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ladyreapermc · 4 years

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So! I already asked today 😈 buuuut since you are officially doing requests, I’d love to be kidnapped by Henry and ahem claimed. Because my size kink is raging today. Feel free to take it playful, dark, primal 💖 you are the writer 😻 I love you!

You can ask as many as you want love! Always! 😉 Hope you like your “drabble” LOL

Warnings: dom!Henry; possession kink;

You knew you were working too hard and barely having time for Henry when he was just back from shooting his new movie and about to take off for another season of The Witcher, but you couldn’t help it.

This would be one of the biggest book launch events your publishing company would do and you needed to be on top of everything, which meant late hours at the office, making sure that everything was perfect for next week.

“Hey boss,” your assistant peeked her head inside your office making you look up from the documents you were browsing. “Car’s waiting downstairs.”

“What car?” you frowned. “I didn’t…” you looked down at your phone and there was a reminder of a meeting with the new author you just closed a deal. “Shit!”

You didn’t remember agreeing to this but then again, you didn’t remember what you had for breakfast this morning. Wait... Did you have breakfast? No time to wonder now as you rushed to get up and shrug on your coat.

“Thanks, Daliah,” you said picking up your purse and pocketing your phone. “Remind me to give you a raise.”

“It’s already in your planner.” She winked at you as you stepped into the elevator and as the doors slid closed, you watched her typing a message, probably letting the driver know you were in the way.

The black sedan was waiting for you outside, not your usual town car but you didn’t have time to wonder. Just got on the backseat, calling a quick greeting to the driver as you texted the caterer the last minute adjustments required for menu.

You were so absorbed in these tasks that you didn’t even noticed where you were going until you looked out of the window and realized you on your way out of the city.

“Excuse me? I think you’re going the wrong way…” you called out, finally paying attention to the driver and that profile was unmistakable. “Henry?”

“Hey, love,” he glanced at you through the review-mirror. “Don’t worry, I know exactly where I’m going.”

“Hen, this isn’t funny, I have a meeting…”

“With me,” he answered, flashing that all fangs smirk. “As matter of fact, Daliah made sure to clear your schedule for the entire weekend. You should really give her a raise.”

If you weren’t so worried about the event, you would agree. Instead you were just annoyed that Henry had convinced your assistant to con you into going out of town with him when you definitely didn’t have the time. You left your laptop back in your office and only had your phone and tablet with you, but neither wouldn’t last the night.

“Now, you can work for the next 45 minutes until we get to the hotel, but after that I’m taking your phone and tablet away and you won’t get them back until Sunday,” Henry informed you, attention shifting back to the road and you sighed, knowing it was pointless to argue.

So you did what you could in the timeframe he offered you but as soon as he parked the car, Henry snatched both devices from your hands, giving you a warning look that told you to behave before he stepped out and circled the car to open the door for you.

“Bear, do you have any idea how much I…” your words were cut out as Henry kissed you with fervor as soon as you were out of the car, making your thoughts scatter and the protest to die on your tongue.

He was holding you with a hand on the small of your back, bending down to reach you, almost blanketing with his sheer size and that never failed to send shivers down your spine. It wasn’t just that Henry was tall. It was the broad shoulders and the solid frame; the wall of muscles that made you feel so safe and incredibly aroused over the fact that if Henry so wished, he could make you do anything he wanted, pin you down and carry you around, manhandle you and pretty much claim you and there was absolutely nothing you could do to stop him.

Just that kiss, all full of meaning, his tongue pushing past the seam of your lips, his large palm holding you in place as he devoured your mouth, his stubble leaving red rashes on your chin. Your small hands clinging helpless at the front of his shirt, because your knees wobbled at the intensity of his kiss showed you had no way out. You were his for the next two days to do whatever Henry pleased and there was no point in argue. Not that you wanted it anyway.

When he finally released you, you gasped desperately for breath at the same time you tried to chase his lips, not even close to satiated from his touch and passion but Henry’s hand moved to your nape, holding you still as he smirked at you.

“That’s better.” he pressed a sweet kiss on your forehead before meeting your gaze. “Now, panties.” For a second, you just gaped at his outstretched hand. “You’re not gonna need them for the rest of the weekend.”

