't have class now either, do you?" Meghan waited for you to put your things away.
"Of course I would love to and no, I don't have class” You fully appreciated that Meghan will not leave you in the classroom, without looking at Tom you went out with your new friend, you felt that had been a bit cruel, but the nerves were worse.
At the end of the day you didn't do anything about it and neither did Wednesday and apparently Tom wasn't interested in asking you to stay and talk either, or so it seemed.
On Friday you returned to the usual routine with the usual clothes and hairstyle, honestly you no longer felt in the mood to waste time on those things. The class went on normally until at one point you crossed eyes with him, it was a bit strange, but you pretended you didn't care and ignored him after a few seconds. At the same time in the classes you talked with Meghan, even going out to eat the cafeteria.
"Y/N can we talk for a second?"Back to being alone with him in the classroom at the end, Meghan said goodbye and whispered you in your ear that she will waiting for you in the cafeteria.
"Hey I didn't want to overdo you, let alone bother you, I apologize for it and also if you no longer want to work on the project I will fully understand it” His face seemed that he was really sorry about last week.
"I really don't know what to say." You were completely honest.
"I'm sorry I should have known that you're not interested in me at all and it's okay”
"I never said I wasn't interested”
He calmly checked the hallway and closed the classroom door
"You ran away, that tells me otherwise”
"Yes, but that's was I panicked, I didn't want to bother you”
"For God's sake, that doesn't matter anymore.”
"It does matter and quite”
"You want to talk about this then?”
"Yeah, I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner”
"So am I, excuse me too” he hesitated for a second when he finally asked," Do you want to continue with the project?”
"Of course I do" You got a little closer to him.
"See you at 15: 00 then" He too approached and carefully kissed your hand to leave the classroom.
This time you arrived early, your teacher had let them out forty minutes earlier, so you decided to be somewhat punctual to your appointment. You read while you waited sitting on the chairs in the hallway, when you saw him come you smiled and he when saw you, smiled too.
"I'm sorry, I didn't think you were going to arrive so early” he closed the door carefully and just as he turned around you gave him a pretty long kiss and he reciprocated broadly.
"I'm sorry" You saw that he was actually happy about it "I think last time we couldn't finish it"
He held your face in his hands for a few seconds "I like you Y/N, I know what's not right, I know this not right, but fuck, I like you a lot”
”And you me" He kissed you again, this time a little rough, it seemed that he wanted to make his statement clear. ”I really wanted to kiss you in front of everybody on Monday in that cute dress."
"If you like it I can bring it more days," you winked.
After that day working on the project was much more fun, and even in the classes they shared gazes from time to time, it felt good, had passed enough time that you did not date someone. On the other hand, sometimes fear invaded you, you knew that if anyone found out about whatever it was you and Tom had, it was the end of your scholarship and even your college life.
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"Do you like lobster?"He asked you while making notes on the computer and you cleaned the board.
"I've never eaten it"
“What? How can you live without eating lobster in your life?" He came up to you and, holding you by the waist, turned you towards him.
"Well, we're not all millionaires so I can't buy lobster." You inadvertently smeared chalk in his hair when you touched him.
"Then I'll buy you lobster dinner. What do you say?" He caressed your face as he waited for your answer
"Mmmm, when?”
"Tomorrow, I'd wait a few blocks from here, you don't want anyone to see you getting in my car, do you?”
"I'd love for them to, but yes, send me the instructions and I'll see you there then.”
"Why would you love it?"He kissed your neck calmly.
"That they might see that you are mine" You smiled mockingly.
"Well, I mean you're mine too, so it would be a fair deal.”
For weeks now both were texting, it was interesting to see that teachers also have a life apart from teaching.
You dressed up, not so formal or so casual for the occasion, it was the first date you had, it felt a little strange, you wore on a low-cut black dress, something daring for your tastes, but it was the most suitable thing you found. When you arrived at the rendezvous point, you immediately identified his car.
“I can't believe how perfect you are, " he gave you a sweet kiss while you fixed your skirt so it wouldn't wrinkle. He came as always very formal.
The dinner was perfect, you did not know that the lobster tasted that way, you liked it a lot, the place was beautiful, the waiters very attentive and well, talking with Tom about things that were not thermodynamics was pleasant. In the end he invited you to his apartment, which you sincerely hoped was not just with the intention of kissing you.
When they arrived his apartment looked like a palace, it was very nice, very cozy, his kitchen was comfortable enough to cook anything, your apartment was too small for a kitchen like him.
He told you that he should make some calls, that you could explore the house if you wanted and you took his word, it was very nice place, in the hallway to the bedroom had his medals and recognitions, you did not know that he studied chemistry too, he's a genius. When you finished walking, you looked in the fridge for something to drink.
"Want some wine?"Because of its height it was much easier to reach the shelves above where it seemed to have the bottles of wine.
”I would love to"
He served two glasses in half, it was red wine with a very good smell, you knew it because your father was a wine lover, so much so that he had even taken you to vineyards to see how they did it.
"May I?"You asked, pointing out if you could play something on the record player in the room.
“Clear”
When yo put the pen on the record a fairly quiet song began to play, he took the cup out of your hand and put it on the ledge next to his, placed his hand on your waist and with the other he held your hand, you placed yours on his neck.
“Would you laugh if I told you it's the first time I've danced with someone? well, that someone who is not my father invites me to dance”
"Really?”
"Yeah, well I had a boyfriend that I took out to dance, that's why it doesn't count,” you laughed as you remembered that.
"Well, what an idiot, you are beautiful Y/N and I will dance with you as many times as possible”
You felt a lot of peace in his arms, he was much stronger than you, that was clear, but even just seeing him in the eyes you felt that everything was going to be okay. You weren't very good at dancing, but he gave you the confidence to even make a mistake.
For a moment he began to kiss you slowly, slowly while the music echoed to both of us, then he began to kiss your neck which in a way tickled you, but at the same time made you want it with all your soul. After a few seconds as his hands ran through your hips and yours his hair whispered into his ear: "Take me to the bedroom" you stared at him and he understood completely.
He carried you so easily that it seemed that you did not weigh anything, carefully put you in bed and wait for you reaction.
"For God's sake, I want to make you mine from the moment I saw you at that fucking science fair contest.”
"Well now is your time" You bit your lip slightly.
He knew you were too small in comparison to him, so he was very careful when touch you, first he started by your dress, very slowly unbuttoning it. He look you in your underwear the moment he managed to take it off you. On the other hand, you, in a somewhat desperate way, started to take off his belt.
"No, until I say so" Their gaze turned a bit dark, they could see the desire for each other in your eyes.
He started kissing your crotch carefully, you moaned slightly, you had no intimate contact with anyone for a long time, so you somehow didn't remember how glorious this feels. He kept kissing getting closer to your entrance, the heat began to flood your body, after walking your thighs he began to lick your entrance a little desperate, but at the same time touching the exact points to make you see stars. He put two fingers inside you and immediately your back curled, when he entered the third in you pulled his hair as you began to feel the heat in your stomach increase more and more.
”Tom, please, I'm almost there" you moaned as your eyesight began to blur completely.
His fingers began to move faster and for an instant you felt like the heat flooded your whole body, it was the first time that someone managed to make you come with oral sex. You pulled his hair back, but it didn't seem to bother him, even taking it as a way to know where or not to continue. Your legs clenched at the feeling and he proudly began to undress. When you saw it you felt that you really needed to have he inside you, his axis was quite large, more than you imagined and its well worked body made you feel needed.
"Fuck me like there's no tomorrow," you whispered as you recovered from the first round.
You felt the desire going between your legs, again you were so wet just to imagine he inside you.
"You know that if I hurt you or if you want me to stop I will do it immediately” He placed on you and spread your legs with his knee.
You just nodded, he was staring at you as he began to insert his shaft into you, it hurt a bit, tears started running down your cheeks and Tom's face looked worried, "Do you want me to stop?”
"No!" To drown the groans you hid your face on his shoulder as he began to take a rhythm in his onslaught, at one point the pain ceased and he took a stronger rhythm, one after another, you felt as your body began to attach quite well to its axis, to the degree that you glued more your hips to his, demanding more. When he noticed it one of his hands took the headboard and with the other placed one of your legs on his shoulder to give you what you needed. At some point he also started moaning, loud and deep, which made you feel even more excited in the middle of it all.
”Fuck, why are you so perfect?" he whispered into your ear as you began to feel your orgasm was about to bloom.
"Make me yours, only yours" you moaned almost without strength.
"You are only mine" His onslaught, although it seemed that you could not, began to be faster and deeper, you knew that sitting was going to be a challenge for you in the following days.
To drown your groans he gave you a very deep kiss, his tongue did all the work in the kiss, honestly for you it was a sea of sensations that would end you unconscious of pleasure. Just as they both reached the climax he saw you in the eyes and felt you fade away in sobs and moans.
”I'm almost there" he said as he clung even more to you and your legs began to close with pleasure.
"Me too" Didn't know if you understood what you meant, but at least you were trying.
"Let me feel you" His words were your release and his, you felt the heat of his seed inside you and it was enough for your orgasm to reach the necessary point of feeling a deep warmth throughout your body. The veins on her neck were too marked and you could also feel her breathing so heavy as she enjoyed her release.
He was over you for several minutes, the only thing you could hear in the room was his busy, deep breaths. You hugged him fondly and he hugged you, when he came out of you you felt a pretty weird void, but fuck, it was the best sex you'd ever had in your life.
After his breaths managed to take a moderate course he saw you in the eyes as he groomed your hair carefully.
”I didn't want to be too brusque the first time" His hand caressed your stomach, internally you told yourself that if this was not brusque you didn't imagine the next time how sore you would end up, but it's something that really excited you, in every way.
"We'll have many more times to do it" You smiled and planted a kiss on his lips. "Many more" smiled in the middle of the kiss which made you adore him even more.
Thanks for readign me 
111 notes · View notes
hes-writer · 4 years
Text
Reign (3)
Summary: harry sees something he's supposed to have
Warnings:  angst in the beginning, angst in the middle, angst near the end
Word Count: 4881 words
A/N: @devilinbetweenthesheet-s : dont cheat and don’t do drugs, kids
Tarnish (1)  .  Halo (2)  . Reign (3) . Trial (4) .
Errors (5) . Ruin (6) . Crumble (7)
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A writer that cannot write is dead.
When one loses the ability to tell their stories and anecdotes through the mere action of swirling words together to create an imaginable atmosphere of real-world fantasy; they are dead. A writer recovering from the mundane and mediocre way of penning experiences to bounce back into what they used to be is difficult. It is easier to free fall and drown in the depths of despair. The moment thoughts and rumination fog up to form a blurry image of conviction is a warning sign, blaring at the back of their minds and sometimes even in their faces.
Harry is a writer--or, he was. Picking up the pen to style the words lingering in his head used to be as easy as blinking; quick and natural. Now, the words claw at the swell of his throat, trying to spit an adjective to describe the way he felt. It was at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be lathed into existence. It did not matter if his cognition was mingled with various chemicals aimed to be able to feel happiness.
He was sober but he had trouble placing his finger on why it was so strenuous to narrate his feelings throughout the breakup. Being high or drunk was never the answer for him. Weed made him tired and made him have a case of cottonmouth. Harry learned from a young age that he should only ever engage with alcohol if he was in a mindset and setting that catered to increase existing good vibes. He thought that maybe he was in an odd phase of perceiving the opposite, and so he intoxicated himself enough to understand that it didn’t matter if he was soaked head-to-toe in sobriety or whizzed out of his mind by the amber liquid swirling in the glass in his hand. But that wasn’t the circumstance. It also didn’t matter if he was grasping his favourite pen to write--because it was comfortable--or tapping his calloused thumbs against his phone keypad. Hell, it didn’t make a difference when he sat down and prepared his typewriter to indulge in a headspace of vintage songwriting. Maybe that would help.
It didn’t.
He had stories to tell. Everything was laid out in misty overcast yet Harry’s great ideas morphed into gentle mistakes, harsh mistakes and discoveries that had him almost ripping his hair out of the roots of his scalp. When he felt the wave of his ocean-thoughts rise and peek where the sand shifted, his fingers were ready to move and discern for the eyes to see. But with each fritter, he couldn’t seem to get even two paragraphs in to decide that it was utter shit.
Harry was old enough to understand that slumping on the wet sand was a part of life. Sometimes picking up a fistful of grains and throwing them back to the sea was a great way to release frustration. But it seemed like this plunge of his ability to write was a hole of quicksand. He was trying his hardest to displace himself as swiftly as possible but it only made his scenario worse. The muddy sand clung unto his legs like sticky glue, heftier with each effort to leave. He wanted to move on. He wanted to forget everything that occurred in the past four years. Harry wanted to erase Y/N from his life because she wasn’t around anymore to bring those memories back to sparkly existence.
What he needed to do was nestle himself into a certain depth, calmly, in order to pull a limb out and ensure that his progress on the so-called ‘moving on’ did not have any drawbacks. Until then, he cannot possibly create songs that he was well-known for if he wasn’t patient enough.
He wanted so badly to tell his side of the story. Harry craved to think as clearly as he did when he told Y/N about his plan for their future. Admitting to his feelings was a hard route. Sure, he can be vulnerable but it took a great deal of convincing on his part to immerse himself in the deepest parts of his brain to understand why he felt the way he did. He usually had the means of songwriting to help him out but that obviously wasn’t working out that good for him.
___
Harry was packing the rest of Y/N’s things in boxes to be picked up later in the afternoon. He was annoyed at first at how she depended on him to fold her clothes properly instead of doing the bundle of the work herself. But he guessed that she didn’t want to be around him for longer than she had to. To be frank, he also did not want to indulge in what might turn into an argument if they spoke about the reason for their breakup. It was just a bit confusing because he had an urge to still want her around despite their less than likely situation.
