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#this post has robbed me of sleep for two nights now and it's done it's done i can't leave it in my drafts for another second
blouisparadise · 8 months
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Today we have the fifth part to our A/B/O rec list! There are tons of amazing fics on this list, so please check them and show them some love. If you'd like to check out our previous A/B/O rec lists, you can find part one here, part two here, part three here, and part four here. Please remember to like and reblog this post to help spread the word! Happy reading!
1) We’ll Stumble Through Heaven | Explicit | 6,504 words
Louis likes to be a good boy for his alpha.
2) Outline Of My Sins | Explicit | 6,551 words
Prompt 453: AU where alpha Harry is an art student who is taking a figure drawing class and omega Louis is the nude model. In the many years that Harry has taken art classes, he has never been more hot and bothered than now, having to stare at a beautiful nude omega model for hours.
3) All The Strings Attached | Not Rated | 10,517 words
“He wasn’t good enough for you anyway, H,” Louis says and continues eating. Harry’s still reeling from the fact that Louis is jealous. Part of him wants to prove that Louis has nothing to be jealous about, that Harry is fully Louis’ and no one else’s. The other part wants to punish Louis for acting spoiled. But Harry can’t act on either urge, he tightens his hand into a fist in his lap instead. “No, he wasn’t. He didn’t quite fit the job.” “Harry, it wouldn’t be a job to date you. It would be lovely,” Louis says, almost in a whisper. They’re sitting closer, Harry just now notices. Louis’ body is completely angled towards Harry and Harry’s body is not far behind.
4) Losing That Reactive Spark | Explicit | 11,599 words
“You didn’t shock me,” the O says, yanking at Harry’s shirt. Harry’s eyebrows furrow, looking down at him. He could probably shake him off if he wanted to, wouldn’t even hurt him. Harry doesn’t. “What’s your name? How come you didn’t shock me?” “Um,” Harry says. “What?” The O sways closer, pushing himself up onto his toes as he peers at Harry’s face. Harry tries not to breathe in too deeply, too obviously. The last thing he needs is for someone to catch him obviously scenting an O that doesn’t belong with him in public. No matter how unhinged that particular O might be. That’s just asking for trouble. “Is it broken?” the O asks, shaking at Harry’s shirt. Harry sways, more confused than ever. The bell on the door dings, and on autopilot Harry shifts them out of the way, allowing the person to pass. His umbrella dangles uselessly from his hand, not doing anything to keep them dry. “Is what broken?” Harry asks. “It’s not broken,” the O says to himself, fast. He shakes his head again, bringing both hands up to his face to push his wet hair back. “Just yesterday – ” He stops, staring at Harry again. It’s a suspicious stare. Harry’s mildly offended by it.
5) How You Sleep At Night | Mature | 15,568 words
"-and...this is Louis." And just that. ‘This is Louis.’ Louis feels like throwing up out of nowhere. So, that’s it then? Is he just a ‘Louis’ to him now?
6) Hungry Heart | Explicit | 16,100 words
"So you're using me and my kitchen for a bigger paycheck?" Harry asks. "What do I get out of it?" "What do you-" Louis parrots in disbelief. "I get a job that doesn't make me work ten hour shifts just to barely pay my rent while you get three meals a day cooked for you." "So, what, you're like some glorified housewife?" Housewife, personal chef, Louis doesn't care. Contract's signed and done; T's crossed and I's dotted. Louis will wear an apron and twirl his hair all pretty if that's what he wants. Even if the job feels more like some drawn out jail sentence, Louis hopes this isn't going to be a long summer.
7) Don’t Call Me Angel | Mature | 16,648 words
Manhattan is a dangerous playground for the rich and entitled Alphas of New York. Those same wealthy Alphas are robbed after spending one night in the presence of a blue-eyed Omega and Officer Styles is assigned to the case.
8) This Could Either Break My Heart, Or Bring It Back To Life | Not Rated | 18,349 words
Harry never really cared for love: he has two children he needs to care for, and a Country to rule. Love is just not in his cards. Enter Louis, who spins his children's lives but most importantly Harry's.
9) Only the Brave | Not Rated | 20,032 words
AU Mulan soulmates; where Louis is an omega going to camp in disguise to prevent his father to die in war, alpha Liam is a big wall of muscles and peace, alpha Zayn is obnoxious but cool knothead, alpha Niall is a cute hillarious baby and Harry is the alpha officer that has to train this weird group, and can't help the feeling that he's got an omega lurking among them.
10) Swept Me Off My Feet (Took My Heart And Took Me Down) | Explicit | 25,447 words
When Louis had decided to reopen his mother's bakery, he never thought a charming alpha would walk in through the door, let alone fall in love with him over tea, dessert and music.
11) A Springtime’s Wilt, An Autumn’s Bloom | Explicit | 20,593 words
Harry is Louis' personal chauffeur, and although he hides his feelings for his boss behind a wall of rigid professionalism, Louis still manages to squeeze through the cracks.
12) The Voice Of Range And Ruin | Explicit | 25,470 words
It seemed as if the freshly formed Omega Uprising had always been a step or two ahead of the Commandant and the rest of the reigning Alphanian officials. The idea had been floated that there must be someone working with them from the inside, reporting back to them on the government’s plans so that they could be prepared. That person had yet to be discovered, and the Commandant and his surrounding forces had finally had enough of this game of cat and mouse. Harry understood. He agreed. It needed to come to an end, one way or another.  “Your job is to navigate their landscape and gain entry into their forces. You will pretend to be one of them and gain reliable intel for us. It’s clear that no one else has been capable of doing it, and you at least have some semblance of experience in this field. This has gone on for too long, Harry. Enough is enough.” He made direct eye contact with his son, holding it. “I’m counting on you.” 
13) Feeling Peachy, Take A Bite | Explicit | 25,654 words
Prompt 570: Omega Louis works at a cupcake shop. he makes the prettiest cupcakes and loves his job. In comes beefy alpha Harry who absolutely loves to eat Louis’ cake. inspired by Louis being a cute baby girl handing out cupcakes.
14) The Evenness I Fake | Explicit | 26,370 words
Harry doesn’t do relationships. He has a perfectly enjoyable friends-with-benefits agreement with a perfectly lovely omega, and he doesn’t see the need to change that anytime soon. The small fact that Louis giving his attention to another alpha makes Harry want to put his head through a wall isn’t nearly as much of an issue as everyone’s making it out to be.
15) Just A Pretty Boy | Explicit | 35,614 words
The alpha in front of him wasn’t only tall, but used every inch of his body to look even more threatening. He looked as shocked as Joseph felt, in his eyes he could clearly see horror and anger mixed into an odd and painful mix. It was as if he just watched a ghost or a monster from a nightmare come to life.  “Louis…” he said with a low voice. It wasn’t a question, he was calling Joseph by that name.  The crease between Joseph’s brows deepened. “Who?” Louis and Harry were married until, one day, Louis passed away in a tragic accident. Years later, he is found alive and with a thousand questions plaguing his mind. The most important ones; was his husband involved in his disappearance? And, how long did it take Harry and his best friend to fall in love after his supposed dead?
16) And When It Rains, You're Shining Down For Me | Explicit | 37,081 words
“This is Harry, he’ll be your patient,” Liam gestured politely. Harry froze when Louis’ eyes met his own once more. He felt himself getting lost in those eyes, so much so that he didn’t notice Niall and Liam leaving the room quietly but the sound of the door shutting behind them brought him out of the trance. “Hello, I’m Louis,” the omega said, extending his hand for Harry to shake. The alpha could still sense some nervousness in his stance but decided to ignore it. “‘’m Harry.”
17) Truebonds | Explicit | 39,687 words
Louis doesn't mind being an omega, most of the time. Modern medicine allows him to suppress almost all of his omega traits, but the one thing it can't suppress is his scenting cycle. Fortunately, that only needs to be dealt with every seven years and he counts himself lucky that he can afford the services of a reputable agency. With his cycle due, he reviews the matched candidates and there's one alpha who fits all of his criteria, S28A. That's pretty much where things start to unravel. Enter Harry Styles, scenter for hire.
18) The Space Between | Explicit | 39,917 words
Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why. Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.
19) Noble Intentions | Explicit | 43,023 words
Louis is a beautiful omega prince impatient to lose his virginity. Harry is desperately in love with him and only wants to mate him if and when Louis agrees to marry him.
20) This Glass House | Mature | 43,072 words
While deployed, Alpha Harry gets injured by an IED explosion, leaving him to deal with severe injuries in its devastating aftermath. During his road to acceptance and recovery he learns with the help of Louis and their children just how important family can be for the mind, body, and soul.
21) Some Records Turnin’ | Explicit | 49,330 words
Harry is a soft alpha who owns a record store and Louis is a closeted singer omega masquerading as an alpha who randomly stumbles into Harry’s store.
22) Men of Steel, Men of Power | Explicit | 58,849 words
Louis has one goal: survive this year unscathed to complete his grand plan, for which he has sacrificed his family, his friends. His identity. he's not expecting Alpha Harry, who manages to get under his skin and inside his heart. He suddenly has a lot more to lose, and a lot less control.
23) These Still Waters Run Deep | Explicit | 64,602 words
Having accepted his engagement to Viscount Andrew, Louis is aware that it isn’t a love match and has no wish to be swept off his feet… until he meets the viscount’s brother, Harry, who makes him second-guess everything.
24) Violent Delights | Not Rated | 76,174 words
Prince Harry is arranged to mate Princess Charlotte, but first he must spend a month completing courting traditions which ends in a mating ceremony. When he arrives to the Tomlinson castle, he finds the forbidden North wing holds that which the family has worked hard to keep secret. Mainly: the sickly sweet Prince Louis, who’s rare gender has forced his family to keep him locked away for his own protection.
25) Wind Beneath My Wings | Explicit | 93,131 words
As an omega carer that works at a rescue and rehabilitation centre for feral alphas and omegas, Louis has experienced all sides of ferality. So Harry- a cold, near mute, non-receptive alpha- was a challenging case for everyone at Phoenix Rehab Centre. Louis wasn’t expecting to feel drawn towards an aloof Harry, or to form a slow bond with him. He certainly was not expecting for his entire life to change in unforeseen ways.
Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.
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acaplaya-musings · 23 hours
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Voiceplay Visuals: Sleeping In The Cold Below
If I had a nickel for every time Voiceplay did a song from a videogame, featuring Omar Cardona and arranged by Geoff... (Well, this was actually a co-arrangement between Geoff and Rob Dietz, but my point still stands! 😝)
Voiceplay's video for Sleeping In The Cold Below was uploaded on the 17th of February, 2024 (which for me typing this, was yesterday), and the song comes from an "action role-playing third-person shooter multiplayer online game" called Warframe, originally released in 2013. I know buggerall about the game, and have never heard the original song before, but as we should all know by now, that doesn't matter when it comes to Voiceplay! I'm very excited to break this one down, so let's get into it!
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Very cool mask things! (But also I'm glad they were only for the opening (and closing) shots)
Apparently this was filmed at some place called Optiview 360, and the name checks out tbh, because those are some very cool wall and floor effects, which I will be pointing out multiple times in this post!
(Also very niche little fun fact: the guys are in the exact same lineup order as they were for Dream On and Whiskey In The Jar: Geoff-Eli-Omar-Cesar-Layne!)
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The contact lenses were definitely a great touch for this video, I must say
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Cesar is wearing two different coloured contact lenses, because apparently he (and Omar too) couldn't decide which colour to go with (valid), and in fact Cesar and Omar are wearing one each of two pairs! (So basically their contact lenses match up)
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Geoff's hair looks greyer than usual here, and I can't for the life of me figure out whether it was coloured grey for the video, or if it's just the lighting, or if this is more of his natural colour nowadays. I'm certainly not complaining though, and I'll just have to wait for more videos from him and Voiceplay this year to hopefully figure it out!
Also, even though I love his hazel eyes, whether you can actually see a tinge of green in them or whether they just look a dark-chocolate-brown colour, I'm not gonna lie, the contacts he's wearing here are really doing things for me 👀👌
(And his outfit in this video seems to fit *really well* on him and he looks fantastic in it okay bye)
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Eli's wearing two different coloured contacts as well! (This Is Halloween flashbacks anybody?)
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This is almost pure-white lighting, and I reckon this is his natural hair colour at the current moment. You can definitely see his grey-white streak here, and his hair does still have a notable bit of brown to it, but it's almost definitely getting greyer (embrace it! Love it! I know I sure do!)
(Actually I might do a Geoff hair study for this video, but later, and not as part of this post)
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Everyone is now unmasked, and more cool background visuals!
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Swear I won't point out every single background change in this video, because there seem to be a fair amount of them, but still! So many cool ones!
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Notice Omar's different coloured contacts as well!
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Is that a freaking black hole?
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"It can hurt you, it can hold you, he can kick you or console you"
(Not shown here are Cesar's cool little head movements during the third shot pictured above)
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Omar's got some moves! (Also background change yet again!)
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Layne looking like he knows full well that he's just showing off at this point 😝😁
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Complete and utter superstars!!!
(Also that hand next to/under the head movement is definitely on my list of "movements I mimic when (re)watching Voiceplay videos")
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I mean WOW!
Also the background design changes at least 18 times, that's quicker than once every 10 seconds!
I loved this song and video so much I rewatched it almost immediately after my first watch, and then that night, I went and rewatched it again two more times! And honestly I'd have to say that out of all the videogame song covers Voiceplay has done (Enemy, Halo Theme, Dragonborn Comes, etc), this is 100% my favourite! Everything about this cover and video is so absolutely top-notch high quality, and the song absolutely slaps! Well done Voiceplay, you've knocked it out of the park again! Honestly the fact that they're just an independent acapella group on YouTube blows my mind sometimes.
So I'm finally up-to-date on all the full-length Voiceplay videos that I wanted to talk about, although by the time you're reading this, there will probably be a brand new Voiceplay video (edit from future me: there's not),But for now? Well either tomorrow or the day after (depending on whether there's a new VP video to talk about first (there ain't)), you will be seeing a handful of "Voiceplay-Adjacent Visuals" posts, where I'll be talking about the visuals of some of Geoff's solo videos! But that's all for now, and stay tuned!
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joestreng · 1 year
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PSX Picayune – Mid-Season Awards Edition
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Like crazed raccoons who fell into a barrel of fermented berries, PSX owners have been wheeling and dealing for an exciting stretch run. As we hit the All-Star Break, it’s time for the first-ever PSX Mid-Season Awards!
(By the way, this was written by the Commish, not a CBS Sports bot.)
“We Suck, but Not for Long” Award: October Knights
Nobody tanks better than the back-to-back-to-back defending champs. It’s hard to find a team that’s better prepared for another run of dominance than Rob’s motley crew of massively talented youngsters with affordable contracts. You have been warned.
“Man with a Plan?” Award: Scott’s Tot’s
In their second year in the league, the team with arguably the best name is still defining a winning strategy. Is it built around solid group of prospects? A hodge-podge of guys who outperform their contracts? A couple of core vets having career years? Only Scott Dub knows for sure. (Or maybe he’s just making it up as he goes along. It’s a coin clip, really.)
“Let’s Make a Deal” Award: Scotch & Water
Trader Dan has been working the phones, emails, faxes, landlines and carrier pigeons to offer any player with a pulse to the rest of the league. If history is any indication, S&W could be battling for the Fields Cup again in the near future. 