“Hen, you’re not…” your trailed off as he arched his eyebrow at you. He meant it. Every word.

With your cheeks heating up, you reached beneath your pencil skirt and shoved your panties down until they fell to your feet. Henry grinned wickedly as you picked them up and put them on his hand. Only then he stepped away from you, letting you move aside so he could close the car door with one hand while he pocketed your panties with the other.

You were acutely aware of the feel of the wool of your skirt against your naked ass as Henry guided you to the elevator, his hand once again on your back, his thumb sneaking beneath the waistband and caressing the bare skin just above your ass as you two watched the numbers rise.

“You know I could finger you right now and no one would be the wiser,” he said, giving you another one of those wicked smirks.

“But you’re not going to…” you protested, swallowing the lump of embarrassment in your throat as you glanced at the camera in the corner. “Bear…”

The words died on your throat as he slipped his hand under the hem of your skirt, massaging your cheeks, his lips softly grazing your cheek in a loving, very chaste kiss, his body shielding your lower half from view as the elevator doors slid open and another man stepped inside, giving you both a short nod before turning his back on you.

“You’re mine and I do whatever I want with you,” Henry whispered, nipping your ear. “Now, keep quiet, dear,” he said, his fingers finally finding your slit and pushing inside.

xxx

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#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #slutty sunday #smutty drabble

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qqueenofhades · 4 years

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love your crusade answers! do you have any book or article recs for those of us interested in the muslim perspective/general medieval middle eastern history? (also, given your astounding history-based answers: are there any periods or facets of history you wish you were asked more about on here?)

Absolutely!

First off, I answered this ask the other week, which had a long list of book/article recs for medieval Muslims in Europe/Latin Christendom, Christian perspectives on them, and the cultural context and conflict embedded in those exchanges (as well as a second list with recs for work on historical queer Muslims). In the list below, I’ve tried to focus on the medieval Middle East and Islamic world outside the crusades, including the Islamic golden age, although there are a few books that cover the Muslim sources/views on the crusades. I’ve noted before that I don’t usually recommend books on the crusades that I haven’t read myself (especially popular histories), so all the volumes dealing with the crusades are either ones that I have read, they’re written by scholars whose other work I’m familiar with, or they’re recommended by people that I have met or otherwise trust. Most of these are academic in nature, and a few of the articles will require institutional logins for full text (alas). Some of them are also written for a more general audience, but yes, mostly academic.

So:

Jack Tannous, The Making of the Medieval Middle East: Religion, Society, and Simple Believers (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2018)

Carole Hillenbrand, ed., The Crusades: Muslim Perspectives (London: Routledge, 2000)

Niall Christie, Muslims and Crusaders: Christianity’s Wars in the Middle East, 1095-1382, From the Islamic Sources (London: Routledge, 2020)

Nicholas Morton, The Field of Blood: The Battle for Aleppo and the Remaking of the Medieval Middle East (New York: Basic Books, 2018)

Piers D. Mitchell and Andrew Millard, ‘Migration to the Medieval Middle East with the Crusades’, American Journal of Physical Anthropology 140 (2009), 518-25.

Forzia Bora, Writing History in the Medieval Islamic World: The Value of Chronicles as Archives (London: I.B. Tauris, 2018)

Howard R. Turner, Science in Medieval Islam: An Illustrated Introduction (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2010)

Amira K. Bennison, The Great Caliphs: The Golden Age of the Abbasid Empire (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2014)

Ahmed Renim, Habib Tiliouine, and Richard J. Estes, ‘The Islamic Golden Age: A Story of the Triumph of Islamic Civilization’ in The State of Social Progress of Islamic Societies (Springer, 2016), pp. 25-52. (This last one also has a fairly long bibliography with extra recs, which you can access in the free part of the article, hooray!)