Torture. If Harry had one chance to describe the way he felt right now; it was torture. With every nook of Y/N’s side of the closet emptying into brown, cardboard boxes--he physically how much she had integrated her life with his. How much space she took up in his life. How his clothes and her clothes were so interchanged between them that he couldn’t decide if the gray pull-over was actually his or hers. And in a moment of selfishness did he tuck it away for his safe-keeping despite seeing the tag imprinted on the inside; a shop that he hadn’t set foot in so it was a guarantee that it was hers.
Her scent embedded in the thin threads of each fabric wafted to his nose; each with a new wave of memories engulfing his senses as if each piece garnered a specific scent tailored to a specific event. Like her sunflower sundress--it smelled of fresh flowers as if the print was a scratch and sniff that released a fragrance. Or their DIY-ed tie-dye shirt of pastel blue and cotton candy pink. It was a matching piece made out of the cheap dye and a simple white tee but it was theirs. Things like these made Harry want to yell in frustration because every time he thought that he was completely over her-- Y/N appears out of visibly nowhere and towers over him.
Seeing her for the first time in days was a breath of relief. She looked fine. Glowing even, and Harry did not know what to make of it. As sadistic as it sounded, he was expecting dry-stained tears and a birds’ nest of hair trampling her head. Instead, Y/N was dressed for comfort in her baggy jeans and an even looser sweater covering her body. Her lips were drawn in a thin line, giving him a nod in greeting as he gestured to the boxes littering the floor.
Harry offered to help--it was the least he could do. And somehow, silence protruded from the tense atmosphere, begging to be cut by a knife yielded through their voices nipping at each others’ emotions.
“Let go of my damn hand,” Y/N stated, her hard stare could turn Harry into stone. He just wanted her to listen before she left.
He shook his head in denial of her request, tightening his grip further. “No. Listen to me, Y/N,”
“What do you possibly have to say that will change anything between us?”
And maybe it was her fault for assuming that he wanted to fix things. The sliver of hope thinly dressed behind closed lids enabled her to think that maybe he was going to say that he wanted to make things work again. That he had broken up with Camille and he realized what a stupid he had done throwing away everything they built up to for the past four years for an affair that couldn’t quench the thirst of his desire to have a family.
Harry sighed, a shadow of mischievous smirk painted on his lips. But maybe it was Y/N’s sight in deception because she could never see Harry as anything other than sweet and kind Harry incapable of hurting a fly.
“What? I don’t intend to. We’re broken. We’re beyond fixing,”
The hitch in her breath was as sharp as the stare he was searing her with. Forcing her to please understand that this would be their last conversation--if time and fate were on their side. “You’re not something I would take the time to handle,”
“Stop saying shit you don’t mean, Harry” Y/N rolled her eyes in annoyance. His macho act was barely an act and more like a stage curtain easily pushed with a flick of a wrist.
“Things I don’t mean?”
“You heard me,” She crossed her arms over his chest in defence, leaning against the closed trunk. “Say what you will but our love was real. Don’t make me seem like I’m crazy. Don’t tell me that I’m a mistake,” Her voice was filled with confidence because she knew the affection that Harry diffused.
The cradles of his palm at the small of her back when they had to walk past a crowd. The subtle graze of the back of his fingers caressing the bare skin of her arm. Kisses pressed to her temple as she read a novel and swirling fingertips twirling her hair. These were acts of love that happened nearly every day in their relationship. A routine that felt different if it wasn’t done to or with each other.
Exasperatedly, Harry felt the same itching crawling up his spine. His ego ballooning into a delicate size and one more word from Y/N’s lush lips would have him on his hands and knees, begging for her back.
“This, us, was a fuckin’ mistake,” Harry’s accent thunked heavily in her cochlea, practically spitting the words out of his mouth as if they were poisonous. Ringed fingers gesticulated the space between them to emphasize how much of a misunderstanding they truly were. “I should’ve known the second things went further than planned,”
Y/N felt her heart drop to her full stomach. The feeling so nauseating that she instinctively palmed her belly over the fabric to protect her little baby from his harsh words. Even though they weren’t directed towards anyone but Y/N. She didn’t think that their unborn child deserved scrutiny from their own father.
“You don’t mean that, Harry.”
Because how could he? Not when he emulated sincerity through his syrupy voice. Not when he spent hours loving on her tummy and spoke to it like he would if she were pregnant. Especially not when every kiss from him felt like a buzz of electricity coursing through her veins because he was the main distributor of her happiness.
Harry truly was an asshole for making her hope and wonder of what the future held when he was unsure himself. He did want a family. That was a statement in all its truthfulness. What he wasn’t sure about was if he wanted a family with Y/N. He could have a family; kids of his own in his own time. But Y/N didn’t have to necessarily be the mother. So was he besotted with the concept of family and marriage regardless of who it was with?
“But I do,”
The rain started drizzling in frequent spurts, planting a fat droplet on her cheek that could be argued as a tear escaping Y/N’s eye. It hurt a lot to hear that from him. The man of her dreams blatantly denying each sugary word because his plans had changed.
“You’re a goddamn mistake is what you are,’
“Why are you. . .saying all these things to me? Are you trying to hurt me?” The shakiness of Y/N’s tone had Harry swallowing his words down his strep throat.
He shook his head in disagreement, “No, I’m not. ‘M just tryna make you see my side. So you can understand,” His head dipped to the side, softening his tone yet stern as though he was speaking to a child.
And that was one of the reasons why Y/N didn’t believe his all-too stoic demeanour about her. Harry was great at making others see his side regardless of how much in the wrong he was.
So why was he struggling?
___
Needless to say, he wasn’t very respectful towards Y/N any other time afterwards. He had unblocked her number months after blocking it at one point and demanded answers that he didn’t have the right to know. In retrospect, Harry was embarrassed by the way he acted. He did cheat on her and suddenly he was a saint because she moved on quicker than he thought she would? Unbelievable.
In his defence, the night he became the drunk caller was the same night he fought with Camille about having children; having a family they can call their own. Ever since that discussion did Harry notice a dispatch in their relationship. It was like they were aware of a missing link that had disappeared in their connection, but neither one of them wanted to be the one to bring it up. Harry supposed that now that Camille knew what he wanted (and vice versa)--she was feeling the pressure of giving in to him. Don’t get him wrong, Harry absolutely wanted a family and he thought that Camille was the right partner to build it with. However, he couldn’t help the voice at the back of his mind slyly whispering that he had forced her to give him what he wanted for the sake of saving their failing relationship.
___
It had been two and a half years since he mildly and miserably accepted that his dream family was being erased like a pencil on paper.
The first year; Harry still clung to the obscure hope that Camille might change her mind of having kids. Many fights sprouted between the two of them concluding in them sleeping at different places for weeks on end until they eventually crawled back to each other like an invisible string. The second-year; Harry brought up the idea of adoption. It was a hard choice for him as he desperately wanted kids of his own. A boy that looked like him and his love or a little girl that smiled at him with deep dimples mirroring his own.
And Harry liked to think that he was just on the edge of convincing Camille to consider the option when his tour was scheduled a few months after. A new dealbreaker was that Harry wasn’t going to be around much to watch and nurture the little bub they might’ve adopted. It was a sudden intrusion to think about since Harry was good with kids. He knew that. That was why he had three godchildren of his own. But what hit him the most was how sure Camille sounded when she yelled at him about leaving for months at a time and returning for a bit, only to leave again. Now, Harry hadn’t considered that part. But surely he will be ready to choose between a family and his career, right? When the time comes, he thought.
___
It pained Harry to admit that his relationship with Camille was dwindling down the drain. The knowledge that there was no future--the one that Harry envisioned--for them was getting more and more real each passing day. 
A late-night grocery trip was one of the many examples that had Harry rethinking his actions for the past couple of years. It was the time period where night owls arose and barely any customers littered the aisles. Still, Harry made sure to keep his hoodie up to shield his face.
Camille had an early flight to Milan in just a few hours later that day and she wanted to purchase some things to bring with her; in case they weren’t available in the country. So here they were at three in the morning.
As Camille walked ahead of him in her sweatpants and a plain tee, Harry couldn’t help but let his eyes flicker to the clothing section to his right The first-floor space was decorated with pastel blues and pinks; a stroller was displayed with a price would not make a dent in Harry’s bank account.
“‘M just gonna grab somethin’ over here, Cam,” Harry muttered as he pointed a thumb behind him. She nodded, “Meet me at the produce? Need to get you some fruits,”
Harry felt guilt thudding his chest because although he was losing feelings he thought were written in stone, Camille appeared to care for him the same way she always had.
He walked to the brightly lit area, puffing his cheek as a cute onesie caught his eye, “You’re so golden” with the word ‘golden’ printed in a shiny, yellow glimmer. He smiled at the thought of baby angel cooing at him as he tickled her tummy. Harry passed by the shoes next, picking up a pair barely the size of his palm. His mind flashed back to a conversation with Y/N years ago,
___
“I’m just saying,” Y/N took a bite of a pickle she held on her left hand, “Baby shoes have no business being that expensive,”
Harry chuckled from his place across the counter, “Babies need shoes too, love,’
She grabbed her fork and stabbed a piece of strawberry from her bowl, “I didn’t say the don’t need shoes. For tiny things, they could at least be a bit cheaper,”
Harry watched as she munched on a pickle on her left and took a bite of a strawberry on the other. His tongue poked out in a gag at the odd combination, resorting in glare and a huff from Y/N.
“You should try it instead of judging me,’
“No, thank you. Watching you eat it is enough for me,’
___
Harry craned his head at each aisle, hoping to find Camille and to distract himself from the endless Y/N related thoughts that somehow returned to his brain. He needed his girlfriend to remind him that he cannot just knock on Y/N’s door and ask her about the baby she has. If he could hold them for a bit because his baby fever was through the roof.
Locating the produce section, Harry whistled mindlessly as he searched for a blonde head of hair, failing to notice that there was a basket in front of his feet. He had kicked it, jolting him out of his thoughts in a hurry.
A man with brown hair sporting an outfit similar to his (sweats and a hoodie), chuckled at him as Harry leaned down to retrieve the gray basket filled with a jar of pickles.
“Sorry man,” Harry muttered, holding the handles up for the man to carry.
“It’s alright, it happens,” The guy had not seen his face yet, too busy inspecting the carton of strawberries.
He decided to continue the conversation, “Strawberries and pickles? Odd combo, huh,” Harry was briefly reminded of Y/N’s obsession with the two rival products.
“Yeah, m’lady loves ‘em. Had a craving in the middle of the night. She’s in the car right now with our lil bubba,”
Harry’s heart fluttered at the mention of a baby. He needed to get his rails in check. He cannot keep having his heart bursting with adoration at the mere mention of a baby.
“I’m Connor,” He said, finally facing Harry after choosing the best carton.
“I'm--,”
“Harry!” Both men turned their heads towards Camille carrying a basket full fruits and green veggies, “Got you some stuff to blend for your smoothies,”
Connor squinted his eyes at the couple and Harry internally screamed because he knew that he and Camille had been recognized. “Harry. Yeah, I know you,” The sudden hostility made Harry confused as Connor grasped his basket from him in a harsh manner, heading towards the checkout.
The rest of the time inside the store was filled with curiosities as Harry carried the paper bags towards the car, barely recognizing Connor’s figure heading towards his own vehicle. Luckily, Harry has parked only a few slots away and could inconspicuously watch Connor and his so-called ‘lady’.
Except, Camille was ushering him to hurry up as she still had a few things to pack at home.
___
On most days, Harry was used to waking up alone. Used to feeling the shiver crawling up his side, used to seeing the indent left by Camille’s body instead of her. He had grown familiar with the sudden cast of loneliness blanketing him thicker than the duvet on top of his body.
The early morning trip to the store had tired him out, paired with the overthinking of the man named ‘Connor’ that flipped his attitude towards him quicker than he could kick the grey basket with his feet. He flopped back to the mattress after washing his face and brushing his teeth. It was noon when he jolted out of bed again at the sound of his front door opening, voices filling the empty space that had Harry running towards the foyer in case there was an intruder.
His tense shoulders sagged in relief when he caught sight of his mum and Gemma, “Oh, s’just you guys,”
Both women looked up at him at the top of the stairs, “You forgot we were coming over for the weekend, didn’t you?” Gemma teased as she headed to the living room. Harry followed, walking down the stairs.
He scratched the nape of his neck nervously, “No. . . “
“Can you help me reach this, H?” Anne called out from the kitchen.
His mum gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, “Yes, you did, by the way. Slept through the whole morning. Good thing Camille let us in before she left,”
At the sound of a bag crumpling and squeals echoing the hollow house, Harry scrunched his nose in curiosity, briskly walking where Gemm was currently holding up tiny baby clothes in front of her. “Who’s that for?” He thought of any possible friends that had had a baby recently but couldn’t recall any.
She immediately stuffed the clothing into the bag, nervously placing a hand on her chest, “Gosh, Harry, you scared me,” Her brows went high on her forehead in alarm, sharing a look with her mum trailing behind Harry.
“Well? Did I miss something?”
“Oh, it’s for one of my friends,”
Harry contemplated on his next words, “D-did you know that Y/N had a baby?” It couldn’t be right if his sister and mum knew about his exes baby and not him, right? That’s just plain odd to still be in touch with an ex's family. His brows furrowed in suspicion as both of them declined his question.
“What? Nooo,”
Awkward silence filtered through the air as Anne sipped water from her mug and Harry was slowly putting the pieces together. Gemme dove to the centre of the couch where her phone was when it rang suddenly, surprising all three of them. Harry was quicker, eyeing his mum and sister and inspecting the emoji substituting as a name before sliding his thumb to answer it.
"Hey, Gems! Are you coming to the park? We're waiting for you,”
Harry felt his heart drop to his stomach just as the phone nearly slipped from his clutch. That voice. He could recognize it from everywhere having spent nearly every morning for the four years that they were together hearing it lulling him out of sleep. It was Y/N’s voice calling his sister who was looking extremely anxious.
He tapped on the ‘mute’ button, “What does she mean ‘we’?”