“I’d Give My Right Arm for an Arm” Award: Diamond Bumms
With savvy trades to net some top prospects, the Bumms GM has assembled the building blocks for a future contender. In the meantime, his pitching staff of $2.50 cast-offs would be the worst in the league, if it weren’t for the Knights’ deliberate ineptitude. Mark might be bummin’ in 2022, but maybe he rebounds next year. Or not.
“How Soon Is Now?” Award: Savage Ropes
Every year, the Ropes scour high school and college baseball fields to find uncut gems that will serve as the foundation for a run of championships. The guys with the stop watches and clip boards grabbed another young stud selected in the 2022 MLB Draft this week. Will the strategy pay off in 2023? 2024? When the earth is swallowed by the sun? Time will tell.
“We’re Still In This?” Award: Chin Music
The 2022 season has had an unusual number of teams who still have a chance to finish in the money. Andy saw the opportunity and made a bold move to give up a long-term keeper for players that will serve him well in his dash for cash. What’s that? The Nat’s closer is done for the year? Oh. Bummer.
“No Sleep ‘Til Autumn” Award: Roid Rage
How does he do it? He’s got a young family, business responsibilities, anniversary trips to Vegas and Cardinals games on 24/7. Yet, the Young Stacey consistently finds himself in the top half of the PSX standings almost every year. Don’t be surprised to see this sleep-deprived GM make a couple of additional moves before the end of the year. Unless he nods off into a jar of baby food.
“Inaugural Austin Slater” Award: Vamanos Pest
Regardless of how the Pests finish in the standings, the 2022 Draft Night highlight was the bonkers $5.50 contract the team awarded to Austin Slater. In honor of this mind-blowing buy, The Commish has announced an annual award will acknowledge the most WTF? bid on draft night. (But hey, excellent job with the pitching staff, Craig. Really!)
“Walking Wounded” Award: Kiss My Astros
Has there even been a pitching staff that’s been as snake bit as KMA’s? Elbows. Shoulders. Heart problems. COVID. I’m pretty sure one guy was put on the IL with scurvy. And yet, if the season ended today, Steve would be counting some cash, thanks to … ummm … I don’t know, actually. Let me get back to you on that.
“I Drink Your Milkshake” Award: Ugly Finders
The Uglies ripped a page out of the Savage Ropes playbook on draft night and picked a bunch of post-pubescent prospects. Did it work? One out of four ain’t bad, especially if the one is an 18-year-old who swings a mean stick. Still, if you’re going to try to pull a Daniel Plainview on someone, bring a longer straw, since Scott struck oil with two out of three. (Oh, and Mike’s having a nice year, too.)
“Catch Me If You Can” Award: Vicious and Delicious
Daryl was EXTREMELY thoughtful on Draft Night. How thoughtful? Let’s just say his final picks took roughly the same amount of time as a Mike Hargrove at-bat in the late 70’s. (There was a reason Grover was called the Human Rain Delay. You can look it up.) The strategy might pay off with a third championship for V&D. Unless…
“ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?” Award: Joltin’ Joe’s
Only one team has finished the PSX season with a Perfect 60 across Batting categories: Scotch & Water’s 2015 champs. Next in the record books with 58 Batting points: October Knights’ 2011 champs. How about 57 Batting points? There are your 2011 champs S&W AND your 2018 champs October Knights. Does the trend hold up for 56 Batting points? Yup. That would be October Knights’ first championship in 2004.
What’s my point? I swear to God, if the Jolts’ pitching staff doesn’t turn this damn thing around, I will feed Max Scherzer and Aaron Nola to a pack of meth-addicted zombies.
Enjoy the rest of the season.
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the birth of harry
alternate title: the key to harry’s universe is water
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There are many recurring themes and images Harry likes to use in his music and art in general. Communication with a lover/the self, rooms of the house, or even fruit names. One of the most persistent constants he's used, though, is water. For the visuals to accompany his art as well as in the lyrics themselves and one might argue the music sometimes even tries to sound like water.
What first sent me into the deep end about this subject matter is unknown to me - the mermaid tattoo, the adore you or falling mv, the snl harriel pics etc etc etc - I just currently find myself entirely submerged and will never get out this is where I belong I'm part of this world and you can hear me rant about it here !
Something definitely triggered me when the lovely lovely master of putting beautifully painful emotions into words @laurelier posted her two ghosts/falling piece of glory. I highly recommend you read that + the little rant on the side we had about what it could mean in relation to She.
I thought I made a fucking moodboard based on my own heart’s desires when I connected Harry as a pin-up doll on stage in philly to a mermaid thus to Ariel having to sing a concert from a shell for me to then land on Boticelli’s Venus floating on a shell over the ocean and imagining Harry as that. Simple. But THEN discourse escalated when @dyingstars-x caused me to remember that Harry literally already used open shells like that during a performance of Falling (screams) AND SEVEN THEN UPPED THE ANTE AND SLAMMED HARRY’S NUDE IN MY FACE CLAIMING IT AS THE BIRTH OF VENUS AND——
just a reminder that this was caused by the philly look. and then he fucking went and did this yesterday
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so here’s the order of business:
water in harry's art: an (attempt of an) entire overview bc why not 
the fine line nude as a birth of venus ft more mindmaps
water, mermaids and the birth of venus: an explosion of meaning
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just a quick disclaimer: this is all shit from my brain! 1) it is nothing harry has confirmed. 2) what’s especially important is that your own interpretations of his art is what you should hold dear, and read this for what it is: some internet voice letting their opinion echo around the harrysphere. what all of it means to you might be very different than what it means to me, and that never ever means it’s wrong. <3 okay let’s go
WATER
Since HS1 water has been everywhere. The cover of the album is Harry in pink water, drenched, and seen from above like you’re bathing him like a baby, washing his hair by scooping water up and pouring it over him. 
The water for hs1 is dirty, like bathwater that contains everything that has been washed off. There’s trash, old forgotten items, flower petals. We can assume Harry is naked but we can’t tell bc the water isn’t transparent enough.
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I always feel like HS1 is an album near and dear to Harry, but a work of art that represents his puberty, almost. His coming of age, figuring shit out, especially deep-rooted sadness that he did not have the tools for to properly understand yet. There are subjects that are clearly echoed in Fine Line, even flipped on their head, but if HS1 tried to convey the sadness trapped in Harry’s heart, Fine Line ripped it out and laid it bare. During HS1 Harry was still in a dark hallway finding his way through the maze of his self, while for Fine Line the lights have been turned on. He knows the maze a little better by now. during hs1 harry was still in the water while now he has emerged
The clearest water-related images in HS1 are in the lyrics of Two Ghosts, Ever Since New York and the music video for Sign of the Times.
In terms of two ghosts/esny I will first and foremost quote miss @bluewinnerangel :
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my own interpretation of this line also still holds imo (although my analysis of the rest of the song is a bit too superficial to my liking and will most probably be rewritten by me at some point) 
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The music video for Sign of the Times has so much to unpack (i think??) that I (or anyone) should dedicate a separate post for it, but: water. Soaring over the sea, really fucking high. Is it a metaphor for passing away? For Harry being a ghost? For wanting to escape? To fly away? bc i always interpret this song as. trying to get away in the most extreme form yk.
The sea, to me, is there as an image of a vast sense of calm. An endless horizon, the unknown, possibilities, escape. The edge of the world.
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The mv for Two Ghosts that was never released which is a good thing bc i don’t know if we could’ve survived that. It features Harry walking through rivers and lakes of what does seem to be water, but is rainbow-colored and almost oily (oil paint?). Harry floating on water then brings us closer to Fine Line and his relation to water now.
(stills and gif made from this video)
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It’s since Fine Line, though, that water has started to represent so much more. Now he’s also generally doused in it, soaking wet, or submerged entirely. 
The Lights Up music video was the debut of his sophomore album and a clear statement of intent with what the album was to achieve. The clip has such heavy imagery of sadness and desperation in water, a haunting but exhilarating juxtaposition with the ecstasy and freedom of the scenes where there is dancing or speeding off on the back of a motorcycle. i guess that really is what life is isn’t it
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Needless to say that in Adore You water also plays a big role. It’s a force that brings people together, like the neighbors who get married thanks to a message in a bottle. The ocean dictates life on the island. For the peculiar boy, it was going to be his (final) escape. The waves then threw the rainbow fish at him and reset his life entirely. In the end, the ocean is his door to happiness. The very same waves that he wanted to take him under eventually aid him in his pursuit of love. 
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harry you can’t just show me this virginia wolf-ass imagery and expect me to be okay
Falling…. falling. Mermaid shirt. Submerged. Drowning. Giving in to the rising water. Survives, panting.
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Golden: happiness, escape in the water.
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escape - solace - sadness - confrontation with/erasure of self - happiness
THE LONE NUDE
THE FLOWERS
pink flowers in the right bottom corner (i have close to no knowledge about flowers so pls don't shoot me if i get it wrong and by all means get back to me if you have additions/corrections)
first off: pink flowers are a "symbol of femininity, love, adoration and admiration"
pink lily:
symbolic of a confidence boost for people struggling with self-esteem issues
connected to more feminine, caring characteristics
black calla lily:
symbolises elegance, beauty and mystery
associated with lust and jealousy
purity, faithfulness and holiness. "The flower is often depicted in images of the Virgin Mary. For millions of Christians all over the world, calla lilies are a symbol of rebirth and resurrection"
black hellebore?
"Traditional Medicinal Uses: used in minute doses for mental and emotional disorders. The ancient Greeks used it as a cure for insanity. It has been used as a purgative for mental illness"
poppies (???)
"Chinese and Japanese flower experts recommend the Poppy for couples because it means a deep and passionate love between two people"
Red – death, remembrance, consolation (West) <-> success and love (East)
Purple, Pink, Blue – imagination, luxury, success
THE HEART
pink and blue ! 🏳️‍⚧️
hollow like an empty shell *coughcoughcoughchokesanddies*
EARLY DRAFT/ORIGINAL IDEA by set designer: WOMB. I REPEAT: WOMB!!!!!!! THEY WERE LITERALLY ABOUT TO PUT ACTUAL HARRY IN A WOMB IN THE FUCKING FINE LINE BOOKLET I AM NOT SC R EAM I N G
other images of fl shoot: growth, regrowth - will be discussed further below
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HARRY
half-in, half-out, as if he crawled or fell out of it
naked, like at birth
legs crossed casually, one arm covering his groin, the other spread out wide: hand covering parallel with paintings/sculptures of Venus !!
looking straight at the camera: parallel with paintings of Venus !!!
paintings of Venus, esp. Manet’s: depiction of woman who is proud of her body and looks, no shame (interesting: Olympia as a prostitute Venus)
on the floor, lying down vs standing up (- Jesus (h’s upper body reminds me of imagery of jesus at the cross and yk that kid also did a lil resurrection thingy))
self-esteem - femininity - love - pride - confrontation - success - rebirth
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TIE IT ALL TOGETHER
“I’m so attached to the idea that there’s a connection between H being in the water and existing as a fuller, queerer self, a more loving self. Being connected to the best of himself, all of that human goodness, even if it’s painful, even if he feels like he’s drowning, even if he sometimes feels like he literally can’t do it; almost like the water represents him learning to live and breathe in a different way, turn into a creature who can survive” underwater @laurelier​
There is a reason for all of this, for this mess of a post with arrows and more question marks than periods. There is a reason why I, among others, get emotional thinking about Harry as a mermaid. 
First of all, there’s the importance of Harry’s mermaid tattoo. A symbol for trans identities, especially with the link to a desire to shape-shift, change bodies, or even have no (obvious) genitals. (see mermaidsgender on instagram) Freedom in the water. Harry’s had it for a long time now, so these thoughts may have been with him since the 1d days, despite him not being able to clearly express it all back then.
“In 2014, Harry revealed his mermaid tattoo was a reference to himself. This was when he first got the tattoo and everyone found it bizarre and couldn’t understand why. Which is a tattoo of a mermaid whose vagina is pointedly visible, making her more woman than fish! But she’s still both!”   @bottomharrykingdom
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He uses water in almost all of his imagery, because in water is where his emotions, his buried personal struggles are. The water is where, especially, he has his dialogue with gender. He wants to bathe in it, swim deep in order to figure it out. Sometimes that brings him joy, pleasure, relief, and other times he gets suffocated. 
The water in all of his FL music videos represents a part of this dialogue. In Lights Up, he is mostly searching. In Adore You, he’s ready to end the dialogue entirely, but finds hope and new ways to engage with it. In Golden, he’s at ease, at peace, because he knows he is loved and is in love. In Falling, he finally dives deep, voicing his struggles so loudly that he nearly drowns. 
And this isn’t just in his music videos and art, it’s simply how he functions:
“when he and the band finished recording in Jamaica, he ended up drunk and wet from the ocean, toasting everybody, wearing a dress he’d traded with someone’s girlfriend. “I don’t remember the toast,” he says, “but I remember the feeling.” - Rolling Stone (2017) watch out or i’ll cry about this quote every single fucking time
he seeks relief and comfort in the water, a symbol for everything he’s trying to figure out, a symbol for being closer to the answers.
He can’t keep going under, though. He can’t live under the sea among the fish, no matter how badly he wants that. He has to live on land. 
He had to emerge from the water. He had to become his own version of Venus, born from the water, emerged onto the sand. (vs for hs1 where he’s still in the water, soaking. wallowing)
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Harry has shown us the imagery of mermaids, Venus, rebirth since Fine Line started. In the booklet we see him growing along with enormous plants that were originally sketched to be roots among which he’d be half-buried. The lone nude was originally designed to be a womb. A womb. That cradled Harry. Instead they chose for a hollow heart that Harry seems to have fallen out of. Because it makes the meaning of the rebirth less obvious? Because he’s been reborn thanks to a broken heart? Because he’s had to carve his heart out to get where he is now? Because he doesn’t have a womb and all that’s born from him comes from his heart? like this whole entire bit is so huge to me i hope it is to you, reading this, too
Harry’s pose echoes that of images made of Venus all throughout history. He’s aligning himself with the goddess of “love, beauty, desire, sex, fertility, prosperity, and victory.” The bold eye contact with the viewer. Look at me. Really, take a good look, I dare you. Or perhaps just: this is me. Nothing more, nothing less, and I will never be ashamed (again). 
I think the most important part to remember about Harry using this imagery is Venus’s birth from the sea linked to his use of water to process emotions, especially linked to his gender. He chose the image of a rebirth from the water because he is a mermaid ready to live on land as Venus. He chose for these symbols of femininity (the pink flowers), these echoes of women, goddesses (or even mermaids) in art, because they represent this new person he’s become. Or the person he’s always been, but has finally been peeled bare. 
Like Venus, his birth is as a grown person, never perfect (thank the romans for imagining their gods as flawed beings), but whole. And this album represents that process, tells that story.
If we look at the story the music videos tell, alongside the album, we can assume Harry’s found a way to feel good in his skin by diving so deep into his self that he could emerge from it as a new person, someone who has shed issues or has embraced them, turned them into something positive.
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intermezzo of harry looking beautifully queer
Look. I’m going to give you (even more of) an (unasked for) insight in my mind on this to drive my point home just a little more. 
Fine Line, the song. The final track. The sounds of it. Listen.