As far as the history questions I get: I feel as if the most popular categories are about what you would expect -- i.e. women, queer people, social and cultural conditions, “Bad Old Medieval Times” stereotypes, Game of Thrones History TM, and now questions related to The Old Guard/Joe and Nicky/the medieval Mediterranean, the crusades, Muslim-Christian relations, vel sim. All of which I’m happy to answer, since they’re often things that coincide with my real-life research interests, give me a chance to expand my own bibliographic lists and reading resources, and are often what draw people to the medieval world in the first place. Since I have obviously had many, many rants on the use and misuse of the “medieval” in modern culture, whether in media or politics or as a rhetorical category or whatever, I am in full support of anything that stimulates people to think critically about this and interrogate those distorted depictions (because, as I’m sure everybody has noticed, they drive me UP THE WALL). Basically, if you’re going to social media to learn history, which can be highly questionable but is nonetheless how a lot of it (often wildly wrong) gets absorbed and transmitted, I’d prefer that people come to me, an actual historian with a PhD in the subject, rather than just whatever crazy-ass Tumblr History TM take is making the rounds now (and many of which I have had to debunk in the past.)

This is useful for me because I very much enjoy educating people about history, as you might expect for an academic who has (dubiously) decided to attempt to do this for a living. While I’m still in the seemingly endless lacuna between teaching jobs, it helps me to feel like I’m making a positive contribution and being helpful somehow. I like to think that my answers are, for the most part, comprehensive and useful, and provide a starting point to enable someone to do further research on their own, which is at the core of what we essentially want to teach. Because I have had so many people telling me that they either learned a ton of history from DVLA, or were inspired to go do their own research as a result, I think that was clearly an effective teaching tool (hey, it takes all kinds, and fic is obviously a much more painless way to absorb information rather than a complicated and technical academic text). I do still want to scrape together enough spoons to compile an actual study guide/historical appendix/reference list for it, since I know that is something that people have expressed interest in, so we’ll see if that happens eventually. But yes, I WANT you all to go out and learn research skills and apply that to your reading and find it interesting and to be able to process complex information in a sophisticated way! It’s a helpful skill for all of life, not just history, and is especially useful in our current moment.

....anyway, soapboxing aside, I’m usually happy to answer whatever I get asked, provided that I know at least a little about it and/or am able to dig up resources and look like I know. I obviously have my areas of interests and specialties, and people who follow my blog often have at least a tangential interest in those things too. I will likewise know more about certain subject areas than others, since no historian can possibly know everything, but I will do my best.

#history #medieval history #the old guard meta #for reference #hacash #ask

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fics-not-tragedies · 4 years

Text

Memories to be made: Chapter 1

one - two - three

I was quite anxious to post it at first, because, compared to my other fics, this is a totally different thing, but @ladyreapermc, @toomanystoriessolittletime & @solariumss talked me into doing it nonetheless. Hopefully it will be something worth reading!

SUMMARY: Emelia sees a handsome man on a street outside a cafe where her best friend works and she decides to run after him. Words: 3861; Warnings: none;

Readers tag list:

@spookier-than-u; @sparrowsparrow; @oreofenyloetyloamina; @derangedcupcake; @geostarr; @catsmieow; @wickedlangdon; @bodhi-black; @bugalouie; @onebatch--twobatch; @fandom-lover-4; @mikaneonox; @drunkonyellow; @spadesandaces2342; @harrisongslimited; @a–1–1–3; @hhighkey; @lunilate; @i-cant-remember-my-old-login; @sgt-morgan; @coloursunlimited; @childrenofthegun; @weminiaturestrawberry; @silverlambcaptain; @scarletmoon83; @howtoruin-someones-perfect-day; @krazycags01; @charlottebonnie; @moonlit-raven-haven; @girl-at-the-verge; @boopdedoop; @jardani-jovonovich-bitch;

The rain that was pouring all over London finally decided to stop, at least for a while, the sun desperately trying to shine through the heavy black clouds that swarmed the sky that not-so-long-ago was in an enchanting shade of pastel blue.

Everything felt better and much easier when the sky was just simply blue, with few fuzzy white clouds sliding through it here and there. They were almost identical to those small herds of sheep, unaffected by anything, bleating loudly, moving little by little and eating out the grass from the Cardiff’s cliffs.

The sky was the prettiest at nights, those ones spend alone or with someone you love, away from the city. Cloudless nights were the most impeccable moments when you could spend your time by gazing skyward. Their brightness was remarkable, making every constellation easy to see.