“Nothing! Give me my phone back,” Gemma tried to reach for the device but Harry held it high beyond her reach.
“I saw the picture you sent me. I told you that you and Anne didn’t have to get me anything,” Harry felt dizzy. “Connor and I got some things a few weeks ago. But that skirt is so adorable!”
One part of him was glad to hear her voice. In fact, Harry found himself smiling too, despite what he just heard. Connor. “Harry, won’t be there right? Hello? Have I been talking to myself this whole time,” Y/N laughed a little; she had a habit of talking endlessly when she was excited. It made Harry more sombre, letting his guards down and his arm in reach for Gemma to grasp.
“Hey! I'm just organizing the clothes, see you soon!" Gemma jammed her finger on the red end call, anxiously glancing at her brother, piecing everything together.
“Who's Connor?" Could it be that the Connor he met last night was the same as Y/N’s? The one who bought pickles and strawberries--one of Y/N favourite food combinations? He mentioned that he had a little girl and Y/N just called to meet his sister and his mum at the park. And baby clothes?
Anne and Gemma looked at each other, quickly deciding that for the benefit of Harry that they should tell him at least a little bit. He was looking as if he was going insane, especially with his bed head pointing his hair out in different directions.
“He’s Y/N’s partner”
Harry gulped, reeling his thoughts to a halt, “Partner? And the baby is...?” The last bit of confirmation was all he needed to lash his feelings out.
“Is... waiting for us at the park! Sorry H gotta go,” Gemma was swift enough to gather all the bags without having Harry chase after her. His state of confusion and shock was enough to render him partially speechless and immobile.
“Hey wait!”
Anne garnered his attention, “Oh, Mrs. Q from next door wants me over for dinner. I’m sure wants to see us both. Why don’t you get ready, Harry?” Anne tugged his arm in the direction of the staircase pushing him to stumble up a couple of steps.
Harry was confused. He made the sounds of his footsteps creeping up the wooden stairs, hearing his mum quietly talking to Gemma on the phone, “Elmsway Park, you said? How long till you're home? I’m not sure how long I can keep him occupied,”
With that being said, Harry was out of his house, silently unlocking and locking the door. He was dressed in some basketball shorts and a graphic tee, slipping on the first pair of sneakers he had tossed aside. Harry jogged to his car, typing in the name of the park on his phones’ GPS. The route was only a few minutes away so he decided to take his time, gathering his scattered thoughts along the way.
He parked just beside the playground scouting the trees around the premises. Harry decided that it was the perfect day. The sun was out. It wasn’t too humid and the birds were chirping on the branches. He could see why the playground was full of children running around in delight. The green patches of grass were partially filled with picnic blankets and food to be shared. Families laughed with each other as one in particular caught his eye.
It made him smile at first, seeing just how adorable the couple was with their baby. He exited the car, making sure to lock the vehicle. With his hands jammed deep in the pockets of his shorts, Harry could feel the tethered grass rubbing against his legs. As he got closer, he couldn’t help the twinge of familiarity spark in his chest, recognizing that what he was staring at was Connor playfully chasing a little girl of about two-years-old as she squealed at how close he was getting to tagging her.
Harry stood by a tree, shielding him away from view. He tried to appear invisible without seeming too creepy. He knew that it was only a matter of seconds before his eyes found the woman he had been missing, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
Connor picked up the little girl in his arms, dotting pecks all over the girls’ cheeks, causing her to giggle and push his face away with a tiny palm. And there she was standing outside the raised platform of the playground, coming up to the both of them with a juice box in hand to hydrate the little angel. Connor turned his attention to Y/N, planting the most adoring kiss on her lips that made her smile so wide and the baby cover her eyes. They laughed together, looking like a picture-perfect family.
Gemma sat on the bench, flickering her gaze to the precious family in front of her and to the figure of her brother walking away from the scene. Her heart broke for Harry, and it cracked, even more, when he turned back. This time, watching Connor and Y/N cheer on baby angel to go down the slide. Both of them clapped their hands in enthusiasm as the girl hesitantly slid down the plastic slide. The smile on her face was infectious.
It almost made Harry smile, too.
___
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buckyownsmylife · 3 years
Text
daddy issues - chapter ix
The one where Ransom doesn’t feel ready to become a father, but he should have thought about it before sleeping with a complete stranger.
When Ransom’s latest one night stand lets him know that he’s going to become a father, he finds himself looking for the qualities he never believed to have so he can become the parent he never got to witness as a child.
for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.
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Y/N’s P.O.V.
“Can’t believe you invited Ransom Drysdale to come to the bar with us.” I rolled my eyes, already used to Ana’s whining, and turned away from the bar to scoop my surroundings. Still no sign of him. But it was early, and he’d warned me he probably wouldn’t be able to get here until at least 8pm, so really, I shouldn’t be looking for him like some sort of lovesick teenager.
I didn’t even know why I was so eager to see him again.
“He’s the father of my child, what did you expect me to do?” That finally had Ana looking away from her shots to glance at my body, perfectly squeezed in one of my tightest dresses, showing just enough cleavage and legs to make it one of my favorite get-lucky items in my wardrobe.
“You’re right. I keep forgetting the reason he’s in your life is because you’re pregnant. Seriously, I was about to offer you a shot and everything!” I shook my head, chuckling to myself at her ways. “I mean, can you blame me? It’s not like you’ve started showing or anything!”
Well, she had a point there. It was also the reason why 1) I had agreed to come out with her tonight and 2) chose this dress to wear. I had to take advantage of this body while it was still like this. Soon enough, I’d be too heavy to handle high heels or crowded pubs, not to mention the fact that I would most definitely not fit into these already uncomfortably tight outfits.
“I’ll give you that,” I grinned, tapping her hand teasingly, like I was trying to calm her down. “Sometimes I forget it too. What the fuck is he doing here?” I added as a familiar man made his way into the bar, Ana’s head whipping around to look at where I was staring at a blond, well-built guy, grinning widely at me. 
“Who’s that?” I was too busy grinding my teeth together as I watched him approach, but as he came closer and closer to where we were standing, I knew it was better to let her know who he was right off the bat, so she could help me try to keep him away.
“Steven fucking Rogers.” Ana’s exclamation of surprise was cut short by his arrival, his stupidly handsome face going from me to her as if he waited for a formal introduction. “What are you doing here, Rogers?” My usual irritation at his presence was intensified by a thousand, and I had no idea why. Even he seemed surprised, if his eyebrows raised high were any indication.
As much as I made sure to avoid him, I’d never had any reason to be outwardly aggressive towards him before.
“Same as you, minus the dress.” He made a show out of undressing me with his eyes, and I rolled mine while fighting off the urge to dry heave. Why do men just assume our choice in clothing has anything to do with what we actually intend to do for the evening?
“You know, for someone who’s a university professor, you can be pretty daft.” Unfortunately for me, my comment only made the man towering over my smaller frame start to laugh. “Excuse me, I’m gonna see if Ransom texted me,” I told Ana, while giving Steve a side-eye as I made my way towards the back of the bar. 
There was a door to some sort of patio, and so that’s where I went, breathing in relief at the absence of loud music, as the walls made it pretty muted back here. The nice, cold air of the evening was also a blessing. 
I looked at the purse on my shoulder and considered if I actually wanted to reach out to Ransom. It was only half past seven, there was a lot of time for him to get here and absolutely no reason for me to make myself look like a clingy girlfriend. I just needed an excuse to put some distance between Steve and I.
But just as I thought that my mission had been accomplished, the sounds of the bar became louder, indicating someone had opened the door and joined me out here. Lucky as I was, I could imagine who that person might be.
“C’mon, honey…” Steve’s voice had me freezing every single one of my muscles, as I refused to turn around and look at him. “You can’t pretend to be some innocent little thing while you’re wearing a dress like that.”
God, I wish I could puke. It was times like these where my pregnancy sickness didn’t appear and for once, I wanted it to. So maybe then I could paint his pretty face or at the very least, his expensive shoes in a pale yellow color and erase that smug look on his face.
I didn’t even have to look to know it was there.
Ransom’s P.O.V.
“You know, I could get used to seeing your skin this exposed…” I stopped dead on my tracks behind the couple I’d followed into the back exit. I’d looked for her everywhere ever since I arrived, she had to be there or I would start to think she had been playing a prank on me.
But seeing Y/N didn’t bring the relief I was expecting, because there was a man with her. And I didn’t know why the sight made my blood boil, but it did. They hadn’t noticed me yet, and so I stayed back in the shadows, contemplating just turning around and going back to my car, but I wanted to be sure of what was actually going on.
“It makes me think about what you’d look like naked.” I saw her shook her head, back still turned to the man behind her (and to me), but then his hands reached out and captured her waist, and I saw her flinch. 
“You look so hot, I want to take you right here in this back alley…”
“Steve, let me go.” At the sound of the disgust in her voice, I sprung into action, barely processing my own feelings or noticing how she was squirming in his hands as I hauled his body from hers. 
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I asked the guy, chest already heaving from anger. Beside me, Y/N looked scared, obviously startled at seeing me, and especially in this state. But I was too far gone to care.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” If I wasn’t so angry, maybe I would have considered the next words that fell from my lips. But my track record wasn’t the best, even in a calm mindset, so not even I believed I would have been able to hold back.
“I’m her man. She’s mine and she’s having my baby, so how about you back off?” A cold hand wrapped around my wrist had me snapping back into reality, looking down to see her staring at me with wide eyes. Oh, shit.
“What is he on about?” The man yelled, this time directing his words to Y/N, who very patiently turned to look at him and say, “Would you care to shut up?” Finally, seeing as he truly wasn’t going to have a chance with her, he decided to leave, huffing to himself the entire time.
“Y/N…” I started trying to explain myself, but she cut me off with a simple shake of her head.
“Not here, Ransom. Can you drive me home?” I closed my mouth and stared back at her, a feeling of defeat filling my chest before I finally nodded. It was the least I could do, after all.
We walked back into the bar together, and together we went to say goodbye to her friend, to whom she very quickly introduced me to. I could barely find it in me to smile at the woman, too busy beating myself up for my behavior tonight.
The drive back to her place was silent. I was wrecking my brain for what I could say to justify my behavior, but couldn’t find anything. I’d failed. I’d apologized to her only this morning, and now I’d already screwed up again.
Why should she want me around? I wasn’t even capable of being a good friend, much less an actual co-parent with her. How could she rely on me if I kept letting my most immature instincts take over?
I stopped the car in front of her building, still struggling with what to say, but to my surprise, she didn’t make any immediate movements towards leaving. It seemed as if she was lost in her thoughts too, and the idea that I might have the chance to change this gave me just the push I needed to say something.
“I’m sorry,” I spilled out, and her eyes darted up to meet mine, slightly wider than usual. “For overstepping. I-I don’t know what happened. I just saw you with him and you looked scared and I… God, you must hate me right now.”
I had to cover my face so I could concentrate, I could feel a headache coming. But just when all seemed lost,  I felt a warm hand over my thigh, squeezing the muscle, calling for my attention.
“It’s alright, Ransom. This is new for me too.” I didn’t know relief could feel this relaxing. Finally finding the courage to look her in the eyes again, I chanced a small smile that she quickly reciprocated, her hand still connecting us.
“I- It was actually really nice to hear your voice when I thought I’d have to scream for help. You did good, you were… you were very good back there. Thank you.” Silence fell between us once again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. For my part, I seemed to have forgotten how to speak. But she didn’t remain quiet for long.
“I just think we have to talk about what you said…” And that was all I needed to jump into explanation mode again.
“I know, I know. I don’t know why I said it. I didn’t mean it, obviously.” And to my surprise, she just smiled, not seeming bothered in the slightest by what I had done earlier that night.
“Believe it or not, I understand. I know I seem quick to jump into conclusions and that hasn’t been a good thing for our relationship so far… but this time I understand where you’re coming from.” It was a good thing that she did, I realized as she let go of my thigh to reach out for my hand instead. Because I had absolutely no idea why I’d said that she was mine. “But we do have to set some boundaries.”
I nodded, despite all of the confusing and conflicting emotions inside of me, starting with the feeling of warmth that appeared to be caused by her holding my hand. “You have to control yourself,” she continued, tone making it clear that she wanted me to give any sort of indication of my understanding of her words.
Deciding to hold back on the comment about how it was impossible, considering just the sight of her made me horny, I opted to go with a more mature, if slightly vulnerable response. “It’s not that easy… I don’t know how to keep those feelings in check. I’ve never felt them before.”
She nodded understandingly, and it didn’t seem patronizing. Before I could further clarify what I meant - or put my foot in my mouth, probably -  she filled in the blanks for me. “The feelings of protectiveness.” My mouth opened as I almost let the wrong thing escape, but I reeled it in at the last second.
“Yeah…” I trailed off. “Let’s go with that.” She frowned before her eyes widened in surprise, but then she started laughing, although shaking her head at my antics.
“You’re too much, Ransom Drysdale.” But instead of saying it in a disappointed tone, she just leaned over the console and hugged me, taking me by surprise. I didn’t even have the time to enjoy it, because in seconds she had leaned back and was unbuckling her seatbelt so she could leave.
“Hey,” I called out for her attention, wanting to get one last word in before she left. “You do look extremely hot in that little dress of yours. I didn’t have the opportunity to tell you before.” She narrowed her eyes at my words, but pursed her lips at the same time, like she was trying very hard not to laugh.
“As charming as that is, I think it’s a bit too late for you to try to flirt with me. I’m already carrying your child, aren’t I?” My smile dropped immediately, heart pounding in my chest with fear at her words.
“Shit, that’s not what I meant, I…” but she cleared all of my worries with a single cheeky wink, making me chuckle in relief as I slumped back against the driver’s seat.
“Thanks. I wanted to take advantage of my body while it’s still like this.” I watched as she gathered her stuff to leave, mind travelling to the future and imagining all of the changes she would go through because of this pregnancy.
I decided not to tell her that just the thought of her larger belly and heavier breasts was enough to get me hard. This version of her body, as hot as it was, wouldn’t be missed by me.