We’re submerged, we’re dreaming, we’re floating. The opening notes of voices singing sounds like something you could hear underwater. The instruments sound distant. Harry’s voice echoes, ethereal. I’m thinking of the mermaid song in harry potter and the goblet of fire here as well as sound effects in the little mermaid stay with me on this pls. The piano (yk from 2:15) must be the one they used for falling bc it sounds submerged. Every note sounds like a drop of water in an echoing cave.
We’ll be a fine line. The song starts to pick up. Harry’s voice starts to sound closer, clearer. The guitars are livelier. We’re rising up from the water. Strings play bc it really is fucking emotional. 
But then. Drums. Our pace picks up, we’re leaving the sadness, the struggles, the doubts, the comfort zone behind. The trumpets start to blow because it’s a fucking victory of ours, getting out of that water. Harry sighs: we’ll be alright. We’ll be alright.
And then he lets it out. WE’LL BE ALRIGHT. 
We’re running. Dancing. Maybe just panting. Dazed. Smiling, laughing. Exclaiming in relief. Cymbals clash. A choir of muses sings our story.
Some last drops of water fall from us onto the sand. 
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There is a lot of pain in this journey, in Harry’s art. A lot of shit he’s dealt and is still dealing with. Who knows what his future work might even bring upon us. Fine Line, however, has told us the story of someone who has learned to accept, come to terms with who they are. Who stands victorious and proud. Who has redefined himself for himself. Who celebrates himself. 
His focus, clearly, lies where his freedom is. It’s been his focus all throughout FL promo, his latest speeches during hslot underlining it even more. Even in the most recent press statement he gave, to New Yorker in an article about Harris Reed, he stated:
“To wear Harris’s clothes is to be having fun,” Styles told me, in an e-mail. “Every frill is there to be played with, and an overwhelming sense of freedom shall rain down upon you.”
For Harry, to experiment with gender, wear androgynous clothing, be androgynous/gender-non-conforming/genderfluid/to not be put in a box is to be free. And he had/has to struggle hard to work that out, but he made it. He killed off an old version of himself to emerge sparkly new, gleaming with pride. He knows who he is, now. 
and if he sometimes needs to go back to the water, for solace, comfort, or to simply escape, then that’s part of the journey. and i know we’ll always be proud.
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i had to
now i’m gonna go cry a bit and hopefully sleep a lot and especially listen to this playlist i’ve had for a while now, adequately called mermaid comfort. you’re welcome to join me if you’d like. thank you so much for reading, for coming on this bender with me............ by all means, dump your thoughts onto me (please) and this gif by @kiwikiwiandkiwi​ of harry last night pretty much sums it all up for me rn
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astralkoo · 3 years
Text
The Snack Thief (M)
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Pairing: Jungkook / Reader
Genre: neighbors au, smut
Rating: 18+
Words: 6.4k
Summary: in which your annoying, younger neighbor has a nasty habit of breaking into your apartment late at night and stealing your food.
Warnings: strong language, technically breaking & entering, broke college student struggles, older!reader, Jungkook saying noona, explicit sexual content; sub!jungkook, dom!reader, blowjob, kitty gets ate, sixty-nine, very mild degrading (jk gets called a slut like once), needy jk, fingering (m. receiving)
— author’s note; it’s been a minute, hasn’t it? i’ve been trying to get back into my groove so hopefully this is the start of a very active and productive summer for my writing. also! this is cross posted on my new wattpad account bckupbabies so if you see it on there, that’s me don’t worry!
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You woke with a start, heart pounding, skin drenched in cold sweat, fear gripping at your chest.
There's someone in your apartment.
It was a split second realization, one that ripped you violently from the gentle thralls of sleep and had thick, stifling terror settling like heavy stones in your gut. Sucking your lips into your mouth to prevent your breath from coming out too audibly, you strained your ears, listening carefully. At first, all you could make out was the soft whirring of the fan above your head. But then—
Thud.
In an instant, you were out from beneath the covers, a shiver rushing down your spine as the cold night air nipped at the exposed skin of your arms and legs. Instinctively, your hand shot to the nightstand, rushing over the smooth wood surface, seeking out your phone. Only— it wasn't there. Shit. You must've accidentally left it on the counter last night. Shit.
Gritting your teeth, you stumbled through the darkness, bracing a steadying palm against the wall to guide yourself across the bedroom.
"Where is it, where is it, where is it?" You hissed, searching blindly for the item you're always sure to keep near your bedside in case of a situation just like this. It didn't take long before your fingers grazed the smooth rubber grip of your old-reliable baseball bat. You let out a cautious exhale and moved silently towards the door, careful to avoid the floorboards that squeak.
Keeping your back against the wall, you stepped into the short hall. You could hear more clearly without the separation of your bedroom door; the heavy footsteps and low grumbling voice. It wasn't just your sleep hazed mind playing a nasty trick; there was someone in your goddamn apartment. A combination of fear and rage heated the blood currently rushing through your veins, the thundering of your pulse almost deafening in your ears.
Another loud bang sounded through your apartment and your shoulders tensed.
Were they even trying to be quiet? What a shitty burglar. They should've done their research before busting in. You were a broke college student working at a freaking campus cafe just barely able to afford paying your rent every month. The most valuable thing in your apartment was probably the ultra soft two ply toilet paper you'd splurged on last time you went shopping for basic necessities.
And you'd be sure to bash the bastard's head in before he could lay his greedy fingers on your precious two ply.
Letting out your fiercest battle cry, you swung your bat over your head and launched yourself out from behind the wall, poised for the attack. The man in your kitchen, who was elbow deep in your snack cabinet, shrieked (incredibly un-burglar-like, you might add). The sound was so high pitched and sharp that you flinched, startled as he whirled around clumsily, not only banging his elbows but tripping over his own feet in the process. You were barely able to catch a glimpse of his face before he fell, disappearing behind the counter.
But something about that scream was vaguely... familiar?
"Jungkook?"
The top of his head peeked out from behind the countertop, familiar doe eyes blinking back at you sheepishly. "Hi, noona."
The tension in your shoulders immediately melted upon realizing that you in fact not being robbed by an armed lunatic— rather, you were being robbed by your annoying next door neighbor. Again.
"Are you out of your mind?!" You hissed sharply, frustration flaring, "it's fucking three in the morning! Why the hell are you in my apartment?"
"I was hungry!"
"That doesn't explain why you're here!"
"I was craving ramyeon but I ran out! And– and you always have extra anyway so I thought you wouldn't mind!"
"Ha! You thought I wouldn't mind—" You gritted your teeth, on the verge of seething when you noticed he was still ducked behind the counter. "Why are you still hiding? Get over here." So I can beat your ramyeon stealing ass, you added in your head.
"Drop the bat— then we can talk." He bargained, nodding pointedly towards your weapon, still poised for attack.
Grunting, you reluctantly released the handle, letting it fall to the floor with a sharp clang.
Jungkook let out a low breath of relief, before meekly stepping out from his position behind the counter. Your eyes immediately dropped to his hands, still desperately clutching onto two packets of ramyeon.
Pinning him with a glare meant to reprimand, you crossed your arms firmly over your chest. "Jungkook, you can not keep—" your scolding was abruptly interrupted by a low, thunderous rumbling, your gaze jumping in surprise to the younger boy's face, which was now donning an embarrassed blush. "W– was that your stomach?"
Sucking his lips into his mouth, he nodded, head dropping in shame.
A wave of sympathy washed over you upon realizing just how hungry he must be. Any anger at having your sleep ever so rudely disrupted quickly fizzled out, the tension in your shoulders dissipating as he shuffled his feet shyly.
"Geez, this brat." You muttered under your breath, trudging over to where he stood and snatching the ramyeon packets from his grasp. He looked up at you with wide, pitiful eyes, and you could tell he thought that you were going to kick him to the curb. Instead, you jerked your chin into the direction of the couch and said, "go sit down while I make these. Don't need you hovering over my damn shoulder."
It would be a lie to say your heart didn't flutter a little at the sheer amount of excitement that lit up his face, pink lips breaking into a wide, uncontainable grin. Deciding not to push his luck, he quickly bobbed his head and scampered over to the couch, tossing a bubbly, "thank you, noona!" over his shoulder as he went.
You scoffed, though the corners of your mouth tipped upwards in spite of yourself.
The kid was cute. You'd give him that much. With those big shiny eyes and that stupid bucktoothed grin. Even if he was a perpetual trespasser and a food thief to boot, you'd let his little indiscretions slide... for now.
The ramyeon didn't take long to make, but, even all the way across the room, you could practically hear Jungkook's stomach growling up a storm by the time you were pouring it into two separate bowls. He was squirming on the couch, peaking over the back of it with wide, wanting eyes, damn near drooling at the mere smell of the sodium soaked noodles.
"Don't spill," you warned with a click of your tongue as made your way to the couch, handing him one of the bowls, "eat this, then go home, alright?"
Jungkook was already stuffing his cheeks before you'd even finished speaking, but he paused to pout over at you upon processing your words. "Noona..." he gurgled in soft whine around his mouth full of noodles, making sure to swallow before he finished, "why do you want me to leave so badly? You're hurting my feelings."
You scoffed as he pressed a large hand to his chest, wincing dramatically as if your words had somehow truly wounded him. "Do I have to remind you that it's 3am? I was sleeping. I would like to go back to sleep. I was having a very good dream before you fucking broke in to my apartment and tried to rob me." You hissed, plopping down on the couch beside him and shoveling your ramyeon into your own mouth.
Damn. That shit was good.
"I wasn't robbing you." He protested weakly. You raised an unconvinced brow.  "Just... borrowing."
You barked out a laugh. "Oh? So you were planning to return all the snacks you were about to steal?" His eyes lowered, a guilty pout turning the corners of his mouth downwards. "Yeah, didn't think so."
"Still..." he grumbled bitterly, looking up at you through his thick lashes. "I'm much more fun than sleep."
You snorted. "I beg to differ."
There was an uncharacteristic lull of silence, and you spared a questioning glance in Jungkook's direction, not expected to be greeted by the astonished expression painted across his face.
He looked... genuinely offended.
"Noona," he sounded rather distraught as he set his half eaten bowl down on the coffee table before turning his body fully towards you, "how could you say that?"
Your brows lifted expectantly, confusion swimming in your gaze. "What?" You laughed lightly, not understanding why he suddenly seemed upset. You were just joking around... had you accidentally hit a nerve?
"You have fun with me." He insisted once more, a certain desperation to his words.
"Yeah... when it's not 3am."
"Liar." He scowled, gaze dropping to where his fingers were tracing miscellaneous shapes on the fabric of your couch. "That's when you have the most fun with me."
His voice had dropped into a low whisper at that last part, so you had to strain your ears a bit to make out exactly what it was he was saying. At first, you were confused. The most fun...? But then you saw the faint blush coating his cheeks, the shy fluttering of his lashes, the nervous fidgeting of his fingers...
And it clicked.
A few weeks ago, you did something stupid. Something you shouldn't have done. You'd given into urges that should have remained buried deep, deep inside of you.
"Jungkook." Your voice held a warning pitch as you growled his name. He shuddered ever so faintly at the shift in your tone and quickly turned away from you, snagging his lower lip tightly between his teeth.
"It's true..." he grumbled petulantly, kicking his foot lightly against the leg of your coffee table.
You stared at his profile through furrowed brows, gaze hard and unwavering as you set your own bowl onto the table. "We talked about this, Jungkook. We agreed not to bring it up again!"
"No, you— you made that decision all on your own." He protested quickly, thrusting an accusing finger in your direction. "I made no such promise."
"Jungkook," you sighed heavily, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing your fingers into your temples as they throbbed, "what I did—"
"We," he corrected, leveling you with a stubborn glare, "what we did. Stop acting like I wasn't a willing participant."
"You're a kid—"
"I'm nineteen! I can make my own decisions!"
"No. You can't."
At that, his expression hardened, lips pursing, fingers curling into tight fists, eyes flaring with determination.
"Watch me."
In the next second he was on top of you, straddling your lap, large hands cradling your jaw as he pressed his warm lips purposefully to yours.
Startled, your hands leapt to hold his waist, instinctively steadying him. The rest of your body remained stiff and unresponsive, frozen in shock from the sheer unexpectedness of the kiss. It wasn't until Jungkook let out a soft, pleading whine against your unmoving mouth that you were kickstarted back into motion.
"Jungkook," you gasped out his name, somewhat more breathlessly than you intended, hands rushing between your bodies to push him away by the swells of his firm chest, "w–what are you—"
"You want me." The younger boy swiftly interrupted, his warm breath caressing your lips as his fingers gripped gently at the back of your neck. "You want me. You can't deny it. You said so."
You were goddamn dizzy. "When did I—"
"Fuck, Jungkook. You have no idea how long I've wanted this. How long I've wanted you." It took you an extra second to realize that he was quoting back your words from that night. Word for fucking word. Heat rushed to your face, your hand gripping harder at the thin fabric of his top.
"How do you even remember that." You grumbled bitterly, embarrassed at having been called out.
The corner of his mouth curled into a small, teasing smile. "I have a pretty good memory."
"Bullshit," you scoffed, "I can't count the number of times you've forgotten to bring back the shit that you 'borrowed' from me. I bet you have a fucking closet full of my sweatshirts."
"I didn't forget... I just didn't want to give them back." He informed you in a soft, lilting hum, running his thumb over the smooth cut of your jaw.
"Thief." You spat, but the word lacked any real fire. It sounded weak on your tongue, a soft fluttering of breath that easily could have been mistaken for a moan. You saw his eyes drop to your mouth, desire pooling within them, so thick and dark that you felt it polluting the air around you, polluting your lungs with every jagged inhale.
He shifted on top of you, strong thighs squeezing around your hips. You tried to pretend that you didn't feel the press of something hot and hard against the top of your leg, but the tremble of your eyes and the clench of your fingers were not easily mistaken.
Jungkook sunk his teeth into the delicate flesh of his lower lip, and your gaze followed the motion unconsciously. You didn't even realize you were staring at his mouth until he spoke in that low, hoarse whisper, ripping you violently from your trance.
"Can I take a little more?"
Your brain was screaming at you to say no, screaming at you to not be selfish, to not be greedy. To not want something so terribly that you felt it trembling through your very bones. You shouldn't want this. Shouldn't want him. He was too young, too naive, too sensitive. You'd break the poor boy before he even realized what happened.
You should say no.
Mind made up, you opened your mouth, fully prepared to reject the boy and put a stop to whatever the hell this had become, right then and there. You were prepared to be the responsible senior that you needed to be, for both his sake and yours.
But what actually came out was something entirely different.
"Yes."
Jungkook barely had time to let out a happy whimper before his mouth was back on yours. A soft groan rumbled in your chest as your arms curled around his slim waist, tugging him ever closer. Long fingers tangled in your hair, he gently tugged your head back, leaning himself over you in order to deepen the kiss. You permitted him to do so without resistance, lips parting to allow his eager tongue to invade your mouth.
His body was hot and heavy above yours, but you didn't mind the added weight, the pressure on your thigh probably the only thing keeping you grounded. Because the heat between your legs was a anything but grounding. Sticky and wet, an accumulation of unspoken need and neglected lust that refused to be ignored for even a moment longer. A bleary haze fell over your mind, all the blood in your head suddenly rushing downwards to feed the growing flames in your groin.
The first roll of his hips was so minute, so slight that you would have missed it completely had it not been for the soft, airy moan that escaped his throat. The second was less than subtle, a hard, deliberate grind that rocked his already half-hard erection against your stomach. You felt it there, where your shirt had ridden up to expose a thin strip of skin, the front of his sweatpants growing thick and damp with his steadily increasing arousal. Your grip around him tightened, nails biting into his clothed hips hard enough to have crimson flowers blossoming across his golden flesh.