At times, when the night wasn't enough and the darkness was too consuming, it felt like all of those striking stellar phenomenons hide somewhere deep or every single one of them was sucked into a black hole leaving only the absorbing obscurity of the starless night.

Too early? Give Tea a Chance.

The slogan on the wide billboard right across the street caught her eye. She flinched in her sit closer to the window that was still covered in the droplets of rain, doing her best to focus on the advertisement and power-off her restless mind just for a moment.

There were two cups filled with tea and a teapot standing in the middle between them, the image printed on thin paper glued to the advertising board. The edge of it was peeling off slightly, flapping freely from side to side when wind blew in the right direction. She could imagine how the teapot, as well as the pair of cups, rips entirely from the board and flies away in an unknown direction, somewhere far from this gloomy city, to rise up the sales of tea elsewhere. Only though London was the perfect city to advertise a new brand of tea that was supposed to work as a coffee equivalent for those that cannot drink the stronger beverage.

Even not being a strong fan of tea she already wanted to buy the advertised brand and just simply drink it. She was curious if the tea was made from the tea leaves only or maybe it had those tiny pieces of dried fruit and edible flowers mixed in between them.

New brand of tea. Something fresh to occupy her mind.

At least for now.

When she’d be back home she would once again rummage through all of her stuff trying to search for the chunks of her mind she’s lost. She will look at those old Polaroid pictures still not remembering any single thing that was happening in the moment they were taken, nor any person that was posing on them with her.

“With your feet on the air and your head on the ground

You try this trick and spin, yeah

Your head will collapse, there is nothing in it

And you ask yourself?”

The subwoofer was placed somewhere around her seat and she could feel how the basses were thudding in her chest now, filling her whole body with a somehow pleasant feeling, she could swear was remarkably familiar.

“Where is my mind? Where is my mind?

Where is my mind? Where is my mind?

Way out, in the water see her swimmin'”

“This one exceptionally fits now, doesn't it?” reaching for her mug filled with icy coffee she turned towards the couple of her friends, who are eyeing her with concerned look on their faces.

“We were just saying that, Lia...” the red haired woman leans over the small coffee table, “A-are you okay?” she touches her hands, closing them around hers that are still gripping the mug, when she places it back on the marble surface of the table.

“Yes love, perfectly fine. My mind just got lost around this new tea” she points to the billboard, tapping on the glass with her short nail that’s painted in the shade called Russian Red.

It’s easy to recall, the name of the crimson varnish she has now on her every nail, the two coats neatly spread everywhere, without any missing spots or parts that are peeling off; yesterday she went to the beauty salon with the intent of making an usual choice, but this time, the name caught here eye and she opted for this classical color.

She never really had her nails painted red, but she knew that somehow she was a different person now and the change required a new varnish shade, the one she never used before.

They turn their heads to the side where her finger was placed against the cold glass, gazes following its direction.

Few things changed when she looked away for a moment; the wind stopped now, the peeled off edge of the advertisement wasn’t flying from side to side any more; and there was this man...

Standing too far from her to see his face, that was also covered with a pair of black sunglasses, he was simply standing by the fence, taking another drag from his cigarette. The white shirt he was wearing partially tucked into his pants, the black jacket probably miss-matched from a fancy suit.

There was something magnetizing about the way he casually ran his fingers through the fluff of his brown, near shoulder-length hair.

It didn’t seemed like he noticed her heart-shaped face pressed close to the window, eyes glued to his figure, breathing in his every movement. He looked like he just got out of some kind of business meeting, the black jacket of his suit comfortably unbuttoned now, squeezing the muscles of his arms, complimenting the whole look.

She was enchanted by him.

Since the accident she wasn’t really thinking about men, except for her dad and her close friend, that was now joking about something with her bestie. Still stuck on him, unable to look away now, move on and pay attention to anything else except for him, she was almost frozen in time, admiring the view of the smoking man.

Her hand wandered unconsciously to her neck, making her head tilt to the side, so she could have a better access to it, before she pressed her own fingers to it.