“Oh, hey,” she stopped just before closing the door, biting her lower lip as she pondered over something. “I have a doctor’s appointment scheduled for tomorrow. Would you like to come with me?”
The warm feeling that had appeared when she held my hand spread over my chest as I excitedly grinned at the woman before me, taking notice of the way she smiled back just as eagerly. I couldn’t help but notice there was a little bit of relief in the way she let her breathing escape after my affirmative answer, too.
“Text me the details?” She nodded.
“See you tomorrow, then.”
“See you tomorrow.”
I watched as she got safely inside her building, before finally allowing myself to think back on the events of the night - and particularly, on the way I felt seeing her in that dress, being touched by another man, and talking about the changes she feared she’d see in her body. One thing was perfectly clear to me then: being just friends with the mother of my child would be no easy task.
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number5theboy · 4 years
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Please elaborate on how Five could've turned into the most insufferable character to watch
Thanks for asking me to elaborate on this text post:
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@tessapercygranger​, @waywardd1​ and @margarita-umbrella​ also wanted to see a more detailed version of it, and I ended up writing an essay that’s longer than some of my actual academic essays. So buckle up.
WHY NUMBER FIVE SHOULD BE THE MOST OBNOXIOUS CHARACTER IN TV HISTORY, AND HOW HE MANAGES NOT TO BE
Number Five: The Concept That Could Go Horribly Wrong
Alright, let’s first look at Five in theory in an overarching way, without taking into account the execution of the show. The basic set-up of the character, of course, is being a 58-year-old consciousness in a teenager’s body, due to a miscalculation in time travel. Right off the bat, Five is bar none the most overpowered of the siblings; by the end of Season 2, no one has yet been able to defeat him in a fight. He is a master assassin – and not just any master assassin, but the best one there is – and a survival expert, able to do complex maths and physics without the aid of a calculator, shown to have knowledge of half a dozen languages, has very developed observational skills and, to top that all off, he can manipulate time and space to the point where he can literally erase events that happened and change the course of history. And Five knows how skilled he is; he is arrogant, self-assured and sarcastic, and his streak of goodness is buried deep inside. David Castañeda once described Five in an interview as 90% chocolate with a cherry in the middle, meaning that you have to get through a lot of darkness and bitterness before knowing there is a good core, and I think it’s an excellent metaphor. However, Five is also incredibly, fundamentally terrible at communicating with anyone, and, because he is the only one with time travel abilities, the character a lot of the actual plot - and the moving forward of it - centres around. Also he’s earnestly in love with a mannequin, who is pretty much a projection of his own consciousness that functions as a coping mechanism for all the trauma he has endured. All in all, this gives you a character who looks like a teenager, but with the smug superiority of a fifty-something, who a) is extremely skilled in many different things, b) has a superiority complex, is arrogant and vocal about it, and most of the superiority is expressed through cutting sarcasm, c) has one very hidden ounce of goodness that he is literally the worst at communicating to other human beings, d) is what moves the plot along but is also bad at talking to anyone else, meaning that the plot largely remains with him, and e) his love interest is essentially a projection of himself. Tell me that’s not a character who is destined to be just…obnoxious, annoying, egocentric, a necessary evil that one has to put up with to get through this show. There are so many elements of this characterisation that can and should easily make Five beyond insufferable, but the show manages to avoid it, and I’m putting this down to three aspects.
That Trick of Age and Appearance
Bluntly put, Five as a character would not work if he was anything else than an old man in a 13-year-old body. Imagine this character and all his skills and knowledge, but actually just…a teenager. Immediately insufferable. Same goes for him being around 30, like his siblings, all of which are stunted and traumatised by their father’s abuse. If Five, being comparatively unscathed by Reginald to the point where he explicitly does not want to be defined by his association with his father, were 30 like his siblings, it would just take the bite out of that plot point and also give him a lot less time in the apocalypse, reducing the impact it had on him as a person. And making Five his actual 58-year-old self would make him very similar to Reginald, at least on surface level, with the appearance and attitude. Five and Reginald are two fundamentally different people, but having one of the siblings being a senior citizen that’s dressed to the nines and bosses his siblings around in a relatively self-centred way does open up that parallel, and would take away from Five’s charm as a character. Because pairing the life experience of a 58-year-old with the appearance of a teenager gives you the best of both worlds. You get the other siblings (and a lot of the audience, from a glance in the tags of my gifsets) feeling protective and paternal about Five, but his age and experience also give the justifications for his many skills, his arrogance, in a way, and his ability to decimate a room full of people. It’s the very interesting and not new concept of someone dangerous with the appearance of something harmless, a child. This is also where Five’s singular outfit comes in. I know we like to clown on Five to get a new outfit, but I think what gets forgotten often is how effective this outfit is at making the viewer take him seriously. The preppy school uniform is the perfect encapsulation of the tension between old man in spirit and young teenager in appearance. The blazer, vest and especially the shirt and tie are quite formal, relatively grown up. They’re not something we, the audience, usually associate with a teenage boy wearing; it makes Five just a little bit more grown up. But there is also a reason characters in this show keep bringing up Five’s shorts and his socks, because those are not things that we associate with grown men wearing; they’re the unmistakably childish part of his school uniform. Take a moment and imagine Five wearing a hoodie or a t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers; would that outfit work for him as well as the uniform does? Would he be able to command the same kind of respect or seriousness as a character? I don’t think so; the outfit is a lot more pivotal in making Five believable than a lot of people give it credit for.
Writing Nuance
The other big building block in not making Five incredibly insufferable is the writing. Objectively speaking, I think Five is the most well-written, and, more importantly, most coherently written character on the show (which does have to do with the fact that the show’s events are all sequential for him), and his arc and personality remain relatively intact over the course of the two seasons. More to the point, a giant part of what makes Five bearable as a character is that he is allowed to fail. He is written to have high highs and low lows, big victories through his skills and his intelligence, but also catastrophic failures and the freedom to be wrong. His superior intellect and skillset are not the be-all end-all of the plot or his character, just something that influences both. His inability for communication has not (yet) been used to fabricate a contrived misunderstanding that derails the plot and left all of us seething; instead, it’s a characteristic that makes him fail to reconnect with the people he loves. This is a bit simplified, as he does find common ground with Luther, for example, but in general, a lot of the rift between Five and his siblings is that they can’t relate to his traumas and he does not understand the depth of Reginald’s abuse, which is an interesting conflict worth exploring. Another thing that really works in Five’s favour is that he is definitely written to be mean and sarcastic, but it is never driven to the point of complete unlikability, and a lot of the time, the context makes it understandable why he reacts the way he does. Most of the sarcastic lines he gets are actually funny, that certainly helps, but in general, Five is a good example of a bearable character whose default personality is sharp and relatively cold, because it is balanced out with many moments of vulnerability. Delores is incredibly important for this in the first season, she is the main focus of Five’s humanising moments, and well-written as she totes the line between clearly being a coping mechanism for an extremely traumatised man and still coming across to the viewer as the human contact Five needs her to be. In the second season, the vulnerability is about his guilt for his siblings, it’s about Five connecting a little bit better to them. There’s also his relationship with the Commission and the Handler specifically – which honestly could be an essay on its own – that deserves a mention, because the Handler is why Five became the man he is, and this dynamic between creator and creation is explored in a very interesting way – their scenes are some of the most well-written in the entire show. And TUA never falls into the trap of making Five a hero, he is always morally ambiguous at best, and it just makes for an interesting, multi-faceted character, well-written character, and none of the characteristics that should make him unlikeable are allowed to take centre-stage for long enough to be defining on their own. I know a lot of people especially champion the scenes where Five goes apeshit, but without his more nuanced characterisation, if he was like that all the time, those scenes would not hit as hard.
Aidan Gallagher’s Performance is Underrated
But honestly, none of the above would matter that much if the Umbrella Academy didn’t luck out hard with the casting of Aidan Gallagher. I think what he achieves as an actor in this show is genuinely underappreciated. Like, the first season set out to cast six adults having to deal with various ramifications of childhood trauma, and a literal child that had to be able to act smart and wise beyond his years, seamlessly integrate into a family of adults while seeming like an adult, traumatised by the literal end of the world, AND had to be able to create the romantic chemistry of a thirty-year-long marriage with a lifeless department store doll. The only role I could think of to compare is Kirsten Dunst in Interview with a Vampire, where she plays a vampire child who, because she is undead, doesn’t age physically, but does mentally, so she’s 400 in a child’s body. And Kirsten Dunst had to do that for a two-hour movie. Five is a main character in a show that spans 20 episodes now. That’s insane, and it’s a risk. Five is a character that can’t be allowed to go wrong; if you don’t buy Five as a character, the entire first season loses believability. And they found someone who could do that not only convincingly, but also likeably. As I said, he is incredibly helped by the costuming department and the script, but Aidan Gallager’s Five has so much personality, he’s threatening and funny and charming and arrogant and heartbreaking. He has the range to be convincing in the quiet moments where Five’s humanity comes to show and in the moments where Five goes completely off the rails. Most child actors act with other children, but he is the only child in the main cast, and holds his own in scenes with adults not as a child, but as an adult on equal footing with the other adult characters. That’s not something to be taken for granted. But even apart from the fact that it’s a child actor who carries a lot of the plot and the drama of a series for adults, Aidan Gallagher’s portrayal of Five is also just so much fun. The comedic timing is on point, he has the dramatic chops for the serious scenes, the mannerisms and visual ticks add to the character rather than distract from him, and his line deliveries, paired with his physical acting, make Five arrogant and smug but never outright malicious and unlikeable. It’s just some terrific acting that really does justice to the character as he is written, but the writing would not be as strong if it wasn’t delivered and acted out the way Aidan Gallagher does. He is an incredible asset for this show.
Alright, onto concluding this rambling. If you made it this far, I commend you, and thank you for it. The point of all of this is that Five, as a character, could have been an unmitigated disaster of a TV character. He is overpowered, arrogant, uncommunicative and could so easily have been either unconvincing or completely unlikeable, but he turned out to be neither. It’s a combination of choices in the costume department, decisions in the writing room, and Aidan Gallagher’s acting skills that make the things that should make him obnoxious and annoying incredibly entertaining, and I hope you liked my long-winded exploration of these. Some nuance was lost along the way, but if I had not stopped myself, this would’ve become a full-blown thesis.
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marciabrady · 3 years
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Cinderella?
Favorite thing about her?: I love everything about her but I think people overlook how sassy she is and her bite! All of her comments to Lucifer, and the singing bit about Anastasia and Drizella, are so enriching and add a great depth of character. But also, how realistic she is! This was totally erased in that live action, but in the animated version, she gets so FRUSTRATED at times. She even misplaces her anger at the clock and Lucifer in the very opening scenes. We see her fight back to Lady Tremaine and win in certain cases- like when she asserts her right to go to the ball- but we also see it backfire, like when Lady Tremaine gives her more and more chores to do. Just the overall depiction of abuse is so realistic and I think people dislike how close to home it is. Our modern sensibilities call for all female characters to be superheros- look at Rapunzel's hair, Elsa's magic, and Moana's connection with the ocean. No one wants to see the depiction of realistic abuse and how it can wear on someone, or what those family dynamics look like behind closed doors. They want Cinderella to beat up all three women in her household or start an Etsy business or something lol but for all that being said, I still marvel at her strength of character. The fact that she picked herself up and went to the ball after 1) years of abuse, 2) having to assert her right to go in front of three of her abusers, 3) being physically assaulted and having the very clothes violently torn off her body is so??? Like I get social anxiety from going to public places- I can hardly imagine how she must've felt with ALL of those circumstances AND the fact that she didn't even have a chaperon bring her to the ball and I just love Cinderella so much omg I'm not crying, you are
Least favorite thing about her?: This question implies there's something to dislike about Cinderella which is WRONG except if we're talking about the live action, which is literally awful. The live action got her character so wrong and the entire cast of that film went on a press tour bashing the original Cinderella while upholding their own as the feminist approved version and I literally can't even think about it without boiling in rage. Especially because the original Cinderella possesses more of the qualities they claim the 2015 version has and the original lacks. UGH if you ever want to talk about this HMU because I have THOUGHTS
Do I like her movie?: HER MOVIE IS SO GREAT. The music is so unique and I'm obsessed with all the vocal talent. Like, the fact that Lucille Bliss interpreted the words 'Mother, mother, mother' on a written script LIKE THAT is everything. I can't find a single unlikable character though, like everyone brings it from a vocal, characterization, and animation standpoint. Also, it's animated so realistically! Compare Cinderella's thicker waist to any of the Renaissance and post Renaissance princesses and you'll see what I mean. But also, it's just so fun and joyful and lighthearted while also not shying away from addressing and depicting abuse in such a realistic way. Lady Tremaine is actually my favorite villain of all time, to this day, because of how understated but effective she is. UGH I LOVE
Favorite outfit she wears? I ALWAYS loved the pink dress the mice made for her the most as a child! Pink was my favorite color and she had her hair down and lookeD STUNNING. Also the fact that it was a thrift from her mom's is so cute <3 That being said, she literally doesn't have a bad outfit. Her wedding dress is the best one Disney's ever come up with, I don't even need to explain the enchanting quality of her ball gown, the servant dress looks so comfortable and functional, and even the nightdress is flattering to her!
Favorite song from her movie?: The reprises she sings of So This Is Love is hauntingly beautiful. I can literally hear it echoing throughout that hidden staircase on the way to her little attic room.
Favorite animal (or human) friend she has?: I'm sorry but I LOVE Bruno and Major the horse way more than I should. I just love the idea that most people view Cinderella as this ultra glamorous princess and her sidekicks are literally mice, an old bloodhound dog, and a rail thin horse. But, the dog and horse remind me of when we see her with her father, and seeing their fall to grace too serves to give Cinderella a sense of companionship and community and history outside of the mice who she presumably meets later on.