The sting coaxed a strained moan from Jungkook's inflamed lips, the rolling of his hips growing more frantic. You were quick to steady them, not wanting him to overexcite himself too soon.
"Calm down." Even in your own ears, you voice sounded thick and unstable, and you silently cursed yourself for having gotten so worked up by a mere kiss. But, in your defense, it was one hell of a kiss.
"I'm calm." He insisted unconvincingly through harsh pants, fighting for oxygen but not willing to pull away from you lips long enough to actually breathe. Quite the dilemma.
You chuckled softly, sliding a hand up to grip his jaw, preventing his mouth from finding yours for just long enough to soothe the fierce burn in your lungs. He took that opportunity to strip himself of his top, tossing it haphazardly to the floor.
You felt your stomach tighten, taken off guard by the unexpectedly display of glowing, sun-kissed skin you found before you, stretched across thick, toned muscle that flexed and tightened with even the most minuscule of movements. Subconsciously, your tongue slipped out of your suddenly dry mouth, dragging over your swollen lips.
Jungkook mimicked the motion, reaching down with ink embroidered hands to grip your wrists, gently guiding them up the length of his fit torso. "Touch me." It was a plea, the low whimper lacing the words a dead giveaway of his unyielding desperation.
You didn't hesitate to comply.
Pushing forward, you set vengeful teeth upon his prominent collarbone, biting down just hard enough to leave your mark. He moaned loudly, head falling back as your nails raked over his sensitive nipples. A violent shiver transversed his body, goosebumps rippling across his exposed skin that was set on fire by your greedy touch. He found the back of your head and neck with trembling hands, urging you closer without use of words. You kissed up the length of his taut throat, sucking and licking until you were content with the colorful array of bruises you'd left in your wake.
"Kiss me." You whispered against the defined curve of his jaw, wanting another taste of those pretty little lips. His head dropped forward obediently, mouth open and ready to be received by you. Fuck, he looked so hot from that angle; dark, hooded eyes pooling with lust so deep you could drown it it, kissable, rose petal lips glistening and swollen and just begging for attention, full cheeks flushed a dangerous shade of red that only enticed you further.
How could he look so ruined? You hadn't even touched his dick yet.
The thought roused a scoff in the back of your throat, and Jungkook pulled back slightly at the sound. "What?" He asked, the tip of his nose brushing yours.
"Nothing..." you grinned lazily, before kissing him slowly, deeply, lustfully; kissing him in such a way that the poor boy was trembling in your lap, gasping and whining by the time you pulled away with a lewd smack, lips wet and stained an erotic crimson. You chuckled as he swallowed, pupils blow and unfocused. Reaching up, you cupped his chin, rolling your thumb over his lower lip. He sighed, eyes fluttering as he teased the tip of the digit with his tongue.
"... just wanna put your dick in my mouth."
At that, his shimmering doe eyes popped open wide, shocked— then excited.
"Don't tease me." He pleaded weakly, hips stuttering over your thighs.
You reach between your bodies, taking the time to revere the fine-tuned slopes and edges of his ridged abdomen, before finally finding the hard outline of his flushed, angry cock straining against the thick fabric of his sweats. He gasped brokenly at the contact, forehead falling against your shoulder as he gripped desperately onto your arms, dull nails digging into your biceps. You turned, smirking lips feathering over the shell of his pink tinted ear.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
And then, he was on his back.
Jungkook let out a squeak of surprise, chest heaving as he attempted to process the sudden change in position. But you didn't give him the chance, slotting yourself between his spread thighs
"W– we didn't do this last time." He stuttered clumsily, staring up at you with those wide, dangerously innocent eyes that made you want to absolutely wreck him.
"No, we didn't." You confirmed, nipping lightly at one of his pert brown nipples. He jolted, letting out a low, unsteady moan of your name, a cry for your attention.
"S– sensitive, noona."
God, he is so fucking cute.
"I'll be gentle." The reassurance did little to soothe the violent thundering of his heart, the heavy thrum of it setting his every limb to shaking.
He was nervous. You could tell. Understandably.
Truth is— Jungkook was a virgin.
Key word: was.
As in, before he broke into your apartment at 3am on that fateful morning where you lost your cool because damn did you he look good in that skin tight black t-shirt that showed off those sexy tattoos and those thigh hugging black skinny jeans that squeezed his cute butt in all the right places. Of course, you didn't discover that until after the deed was done (seeing as he hadn't had the mind to tell you while your tongue was shoved halfway down his throat).
But god, you felt so guilty. You'd never taken anyone's virginity before. And you weren't so sure fucking on a kitchen counter was the most... romantic way of losing it. It had been quick, messy, all sweat and teeth and nails, the blunt edge of the cold counter digging into your ass.
Sure, it felt fucking amazing, and you'd received no complaints from Jungkook's end. But still. Had you known, you would've been... gentler. Or, at the very least, you would have had the tact to take him to bed.
You hadn't even blown him for fucks sake.
So, if you were doing this —and, as it appeared, you were most definitely doing this— then goddamnit, you were going to do it right and make up for all the things you hadn't done his first time.
You descended his body slowly, taking your sweet time licking and nibbling over all his lovely curves and sharp edges, marking the places you'd been with pink, flowering bruises. His head kicked back, mouth falling open around an onslaught of heady moans as he reveled in your unrelenting affections. Distracted, he didn't even notice you slipping his pants down his legs until the cool air hit the sensitive tip of his weeping cock.
"N– noona!" He propped himself up on his elbows, desperate to see you, to find your eyes through the disorienting cloud of lust he found himself engulfed in. Arousal spun his brain into useless mush inside of his skull at the sight of you between his legs, looking right back up at him, pretty mouth hovering just above his hard need, soft breath caressing the feverish skin.
"Relax, Jungkook. It'll feel good." You chuckled, pressing a soothing kiss to his hip.
"I– I know," he swallowed, and you didn't miss the dark blush creeping into his cheeks as his eyes fluttered shyly, "I just— I want to make you feel good... too... b- because last time you didn't..."
Last time you didn't...?
Oh.
Oh.
"Okay," you hummed simply, pushing yourself up with an easy smile, "I can think of a solution."
Jungkook watched with bated breath as you stood, damn near choking on his own spit when you abruptly shoved your pajama shorts down your legs. "N- no underwear?" He whispered, voice hoarse and strained as he stared unabashedly at the bare expanse of smooth skin between your thighs, glistening with sticky wetness.
You smirked faintly, appreciating the reverence glistening in his melting brown eyes. "For convenience sake," you teased.
He flopped down on the couch with a dramatic groan. "Fuck, you're killing me."
Leaning over the younger boy, you pressed a deep, purposeful kiss to his delicate, lovely lips, eliciting an appreciative moan from his burning chest.
"Don't worry..." you pulled back, breathing the words into his open mouth, "I'll do it slow."
"Fuck..." he squeaked.
Laughing softly, you dropped your knees to the edge of the sofa and splayed a hand over his toned stomach. He was hard and warm to the touch, and you liked the way his muscles flinched and fluttered beneath your palm.
"I'll tell you what I'm gonna do," you pressed your lips to his throat, feeling the way it bobbed as he swallowed, "I'm gonna get on top of you..." you walked your fingers down towards where his dick lay, red and leaking across his belly, "and you're going to eat me out," he moaned shakily against your cheek, hands lifting to grip your arms, "while I suck your pretty little cock. How's that sound?"
"S– so good. Fuck, that sounds so fucking good." He pulled at you greedily, begging you with wide, wanting eyes.
You caved to him all too easily, carefully maneuvering your body until you were situated above him, knees planted on the cushion on either side of his head. Hot breath rushed over your exposed core, sending shivers ricocheting down your spine. Hands gripped at your thighs, rough and calloused against your skin. He was pulling again, whining out soft, shuddering "please, please, please" as he tugged at your hips, trying to get you closer. Closer.
Teasingly, you kept your hips raised, just out of reach of his ravenous mouth, so eager to steal a taste. "Noona," he whined petulantly, "don't be cruel."
Cruel? You nearly scoffed. You haven't even begun.
Regardless, you decided to end the torture there, lowering your hips until you were within his reach. He didn't let a moment pass before his tongue was on you, lapping eagerly at your wet slit. You gasped, clutching tightly onto the thick muscles of his thighs, your own legs growing weak under his relentless ministrations.
Holy shit. You didn't expect it to feel that good.
It was only when Jungkook's hips bucked beneath you, a pleading whimper vibrating through your center, that you realized you weren't fulfilling your end of the deal. Stuttering back into motion, you encircled his hard length in an unsteady hand, feeling the raw heat of it throbbing angrily within your grasp.
"You're good with your tongue, baby." You chuckled breathlessly, pumping him slowly with the help of his spilling precum. He moaned in response to the praise, long fingers digging in hard to the flesh of your ass. Another, more violent tremble wracked your body as his tongue dragged over your sensitive clit, the responding rush of pleasure pulling a low groan from your chest.
Shit, if he kept that up—
Feeling that you'd given him enough of a head start, you dipped down, swiftly engulfing his glistening tip in your lips. Jungkook gasped against you, and you could almost picture his eyes snapping wide open, jaw going slack. The blissful pressure of his tongue gave way to cold air as he tensed and shuddered beneath you, all those hard, rigid muscles turning to jelly as he processed the mind numbing sensation of your mouth around his cock. It was an unwelcome absence, and you quickly found yourself growing impatient and —shamefully enough— needy, your aching core craving attention.
But Jungkook was a mess beneath you, moaning and whining pathetically as his hips bucked and spasmed, entirely overwhelmed. His arms were wrapped around your waist, holding you so tightly you were certain you'd be feeling it tomorrow. You felt his tongue, sloppy and uncoordinated lapping at your folds with a desperation that set your blood to flames. The vibrations of his sounds resonated through your clit, and you hastened your own movement, feeling yourself clench and throb with your impending release.
You pulled off of him with a lewd pop, a thin string of saliva connecting his swollen tip to your lower lip, before sliding your hands beneath his ample thighs and tugging.
"Lift your legs for me, baby."
He obeyed immediately, feet rising from the cushion, too lost in your intoxicating taste to second guess what you were planning. At least, not until he felt your touch shifting from his thighs to his ass, and a warm, wet dribble of saliva sliding over his hole. He flinched violently, a gasp shooting from his lips at the unfamiliar sensation.
"Ah–! N- Noona, where are you touching—" he yelped, trying to sit up and catch a glimpse around the shape of your body. Swinging your ankles up to rest against his shoulders, you forced him back down, looking back at him from over your shoulder with a cocked brow and a seductive grin.
"Where do you think?" You chuckling teasingly. "Are you clean?"
"Yeah..." he whispered shyly, and you could practically feel the heat of his blush radiating against your skin as he confessed, "I– I showered before coming over..."
"Good." You slid a single finger over the ring of muscle, watching in amusement as it fluttered and clenched in response to the unsubstantial caress. "Tell me if you need me to stop, alright?"
At first he only nodded, but choked out a soft "okay" when you pinched his thigh, urging him to use his words.
Purring out a low praise, you returned to his cock, licking a thick strip from base to tip as your index slowly circled his entrance. Jungkook whined and squirmed, still trying his best to keep up with pleasuring you. It was cute, feeling and hearing him struggle.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered what kind of face he was making beneath your dripping cunt. Were his eyes rolling to the back of his head? Was his tongue hanging out of his mouth? Was his feverish skin glistening with a mixture of his sweat and your arousal? Fuck, you were so curious.
In an attempt to stifle your frustration over not getting to see what kind of fucked out expression he wore, you sunk the tip of your digit into his hole, down to the first knuckle. Jungkook gasped at the unexpected intrusion, his already hard grip on your thighs tightening further. Even with just the tip in, he was clenching hard, and you allowed him a handful of moments to adjust to the sensation. You hummed around his length, swirling your tongue expertly over his sensitive tip to distract from any momentary discomfort he might've been feeling.
It seemed to work well enough, his body gradually relaxing around you as he let out soft, airy moans, delicate whispers of your name fluttering from his lips. "You can—" he whimpered as you licked his slit, "you can put it in deeper."
Heat coiled in your gut, a wicked smirk spreading across your face. "You want it deeper, kookie?" There was a taunting pitch to your words that had the boy curling in on himself, skin hot with embarrassment. When he made no effort to respond, you squeezed your free hand around the thick base of his dick, wrenching a cry from his throat. "If you want it deeper, you have to ask nicely."
"You're so mean, Noona." He whined hoarsely, the muscles in his legs tensing sporadically from the effort it was taking to not fuck himself into your closed fist.
"That didn't sound like a question..."
Jungkook groaned weakly, head tossed back in a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. There was a beat, and then you felt the shy press of his lips against your clit accompanied by a light flick of his tongue.
"P– please put it in deeper, Noona..."
"Mmm, good boy," you emphasized the praise by slipping the rest of your finger into his tight heat, spitting once more to ensure substantial lubrications.
"Ngh— oh f– fuck—"
"Does it hurt?"
"No it just..." he swallowed thickly, "feels a little weird."
"This should help with that," you murmured, more so to yourself than him, curling your finger in search of that small bundle of nerves that would make him—
"Ah! Oh fuck!"
A smug grin settled across your lips. Found it.
Jungkook moaned loudly, tossing his head back, hips bucking violently as you rolled your finger against his prostate, sending tendrils of white hot pleasure bursting through his body. That's more like it.
"Feel good?"
"Yes! Yes! Feels– ah! Feels so good, noona," he sobbed brokenly, clutching onto your legs. You thrust your finger into him slowly, making sure to ease him into the feeling of having something inside of him. If you played this right, perhaps he'd let you do more than just finger him. You had toys sitting in your closet that you were just dying to use. Who better on than the cute snack thief next door?
"Think you can take another?" You asked, a bit eager to stretch him out, to see how much he could handle.
He nodded quickly, grinding his hips greedily down onto your finger, wanting it deeper, harder, faster. "Please. Please. I want more."
"Needy little slut." You laughed dryly, nudging your middle finger against the rim of his wet hole. You sure as hell didn't miss the way his pretty cock twitched in response to the degrading words, and a whole new round of excitement festered inside of you.
You were going to have so much fun with him.
It took a bit of careful prodding before you managed to press the length of your second digit inside of him, his tight walls clamping down around the invading appendages.
"Please move." He begged pathetically.
You planted a steadying palm to his hips as they began to buck, holding them down against the cushion. "You're too tight, sweetheart."
"I– I can't help it." He whined, a distressed cry breaking from his heaving chest.
Sympathy swirled in your belly. You could damn near feel the desperation radiating from his body in thick, hot waves. Dipping your head, you pressed a light kiss to the swollen, red head of his shuddering cock.
"Then let me help you relax."
Jungkook sobbed as you took him into your mouth, the warmth of your skilled tongue tracing a slow ring around the underside of his tip sending his head into a tailspin. It wasn't long before you felt the tension in his muscles melting away, quickly snatching the opportunity to start fucking your fingers into him. The pace you set was slow and steady, but you made sure that with every thrust you were brushing against his prostate.