“Don’t scratch it!” she was scolded by her friend and even though she almost shouted, her loud voice interrupting everyone in the café, it this wasn't stopping her from sliding slim fingers back under the black turtleneck and rub them harshly against her scarred neck.

The weather was lovely, well except from the rain that was pouring down from the dark clouds from time to time, and she wore the knitted piece of clothing only with the purpose of covering her dreadful scars.

“Not scratching, just stroking them” her hand stopped moving and she just kept it pressed closely to her neck, feeling how the vein in it was pulsing, becoming more aware of her presence in the wicker chair and her face that was practically pressed against the wet window.

“Both means the same in your dictionary now” the blond man that was sitting silently next to the red haired woman finally spoke, standing up from the chair he was comfortably huddled in, “snap out of it babe” he walks over to the brunette and takes her hand out of the hem of her turtleneck, “ooooh... A GUY... he caught your eye, hasn't he?” She turns her head to look at her friend, giving him the death stare.

“Shouldn't you be working Jimmy? Bet your break already ended” she scans his apron dressed figure and raises her eyebrow, feeling how it begins to twitch slightly, the rapid movements of her body being unable to control sometimes.

Hoping that neither of them noticed the rapture motion happening on her face she quickly turned her head back to the window.

The fluffy guy was now gone from the spot where he had a quick smoke few minutes ago.

She outstretched her neck, pressing her forehead to the glass, only to catch a glimpse of his back dressed in the black suit jacket.

Tiny gasp left her mouth when she knew she wouldn't ever see him again.

Ever.

In her whole life time.

“Is it okay to run after a guy I haven’t met yet?” Her own question echoed in the café. The fiery haired female just rolled her eyes, while Jimmy walked to the door and opened them widely, the bell hung above them ringed, filling the place with its metallic tone, gesturing for her to just go for it.

“Emelia-Grace, if he caught your eye just grab your bag and run after him. He’s probably walking on the London Bridge now. Just fucking run babe!” She threw the bag onto her lap and waved her hands showing her to get up and go.

“You've got a point Macy, love you boooth!” Emelia shouted, putting the shoulder strap of her bag across her body and she immediately took a sharp right turn after running out of the café.

Her auburn locks were jumping around her face when she was sprinting through the sidewalk, bumping onto random pedestrians that were just passing by. Heartbeat raced up, breathing close to panting now, she kept stomping with her leather boots again and again, keeping a steady pace, trying to catch up with the guy she just saw.

Emelia noticed him at the beginning of the London Bridge, where he stopped for a moment to have another cigarette. Slowing down a bit, she tried to regain her breath, trying to calm her raced up pulse before even opening her mouth with the intent of speaking to him.

Sauntering closer she was able to notice all of his features and as he turned around, facing her now, and she couldn't help but smile. He somehow reminded her of a poet, that became fed up with his creativity and got out for a walk across London.

She approached him carefully, like he was a wild animal that needed to be tamed, smiling at him when he noticed her and took the glasses off his nose, hiding them inside the pocket of his jacket. His eyes were scanning her up and down, flicking between her face and the curves of her body, when she realized that corners of her mouth raised, she felt the courage kicking in, spring in her step making her move swiftly towards him.

“This might sound too upfront, but I noticed you while you were having a smoke right in front of the café one block away from here” she stopped there for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking again, “and you caught my eye. E-especially the hair, so soft and fluffy” gesturing closely to the side of his head she made him giggle a little.

He scrunched his nose, rubbing it with his fingers, looking away from her, but only for a moment, his eyes wandering back to her face almost immediately.

“Yeah, apparently there’s summat about it that catch girl’s attention” smiling at her, the upper row of his whitened teeth exposed in the wide grin that appeared on his face, she took one step closer to her and reached out with his hand offering her a handshake, “I’m Keanu, Keke, Ke, whatever you like to call me, really.”

Then, she hesitated, stopping her hand from moving, before she extended it fully and pressed it into the warmth of his palm. It felt awkward at first, until he hasn't moved even closer, lifting her hand up to his face and pecking its soft skin with his chapped lips.