Which trait of her personality do I most see in myself?: Probably her frustration at things that are beyond her control. I also think her FOMO moment of missing the ball and trying to talk herself out of wanting to go before concluding "and it'll be completely wonderful" is so cute. But I also try to get along with people I hate, for the sake of family and things like work, but also end up shading them like Cinderella lol but I think in order to be resilient and live a successful life, you kinda have to roll with the punches the way she did and always believe in the possibility of something wonderful happening and I hope I maintain that ideology as beautifully as does Cinderella
How would I rate her prince?: TOP TIER! Listen, that eye roll he did at the ball is EVERYTHING. Also I love the idea of a prince literally tearing a kingdom apart to find me after a single dance. Plus, with his father being as animated as he is, you KNOW that family is entertaining to marry into. Also, he's a TOTAL hunk (only counting the first movie)
Where does she rank on my top 10 favorite princesses?: TOP TIER AS WELL. Her, Snow White, Aurora, and Ariel are like on a whole other tier for me where they literally exist as my favorite characters of all time and they can't even be categorized as princesses because my love for them extends past any labels.
Put a Disney Princess in my ask and I'll answer!
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woozisnoots · 3 years
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losing you | yoon jeonghan
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° pairing: jeonghan x f!reader, jun x f!reader ° genre: soulmate!au, bittersweet angst ° summary: losing me is better than losing you. ° word count: 1.5k ° warnings: implied death but details aren’t explicit! i promise the fic itself isn’t bad >< ° a/n: TEEHEE @vibecheckvernon​​ SURPRISE I’M UR TCT SECRET SANTA !!!! 😌 posted this a little later for prime angst reading times :D I HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT CHRISTMAS!!! p.s. pls don’t sue me i love you <3
inspired by: @95boysbe​ ‘s fic, ‘when you love someone’ (tysm for all of you for helping me find this again! 💓 pls go check out their work as well!) + wonho’s song ‘losing you’
masterlist!
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jeonghan has no intentions of going to his family’s christmas party. at least not this early. looking into his appearance in the mirror, he wraps the red checkered scarf around his neck so the ends nicely drape over his white long sleeve shirt tucked under his matching sweater vest. a festive look to hide away his disinterest buried in his “enthusiasm”.
“daddy, are you not coming with us?” jeonghan jolts by the sudden tugging of his sweater from his side, looking over, forcing his eyes to meet with his daughter’s watery orbs.
he crouches down to one knee so he’s completely eye level, tucking in the loose strands of hair behind her ear. “not yet sweetheart. daddy’s gotta pick up a few things for the party.” he opens his arms wide for the tiny human to bury herself in a bear-like embrace. 
“stay by mommy’s side at all times, okay?” the little girl steps back to face her father, her hands gripping onto jeonghan’s index finger. “promise?” he continues to persist until she sniffles a series of nods. a small melancholy smile creeps onto jeonghan’s face as he wiggles himself out of her powerful grasp and cups her cheeks, creating small circles on her soft cheekbones with his thumbs. 
“good girl. i’ll be back before you notice i’m gone.” 
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the walk there is shorter than jeonghan was expecting and it almost makes him sick to his stomach. he wants the anticipation to subside by the time he gets there, yet at this rate, he would arrive with nothing but the swell of guilt weighing down inside of him. 
the winter chill makes him shiver, hiding his balled fists in his pockets. the farther he walks, this once familiar street slowly turns into the abyss as the fog erases his footsteps along with the glimmery lights surrounding him. but jeonghan is only focused on the dark pathway ahead of him. weeks after hearing the news, and an additional few months of “recovery”, his imagination has conditioned him for far worser environments than some cold weather. 
the field of clean cut grass beside him is now closed off, barred by a wired fence painted white indicating he was getting close. it was a foolish thing really. this entire time, from the moment jeonghan left the house until now, he’s been trying to find the right words to say to you. what he would say to you if you were willing to hear him out. question he desperately wants answered. jeonghan lowers his head, scoffing under his breath knowing you probably would have. even though he knew himself that he didn’t deserve it. and neither did you. 
he comes to a pause at the entrance, reaching out to maneuver the chains that lock the gateway. taking a slow deep breath in, jeonghan looks up before entering the place of the dead, only to see that you already had company. 
the hint of discomfort causes jeonghan’s body to stiffen - the sight of an tall, unfamiliar man here with you triggering his fight or flight response, his instincts urging for the first rather than late. why would he be at a place like this? and on christmas no doubt.  
jeonghan takes his time walking towards you both, eyeing his physique up and down from afar. as he got closer, he examines the man’s notable facial features. the longer he stares, the more confused jeonghan gets causing him to crease his eyebrows. neither of you know him. jeonghan shakes the thought away- no, he doesn’t know him. maybe within the time you were away, the two might have met. jeonghan keeps his mind neutral, accepting all the possibilities. 
the mysterious man dressed down in this cold december, notices jeonghan walking this way before he could stop in his tracks to presenting himself in front of you. chuckling at the grimace look on jeonghan’s face. 
as respectful as he could possibly mutter, jeonghan opens his mouth to speak, “who-”
“so you must be yoon jeonghan,” he’s quick to cut him off, knowing exactly what might be running through his mind right now. he nods his head towards him, acknowledging the new, delighted presence that fills the air. “my name’s jun.” he watches as the imaginary fumes streaming from the top of jeonghan’s head start to dissipate. “a friend of hers back in america,” he lied, not that jeonghan would ever know anyways. “she talked a lot about you. it almost got annoying. 
just like how jeonghan did, jun studies him in his entirety. a smirk forming on his lips finding that he looked exactly how you described. as well as his own description: a good for nothing low life with faltering loyalty. jun scowls at the ring wrapped around jeonghan’s finger. “talk about that red string of fate, huh,” his words protrude the thick musk that wavers around them, finally breaking jeonghan’s walls. “don’t mind me though. i’m just here to pay my respects as a friend,”jun says, his words laced with sarcasm. 
jeonghan freezes in his spot, feeling only a tingling sensation in his fingers and toes as the flood of memories of the two of you replay in the back of his mind. the entirety of your childhood, including your teenage and what was there for your college years. until the dreaded day you decided to leave. “so, you knew?” he whispers more so for his curiosity rather than looking for an actual answer. 
and from the look on jeonghan’s face, jun could tell. “yeah,” he says just enough for jeonghan to hear. “i knew a lot.” he averts his eyes away from the soft hearted gaze that now appears on jeonghan’s face. 
jun may not have known you the same amount of time as jeonghan did. but the way you wore your heart on your sleeve despite being so vulnerable even after the fact, jun can pluck out things even jeonghan probably never noticed. how jeonghan could ever leave his soulmate for someone else, jun will never fathom at the thought. 
but jun knew your side of the story, how you felt watching your soulmate drew you guys apart. no, he wasn’t your friend per say, not in his official title anyway. when you were admitted into the hospital, jun was only there as a volunteer. he had a responsibility to look after all his assigned patients as comfort companions through their clinical care, including you. 
you were the hospital’s one exception. at the point of your critical condition, doctors truly didn’t know when the time would pass. knowing no one else in the states aside from your family, jun soon became your side by side as hospital bed buddies. and hated every moment of it. 
he hated the way you smiled so brightly for him every day despite how sick you were. but stare blankly at your food whenever it came to you and end up not eating. he hated how you easily created friendships with the nurses and other caretakers at hospital, including himself. but refused to take your medication. he hated how fondly you talked about love when you weren’t feeling it. he hated hearing the sniffles that came from your room every morning after he clocked in. he hated it so much that you still smiled saying your soulmate's name even though he was doing the same thing for someone else. in the end, jun was too late to tell you all that.
fate, being the sick bastard that it is, has jun meeting the one person he actually came to hate. and he’ll do one better. just like how jeonghan never got to know about your true feelings and conditions, jun will never tell him how much he truly cared for you. how he was entirely convinced he, a person who wasn’t even destined to have a soulmate, could fill the void that jeonghan had left. 
the longer jun stands there, the small pit of anger quietly begins to boil and that was his cue to leave. he avoids eye contact as he stirs away from the flowers he left you and tries to make his exits, stopping at his tracks when jeonghan speaks once again.
“then can i ask you something? your opinion as her friend. since you know,” he hiccups, the words coming out a beat too late. his voice also shaky, not knowing if it was due to the cold or the rise of his nerves. 
jun leans on one leg, stuffing his hands in the side pockets of his leathered coat. he almost says no. he wants to say no. “shoot,” sounding unbothered. 
“do you think she’d still want to be my soulmate in a different life?” 
jeonghan’s heart churns at his own question, as does jun’s. he could have asked any other question, but out of the hundreds he accumulated in the mile walk here, jeonghan figured this was the one that jun could at least give some thought. 
jun takes a sharp inhale in, his nails forming small crescent moons into his palm. with a heavy sigh, he turns back around and scoffs at the sight of jeonghan tearing up in front of you. and with gritted teeth, he responds.
“of course she would.”
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morosemagick · 3 years
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On Your Lips, Like a Prayer | Sihtric x Reader One Shot
Warning: References to Suicide, Minor Character Death
Words: 4449
Tagged:
@solinarimoon @emilyhufflepufftlk @magravenwrites @obipoelover @thebohemianpenguin @ivarinleatherpants
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You remember falling.
Through the sky. Into a river. Drowning. They could’ve been dreams or your imagination or may you’re hell because when you wake up you don’t recognize the place you’ve found yourself in. The first thing you try to do when you wake is reach for your phone... until you remember you didn’t have it. What you had done, you had done with nothing on you. You didn’t want to be found or recognized. The plan was to scrub yourself from the pages of history. Yet from what you are told by the man and his daughter; who found you in the river half dead, it seems you did the far opposite.
Instead of erasing yourself from history, you’ve fallen through it.
And that was six months ago.
They believe you to have amnesia from the accident, but you remember every detail of what happened. It’s the ninth century from what you gathered. From what you remember from taking history in school, King Alfred the Great is the King of Wessex, but you are in Mercia. Who is ruled by Lord Ceowolf? You’re unsure. Everything you’ve known is gone or rather has yet to be. You have no idea how you’ve gotten here and you want out. So in a moment of foolishness, you try to redo what you did to send yourself back but instead you wind up stuck in their beds again for a month with a broken leg. It’s hard to run after you do that, and now you know without a doubt in your mind that you’re stuck. You cry about it for weeks, and the family who found you doesn’t understand why. You can’t tell anyone, because you’re certain they’ll set you on fire if you tell them.
Because you… you are from the future.
————————————<3—————————————
You’ve been here for a year now. Osmund and his daughter, Mildryd, are kind and loving people. They treat you like family, with love and respect. This place becomes your home and they teach you all the skills you’d need to survive these times. You learned about farming, rank etiquette, and all other manners you would need to blend into your surroundings. Soon enough, you embraced this world as your own. Not that you had a choice because every day it became more clear that this was not a dream and you were indeed stuck here.
Also, you had no desire to repeat what you did to get here in the first place… again.
“Lynne? Lynne, where are you?” You can hear Osmund call out to you. Lynne was what they called you here. It meant waterfall, from what you understood.
Which made sense, because that’s where they found you... At the bottom of a waterfall.
You come out from the stables, where you’ve just finished brushing the horses with a smile on your face, “Right here, Osmund. Everything alright?”
“I sent Mildryd into town to get grain but I didn’t realize she didn’t bring water in for the goats,” He tells you as he wipes the sweat from his face with a rag, “I hate to pass on her chores, but you know my daughter-”
“She’ll be flirting with the trader for a while,” You chuckle. Mildryd fancied the boy a lot and hopes he’d ask her father for her hand in marriage soon. She was young and full of life, the opposite of you if you were honest with yourself. You envied her spirit, “I’ll go to the river.”
“Thank you, Lynne,” The older man smiled, “You’re an angel.”
You only smile as a response. They show you so much love and part of you feels like you don't deserve it. Still, you grab your bucks and head down to the river, which is quite a walk away, to fetch some water as requested. It's beautiful here, and perhaps taking a moment to stand there and admire its beauty will be one of the moments you will grow to regret for the rest of your life because by the time you turn back to return to the farm you can see smoke.
You drop both buckets to the ground and run as fast as your post-broken leg body can take you, but you're too late.
A sob breaks from your lips as you walk through the ruins of Osmund's home. His body lays blood and lifeless on the floor, the sword he carries still in its sheath. You take the weapon from him, belt and all, and tie it around your waist. Leaving the house, you head into the rest of the small village you call yours in search of the man's daughter.
The rest of the village is no better than Osmund's home. Everyone is dead, from what you can tell, and your expectations for finding Mildryd are lowering by the second.
When you find her, she's holding on to her final breath, and her body covered by the trader she loved so much.
"Mildryd," You call to her with tears in her eyes, "Mildryd… who did this to you?"
"It… it was the Danes," She coughs and blood comes up, tears flowing down her cheeks, "Is.. my father-"
She dies before she can finish the sentence, and you sob over her dead body.
The time you get to mourn is cut short by a voice calling out from behind you, “Lord! A survivor!”
From the accent in his voice, you can tell he must be a Dane, and you ready yourself to face with your hand on the hilt of your sword. It’s heavy, and you haven’t had much practice but the one thing you have plenty of right now is rage. Rising to your feet, you pull out your sword and swing it without care as you turn around but the Dane behind you is quicker. He bobs and weaves his upper half to avoid your aimless swings and pulls out a blade of his own.
It does not take him long to disarm you, your sword dropping to the ground with a clang.
“Just kill me already,” You tell him as you lower your eyes to the ground, trying not to cry in front of him, “Please! Get on with it-”
“I don’t desire to kill you, Lady,” The Dane tells you, his voice softer than anticipated, and you open your eyes to see him put his sword away. He picks up your sword, and then lends out a hand to help you to your feet, “I am sorry to have startled you.”
You are hesitant to take his hand, but you do so anyway.
It’s his eyes; one blue and the other brown, they are mesmerizing and all but command you to trust him.