The amount of pleasure rushing through his body at that point was overwhelming, and he'd been reduced to a moaning, crying mess beneath you. Any words he managed to choke out between his sounds of bliss was broken and unintelligible on swollen lips. A small corner of your mind was concerned about your neighbors, wondering if they could hear his wailing through the dangerously thin walls.
"N– Noona— it's so good, oh my god feels so fucking good—"
Fuck. To hell with the neighbors. They should be goddamn grateful.
You sped up the pace of your fingers, burying them down to the knuckle with each thrust. He was writhing now, unable to control his body let alone keep still as he was engulfed in a mind numbing heat. It wrapped itself around his every limb, his every sense overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of his impending release.
"I– I think I'm gonna—" he couldn't even make it through his warning before he was cut off by his own whimpers. Luckily, you didn't need him to finish his sentence to know what he was trying to say. The signs were obvious enough, especially with the way his wall were throbbing around your fingers, the way he was pulsing between your lips, lathering the back of your tongue with an onslaught his salty pre-cum.
You hastened your ministrations, taking him off guard as your plunged down on his cock, stopping only when your lips met the sweat-slick skin of his pelvis. Jungkook cried out a shattered version of your name, unable to stop his hips from jerking up violently at the feeling of your throat constricting around him as you swallowed.
That seemed to be the last push he needed, because within the next second he was writhing and spilling hot cum down your throat, walls clamping down so hard around your fingers you worried they might break.
It was like nothing he'd every experienced before, he could feel it in every single part of his body. From his curled toes to his trembling finger tips, every last inch of him was devastated by the hurricane of erotic bliss. And unlike every other orgasms he'd experienced in the past, the high of it last way longer than just a few seconds. By the time it finally began to fade, he was still shaking.
You pulled your fingers out of him as gently as you could, but he still whimpered at the sensitivity, quivering legs squeezing shut. Maneuvering around so that you were draped over his chest, you whispered soft apologies against his throat and jaw, spilling soothing kisses across the flushed, perspiring skin. Jungkook curled into you, nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head.
For a while you stayed like that, letting him bask in the post-orgasmic bliss as you bathed him in the kind of tender affection that he wasn't used to receiving from you. But, you'd always considered aftercare a vital part of a good sexual experience so, even if it was a bit out of character, you were more than happy to tell him just how good he'd been for you. And he was more than happy to relish in your praise.
"Noona?" He called for your attention suddenly, after his breathing had finally evened out and the deep crimson coating his cheeks had faded into an endearing pink.
"Yes?"
Against your lips, you felt him swallow.
"You didn't cum, did you?"
"I didn't." You admitted after a beat, suddenly reminded of the ache between your legs. You'd managed to be distracted from it, entirely too focused on breaking Jungkook in all the best ways to be concerned with receiving any pleasure. But now, you found yourself very much aware of just how badly you were craving your own release. Subconsciously, you squeezed your legs together.
There was a pause.
"Noona."
"Hm?"
"Sit on my face."
The demand had your hooded eyes flying wide open, mouth freezing mid-kiss.
"... please." He remedied in a bashful whisper.
For a moment, your brain went blank, not fully processing the request. But when it finally did, there were only two words that flooded into your mind and rushed from your lips in a breathless, excited murmur.
Fuck yes.
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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years
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The Morning After
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Summary: The morning after the reader finally has sex with her long time friend and crush, Dean, things start to unravel and she feels as though he only did it out of pity...
Pairing: Dean x reader
Square: The Morning After
Word Count: 1,400ish
Warnings: language, post sex/nudity, angst, referenced past torture, happy ending
A/N: Written for @supernatural-jackles​ Tell Me A Story Bingo!
_______
A heavy arm draped over your waist when you woke, pulling you back into its owner’s chest. Dean. You’d slept with Dean last night. Best friend you’d known since you were four years old Dean. Dean who played hide and go seek in Bobby’s junkyard with you. Dean who you helped with his fractions. Dean whose shoulder you cried on when you broke up with your first real boyfriend.
Dean who pulled you out of that hell hole a few years back. The Dean that now was ten years older while you’d stayed the same. The Dean you hadn’t seen in a decade and the Dean that had saved the world more times than you could count.
You sat up in bed, the arm tensing before it slid off of you. You turned and put your back to him. 
“Nearly forty years of build up and that’s it?” he asked quietly. “One night was all we got?”
“Dean you pity me. We were drunk last night.”
“I’ve never pitied you. I was angry at myself for letting you drift away, not realizing you’ve been trapped by a demon all this time. You were robbed of ten years. Look at you. You’re barely thirty years old.”
“What, I too young for you?” you said dryly.
“You’re still older than me,” he said softly. You rolled your eyes and rested your hands on your bare thighs. “I do not pity you. I love you. I have been in love with you since I was a twelve year old boy. But you were smart and you graduated high school and college and you hunted but you had a life. I was...at a certain point I was no good for you so I just let you go. I thought you would have been married with kids by now.”
“So did I. Here I thought I’d have had that with you a long time ago.”
“Y/N. I’m not-”
“Good enough? You raised Sam and look at him. You could have had everything you wanted Dean.”
“So I’m too late is what you’re saying,” he said quietly. You tucked your knees into your chest and shook your head. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’m broken. The girl you fell in love with doesn’t exist anymore. She died in that hole. She’s never coming back. You’ve spent the past two years teaching me and helping me recover and I know everything I could possibly know and more and I just know what you fell in love with is dead. I thought sleeping with you would make me feel better but all it’s done is make me realize I have to get out of your life. You have to move on.”
“As the person who was the broken one, the one who tried to hide and move on, let me tell you something. It doesn’t work. It’s you and me. It’s always been you and me.”
“Dean-”
“Do you think I wouldn’t have loved to, to be the person you come home to at the end of the day? To raise a family with? To go through ups and downs and all of it with? I couldn’t have a family, not the stereotypical one, not with all the shit I’ve had to do over the years. But Chuck is human, powerless. The archangels are dead. Jack’s in charge of heaven, in charge of it all. Rowena’s got Hell under a pretty good lockdown. We’re the safest we’ve ever been in our entire lives.”
“Dean.”
“You’re not walking out. Not after I have fallen in love with you all over again these past two years.” You looked over your shoulder and shook your head. “You’re not broken.”
“I used to be scared of the sound of water. Water. It took a year to not have a panic attack when I took a shower.”
“So? Do you know what I would have given to have you there for me after I’d been through shit like that? Would you ever in a million years call me broken? Think I’m broken? No. All you’ve ever thought is I’m strong and brave and I’m your best friend. Even on the really bad days, I know that thought never crossed your mind so give me the decency of not assuming that I would ever think that about you.”
“Dean, I’m broken.”
“Well so the fuck am I!” You felt wetness in the corner of your eyes, Dean scooting closer in bed, resting a hand on your bare back. “Just because we have scars doesn’t mean we have to live every minute of every day in those bad memories. Moments maybe but not our whole lives.”
“How can you say that? Our whole lives-”
“Because that’s what you said. That’s what you told me. So many times growing up you told me and if I have to be the fucking optimist in this relationship right now then fine. But you’re not giving up on this, our first real chance at this, because you’re scared I’ll think you’re broken. Broken means you can’t fix what happened. We’re not broken. We’re fucked up but we are not broken.”
You turned around and faced him, Dean taking a deep breath. You stared at his chest, slowly looking up to find his green eyes watching you. You sat up on your knees and crawled closer, wrapping your arms around his body, holding him tight.
“Can we give us a chance? A real chance?” he asked, lips pressed against your temple. 
“Okay. One chance. Just one Dean. I don’t think I can take anything more than that.”
Three Years Later
“Dean! Is she hungry?” you called from the front porch. Dean stood up from where he washed one of Baby’s wheels and looked down at the baby strapped to his chest, currently fast asleep. 
“We’re good!” he said, the little girl waking up and pouting at her father. “Scratch that! Winchesters are hungry.”
“I got lunch on the table,” you said. You ducked back inside, Dean washing up at the sink a moment later. He unbuckled your daughter from the straps and set her in her cushion on top of the table for now, pulling it closer as you set a bottle on the table. “How’s she doing out there?”
“She loves it, doesn’t she,” he said, kissing the top of her head before he tilted her bottle up and she started to suckle. “I’m gonna leave her inside after we eat though. It’s getting a little sunny for her.”
“Yeah,” you said quietly, taking a bite of your sandwich. He smiled and cocked his head at you, looking you up and down. “We weren’t broken. We couldn’t have done all this if we were.”
“How’s my one chance still going?” he asked. You smiled and nodded. “Do you want to have a prom night?”
“Uh, what?” you laughed.
“Prom night. I never went to prom. I dropped out before that happened. Never went to a school dance. Figured maybe I could throw up some lights on the patio, steal some of Sam’s flowers from that giant ass bush next door...I can get a tux.”
“Only if we can invite our friends to it and throw a rager in the backyard,” you said.
“Deal Winchester,” he said, the baby knocking the bottle away when it was empty. “Geez. Chug that fast enough?”
He picked her up and threw a towel over his shoulder, rubbing her back while she let out a burp.
“What?” he said when you just kept smiling at him.
“Morning after sex the first time, especially old friends, that can be really awkward.”
“But…”
“But that was the first day in a very long time I let myself think that you didn’t pity me. You loved me was all, that’s why you helped me, saved me. I’ll owe you forever for that.”
“Repay me with hugs and kisses?” he said with a soft smile. 
“I can do that,” you said, leaning over to pick up the bottle. You stood up and kissed his cheek, pulling her off of him and onto you. “Come on, kiddo. Let daddy have his lunch. The sooner he finishes the sooner he can come back inside and give us both all the hugs and kisses we want.”
“I won’t be long ladies,” he said, grabbing his sandwich and kissing each of you. “Twenty minutes at most. Promise.”
__________
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gildedmuse · 3 years
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Hey, everyone.
So recently I've (predictably) very not well. Actually, whenever I don't post for long periods, just assume my body is trying to kill me. But I've gotten messages from three people asking if I. Okay, which is super sweet. I am actually trying to work on the next All Hearts, a really long ZoLaw post and two request fics, but mixing chronic kidney pain and capitalist society's mandate to work 40+ hours is not recommended.
But to prove I'm okay and still me, here is some Shanks antics with him being a total slut while Mihawk and Beckman just roll their eyes and go along with it. [Shout out to @jhaernyl who not only listens to me ramble about this stuff, but actively encourages it]. I also have many thoughts on the latest episodes and so many screenshots it's embarrassing. Hopefully, when I'm in less pain, I'll get around to actually posting those. Otherwise I just look like an insane person who literally takes by the second frame shots every time Zoro is on screen.
.... What is that? I look like that anyway? Fair.
Shanks Is A Bad Influence
It feels like Buggy and Shanks split up after Roger's death (the crew was told to, and they are the only ones who went to his execution) and I find it impossible to think Shanks didn't immediately set out and find a crew; like, pirating is the only thing this kid knows in life. This means two things:
He set out from East Blue. Also, he seemed at ease and familiar with the East so it's possible he spent like a year there getting everything together. Maybe he even played around in the other blues for a while before heading back to the Grand Line. I say this because his crew is from all over so either he found and recruited them in the Grand Line or visited various blues. Either way, I'm gonna say it took him about two years before getting a 'proper' start. In that case, he would have started out properly at the age of 17 and we know One Piece likes it's parallels.
That still puts Shanks at 17 to Benn Beckmen's 28. How the fuck did Shanks manage that? I'd call it grave robbing, but let's face it, the little tyke probably got up to some actual robbing of graves as well.
My point being everytime Shanks teases Mihawk about keeping this 19 year old kid on his personal island, mostly shirtless, Benn Beckmen just lifts an eyebrow.
Excuse me, captain, who had prefected the 'opps still don't have my sea legs' trip-and-fall into their first mates lap by the age of 17?
Shanks: Beckmen, you caught me! *Shamelessly nuzzles up* Thank goodness! I could be a devil's fruit user after all and - Ahh!
Benn: *Drops Shanks straight over the side of the ship into the water*
Shanks: *Sputtering* What what that!?
Benn: Checking to see if you had eaten a devil's fruit on us, Capatin.
Benn: You didn't.
Smart ass. But he can't resist Shanks forever. Shanks will wear him down eventually.
Next time Mihawk tracks him down for another match - because you know he gets bored way quicker than he'll ever admit and Shanks is at least amusing a challenge - Shanks makes a big deal out of how Mihawk follows him around, "accidentally" revealing they slept together, sighing about how it's so hard to resist him.
Benn Beckmen is just leaning against the side of the ship, sipping his booze.
Shanks: -and I can't stay for hours like last time!!
Mihawk: Are you quite done?
Shanks: *whispering* Does Benn look jealous?
Mihawk: He looks bored. Much like I am. Is this some strange attempt to get out of my challenge, Akagami?
Shanks: What? No, come on I told you I was game. But, hey, could you do me a favor? Maybe like try and kiss me or something? Like take a swing like your going to hit me but then stop shot and grab me by the waist instead.
Mihawk: .... Trickery is beneath you. Besides, you're absolute rubbish at it.
Shanks: Oh, come on, I would totally help you get laid if you asked!
Mihawk: .... *Sigh* I want a proper match afterwards.
Mihawk: *In a forced, monotone voice* After this I will take you to my lair and have my way with you, Akagami.
Mihawk: ... My lair? Really?
Shanks: *Holding up cue card with quickly scribbled line* What? That is how you talk.
Mihawk: I can't believe I wasted precious hours of light tracking you to this atrociously rural port.
Shanks: See? Now, read the next one.
Benn: Captain? If this is going to take all night, I am going to go join the rest of the men in the tavern.
Shanks: Huh? Wait! Benn! What if Miha really stabs me this time!?
Benn: *Salutes Shanks with his bottle* Sounds like that is his plan captain. Have a good 'challenge'.
Shanks: What? No... *Reaching out hand, like he might die if Benn leaves, looking completely devastated* Not even a little jealous...
Mihawk: You couldn't have thought that pantomime would actually work.
Shanks: Benny, don't leave me.... *Turns to Mihawk, immediately brightening* Oh, well, there's always tomorrow. Hey, Miha, guess whose free all night and horny as a pirate in the calm belt?
Mihawk: .... *Sigh* Very well.
Mihawk might as well get something for the trip he made. Although, he's reconsidering if the sex was actually worth the trouble after he ends up listening to Shanks worry half the night that Benn is shacking up with someone else (after a couple hours of rough and raw fucking, admittedly).
Is it the hat? He likes his captain's hat. Miha, you think his captain's hat is sexy, don't you?
Mihawk: It's utterly ridiculous.
Shanks: ....
Shanks: ....
Shanks: *Smile* Ahh, Miha, I knew you liked the hat!
Shanks: What do you old Northerns find sexy?
Mihawk: I am only four years older than you.
Mihawk: And silence.
Trying to convince Mihawk to go spy on Beckman for him. Shanks doesn't actually care if he does sleep with someone else, it's more that Beckman didn't immediately turn angry and jealous like Buggy would have that has him paranoid.
Mihawk is going to fuck this annoying red head again just to shut him up.
Mihawk: Maybe he doesn't like red haired boys who don't know when to be quiet?
The next morning Shanks is pacing among his poor crew that's gotten stuck listening to Shanks obsess about Beckman again. IS IT REALLY THE HAIR!?
It's not even a matter of Shanks's age (or obvious immaturity). I mean, Beckman got on board and stayed, didn't he? Beckman just enjoys watching Shanks try so hard to get his attention. Like Benn's attention isn't constantly on Shanks. He had to when his captain is always one step away from disaster.