“A true gentleman, what a surprise in this times...” a giggle left her mouth when Keanu bowed down again to press another kiss onto her hand, “Quite an unusual name, for a gentleman like you, Keanu… I’m Emelia, Em, Emmy or Lia, pick the one you fancy the most” after telling him her name she unexpectedly became silent, thinking if she got it right and didn't just made it all up along with the nicknames.

But her name was the first thing she noticed on the plastic bracelet that was wrapped around her wrist when she woke up in the hospital, the painkillers numbing everything and clouding her mind, even though somehow she still remembered her full name printed on the thin band she had carefully attached to her limb.

It wasn't just the creation of her mind which was still missing few major pieces. Her name was real and so is she now, standing in front of the most handsome guy she ever met.

On the other side of the sidewalk Keanu was taken aback by the softness of her distant gaze, revealing the fact that her thoughts were somewhere far from the spot on London Bridge where they were standing now. He still held her hand in his, caressing its top with his thumb, feeling the roughness of the scar she had inside her palm pressed against his skin. Parting his lips he almost spoke, asking her about it, but only a gasp left his mouth and he closed it shut.

Her curly hair was falling onto her shoulders, tangled under the strap of her bag. The sun decided to surprise them with peeking from behind one of the heavy clouds, highlighting all of the different bronze and gold hues she had hidden in her locks. The glance of her emerald eyes still stuck in a distant place, it seemed like she got lost somewhere along her memory lane and this tad bit of reality, with him right in front of her.

Emelia pouted her lips, blinked few times and her eyes focused back on Keanu’s gently freckled face.

“Glad to have you back on Earth” he rubbed her hand once again before finally letting go of it, “good memories or bad ones?” the huskiness of his voice was too pleasant for her ears, making her heart beat faster.

“The ones I can remember” only one side of her mouth raised, the crooked grimace she gave him forced, like she was angry at herself for not being able to remember everything she needed to keep locked safely in her mind.

“What?” His both eyebrows raised, eyes wide open, mouth agape, he slightly tilted his head like he didn’t really understood what he just said, blinking quickly few times and furrowing his brows.

“I-It’s too complicated...” she gasped, her hand shoot upwards and onto her neck, the urge to scratch the scarred skin too strong to simply avoid, it felt like her own body was making her do it unwillingly.

With the last bit of consciousness kicking in, she simply brushed the skin with her fingers, putting them under the turtleneck, like she was doing it in a way of flirting with him.

She wanted to avoid drawing any type of attention to her safely hidden neck, but mimicking flirting seemed more rational than just simply scratching roughly her already reddened skin, showing him that there’s something wrong with her unnatural behavior.

Noticing her gesture and how she moved her palm away from her body, squeezing her fingers with her other hand and rubbed them together; Keanu just smiled, partly to himself, partly to her and Emelia noticed the way his eyes were hooded now, not because of the sun that was shining too brightly now, blinding him, his sunglasses tucked inside his pocket and not on his face, but because he was focused on her, waiting for her another reaction, a barely noticeable rise of the corner of her mouth, twitch of her eyebrow or a head tilt mixed with usual puppy eyes.

He met many girls that had green eyes, but there was something diverse about hers.

They weren't just simply green. When he saw their color when she was slowly but surely approaching him they looked like the fields outside of L.A. in the spring. Juicy grass swinging from side to side, bent by the warm wind.

Now, when she was close to him, in the reach of his arms, something about them changed. Maybe it was the brightness of the sun reflecting in them that now made the green hues look similar to the shade of a potion, or rather a poison, the one a person can find in the lab of a mad scientist.

She swayed in the place where she was standing, lifting the heel of her boot off the pavement and then making it click while placing it back onto the concrete tile.

Smiling back at him widely she curled up the corners of her mouth so high, that the dimples in her cheeks decided to show.

“So cute...” Keanu breathed out, the words a mere whisper, but they reached her ears, making her face flush with a shade comparable to the one she had on her nails now. Her palms were all sweaty now, maybe because she was still pressing them tightly together or maybe rather of how fresh and new this situation was.

A drop of sweat left a trail on her back, sliding all the way down from the back of her neck. The turtleneck was a bad idea after all. It was too thick for this partly lovely weather, she had to buy few thinner ones, because she’s gonna boil herself in a minute.