“Sihtric?” Another man calls out to him, this one also dressed like a Dane but something about him looks Saxon… like the others you’ve grown to know, “Who is this?”
The one you trust, Sihtric, turns to face you and they stare for a moment as they await your name, “I am-” You almost use your real name, but you stop yourself and continue again. Hoping they don’t notice, “I am Lynne, Lord.”
“This is your village?” He asks you.
“Was,” You replied looking back at Mildryd’s dead body behind you, “They killed my family…”
“Did you see the raiders who attacked this place?” The man asked and you shook your head no.
“My… my sister, she told me it was the Danes,” You glance between the two men, watching for their reactions, “That was all she said before she died.”
“Lord?” Another voice calls out, this one with an Irish accent, and from the side, another man appears followed by one much taller than he is, “There is no one else. If they had survivors, they must have taken them.”
The Lord sighs, and puts away his weapon, “Do you have somewhere to go, Lynne? Family somewhere else in Mercia, perhaps?”
You look between the men who surround you and shake your head no, “This was my only family, Lord. I have no one.”
“We can take her with us to Coccham, Uhtred,” The Irishman starts to say, but you are quick to jump in.
“I am not a slave!” You snap as you reach for your sword, forgetting you no longer have it.
“Nor do we wish you to be, Lady,” The one named Uhtred replies, “You will be safe in Coccham, should you choose to follow us. I am the Ealdorman there, we shall find someone to take you in.”
You nod okay, knowing you don’t have any other choice, “Thank you.”
Uhtred and his men start to walk away, and when you step to follow them your bad leg gives in and you start to fall. Luckily, Sihtric is there to catch you.
“Are you hurt, Lady?” He asks you as you wince.
He helps you straighten yourself upright, and you take a deep breath, “I broke it, six months ago,” You explain to Sihtric as he tries to help you walk, “It still feels weak some days. Just… give me a moment.”
“Should I carry you?” He asks and you blush as you furiously shake your head no.
“No, no,” You chuckle shyly as you attempt to walk again, “I can walk. I just need to go slow.”
Sihtric smiles lightly, and it brings you peace, “We’ll go your speed then.”
You nod okay, and together you walk slowly out of the village that was once your home.
————————————<3—————————————
Lord Uhtred finds you work as a stable hand in Coccham. The owners of the stable is an older couple whose children have moved away with their own families, and they are more than pleased to let you stay with them. After a few months of being in Coccham, you find yourself growing to like the place. It’s a booming town, and the people who live here all seem to be grateful for their half Dane half Saxon Lord for keeping them safe and prospering. About six months into living here, Lord Uhtred puts you personally in charge of his horse, as well as the horses of the rest of his men. The old couple tells you it’s a privilege for the Ealdorman to hold you in such regard.
You wonder why they seem to like you so much.
When you aren’t working you find yourself in the company of Lord Uthred’s men. There is Finan, his cheeky, Irish right-hand man. He’s a flirt and a tease, but you find him harmless and kind. Then their Clapa, the large bear-like Dane. He’s quiet but courteous. Last, but certainly not least, there is Sihtric. You never expected to like him as much as you do, but he makes you laugh and smile and feel like maybe you survived that fall for a reason. He visits you frequently at the stables and he tells you it’s to make sure you aren’t overworking your leg.
Part of you wonders if there is an ulterior motive for his visits.
Not that he needs one to visit you. You enjoy Sihtric’s visits probably much more than he did. So part of you finds it ironic when those around you weren’t fond of you spending so much time with a Dane. Their Lord was a Dane, too, after all.
“That Dane boy,” The stable owner, Cedric, started to say one day, “Does he bother you?”
You glance his way as you brush Lord Uhtred’s horse, readying all his warriors’ horses for their departure, “Not at all,” You tell Cedric, “Sihtric is kind.”
“You are of marriage age, Lynne,” Cedric tells you as he brings over a saddle for the horse, “Perhaps we should help find you a husband. I know some young eligible men. Hard workers,” he starts to say, and you know what’s about to come out of his mouth next before he can even say it, “Good Christians.”
“I’m not looking for a husband,” You tell him with frustration as you take the saddle from his hands and place it on top of Uhtred’s horse.
“My wife and I are only getting older, Lynne,” The old man tells you, and you keep your eyes away to prevent yourself from making a face, “It is not good for a Lady of your age to be unwed. This is your prime. You should be having children, starting a family.”
Part of you is ready to tell the old man off, but before you can say anything a familiar voice interrupts the conversation, “Cedric, Lynne! How are our horses?”
“Lord Uhtred,” Cedric smiles, and you can’t help but hate how hypocritical he is, “They are almost ready, Lynne ready the other saddles please.”
You nod at the two men and make yourself scarce as you go to prep the other horse. Your first stop is to Finan’s horse; because you know the mare can be fickle some days, and as you reach down to pick her saddle, you don’t see Finan and Sihtric sneak up behind you.
“Lynne!” Finan all but shouts, giving you a fright and making you drop the saddle to the floor.
“I swear to God, Finan, one would think you are the heathen and not Sihtric,” You scold with your hand over your heart as the two men laugh.
“We are only teasing, Lynne, I swear,” Finan tells you as he picks up the saddle you’ve dropped.
Sihtric leans up against a post and nudges you with his elbow, “Cedric does not push you too much, does he?”
“No, he does not,” You tell Sihtric as you go to ready his horse, but he stops you, carefully taking the saddle from your hands, “I do not need your help, Sihtric.”
“I want to help,” He tells you with a smile, and you can’t help but smile wider.
“She says she doesn’t need your help, Sihtric,” Finan teases from close by, and you both blush, momentarily forgetting he was there, “Hate to ruin the moment, but we need to get goin’.”
“Where are you riding for?” You ask them as you stand back and let the men finish readying their own horses.
“Mercia,” Sihtric tells you and a small part of you feels anxious, “Dane’s have taken Lundene."
“And King Alfred has decided he does need Uhtred, after all,” Finan chuckles and Sihtric smirks, but both of their calm demeanors don’t make you feel any better, “Don’t you worry, Lynne, we’ll be home before you know it.”
Finan passes by, rubbing your shoulder as he goes, and then leaves you alone with Sihtric. You sigh, folding your arms over your chest, “Be careful out there, okay?”
Sihtric chuckles as he takes a step closer to you, “Will you pray to your God for my return?”
“You know I don’t pray,” You lie with a smirk. You pray every single time Uhtred and his warriors leave, and you do so every night till they return. Reaching into your pocket, you pull out a thin gold cross on a blue, beaded string. It’s the only thing you own, from before, and you hand it to Sihtric with a weak smile on your face, “But just in case.”
He takes it from your hand so slow, the feeling of his fingertips lingering even after they are gone, “I will take good care of it.” Sihtric pulls you closer by the back of your head and kisses your temple as he moves around you.
Your cheeks stay a rosy color even long after he is gone.
————————————<3—————————————
They are back sooner than expected.
Or at least, that is what you hear when the crowd gathers to greet their returning warriors. You overhear the Lady of Coccham, Uhtred’s wife Gisela, make mention of returning too quickly for men holding a city under siege. Lord Uhtred is the first to walk through Coccham’s gates, looking surprisingly clean for a man coming from war, then Finan comes in close behind him… and then-
Wait.
You feel your heart pick up its pace when you realize Sihtric is not with them and for a moment you find it hard to breathe. As the crowd lets its lord through, and Uhtred and his men reach the stables, you rush over as fast as your legs can take you to meet them. You feel your bad leg ready to give up as you reach the stables, but this time Finan is there to catch you.
“Slow down, Lynne, you nearly killed yourself,” Finan tells you as he holds you steady with one hand.
“Where...,” You start speaking but you can't, instead you’re huffing and puffing trying to catch your breath, “Where is Sihtric?”
Finan sighs, wiping at his mouth with his free hand, “You’re not gonna be happy, Lynne.”
You try really hard not to cry as he explains to you what has happened at Lundene and how the King’s daughter has been possibly taken as prisoner. In fact, you do relatively well at holding it all in and keeping yourself together for most of his explanation. That is… until he gets to the part where Lord Uhtred has sent Sihtric and another warrior named Rypere to Beamfleot to spy, and you suddenly forget how to breathe again. You go to reach for your cross in your pocket until you remember you’ve given it to Sihtric for good luck and almost immediately you begin to cry.
“Lynne,” Finan puts his hand on your shoulder as you sob, covering your face with your hands, “Lynne, he’s coming home… okay? Sihtric is good at what he does. The best spy we have, and I know he’s got a good reason to come home in one piece.”
You shake your head okay, and furiously wipe away all your tears away the best you can, “How long do you think he’ll be gone?”
“I cannot say for certain,” Finan shrugs, “But he is coming home, I promise.”
Finan’s words only give you some reassurance and you spend the next few days feeling absolutely miserable. You continue on with your workdays with the best fake smile you can muster, and at night you find yourself at Church. Usually, you pray in your room, partially because you feel like you aren’t really doing it right and you feel too embarrassed to pray in public. You weren’t a very religious person before, but now that you are here in this church, you pray to every God you can think of that Sihtric comes home safely.
“Lady?” A voice from behind you calls, and you jump to your feet in a moment of fear. You weren’t expecting anyone else to come to the Church that night, coming late enough in the night to certainly be alone for as long as you wish, “I am sorry, I did not mean to startle you.”
His words remind you of the first time you met Sihtric, and you can't help but smile.
“It’s okay, I’ve just been… jumpy, lately.” You tell him as you sit back down on the bench, “I haven’t lived in Coccham for long, but I know I don’t recognize your face.”
“Ah, yes,” His smile is kind as he joins you at the bench, “I am Osferth, Lady. May I join you?”
“Of course, Osferth,” You smile back the best you can, but you’re tired and it’s late so it’s hard to put on your usual fake face.
Osferth takes his seat next to you, making sure not to get too close, and keeps his eyes on the altar ahead of you, “What are we praying for?” He asks, glancing your way.
“My-” You paused, not knowing what to call him. Your friend didn’t sound like a good enough way to explain what he meant to you, and you definitely didn’t think of him as a brother. So you go with this, “My family. Someone very important to me has been sent away on a dangerous mission for Lord Uhtred.”
"If he is a warrior for Lord Uhtred, he must be very brave," he tells you, reassuringly
"Only a special kind of warrior is lucky enough to serve a Lord like Uhtred," You agree with him, "And I have been told Sihtric is good at what he does, but I can't help but worry."
"Has prayer helped?" Osferth asks you and you look his way with a chuckle.
"Not at all," You tell him, and you both laugh.
"Sometimes it is hard to have faith in something we don't see," Osferth tells you as he looks forward again, "I try to put my faith in people. Lord Uhtred is a good warrior. So are his men. Having Faith in them… it's much easier."
So that's what you. You put your Faith in Uhtred and all of his men that will do whatever it takes to bring each other home.
————————————<3—————————————
More time has passed.
Rypere eventually returned to Coccham, and with his arrival, Uhtred and his men rode for Winchester to bring his findings to the King. You hear that men are sent to Beamfleot to bargain for the Princesses return. They are gone for a long time, longer than you anticipated. The days that pass make you increasingly more anxious.
You don't want to say your faith in Uhtred and his warriors is wavering but… it hasn't been as strong as you hoped it to be.
Cedric and his wife have been pushing the marriage thing. They aren't your parents so they can't just sell you off, luckily for you, but it's gotten annoying just how many single men they've tried to introduce you to in the last month.
None of them are Sihtric, so you do not care.
You're in the Church again one night, and you've been there longer than you wanted due to your bad leg. It's been aching something fierce in the past few days, and you think maybe you have been overwhelming yourself. You can't help but smile at the idea of Sihtric yelling at you to take it easy, and just as quickly as the memory comes to you so do the tears that start to cloud your eyes.
"You lied to me, Lynne," That familiar voice you've been hearing in your head speaks out loud, and you gasp when you turn around to find Sihtric standing behind you, "You said you do not pray for me."
You chuckle as the tears fall from your face and your lips curl up into a smile, "You're all I pray for." It stings to stand, but you push through the pain anyway and rush to greet him.
Sihtric catches you as you jump into his arms, and the two of you stumble back until he falls to the floor with you in his arms, "You need to be more careful," He smirks as he moves a hand to your cheek, "What would the people say if they see us in the church like this?"
"To hell with people," You laugh as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. Sihtrics' free hand pulls your body closer as you sit there on the floor of the church, all but devouring each other with each kiss.
"Let me carry you home," Sihtric tells you when he breaks the kiss, and you nod okay. He moves to stand, taking you in his arms as he rises. Making sure to be careful with your bed leg.
Being like this makes you feel so safe. So loved.
You giggle and kiss his neck as he carries you back to his house, and whispers things in your ear that send shivers down your spine all the way back to his house. Your sure people saw him carry you, and they are more than likely to gossip about you but you don't care.
You've never felt more alive than you do right now.
Sihtric lays you carefully in his bed, his lips reconnecting with yours as he hovers above you. He tastes sweet and your heart is racing in anticipation of what is going to happen next.
That is until you hear him moan out that name.
"Lynne," He starts to say as he breaks the kiss, "Lynne, I-"
"Wait!" You cut Sihtric off with a finger to his lips, "Before you say it, there is something else I've been lying about," Sihtric raises a brow and you take a deep breath, "My name is not Lynne."
You expect a poor reaction, but instead, Sihtric smirks, "That doesn't surprise me."
"Really?"
"Yes," He tells you as he places a kiss on your lips, "The day we met, you stuttered when you told Uhtred your name." You chuckle at the fact that he remembers that, and his smile is soft, "So tell me, what is the real name of the woman who has stolen my heart?"
Your smile is wide when you get to finally speak your real name out loud for the first time in almost two years, "My name is Y/N."
Sihtric smiles, leaning in to kiss you again, "Well, Y/N," another kiss, and then another, "It is nice to truly meet you," one more kiss, and then he leans up a bit and you can see the smirk on his face, "Is it too soon to say that I love you?"
You shake your head no as the tears come back to you, "Not at all."