He only left him with Mihawk because it was clear Dracule is not a real danger to Beckman's captain.
Except maybe insulting him to death. But Beckman is pretty sure Shanks can handle it. He's met Buggy. He's suspects Shanks LIKES it if anything.
It gets to the point where when they dock somewhere and see Mihawk waiting, or come back to the ship and spot his familiar silhouette, most of the crew goes off somewhere for another drink (sometimes the newer kids will stay to watch such an awesome fight, everyone else is like... Look, you'll have plenty of opportunities later. This is not a one off.)
Benn just takes a look around, nods to Mihawk (a silent signal for, "he's all yours, do with him as you please, if anything happens to him I will track you down and make sure your last few hours on this blue world are as painful as humanly possible") and heads off.
Oh, it's just the Hawk boy.
That's fine then.
Benn use to be a sailor on a trade ship between the North, East, West and Grand Line. He's seen it all.
They called him The Gun Slinger BEFORE he joined Shanks's crew and became a pirate.
So this young, broke ass kid from the streets of some near artic northern island trying to pass himself off as a Lower North rich type has a thing for his captain? Not really enough to keep Beckman up at night, no matter how good at swords he's supposed to be
Besides, he's pretty sure for the kid to keep tracking down Shanks, he must be bored out of his skull. He's not going to do anything to endanger their captain.
Not if Shanks is the only thing he can find to keep him entertained.
One day, Mihawk is going to be waiting on the dock when a bunch of Red Haired pirates are stumbling home, laughing and chattering amongst themselves (Shanks's crew always seems to be in a good mood). One of them will catch sight if Mihawk and walk by with a smile, patting him on the shoulder.
The captain's occupied. Seems likely he'll be 'occupied' for a good while, too.
Mihawk won't smile, but he will think "So you finally warmed him up to you, Akagami?" and snort lightly.
Poor Benn, though. Mihawk could never imagine being with someone so much younger than him. Shanks is only four years his junior and already it strains Mihawk to put up with his occasional moments of "youthful whimsy" (aka being an annoying, immature child)
"A young, cocky pirate with strangely colored bright hair"
Mihawk just putting that on his Not To Do List.
That lasted until Roronoa.
(Mihawk just looking at Zoro knowing this is bad news.)
Mihawk: *Takes list from Benn*
*Cross out, scribbles*
*Hands back to Benn*
Do Not Do:
- A young, cocky pirate with strangely colored bright hair a silly hat, who is overly dramatic and in any way, shape or form related to Gol D Rogers.
Ace: Hey what's up?
Mihawk: *Takes list from Benn*
Go ahead, Benn, laugh it up. Mihawk is aware he has a type. Young, pretty, and utterly insane.
After that night where Shanks was otherwise 'occupied', it's over six months before Mihawk sees his friend his rival again. He is, as expected, far too smug and proud looking.
Shanks: Oh, Miha, so sorry you came all this way, I'm-
Benn: Well, I'm off, captain.
Shanks: What!? But we, you, I... Benn, hessoeexyarentyouworriedforyourcaptain?
Benn: *patting Mihawk on the shoulder* Have fun with him. Don't forget to return him by noon tomorrow, we have a schedule. Oh, but if you can babysit him for at least four hours? That would be great.
Shanks: BABYSIT!?
Mihawk: I suppose I can be troubled to do so.
Shanks: TROUBLED!?
Benn: Thanks, Hawkeyes. I owe you.
Shanks: *Fake tears clinging to his lashes* You two are so mean!
No, don't feel bad for him. Shanks is just trying to guilt the two of them into bed at the same time, and they both know it.
Thanks no thanks, they're not into that. But Shanks can be pretty cute when he's trying so hard (Benn) and at least he's not as boring as everything else in this world (Mihawk) so they allow him to keep up the act
Shanks: *looking at Zoro's wanted poster over Mihawk's shoulder* But I feel like you'd gladly go to bed with him and his captain if he asked. That doesn't seem fair to me. You'd never go that far with me and Benn.
Mihawk: *Eyes Benn*
Mihawk: *DEAD. ONLY.*
Mihawk: I have my reasons.
They can and do agree on plenty of things, including reciprocally not being that attracted to each other.
Shanks: Sounds fake to me
Shanks: But guys!
Shanks: This isn't about you
He's gonna need you guys to drop the egos and focus on what HE wants. I.E., being in the middle of two sexy Northern men.
Honestly, so mean to poor Shanks!
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novaiya · 3 years
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Diamonds and Rust - Arthur x Reader (NSFW)
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Summary: It’s been six years since you left it all behind; the Van Der Linde gang, the outlaw life and Arthur Morgan. Since then you’ve gone straight, becoming a rancher and a wife. What will happen to all of it when Arthur comes bursting back into your life, bringing with him all the feelings and desires the two of you once shared?
Words: 3,274
Warnings: smut, female reader, pregnancy.
A/N: I’m very, very proud of this fic and I really hope you guys like it as much as I do. I wrote the entire thing in basically one sitting (blame it on excitement and inspiration). The idea came to me after listening to Joan Baez’s song Diamonds and Rust (and that is of course where the title comes from). Give it a listen, it’s a beautiful song! If you prefer, you can read it on AO3 here.
Well, I'll be damned, here comes your ghost again - Diamonds and Rust
You knew he was around as soon as you heard about a big group of people, men, women and children, passing on wagons through your town. The shopkeeper in the general store said that the group looked like bad news, the look with which they eyed everything and everyone belonging only to people who were running from something. On another day, you were at the train station, posting a letter, when you heard one of the postal workers say the name “Tacitus Kilgore” while rummaging through a bin. That sealed the deal for you, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he found you.
For the next few days you couldn't do anything but wait, expecting him to barge back into your life at any moment. Your husband noticed your absent-mindness, and tried to inquire, but you waved him away, blaming your mood on overworking.
Your husband didn’t know your past. You told him that you ran away from home when a group of outlaws attacked your house, killing your parents and stealing anything worth selling. That wasn’t entirely a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. What you omitted to mention was that later when you had nowhere to go, another group of outlaws found you, took you in and became your new family. You spent the next few years with them, moving from place to place, robbing, killing, and stealing. It was there that you fell in love for the first time.
Shortly after you joined the gang, you and Arthur became a great team, and later on, a strong couple. As the time went on though, you realized that you couldn’t live on the run forever; you wanted a family, a stable life, a house with a kitchen and a bath. You shared your feelings with Arthur, and he promised you that everything would change, that the two of you would run away, to Mexico, or maybe California, and start a new life. The new life was always at the end of “one last score,” which never seemed to come.
After yet another similar conversation, you realized that if you didn’t leave at that moment, you never would. The moonlight casted its light on Arthur’s sleeping face as you looked at him one last time, burning the image of him into your memory. Without turning back, you mounted your horse and left.
Although seeming asleep, Arthur was awake the entire time. He felt you leave the cot, stand next to it for a few minutes and then leave. He heard the hoofbeats in the quiet night, becoming softer and softer until they completely disappeared. He wanted to go after you, bring you back, but he realized it would be selfish. What you wanted, what you deserved, he couldn’t give.
.
It's been a week since you heard the name “Tacitus Kilgore” in the post office,   and Arthur still hasn't shown. You let yourself relax, thinking that maybe it wasn’t him in the first place, or maybe he has forgotten about you. It’s been six years after all.
Few days later, your husband had to go take care of his mother couple of towns over. He asked if you wanted to go with him, but you declined; someone had to stay and take care of the ranch, protect it from cattle rustlers and wild animals.
You helped him load up the wagon, making sure to pack extra clothes and food for the trip. You kissed him, the kiss being longer than what was necessary for a trip that would probably take only three days at most.
The wagon disappeared in the tall trees as you stood at the entrance of your ranch, waving your hand until there was no one to wave to. The cold, fresh morning air filled your lungs as you took a big gulp of it. You turned on your heels, heading back inside and preparing for a day of work.
Your day was mostly spent tending to the cattle and cleaning up. When the sun started to set, painting the sky a mix of purple and red, you went into the main house and prepared dinner. You pushed the food around on the plate. The suffocating emptiness of the house made you once again think about expanding your family. The time was perfect; the ranch was making money and the house was the right size with two extra rooms sitting unoccupied and being used for storage. But, it seemed that it wasn’t for you to decide; you and your husband have been trying for months now, yet nothing was happening.
Trying to muffle the thoughts in your head, you got up from the table and took your plate to the sink, leaving it there to be cleaned tomorrow.
.
The cotton nightgown felt cool on your skin as you changed into it. The oil lamp on your bedside table was just bright enough to illuminate the clock on the wall, indicating that it was far past your bedtime, and if you wanted to get anything done tomorrow, you should go to bed right away. You sighted, getting ready to go under the covers when you heard a knock on the front door, as sudden as thunder on a sunny day. You froze, your body trying to decide whether to fight or flee. You carefully left your bedroom, mentally cursing when the floorboard creaked under your feet as you inched closer to the front door. Another knock came. Your eyes flew to the shotgun by the door. Your breath came out shaky as you were preparing to grab it, open the door and shoot straight through whoever it was.
And then you heard it, his voice saying your name. You felt like you were drenched in cold water, six years worth of bottled up emotions and feelings flooding straight through you. Without thinking, you opened the door, meeting face to face with his blue eyes.
"Arthur."
.
The only thing illuminating the living room and the two of you was the fire from the fireplace. You could feel the heat from it kissing your bare arms. You went into the kitchen, bringing back one shot glass and a bottle of whiskey. You poured a glass for Arthur, placed the bottle on the table, and sat down on the couch next to him.
He downed it in one go before silence fell over, nothing but the occasional sound of wind howling outside.
"Beautiful ranch you got."
"Thank you," you said, keeping your answer short and not looking at him.
You could feel the weight of his stare on you; it’s been six years since he last saw you. You've changed so much, and at the same time, haven't changed at all. You still kept your hair the same length, still had the same longing gaze in your eyes, yearning for more in life. He saw that you still had a scar on your hand, the one you got when an O'Driscoll pierced it with his knife. Arthur said it would fade with time when he was bandaging it. Looking at it now, he realized that things don’t fade away so easily.
His eyes lingered on your hand for a moment, noticing a ring on your finger, the gold band shining brightly in the dimly lit room, taunting him.
"So, you got married?" he said, his voice laced with venom as he spoke the last word.
"I have," you replied, casting your eyes down to the golden band. "Couldn't wait for you forever." Your words pierced right through him, leaving yet another wound he would need to tend to later. For the past six years, he held a naive, wishful hope that when the time would come, you’d be there, waiting for him. The idea, as absurd and foolish as it was, kept him hopeful for the past six years.
"What's his name?"
"Don't," you said, turning around to Arthur for the first time since you sat down. "Don't do this."
The two of you fell silent once again, and you used that moment to look over Arthur. You could see the traces of the person you loved six years ago; he still had the same scars scattered across his face. His eyes, although sadder now, still had the same color to them. His arms, the ones that held you on many nights, still had the same muscular shape.
"I'm sorry," he finally said, catching your eyes. "It was my fault the things ended up the way they did."
You didn’t say anything, casting your eyes downwards, so he continued.
“I was awake, you know, the night you left.”
You gulped down, the memories of your departure from the camp filling your mind.
“I should’ve never let you go.”
"I should’ve never left." The words left your mouth before you could process them. You have promised yourself to never vocalize these thoughts, the thoughts that a part of you that never left him, that have been longing for him for the past six years, felt.
The atmosphere in the air shifted. You could feel the change in Arthur's eyes and his demeanor. He reached out and took your hands in his, running his thumb over your knuckles and your golden band. His other hand reached up to you, cradling your head and bringing the two of you closer. You could feel his breath on your lips, smelling of the whiskey you poured him a few minutes ago. Your mind was on fire. For a moment, you felt that you were six years in the past, sitting on a bed in a crummy hotel room in some beatdown town. The law was on your tail, but you didn't care. Nothing mattered when you were with Arthur.
He pressed his lips against yours and in an instant, you forgot where you were. Your hands moved on their own, reaching and waving your fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss. He groaned against your mouth, his hand leaving yours and moving up the curve of your body, over your hips and your waist, stopping around your chest. You felt him palm you over your chemise, and for a second, you felt your mind clear. The guilt came in flooding. You felt his tongue lick over your bottom lip and you winced, breaking the kiss and trying to get away from him, pushing yourself deeper into the couch.
"I can't do this," you said, more to yourself than to Arthur.
You felt his hand on your knee, hot against the cool skin. You wanted to move, wanted to slap his hand away, but you didn't. His hand inched higher up your leg, reaching the end of your chemise.
Arthur looked at you, his hand still on your thigh. "You tell me to stop and I will. I will leave and never bother you again."
You hesitated for a moment, battling with yourself till you finally said, “Stay.”
.
He covered your body with his, pinning you against the couch. His lips moved against yours in a dance that the two of you knew well, having rehearsed it for years and years before. One of his hands was back on your thigh, massaging the skin as he moved dangerously close to your heat. You felt his fingers run over your clothed slit, pressing against your clit and making you push your hips towards him.
His lips left your mouth, moving to your neck, kissing down your throat and to the crook of your neck. You could feel yourself getting wet as he kept kissing you all over, his fingers drawing lazy circles over your clothed clit. He removed himself from you and pulled off his suspenders. You sat up, your fingers reaching out and working on the buttons of his shirt before throwing it on the floor. You ran your hand up his body, through his chest hair and stopping over his heart. You could feel it beat wildly against his rib cage.
You felt hazy as he kissed you once again. In a minute, your chemise was on the floor, joining his shirt in a pile and leaving your top half naked to him. He laid you back down on the couch, sitting on his hinges between your spread legs. He made sure to burn this moment in his memory, the image of you spread under him for what was probably the last time.
He pulled your drawers down, revealing you completely to himself. You felt like you should cover yourself, not let a man that wasn't your husband see you like this, but this wasn't just another man, it was Arthur. Being like this with him felt natural.
He paved his way down your stomach with kisses, finally reaching your glistering cunt. The first touch of his tongue against your slit made you moan, and you instinctively reached out with your hand, waving your fingers into Arthur's hair. He kept going, lapping at you and pushing all the buttons he knew would have you coming apart in minutes. You threw your head back, moaning his name when you feel him push a finger in you, his tongue turning its attention to your clit. You could feel your release approaching when he added a second finger, picking up the pace. The movements of his fingers were deliberate, working in tandem with his tongue. You started to move your hips in time with his fingers, your body giving in to your carnal desires.
Your toes curled and your whole body shuddered as you came. Arthur kept going, heightening your pleasures until it all became too much and he retreated. The sight of his lips, wet with your juices, made a fire ignite in your belly once again. You pulled him down, crashing your lips against his, moaning at the taste of you.
He was grinding his hips against you, the bulge in his pants hard and heavy. You broke the kiss, reaching down with shaking hands towards his pants, popping the button open and taking out his cock. He moaned your name, closing his eyes as you wrapped your fingers around him. You ran your hand up and down, relishing in the sound of his debauched voice moaning your name. After a while, he took your hand away from his length and kissed over your knuckles. Letting it go, he pulled down his pants, the last article of clothing joining the others on the floor.
He sat in his naked glory between your legs. He was just as you remembered him; big, strong and muscular. The air around him was filled with virility. Your primal urges filled your mind as you wanted nothing but to be filled by him. He sensed your longing, seeing it in your eyes, and smiled.