“Sooo...” he started, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat, like he had a lot to say and really wanted to do it, but was stopping himself from spilling the tea.

She changed her position, standing now diagonally in front of him, shielding his face from the sun with her own figure, having a better look at his posture.

His arms were big, the difference of their size compared to his other body parts actually visible. Looked like he was doing some workout in his free time, the kind that was mostly involving his arms. Boxing maybe?

He was only a tad bit taller than she, but it wasn’t a problem, at least for her. She never fancied any guy that was incredibly tall and had a six pack. Neither she had any specific type, when it comes to men, but Keanu, on the other hand, was something... extraordinary; with the fluffy hair, doe eyes and his gloomy poet look he was an exquisite view.

She had to admit: she fancied him.

Keanu swallowed hard the lump that formed in his throat, intimidated by the intensity of her stare, unable to give his sentence a proper ending. Entangling his fingers in the fluff of his hair he scratched his scalp like the gesture was supposed to help him with coming up with the right words. Playing out a written script in his case was a lot easier than talking to girls.

Especially the ones he liked, because well... he had to admit: he fancied her.

Even though they barely knew one another, except for their names and faces, they both could have swear that there was something in the air, not simple another downpour, no; something that made them gravitate towards each other. The indescribable feeling of being close to somebody and the wanting of getting even closer.

Emelia’s mind was now occupied with him, a pleasant change for once. She felt the urge to hug him, wrap her arms around his neck, squeeze him tightly and smell the fumes of his cologne mixed with the smoke from the cigarettes, but it would be too random and awkward now.

Eyes glued to his face, not leaving it even for a second, noticed how his plump lips were parted, still, red from all of the many times he pressed them tightly together. The words he wanted do say out loud stuck in his throat, like there was anything clever to say in that moment.

They just kept staring deep into each other’s eyes, in silence, disturbed only by the birds chirping above their heads or by the passers by that were speaking on the phone too loudly.

Thoughts wandered off the right tracks and for the first time since the accident she thought about someone in a different way than just simply being his friend.

The fuzzy brown hair of his. What kind of shampoo was he using? And those strong arms. Flushed cheeks, the innocent smile he had on his reddened lips. He’s not the type of guy that breaks your heart, he’s too... soft for that. Yes, soft, the perfect word to describe him.

Soft.

Slowly he flicks his tongue across his lower lip before opening his mouth to speak again.

“Wanna go on a date” his gaze mellow, absolutely not trying to force any answer out of her, “with… me?” Keanu adds quickly, like the question was wrongly stated, not fully giving the hint that the date, in fact, would be with him and not with someone else, “Emelia?” He feels the urge to wave his hand in front of her face, she’s so lost in her thoughts she doesn't notice that he steps closer.

Then, the touch of his hands squeezing her arms gently makes her come back to Earth from the depths of her restless mind.

“Keanu” Emelia blurts out, stunned by his gesture, her heart pounding, face turned pale, hand ever sweatier than before. She actually wanted to take a step back, move away from him, move away from his body that was stuck too close to hers, but the browns of his doe eyes and the tenderness of his gaze stopped her from doing it, “d-date sound great!” Fishing out her phone from the pocket of her jeans she handed it to him, “J-just save me your number” and he did, removing hands from her arms, taking a step backwards, he stopped invading her private space and took the phone from her hand.

Few presses of its buttons later he gave it back to her, another wide smile on his face.

“Just... don’t forget to call me, please” Keanu added the last word, stressing out the fact that indeed he wanted to see her again, not only once, but again and again; he wanted it all to be something else. Not just a random meeting on the London Bridge.

He squeezed her arm saying goodbye without actually saying anything and moved slowly towards the bridge, turning around few times just to look at her again, like he was afraid he’d forget her face, smiling and waving his hand.

She just simply stood there, wiggling her own palm funnily, grinning like a high-schooler that just got asked about going to a prom with her long time crush.

When he stopped turning around to glance at her again and again, and just kept walking straight ahead, Emelia looked down at her phone, curious to see how he saved his own number. The new contact was simply named as Keanu, but with a smiling emoji right next to it.

A smile.

Sincere gesture worth more than a thousand words.

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