"Good," Sihtric replies as he leans his forehead against yours, "I love you, Y/N."
Sihtric whispers those words for what feels like a hundred times that night. He whispers it as he strips you out of your clothes and as you remove his. It comes out as a moan when he slips himself inside of you, and it sounds like a prayer on his lips as he chants it in your ear as you reach your climax with your back arched and his lips on your neck. And it's the last thing you hear when Sihtric reminds you one more time before bed.
A few months later on the two year anniversary of you finding yourself here, on this page of history, Sihtric tells you he loves you again when the two of you return to the place where Osmund and Mildryd found you, and you tell him all about what brought you to this world. You can't help but feel this is where you were meant to be when Sihtric tells you he prayed for you, too.
For someone who could love him, more than he could himself.
It seems… you were exactly what the other was looking for.
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littlefreya · 4 years
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The Way to Hell - Part 13
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Summary: Post Mi6, Alternate Canon. August escaped Ethan Hunt with his face intact and just won himself the title of being the most dangerous man on earth. Brooding as he is, August is unwilling to back down on his murderous agenda he plots to continue where he was stopped.
Series Completed: Previous Chapter | | Chapters Masterlist | Next Chapter
Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Ingvild) 🖤
Word count: 5k
Warnings: Mentions of sexual encounters, child neglect, betrayal, hinted physical abuse,  foul language and lots of angst.   
A/N: I thought chapter 13 will be the last one, but I didn’t want to rush the ending or have a chapter too long. So for those of you still waiting, hang in tight! Many thanks to @agniavateira​ who’s my muse and my editor, to @raspberrydreamclouds​ for this amazing cover and to those who’s been asking me about the chapter, means a lot to me. I am going into my usual Way to Hell posting panic attack. So bye for now.
*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*
Please comment, review and reblog.  💖
Title: Paradise lost
There cannot be peace before first a great suffering.  There cannot be love without first a great tragedy.
~*~
Opaline droplets of sweat form on his forehead. In his ears, a constant buzzing rings wretchedly as if an angry hornet is caged inside his skull. What was long buried abruptly awakens, stabbing at the back of his head. Red flashes sear through his eyes while images of Ingvild dissolving to ashes play in his mind, her bloodsoaked feathers crumbling to the ground.
“Why did you go?” August mutters under his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He crumples the little yellow note with sheer frustration before throwing it on the bed. 
‘I told her not to go, I commanded her!’
The air in the room grows thick like the pit of a stygian forest. Tentacle-like branches appear behind his eyes creeping closer, clutching his limbs. Even though lost and abandoned in the thicket of his mind, her angelic scent still lingers on his skin, impossible to wash off. Sniffing at his biceps, he inhales the mixture of their union on his flesh;  what begins as euphoric mirth quickly meets the sharp edge of rage and hatred.
She’s gone and it gnaws at the dark matter of his brain. 
He hates it. 
Hates her for being absent.
Frowning deeply, August reaches a rigid hand for his clothes, forcing himself to get dressed. The very first memory of her hinges on his mind: An icy woman with silver-moon eyes who refused his pursuit. 
‘Did you think the two of you are going to ride toward the sunset together? That’s not you.’
Letting out heavy gasps, he shakes his head. “She’ll be fine,” he whispers dismissively, pulling on his trousers and hastily buckling his belt. 
The new world order awaits, so close he can feel the fresh sun sitting on his open palm. It is his vision, his legacy: bigger than whatever it is Ingvild and him have together. 
There was no her in his plan, to begin with. 
The Devil never had a queen. 
‘You know what they’ll do to her…’
Another ray of daytime terror cuts through his thoughts: her wings plucked from her back, threads of flesh tearing from her naked body. Her screams die in silence.  
“She chose to leave, I asked her not to!” August yells into the empty room, frowning at no one but himself as he grabs the used shirt which hangs from the tall mirror. Turning to his reflection, he tenses at the sight of his body. Crimson valleys lead down his back, courtesy of her claws branding deep into soft tissue and toned muscles.
‘Do you know what is the probability of finding someone like her? A woman who wants to see the world burn with you? Who believes in your cause of building a new one?’
August swallows hard and combs his fingers through his hair with haste, attempting to act normal through the intensifying drumming in his ears. Being completely methodical, he pulls his long trench coat over his shoulders and collects his belongings into his black duffle bag on the bed. With a heavy painful breath, he forces his thoughts away, zipping the bag with urgency and reciting in his mind everything necessary for his trip. Time is scarce, the end and the new beginning are nigh; the smart thing to do is to forget her, erase her existence from the chambers of his heart. 
He doesn’t have one anyway. 
His hand secures the gun in its holster and harsh fingers lace around the black straps of his bag as he stretches himself straight, ready to leave this bedroom. That’s when his eyes fall again to the crumpled yellow note. 
‘You’ll never see her in Kashmir, you’ll never see her again.’ 
~*~
‘Amazing,’ the silver-haired wolf muses while scratching his bristly jaw. For 13 years the evil spawn’s eyes remained exactly as they were the day he picked her from the orphanage. Grey crystal orbs so naive, clueless, and oh so hungry for validation. A child desperate to prove herself worthy to someone, anyone. 
It was her single flaw and his greatest advantage.
Even now in the bloom of adulthood, the pale, scrawny thing standing before him is nothing but a lost little girl who wants someone to hold her bony hand. 
‘How can someone be so smart yet at the same time so blind?’
The cheap motel room smells like mildew and rotten wood. Speckles of dust float between the handler and his prodigy, cascading over his glance that seems rather alien and naked as glass. It pierces through her muscles - this sudden sense of peculiarity and estrangement.     
She chews the inside of her cheeks and sways slightly on her spot, arms hanging loose at her side. Ingvild lifts her chin to look at Liam, her eyes round with what can only be guilt. It makes her look like a child who broke an antique vase. 
“Thank you for answering my call,” she begins, wrapping her fist around a disposable phone before throwing it on the tidy bed.
Liam scoffs and shakes his head, ridicule spreading on his face. “You’ve gotten yourself into trouble over a boy, child?” He stares up and down the young woman, noticing the obvious change in her posture.
‘So, she truly is a woman now; how did I not see this one coming with her constant chatter about how handsome he is when I handed her the dossier?’
“Please don’t tell me you need money to get an abortion.” 
Ingvild frowns with disgust and shakes her head right away. “Never. No, it’s not what I’m here for.”
Displeased as always, Liam emits his usual grunt. He slowly shakes his head at his asset while running his fingers through his lanky grey hair. This is not how he imagined this mission to end. Her lack of emotions was a key element; Ingvild could have had a few good years running several missions for him, but what tipped the scale was for her to run into the wrong psychopath.
“Then tell me Ingvild, why should I listen to a failed assassin such as yourself? You’ve been weird about this mission since day one. Acting discreet, irresponsible, and reckless,” the old man’s Adam's apple bobs up and down in his throat as he speaks. Taking a small stride, he moves closer to get a better look of her diamond irises. So sharp and so strange, they’ve always irked him. As a child she downright looked like something out of a horror movie. 
“You’ve had 445 successful missions, not even 30 years old. Yet here you are a failure, and for what? For a boy?”
Shame traps her tongue and her glance drops to the floor. Failure stings like a rod of hot iron piercing her beating heart. Yet her mind races to the night at the pit where August finally claimed her, the memory of his lips sets glowing embers through her veins. On her skin remains the evidence of his embrace. Microscopic cells, tinted by his DNA. 
She doesn’t want this feeling to go away. 
Liam clears his throat, tearing her away from memories that turn from tar to honey the longer she dwells on them.
“You know why your mother gave you away, Ingi?” Liam asks, giving her a ghastly sardonic smile while cocking one eyebrow.
‘Liam never smiles.’ 
A small frown sets creases above her freckled nose. “I asked you many times before and you always said you don’t know.”
The Dane scoffs at her, his smile widening, exposing cigarette-and-coffee-stained teeth. The rot around his gums makes her curl her nose slightly and flinch as he leans closer. 
“You were a rape baby.”
The words send a pang through her muscles, like stepping on glass. She shakes her head with protest and steps back, yet Liam nods knowingly, standing in front of her.
“You’re lying.”
His small hazel eyes burn holes through her skull, his smile sinister and impish. “Your father was a savage, a rapist. He left your poor mother half-dead and impregnated in the forest you love so much. Who knows, maybe that’s why you kept going there as a child, reconnecting with your true nature.” 
Refusing to listen, she shies from his piercing glare. Liam reaches a coarse hand to cup her jaw, forcing her face back to his. “Your mother hated you. Your very existence reminds her of the most terrible thing that ever happened to her.”
For a child with such a limited emotional range, Liam finds that the muscles of her face are capable of stretching thoughtfully with spite. Pent up hatred creases her brow, her silver eyes turning to hot, molten gold. She bites on her tongue, keeping a vow of silence but he can read her face just the way an assassin would. 
“Nothing but a mistake, disowned by your own mother. So why would this man, this... mass murdering psychopath love you?” Liam shifts her head from side to side, inspecting the healing cuts and bruises that decorates her pale skin. “He saw an opportunity and seized it, used you…”
He pauses, moving away from a stare colder than icy lake water, “just like they will.”
Ingvild parts her lips with wonder, glaring at the person she knew all her life with disbelief. In the glossy reflection of Liam’s honey-brown eyes, she sees several black, long rifles pointed at her head.
Liam curls his thin lips with an utter lack of remorse and shrugs indifferently.
“She’s yours.”
*~*~
If colours had sound then the pale blinding white would be a continuous high-frequency hum. The tunes and shades of death. Like angry flies feasting on a corpse. 
‘Is this Valhalla?’
A small groan escapes her mouth, her eyes hurting from the sickly radiance of the narrow fluorescent lamps hanging from the ceiling. Her wrists feel numb as they’re pulled behind her back in restraints. 
“No,” she opens her mouth to speak, her throat burning, her voice a hoarse whisper. “Definitely not Valhalla...” 
‘You need to be a hero to enter Valhalla, stupid girl.’
Stupid didn’t even begin to describe it. August would never let her hear the end of it.
Loud, angry steps tap on the white marble floor, growing louder as the person approaching enters the room. Ingvild blinks, peering at the silhouette when a smile of comfort paints her drowsy face. Like a god, her lover strides toward her with his usual confidence. His ocean-blue eyes beam at her sight, his palm spread open to embrace his tiny Valkyrie. She chuckles at the mischievous, charming grin on his face as it reminds her the day they first met. 
Oh, she wishes to nibble his stupid chin right now and brush her fingers along his thick moustache.
But as she blinks again, large brown almond-shaped eyes replace the ocean-blue. A panther of a woman stands before her: confident, strong, and impossibly beautiful. Her dark, succulent lips are pressed together and concern shines through as she observes the small woman who has her arms cuffed behind her back and her feet shackled to the metal legs of the chair. 
With her head still heavy, the assassin turns her face from side to side. She quickly observes the armed guards at the entrance, the tall, greying agent standing nonchalantly against the wall awaiting orders, and lastly the sickly-looking, lean man who is positioned at the fore of a metal desk with his fingers laced together. Anticipation is written all over his line-riddled face. 
“Erica Sloane,” Ingvild calls knowingly, the ghost of a wicked smile dancing on her chapped lips as she turns her head to face the CIA director. Dressed in a black power suit and crimson pumps, the director is drenched with big dick energy.
“August told me so much about you, but he didn’t mention how fuckable you are.” Ingvild drawls, fluttering her lashes as she scans her from head to toe. 
Tilting her head, Erica grabs a white plastic chair and places it in front of Ingvild. She then takes a seat, crossing her long smooth legs together. Kindness and motherly concern pours from her dark eyes, expressions Ingvild never received from anyone in her life.
“Poor child, I imagine August Walker filled your head with many stories.”
“No…” Ingvild swallows, trying to dampen her sore throat. Noticing her struggle, Erica snaps her fingers and the greying agent rushes to bring her a plastic cup of water like a loyal dog. Focusing on the translucent beads around the cup, Ingvild flicks her tongue over her lips. “August was too busy filling other parts of me.”
The intrepid woman begins to laugh at her own joke, her voice dragging groggily while Erica rolls her eyes and shakes her head.
“I imagine so.” She answers and then carefully tilts the cup to Ingvild’s lips, offering the drink to the girl who sips with desperation as if she walked the desert. “August was my best agent,” she explains, watching the stream of water that rolls down Ingvild’s chin as she gulps with an incredible thirst, “a really proficient assassin, ranked high in every mission I sent him to. My golden boy. Even though that shit-eating attitude of him was something else...”
Withdrawing the cup, she looks into Ingvild’s cold silvery stare. “Those snarky, arrogant remarks and him going through the whole department like a fox in a hen coop I could overlook. But that fucker had us all fooled, Ingvild, as he fooled you.”
Ingvild flutters her dark lashes and tips her chin up. Her defined cheekbones sharpen even more as a snake-like arrogance poisons her face. “August told me what you did,” she utters sincerely, while Erica commands the agent to refill the plastic cup. Loathing melts her beautiful sullen glaciers as she focuses on Erica. 
The CIA director narrows her eyes at her in return, and curls her lips downward as disdain fills her mouth. “I am not the one who made Walker murder Agent Hartmann, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“You deceived him,” Ingvild retorts calmly and sucks in her bottom lip, collecting the remaining droplets of water onto her tongue. “That’s what you and your little agencies do to people like us. Set up traps for predators and pretend to act surprised as they eat the bait.”
Holding the cup, Erica stares at the young woman thoughtfully, the burning hatred in her eyes reminding her so much of Agent Walker: An entitled spoiled brat, thinking he can wind the world to the direction only he sought to be right. 
“You can’t blame a predator for following its nature, and you can’t expect him to behave otherwise.” 
“Is that how you see yourself?” Erica asks, moving the cup away, though she can see the thirst on Ingvild’s gaping bottom lip. “August poisoned your mind but I assure you, you are not the monster he is. You never had the choice that he did.”