His lips found yours once again, kissing you so much that you couldn't think about anothing but him. You felt the tip at him at your entrance, slowly pushing in. Your hands found his biceps, holding on to him as he pushed deeper, stretching you around his shaft. He stilled when he was all the way in, trying to compose himself. For a moment, all that could be heard where the sounds of your combined breaths, haggard in the quiet living room. The light from the fireplace illuminated your naked bodies.
Finally, he moved, pulling halfway out of you before slamming back in. You clung to each other, your bodies molding into one. Your legs wrapped around his waist, letting him deeper into you as your hands clawed at his back, leaving red marks behind. The feeling of him inside you was intoxicating; he was made for you, hitting all the right spots, the sheer girth and length of him filling you perfectly. His lips were on your neck as he thrusted in and out of you, taking in your scent and the taste of your skin under his lips.
Arthur couldn't get enough of you; his eyes raked over every part of your body, taking it all in. You could feel his hands everywhere, holding on to your hips, massaging your sides, cupping your breasts. He wanted to feel every part of you. His touch was inebriating, heightening your pleasure to an unimaginable level.
You could feel yourself nearing the edge, and so did Arthur. His movements became sloppier and out of rhythm, his desire for peak overwhelming.
He moaned your name, bringing your attention to him.
"I'm gonna cum," he said breathlessly, "where-"
You didn't let him finish, cutting in and saying, "Cum in me", not thinking about the repercussions of your words, your mind high on desire.
He dropped to his elbows, crashing his lips against yours as his movements became slower but rougher. You moved your hips meeting every one of his thrusts. The feeling of your tongue against his, your hands on his back and your warmness tightening against his shaft all became too much, and he came with a moan of your name, spilling his seed inside of you. The feeling of him coating your walls drove you wild, and you came a moment later, your legs shaking.
The weight of Arthur over you felt like a warm blanket, keeping you safe and shielded from the world outside. You could feel his staggering breath on your neck as he tried to bring his breathing down. You held each other like that for a few minutes, not moving. Two sweaty bodies, entangled in each other.
At some point in the night, the two of you moved to the bedroom, soiling the bed that you and your husband shared with your combined moans and desires.
You spent the rest night in Arthur’s arms. He held you tight against him as he told you about his travels and the state of the gang. You told him about the ranch, and how fulfilled you felt by the work. Both of you tried to avoid the subject of marital status.
You fell asleep to the beat of Arthur’s heart, your head on his chest, his in your hair.
In the morning, the two of you had breakfast, and he stayed till the evening, helping you with some of the chores around the ranch, playing family that the two of you never had a chance to become.
You watched him drive away on his horse, following the speck of him with your eyes all the way over the plain till it completely disappeared. You stood by the entrance of your ranch for a few more minutes. Out in the distance the chickens chirped. You still had to milk the cows and go to the general store. Breathing out, you looked up into the sky before turning back towards your house and your life.
.
Few months later.
You stood at the top of a hill, overlooking your ranch with your husband next to you. Cold wind blew through your hair. Winter was coming. You had to start making preparation for the colder months; make sure the cattle were healthy, create a water plan, add feeders and forage among other things.
Another rush of cold air made you shiver and pull your shawl tightly over your shoulders. Your husband's hand found yours, interlocking your fingers and making you look at him. He smiled at you. his eyes full of love and excitement, before turning back towards the ranch. You held your gaze on him for a moment longer, studying his features, before too turning towards the pasture, one of your hands in his, the other on your growing belly.
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notsolong-pause · 2 years
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I am Russian. Never in my life i wanted to feel ashamed or guilty of who i am. But now, after reading the news non-stop for three days, not being able to sleep properly or go on with my daily tasks, I can’t help but feel the overwhelming shame and guilt for my government. I know, feeling this way doesn’t help anybody, and it’s, probably, just me feeling more important than I actually am.
For the past three days, I couldn’t stop feeling scared for my friends and parts of my family in Ukraine, for the regular citizens that were robbed of life and safety by the president of my country, for all the Russians and for myself.
I hate him for killing people, not only in his country now, but in Ukraine as well. I hate him for not listening the entire world, his own people, the UN, and for god’s sake (!) even Tal*bs. How mad one has to be if even the terrorists are telling you to fucking stop.
Seeing people hiding in subway, being under fire, looking at their life shattering makes me so mad and devastated. Their life being in danger is a priority, it is the biggest and the most horrible thing about this war and has to stop.
There are consequences that I am scared to talk about, because they are shifting focus to what I feel, to what every Russian feels. But even though, this is not the most important thing right now, it is a thing. I see it in the eyes of a barista when taking my morning coffee, my teachers, my friends, my mom, every single person on the subway. I am angry that this old crazy man who has gone fucking mad and sick from being the “tsar” for so long claims that we, Russians, are on the same side with him, that all this is done from our names and with our support.
People around me get arrested for:
1) Picketing
2) Going for protests
3) Posting on social media
4) Putting up signs in their windows
The list goes on. Yesterday a woman who lived through the occupation of Saint-Petersburg (read up on Blockage of Leningrad) during WWII was arrested FOR WANTING TO STOP THE WAR.
As a Russian, I feel that there’s no escape and no support. Our economy is crushing. In my family there are times when there is very little money and we have to think about where to cut the budget so we could have food for the nest two weeks. It is about to get worse. We are getting locked up in our country: visas are getting harder to get, sanctions are cutting off the internet, the transportation. All the sanctions are not making it harder for the Old man and his gang - he stole from us, he steals from us and he will keep stealing until we are drained to death. Finally, even if I go abroad some day, despite the peaceful protests that we have been on, despite our disagreement and hatred for the war, we are Russians, we are the aggressor. Our government, all the other governments in the world and the world community sees as a problem. or someone to avoid. I feel like I am being locked with an abusive parent who makes my friends suffer and tells everyone that I wanted this to happen, while I can only beg him to stop.
This whole post is not to say that we are the victims. The people of Ukraine are. My heart, my mind, my soul is with them. This post has no point at all. These are just my thoughts and feelings that kept me awake this night. God, I hope we all still have a future. Amen.
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masalateaaa · 3 years
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Saudade
pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female! Reader
Summary: It's all about Saudade of Ransom.
Genre: Angsty. Sad boi Ransom hours!
Warning: Sexual themes, 18+ and no minors!
A/N: Please don't post my work anywhere! Likes, comments, and reblogs are welcome, I love them. Asks and requests are open but I will be slow!
This is my third & final entry for Siri's 5K Soft Dark Challenge by @stargazingfangirl18. I'll be taking a break from writing for a couple of days, will be lingering here, liking and reblogging stuff but no writing for me.
Master-list
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--❤--
Another night, loud music, smoke-filled air that would make the lungs contract in pain, and a bar overflowing with drinks and people. People were everywhere, to his left, right, and one on his top too. This was Ransom’s regular life in suburban Boston, he was a writer by day, living with his grandfather, and playboy by night where his one arm had the most expensive scotch and the other had a girl who was barely dressed, leaving nothing to imagine. Not that Ransom wanted to imagine anything, not that he hadn’t seen anything. However, the funniest part was that he wasn’t even interested in any of those girls, they were a good one-night’s fuck to give him a release from everything life would throw at him. Neither he would remember their names, nor he was planning.
Tonight, was no different, Ransom was sitting in a secluded corner, reserved especially for him. He held the most expensive scotch the bar had to offer in one hand while his other hand was holding a girl who was sitting on his lap placing gentle kisses on his jaw. Ransom chugged the scotch before his hand traveled into her hair and pulled her back harshly. “Oww, Ransom,” the girl whined, “be gentle honey,” she tried to kiss him, but Ransom stopped her midway. He held her cheeks harshly making her wince in pain, “Shh, Audrey,” he spoke, and she cut him off again, “It’s Sidney.” Ransom left her face and dismissed her, “ptfff! Who cares what your name is,” and just like that he made her get up and decided to leave the place. “Where are you going?” Sidney tried to stop him but she jerked her hand and left saying, “none of your business.”
Ransom walked out of the bar and the cold air hit his face with the force awakening him. He looked around the curb, again there were people, laughing, smiling, just being happy in each other’s company, he doesn’t know when the last time was, he felt this way. The cold wind sends a shiver down his body as Ransom struggled to button up his jacket, he always struggled to button them up but he never worried before because you’d take up with a smile and say, “You gotta learn to do it yourself Ran.” He’d shrug it every time saying he has you, he didn’t need to worry and now that he doesn’t have you, he stopped trying to ever button up his jackets. The cold wind hitting his chest making him shiver was the reminder of the emptiness of his life and he didn’t want to ever let that go.
The horn of the car broke his train of thoughts, but he dismissed saying he was too drunk to drive instead took an Uber. Sitting on the back seat of the Uber, he saw city lights pass by in a blur just like your memories, every now and then they pass by his heart sending his entire existence into a daze. He took out the flask tucked in his jacket’s inner pocket and drowned himself in the taste of raw whiskey. It burned his throat but in Ransom’s famous words, “my soul is burning, no fire can ever burn me now.”
By the time Uber pulled in front of the Thromby mansion, Ransom was drunk, not tipsy drunk but unable to keep my balance drunk. He could barely count the money when the Uber driver informed him that the cab was prepaid and in response to this Ransom slurred a thank you as the driver sped off. Unable to keep his balance, he sat down on the steps when Harlan noticed his slouched figure. He went down to bring him in when Marta interjected him informing him rightly that he can’t bring him alone. Harlan looped her into helping Ransom, against her wishes considering she hated him. And Marta wasn’t an exception, Ransom was rude and condescending to everyone. It was a big surprise as well as a shock for them that Harlan loved Ransom so dearly. In the words of Fran, Ransom must have done some black magic on him.
Marta dragged Ransom mush to Harlan’s amusement. “Don’t laugh Harlan,” she scolded him as she continued, “When I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this.” Harlan chuckled, “It’s a good day Marta and he is not a bad man.” “Are you talking about some other Ransom? Because this bastard here is a heartless monster,” Marta made a face and Harlan sighed sadly muttering under his breathe, “if only you knew.” “Wha….” Marta’s words were drowned when Ransom held her hand and spoke, “Y/N, you are here.” Harlan froze at his spot while Marta kept looking between him and Ransom, clueless about Y/N. “So long darlin. So lonnnnn….,” he slurred before falling back into sleep. Harlan covered him with a blanket and kissed his forehead and walked out followed by a confused Marta.
A couple of hours later, Harlan was getting ready to receive his medication before retiring for the night. Marta was preparing his meds, but he could see questions on her face and decided to answer her in the hope that there will be at least one less person misunderstanding Ransom.
“Y/N was the girl who taught Ransom how to live and she was also the girl who killed him,” Harlan spoke after a long silence that filled the room. “Was?” Marta questioned fearing and Harlan’s lips curved in a sad smile. “She was the daughter of my editor, Ransom first met here when they both were 4 years old. Her father had left her mother who was alone in this world, so she brought her daughter to work with her. The first day they fought over a teddy bear, her teddy bear, and the second day they made peace over a cupcake and learned to share the teddy bear. She was Ransom’s first and only friend. They did everything together, they played together, ate lunch together, went to school together. The void of love that Ransom had in his life was filled by her first as his friend and then as his soulmate. When she was around, he would smile a little more, with her in his life he learned to love and forgive everyone. Ransom even made amends with his ever-absent parents. Not because he wanted to, but because she wanted him to. Y/N was the breath of fresh air his life needed. They would spend hours laying on that lawn,” Harlan motioned to the beautifully curated lawn as his heart reminisced the good old days. “They would lay on the grass on a summer night, counting stars, building dreams, and sharing kisses. She made everyone see that Ransom has a heart and all it needed was love. And Ransom, well, he didn’t need anyone when she was with him. They both would discuss story plots for hours, banter and fight over it and then Ransom would always make it up by baking her favorite cupcakes.” Marta’s mouth fell open knowing that Ransom baked and baked for someone who is not him.
“They were engaged to be married, he proposed to her on her 22nd birthday. They couldn’t wait to get married and have a family. I remember Ransom telling me what kind of father he would be, how excited he used to get thinking about his future child’s first steps, first words, first year, first day at school. He vowed he would never miss a day in their life. He promised he would be the father he always craved for. But fate had something else planned. Y/N would often feel tired, fatigued, and kept passing out and when we took her to the doctor, they diagnosed her with a rare tumor. I saw Ransom’s whole world collapse right in front of my eyes and I couldn’t do anything. The tumor was malignant and spreading rapidly and before we knew Y/N was in hospice care counting her last days. Ransom and Y/N wanted a lifetime with each other, and God gave them few days borrowed from death.” Harlan broke down as he remembered Y/N’s frail figure crying in front of him because she was scared. She was scared of dying, she was scared of leaving Ransom alone but she couldn’t express this in front of him so she would cry when he was out getting meds. Marta wiped Harlan’s tears followed by her own thinking how wrong she was all this while.
“Even when she was dying. Y/N made Ransom promise that he won’t stop writing and he fulfilled her promise. She also wanted him to move on, but Ransom was adamant that if it wasn’t her, it wasn’t no one. He would spend every moment with her, trying to collect as many memories as he could. There was a time when Ransom didn’t let her go to New York alone and now she was leaving for a place where he can’t reach her. One night when we were having dinner, she told us that she saw angels and two days later she passed away in his arms. I remember the moment so distinctly, something snapped inside him. He never cried, not at least in front of me. That day the Ransom I knew, the Ransom she loved and the Ransom he was for her, died with her. He became rude, arrogant, and a playboy. He is not a bad man Marta, he is a man who was robbed by fate. He wanted just one thing and god couldn’t give him that.”
Few days passed by that night and one morning Marta walked in to see Ransom leaving hurriedly to somewhere. She saw the kitchen was disheveled and decided to follow him. Half an hour later, Ransom stopped in front of a cemetery and took out the flowers and the cupcakes he baked. He walked up to Y/N’s grave and placed both the items whispering a choked happy birthday.
Marta who was standing behind a tree saw Ransom sitting by the grave, caressing Y/N’s picture on the headstone as he shed tears and soon his whole body shook with sobs. Marta held back her sobs as she muttered, “you are wrong Harlan. He cries but his tears are just for her and not for the world.” And she walked away leaving Ransom with the love and pain of his life.
--❤--
taglist: @stargazingfangirl18 @henrythickcavill @madbaddic7ed @tonystankschild @idowikeit @ilysmcevans
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cosmicjoke · 3 years
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Alright, chapter 133 of SnK!
I’ve got a few things I want to talk about here.
One of the things that always strikes me about Levi as a character, indeed, one of his defining character traits, is his coolness under pressure.  His calm demeanor, no matter the circumstances.  One of the interesting things to go into is WHY Levi is like this.  