Erica’s voice suddenly becomes soft, and her big brown eyes become round with care that only a parent can express. But the only form of parent Ingvild ever had was Liam, and he was never much of a father, was he? It took less than a few hours for him to give her away. 
She wonders how long it took for her real mother.
Her gaze drops, peering at Erica’s shiny crimson shoes as they counter the lifelessness of the floor like blood in the snow. Memories whisk her away again, a man in pursuit of a woman deep in an icy forest. She should have died that night and yet here she is, shackled to a chair. The voice of the man who saved her echoes through her head with a fair warning: ‘Liam never gave a flying fuck about you.’
Sharp as a needle, it pricks her heart.
“I know what Icarus did. Moulding you into the perfect assassin, depriving you of the childhood and the life you deserved.” Erica’s voice cuts into her trail of thoughts, making her raise her gaze back to the beautiful woman. “Now, I don’t know what twisted fantasies August may have offered but I can assure you, they are empty just like him. You read his file, you know what he’s capable of. Looking at your scars and bruises I assume he hurts you for his own sick pleasure, taking advantage of a woman who only wants to be loved.”
‘She doesn’t know him like I do, the way he drank my lips and called me his angel, the way his fingertips beat the warm blood in my arteries.’ Ingvild shuts her eyes, soaking in the remnants of his touch as it still ghosts across her body.
Erica’s kind, tepid hand wraps around the young woman’s jaw, lifting her pale face with the cautiousness of a human tending a wild creature. Grey and dark-brown collide at the seams as they share a silent stare.    
“If you’ll give us his location, we can arrange for your freedom and protection.”  
Ingvild breaks away from Erica’s grip, pushing herself back in the chair as much as she can. The screech of metal against marble makes the guards cringe. Slow and cold, a sardonic chuckle begins to burst from Ingvild’s lungs. The laughter echoes off the walls while she shakes her head with disbelief. 
“Do I look like a dumb bitch to you? Even if this was true, do you think I’m willing to be a slave to another government? Kept ignorant and tabbed? I’d rather rot in this cell while my beautiful monster dismantles your old world order.”
Drops of water splash at her face as Erica squashes the plastic cup in front of her, sulking with fury. Her eyebrows knit together and she purses her lips as if this young woman is something sour on her tongue. 
Evidently, Liam was right; the girl is far too gone, living in the little fantasy world August built for her. 
“If you think he ever cared about you for a split second, then you are a dumb bitch. No matter how this plays out, you and August are never going to end up happily ever after.” Erica spits, holding her finger at Ingvild’s childlike frown. “He’s never going to come for you. You were nothing but a toy, a plaything for him to pass the time.”
Ingvild scoffs and rolls her eyes, refusing to let these words cut into the beating muscle in her chest. 
`Stick and stones may break my bones...’
Solid, slender fingers wrap around her jaw, squeezing around her cheeks like a big spider. She is met with Erica’s long lashes, while those deep brown eyes slice into her soul. 
“You might think you know him, but I’ve worked with August long enough to know that he never loved anything other than his precious ego. So I would consider this as your final chance little girl, because if you don’t talk right now - this nice fellow here...” Erica pauses and gestures her head to the scrawny man who begins to hum a blissful tune while cracking his knuckles. Twisted excitement shines through his beady eyes as he glances at the set of sharp surgical tools lying on the desk.
“He’s going to make you sing like the precious bird you are.”
Fear shies from Ingvild’s stoic, icy face. The well-lubricated gears in the labyrinth of her head begin to work, observing the possible escape options and scanning every cavity, crease, and man in Erica’s lovely torture chamber.  
The door suddenly bursts open. A man in his mid thirties with bright red hair and a freckle-covered face rushes in, huffing heavily. His pink skin glistens with sweat, the strands of his fiery hair sticking on his large forehead while his hand holds onto his chest with distress. 
“Sloane, there is something you need to see…” he opens his mouth breathlessly.
“Not now!” Sloane snaps at him, looking at Ingvild with contempt. There is nothing she wishes more than to avoid torturing a young woman, especially someone as misguided as this poor porcelain doll. All she needs is to make her see the truth, that August never cared for her, that she was just another pawn in his grand scheme. 
“Director, I am sorry, but you really need to come and see this.” 
Agitated, Erica snaps in her chair to look at him. “What is it, Agent Louis?”
“It’s John Lark’s manifesto, ma’am…” he sighs, shoulders slumping, “it’s… it’s everywhere.”
A shivering hiss escapes her mouth. The shiver that graces the rail of her spine is like a shower of icy water, making her slowly rise from her chair. August’s harmful “poetry” is released into the air like toxic gas, contaminating every fragile little mind in an already unstable world.  
“Do you like my little surprise?” Ingvild asks, making the baffled woman turn to gaze at her. There’s a malicious little smile dancing across her eyes, her brows lifting with an arrogance that strongly resembles Agent Walker. 
Swallowing hard, the CIA woman takes a step back, tugging her jacket straight and looking at the torturer who lifts a small hammer between his pliable fingers. 
“Break her, until she talks.” 
The harsh tapping of her heels dies down and her silhouette becomes smaller until it disappears behind the shutting door. 
“Pretty girl...” The man’s voice is brittle and thin as he is, every word ending with a slight snake-like hiss. He moves to scrutinise her from head to toe, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip with a prying nature. 
“You know August used to mock me…”
“I can see why,” she spits out, looking back at him with both fearlessness and utter disrespect. She killed men bigger than him, hell, August’s kneaded her to submission and his torture was nothing but sweet. 
She can take him on, she can take all of them on.
The lean man beams at her, holding up the small shiny hammer and running his finger over the rim pervertedly. The dead skin around his nails rouses disgust in her gut, yet she rolls her eyes and fakes a yawn.
He chuckles at her theatrics and kneels in front of her with one unstable hand pressing onto her thigh. His revolting fingers scratch gently at her denim, making her shiver. If August knew another man was laying his finger on her… 
But August is not here.
“Well… shall we begin, little bird?”
***
‘When this world ends and the new one begins, what will be of your little Valkyrie? Merely bones and rotting flesh laid in an unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere and mourned by no one. Won’t you be jealous of the insects feasting on her narcotic tissue?’
Cold air seeps through his nose as sharp bullets of hail hit the ground with the fury of angry gods, shattering onto the ruins of an old bridge with a loud, clattering noise. Sheltered from the rage of the heavens, August stands beneath the wreckage, facing the men who came to make the final exchange. 
Blue and green ferns have grown over the decaying surroundings, climbing over rusted metal. Nature reclaiming its place over man’s occupied space. Justice and beauty in decadence and rot. 
‘Memento mori.’
“The plutonium,”  August demands, his thick brows shadowing his eyes in a battle to remain composed. Those same parasitic visions of sheer terror burden him like a daytime nightmare: pale as porcelain, she sinks to the bottom of a lake thick with blood. His hand reaches out for her, fingers trying to grasp whatever he can but she slips away. 
‘How far do you think Erica will go this time?’ 
A rogue droplet of sweat glides languidly down his temple, crossing over a bulging tendon. Unfortunately quite apparent to the three men who scrutinise him with wonder: two well-paid bodyguards and a slimy-looking slug, wearing a dark business suit that does nothing but emphasize his fragile masculinity. 
“The money first!” The businessman whines, attempting to make a tough face.
‘A cock and two balls.’ August jests and does his best to remain indifferent while anxiety threatens to claw its ugly talons in his throat. The seller’s receding hairline is thick with dandruff, his dull green eyes attempt to mimic confidence, as a beta male would do when facing a pure alpha, trying to compensate for lost dignity.  
‘I don’t have time for this,’ August huffs, his chest puffing and the immense shoulders stretching even wider, exhuming his natural overpowering dominance. His patience runs brittle as a dry twig. A restless throb thunders between his ears like a scab, latched inside his brain. 
The slug pries his mouth open to speak, yet his voice becomes dull as if the world just went underwater.
‘Do you think she’ll go as far as to let her men touch her? You know, not just the usual torture they put interrogated suspects through, but the type of touch only you are allowed to.’
‘She doesn’t have the balls, she won’t do that to another woman.’ 
‘Won’t she? It’s personal this time. Erica knows what you are capable of. And your Ingvild, she’s an apostle too now, an enemy of the world…’
Fever burns at his sweaty forehead and his lungs gradually collapse. Visions he can’t even bring himself to imagine attempt force their way into his mind. The yapping of the man who stands in front of him goes on and on; while August can feel himself speak in response, the words spouting from his lips are on autopilot. 
All he can think of is her, stripped naked, torn to shreds by dark shadows.   
‘She holds back a lot, but when she slips, aren’t her screams so beautiful? Her pleasant little voice, stretching so melodically, like skin over bone, thin and light.’
“Shut up!”
All eyes lift to August in silent bewilderment. His fists tighten, nails digging into his coarse palms as the will to rip someone to shreds beats through his blood. These men will be no more than a casualty. 
“Do you know who I am?” He asks in a deep, menacing tone, his hand but a second from reaching his holster. By measured calculation, he already anticipates how quickly he would shoot them one by one without so much of a scratch on his cheek.
“I’m John, fucking, Lark. My apostles are awaiting orders this very instance,” he reaches for his phone, ignoring the flinch in their posture as he draws it from his pocket and shakes it in his hand on display, “and you want to stand here in this shit weather and measure dicks? Spoiler alert,” he takes a stride in front of the little man, careless of his bodyguards who reach for their weapons, “mine is far bigger.”   
The seller peers at him silently, noticing the icy crust of rage in August’s glare. His pale eyes cut like diamonds while the shadow of his brooding figure falls upon the small man’s face. 
“You will get your money once I get to see the plutonium and confirm it’s authenticity,” August calls out assertively, each word distinguished, each syllable emphasised and sharp as a blade. Death is no longer an enemy to August Walker but an old friend, and those trolls under the bridge are a mere joke to the inferno he’s been basking at his entire life.
‘Limb by limb, feather by feather, while you waste your time...’
‘She wanted me here, she wanted me to secure the plutonium. If I don’t do this, it will all be for nothing.’
‘So now you are doing this for her?’
Not saying another word, the seller nods and snaps his fingers. Agitation is evident on his face yet the violence emanating from August forces him to bite down his pride. One of his henchmen approaches with a suitcase and opens it up to show August the orbs.
Thunder rips through the sky and the hail turns into a symphony of wrath. Icicles break across the construction site above, splashing water everywhere around them. Staring at the platinum spheres, August sees his own reflection dulled by the dirty silver curve. 
A dormant thing. But when set into motion, ever so deadly. 
He presses the beryllium rod to test the authenticity of the material and a sigh of relief pipes itself through his nose at the sound of the radioactive note on his testing device. Celebration blooms in his weary heart but the festivity is deemed achingly empty and dies out right away. 
‘Stop thinking about her, she’s gone. Focus on the cause, you’re almost there, just keep pushing through the doors.’ 
~*~
The blizzard melted into shy rain. The soft little drops dampen his hair, perming his large curls with the assistance of the cool winter breeze. Standing with the suitcase on the side of the rural road, August awaits his ride taking him to the helipad to proceed to Kashmir. It has been so long since he last met his true colleagues, since his departure from Lane in Norway. Avoiding any risks, contact was kept only necessary for the last stages of their tasks.
Doom’s day.
Securing the plutonium should have brought him relief, yet his chest continues to sink into his spine as if it’s being filled with coals. August Walker threaded through life alone, yet this sudden solitude is suddenly harrowing, making him feel like a gutted fish. Looking to his empty side he the ghost of her appears, giving him a bratty smirk. 
“Go away,” he chides, refusing to think of her. Of that stupid mouth talking back, tormenting him with sweet saccharine and cinnamon-like kisses. In his reminiscences, the softness of her lips still hinges. Tenderness meeting the bristle of his neck as she lay gentle wet markings up his coarse jaw. 
His fingers press to his mouth trying to harness the memory. 
A large car drives into the side of the road, speeding up and braking right next to his legs, missing August’s foot by an inch. Frowning at the careless driver, he grunts and brushes his hair before opening the passenger door.
“Took you awhile,” he grunts as he slips into the seat and peers at the driver. A bulky man in his early 40s with dark short cropped curls and thin lips. He shoots August a glance and turns back to the steering wheel.  
“Not my bad, you made a fucking mess, Lark.” The man answers and begins driving right away, careless of the fact that August didn’t put his seatbelt on and that he is holding radioactive material. 
Throwing the seatbelt over himself and fastening it, August growls and carefully secures the case on the side of the driver seat, his index finger remaining on the brim. He gently caresses the hard black leather. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 
The driver peers at him oddly before looking down the road, driving fast and passing a large log truck. “Releasing the manifesto. MI6 and the CIA are all over the place,” he says and turns the radio on, letting August hear the news on his own. “I get why you did it now, it’s brilliant to cause another distraction but you’ve made shit a bit harder with those cunts running around. They tracked it back from London and have been surveying the entire area.”
“I didn’t release the... “ 
August stills, his muscles shriveling up as realisation quickly hits him. 
‘Oh angel, what have you done?’
Drawing out his mobile phone, August immediately begins to search the newsite, his eyes an ocean of panic, fluttering back and forth. It’s everywhere, news about an anarchist manifesto, spreading like a virus through every social media outlet, leaked by codename “Jane Lark”. 
“Fuck,” he hisses, reading his own written word as he goes through an article posted on the BBC’s newsite. But she changed the last verse, added a little piece of her own:  
“Valkyries mounted onto beasts,  We will ride eternal to the sun. The blazes will sear us but we will not back down,  United by our cause of just war, Unflinching we will scour the earth, Until humanity comes together in tranquil and harmony.”
‘She loves you, you see? The way she lets you bleed her, use her, spill all your pain inside her. The way she held onto you just a night ago, your name falling from her lips, her body pressing into yours to take all of you. She’s the only one. The only woman who did and ever will. 
And you left her to die.’
________________________________
Disclaimer: I don’t own Mission Impossible and August Walker
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