We see it particularly exemplified in this chapter, I think, and there’s a few examples.  For one, they’ve all just lost Hange as their friend and Commander, and this loss particularly impacts and affects Levi, since he was closer with Hange than any of them.  But rather than allowing his grief to consume and paralyze him, Levi immediately begins trying to contribute when Armin says he wants to go over the plan, bringing up Hange’s theory about Zeke and how killing him might stop the Rumbling, etc...  Then Eren transports them to Paths, and everyone reacts with shock and awe, except Levi, who’s expression is duly unimpressed and unsurprised.  We see this from Levi throughout the series, of course.  Situations that present themselves, new and frightening circumstances which throw everyone for a loop and send people into panic, Levi reacts to with calm collectedness, a distinct LACK of surprise or fear.  He really does stand in sharp contrast with everyone else in this situation.  Everyone there is a seasoned war veteran, at this point, they’ve all been through and seen some truly horrific things.  But they still react with a kind of frantic uncertainty here.  They then begin to plead with Eren, Armin and the rest trying to convince him through any means possible, to stop the Rumbling.  They try to bargain with him, show him empathy, make promises, etc...  They make their desperation obvious by saying whatever they think will appeal to Eren.  Levi is the only one who, I think, is fully honest here.  He tells Eren that if he stops now, he’ll let him off with JUST an ass-kicking.  Levi doesn’t try to placate Eren, or show him sympathy, or empathy, he doesn’t try to be gentle or handle Eren with kid gloves.  He tells him flat out he’s going to beat his ass for what he’s done, but he’ll show him some leniency for stopping by not killing him outright.  The thing is, I think Levi’s known from the start of this whole disaster that talking to Eren wasn’t going to work.  Everyone else was holding out hope that if they could just speak with Eren, he would stop, that they could convince him through words.  But like I talked about in my last post, Levi is someone who’s just seen and experienced too much of life’s brutality and unfairness to blind himself to bleak reality.  When the 104th goes running off after Eren appears to them, to try and reach him, Levi just sits down in the sand and has that resigned expression once more, and his expression continues to show a total lack of surprise when Eren puts the 104th back where they started, before they could ever even get close. Levi isn’t surprised, or even dismayed, I don’t think, at Eren’s refusal to talk, because I think he always knew he wouldn’t be willing to.  That he wouldn’t be interested in hearing anyone’s pleas or promises.  I think Levi always knew Eren was hellbent on this course of action, and it was more or less hopeless, trying to appeal to him.  And once again, I have to restate, I think it’s because Levi’s just experienced too much hardship in his life to cling to false hopes.  He’s world-weary and in many ways a realist, someone not given to delusion or fancy.  
I feel like Levi probably glimpsed this uncompromising, hellish bent in Eren back in Liberio, his mercenary compulsion to follow through on whatever plan he had, which is why Levi was so disgusted by him on the airship back then.  He saw a lack of mercy in Eren, and it reminded him of the brutes Levi grew up with in the Underground.  Not just a willingness, but a desire to take from others to satisfy himself.  It’s why, when they’re all transported back to the plane, while everyone else looks horrified and in shock at Eren’s refusal to talk, Levi looks as unflustered as ever, and states with a matter of fact tone that negotiations are over, before asking Armin what it is they do now.  None of this is surprising to Levi.
Levi’s look of despair throughout this final arc continues to strike me as his resignation in the ugliness of humanity and the useless, pointless suffering they inflict on one another.  He’s depressed, and disappointed, because everything happening around them is only a confirmation of all the worst things Levi saw and experienced, growing up.
All this ties into another point I want to discuss, which is Levi’s relationship with Jean, actually.  I’ve found the relationship between the two of them really interesting since way back in the Uprising arc, when Jean was the most vocal in condemning Levi for his violence, declaring with certainty that he would never kill another person.  Jean is disabused of his moralistic superiority not long after that, when he learns first hand the consequences of sticking to ones morals uncompromisingly, nearly losing his life, and forcing Armin to take a life for him.  And it’s Jean who we see, again and again from that point on in the series, grappling with and coming to terms with this difficult lesson.  We see Jean’s respect for Levi, and his understanding towards Levi, grow greatly, after this incident, and Jean himself having to grow, to change and accept that sacrifices are inevitable if one wishes to protect the things and people they care about.  That sometimes even one’s own comfort and moral convictions are necessary sacrifices to achieve those things.  
Levi tells everyone that he’ll take care of Zeke, but admits that he’ll need all of their help to get the job done.  I feel like this is Levi, once again, asking if all of them are ready and willing to get their hands dirty, just like he did before they raided the Cavern underneath the Church on the Reiss property.  He knows he can’t do this job by himself (which is just further testament to Levi’s strength of character, an ability to admit to weakness), but he wants to make sure everyone else is alright with plunging in to a situation in which they’re going to be forced to kill.  Jean is the first to answer, telling Levi and all of them that he’s not going to let the sacrifices they’ve already made, the people they’ve killed in order to get where they are, be in vain, and that he’ll do whatever it takes to stop the Rumbling.  This shows incredible character growth on Jean’s part.  He went from someone who claimed that he would, under no circumstances, take another human life, to someone who declares that he’ll do whatever it takes in order to stop the Rumbling, to achieve a greater good.  And I think this growth on Jean’s part ties directly into his relationship with and the influence of Levi.  Levi never judged Jean for being uncomfortable with killing, never criticized or scolded him for it.  He even told Jean that he couldn’t say, one way or the other whether Jean’s beliefs were right or wrong.  That Levi himself didn’t know the answer to that.  He never tried to convince Jean of anything.  He just told him the truth.  That his failure to kill had put the lives of his comrades in danger, including his own, and that it also caused Armin to have to bear the burden of killing another, one which should have been Jean’s own to bear.  All of that is absolutely true.  And it was really through this lack of judgment on Levi’s part that, I think, Jean was able to grow and expand his own views on killing, and adjust and allow for there to be circumstances in his world view which would justify taking another life.  He wasn’t forced by anyone to change his views.  He changed them based on experience and through Levi explaining to him that there is no definitive right or wrong answer to be found, and through Levi’s simply being honest with him.  He was telling Jean that it comes down to what one is willing to sacrifice in order to protect the things and people they value.  And Jean learned about himself that he’s willing and able to sacrifice more than he ever realized.
But it’s still a struggle, and something all of them, even at this point in the story, continue to battle themselves over.  We see Connie struggling in particular this chapter, looking anguished over what he had to do back at the port.  It’s only Levi who accepts that brutal reality of kill or be killed with a calm understanding, and I think this is probably because, unlike the rest of them, who all had peaceful, probably relatively easy and happy childhoods, without any exposure to violence or real cruelty, Levi, I think it can be safely assumed, probably took his first life while he was still a boy.  And doubtless, that was due to desperate circumstances.  Levi’s life has been one filled with uncertainty.  Growing up in extreme poverty, he never could have known with any certainty where his next meal would come from, or when.  Never knew with any certainty whether he could find proper shelter for the night, or a safe place to sleep.  Never knew with any certainty whether he would be assaulted, or robbed, or if someone would attempt to take his life.  Levi’s life has been one of desperation and a true, unforgiving struggle to simply survive.  And so while all of his comrades have seen and experienced the horrors of war with him, none of them can know with the same level of understanding that true kind of desperation of simply trying to live day to day, that kind of awful and overwhelming uncertainty and fear of not knowing if you’ll be alive from one day to the next.  It’s those kinds of experiences in life that really separate Levi from the rest of his comrades, and in a lot of ways, isolate him from them.  It’s why the extremity of their circumstances and the desperation of their situation in this final arc continually shocks and overwhelms them, but Levi regards it all with his usual, if deeply saddened, calm.
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ghostdrew22 · 3 years
Text
I’ll Always Wait For You || Draco Malfoy
Requested: No Pairing: post-war Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: ridiculous crap I make up for plot purposes, allusions to sex, idk crime-committing? Summary: Draco and Y/N pursue a life of crime together and what starts as an odd, professional partnership turns into a perfect romance- loosely based on Bonnie & Clyde.
WORDS : 2451
~~~
You walk into the Malfoy Manor’s ballroom with determination and a convincing smile of excitement. You know what a risk you’re taking by coming into their home under false pretenses but it’s the only way you’ll be able to get what you want and leave remotely unnoticed.
You catch a glimpse of the blonde who the ball is being thrown for and flash him a smile before immediately turning away from him and walking toward the bar. You know that he doesn’t know you, and that in retrospect it’s quite idiotic to even think that he’d notice at all when he has no idea who you are, but it’s worth a try for your plan to succeed.
You are a year older than him, and while he’d gone to Hogwarts, you were studying at Drumstrang throughout your school career. You didn’t come across each other often in your youth because your families didn’t run in the same circles- your parents were snobby, upper-middle class purebloods who looked down on muggles and death eaters alike, which meant you’d had a very minimal role in the events leading up to the wizarding war and hadn’t known much of the Malfoy’s growing up other than the snippets of information you came across in newspapers or social events.
But they’d recently caught your eye when it had come out that they possessed the ‘Diadem of Thule’- a powerful wizarding artifact that has limitless cloaking and transfiguration abilities, as well as the power to amplify a wizard’s magic- and kept it safely in a vault deep within their home that’s protected by blood magic. It’s the perfect weapon for what you want to accomplish and you’ve come here tonight to get it.
“I’ve never seen you before.” A voice behind you booms and you turn to face it with a small smile- it’s the blond Malfoy heir himself.
“Probably because I’ve never been.”
“Funny and beautiful?” He raises his eyebrows playfully at you, “Still doesn’t explain how you got in.”
You see that the banter-like tone and expression on his face haven’t disappeared so you decide to continue, “Oh but why reveal all my secrets when you’ve got the entire night to fall in love with me?”
“Fall in love with you?” He chuckles heartily and you bite your lip cheekily.
“I mean, that’s what these are for, right?” You raise your eyebrows in questioning- referring to the purpose of the balls.
He shakes his head with a laugh, “You’ve got me there.” He walks past you and toward the bar where he asks the bartender for something and comes back with two small shot glasses.
“For me?” You ask with a smile and he nods with a smirk.
“Let’s make a toast.”
“To?”
“To never attending another one of these ever again.” He chuckles and you furrow your eyebrows.
“And why’s that?”
“According to you, I won’t need to keep looking for a girl any longer.”
“Then cheers to that!” You exclaim with a laugh and knock your shot glass into his before downing the liquid with a grimace.
~~~
“Are you done? They’re coming.” You whisper back to your partner.
“Don’t rush me.” Draco grits back and you roll your eyes.
“Sorry that I don’t particularly like the idea of being ambushed by muggle police officers and aurors.”
“Then you’ll be glad to know none of that will be happening today.” He replies as he makes his way over to you and kisses your cheek. “I’m sorry for being so aggressive there, you know how I get under pressure.”
Annoying? You almost ask but bite your lip and shake your head instead while giving him a smile, “All good baby.”
“Great. Now let’s get this,” He holds up the bag of money that he just filled up, “Somewhere safe.”
“Ready when you are.” You smirk and he chuckles while pulling out the diadem and handing it to you. He takes your hand and interlocks your fingers as he starts to countdown.  “3.”
“2.” You continue.
“1.” He finishes as the sound of sirens outside of the bank erupts into the atmosphere. You grin at him and quickly whisper the counter-curse that you’d cast on the bank’s patrons to lull them asleep while you and Draco got busy- slowly they all start to regain consciousness in confusion as they each notice the two, masked figures standing before them.
You’re about to apparate the two of you out, when suddenly none other than Harry fucking Potter and his crew of fellow aurors barge into the bank’s foyer with their wands out. Before you can whisper out the words to save yourselves, Harry casts a hex that lands on Draco and renders him incapable of apparating out.
“Get out. Now.” Draco says immediately, not even bothering to face you and instead unhooking your fingers to hand you the bag.
A wave of panic encompasses you for a moment, almost as if you’ve forgotten the plan that the two of you have in place for situations like this, but it’s gone as quick as it came and you grab the bag of money out of Draco’s hands before apparating yourself out.
“Fuck!” You exclaim once you’re back in the little cottage that the two of you have in the countryside.
After that night at the Manor, eight months ago, you and Draco grew quite close. That’s if your idea of close is accidentally falling in love with your literal partner in crime. Your plan to sleep with him, swipe a dollop of his blood somehow and sneak down into the family vault the next morning to get the Diadem had failed dismally. He woke up right as you were getting dressed and told you that he knew who you were and what you were upto; Y/N L/N, the notorious bank robber that had been terrorizing London only nights before. And in some weird twist of fate, he told you that he wanted to join you.
His interest in you had only peaked when the newspapers started to gossip about a witch/wizard who was rampaging London stealing absurd amounts of cash from Muggle Banks, he couldn’t deny the flare of envy that had shot up within him at the prospect of not being the one with the genius idea. So he did what he did best; he plotted a scheme to lure you into his home so that he could propose a partnership, knowing that someone of your caliber wouldn’t be able to resist an artifact that made your magic traceless, knowing that you’d salivate at the prospect of no longer needing to live life on the run.
You refused at first, claiming that you were a solo act and he didn’t have anything to offer besides a family heirloom that you could bloody well do without considering how far you’d made it without the diadem. But he somehow convinced you, danced around your thoughts with his words and backed you up against a metaphorical wall that left you with no choice but to accept. You’d hated working with him for the first two months, the initial four robberies being horrible and close calls, but then slowly the two of you found a rhythm, a system to work together, and soon enough partners became friends and friends bubbled into lovers. Eventually he wore you down enough for you to want to run off to the countryside with him.
“Cocky bastard.” You mumble out loud with a sigh, “I should let him stay there for his stupidity.”
You laugh at the thought of Draco Malfoy being left in Harry Potter’s custody and eventually transferred into Azkaban- facing the same fate that his parents did but for a crime of much smaller cost. He would hate it. And he’d probably find a way out just to kill you for abandoning him. Yeah, leaving him there is not an option.
~~~
“Harry Potter chasing after a wizard who robs banks? You’re truly running after small dice now- talk about a downgrade from defeating the Dark Lord.”
“So I take it you’re not going to tell me who you’re working with?” Harry asks from across the interrogation table- glaring daggers into the Malfoy’s blue eyes.
“How is this confusing for you? I said, no.”
“Is it Y/N L/N? We haven’t been able to trace the magic left at the scenes back to it’s owner for a few months now, we thought that she’d gone dark and you were a copycat.” Draco scoffs at the accusation- despite the fact that he never would’ve been able to concoct the idea on his own anyway- “But maybe she’s just working with you.”
“Didn’t mummy ever tell you that no means no?” Draco furrows his eyebrows in mock sympathy, “Pestering me about the issue in order to get a yes? Sounds a bit like coercion.”
“Don’t act like I’m trying to get in your pants.” Harry rolls his eyes- having forgotten how mockingly flirtatious Draco gets when cornered.
“I never even implied that.” Draco shrugs. “But if this is how you do it then I’m concerned.”
“I’m bloody married, I don’t need to get in people’s pants.”
“Married huh? How’d you manage that?” Draco asks with a chuckle, “Show her the ring everyday until she finally decided to just marry you?”
“I didn’t coerce Ginny into marrying me.”
“That’s what he said.” Draco sing-songs in a mocking tune before licking his lips and shutting them for a moment. He looks back up suddenly with a thought, “Maybe I should give Ginny a ring and ask her.” Draco smirks mischievously and Harry grimaces at the sight.
“Fuck you, Malfoy.”
“Oh, I bet you wish you could.” Draco smirks and Harry feels himself slightly flush but clears his throat.
“This is way off base.”
“Indeed. Just wanted to catch up before we part ways.”
“Part ways?” Harry asks with a laugh, “We’re not parting ways for another few months, I’m the working officer on this case so you ought to get used to me.”
“Mhmm.”
“You’re awfully calm for someone that’s about to join his parents in Azkaban.”
Draco flinches, ever so slightly, at the mention of his parents and Azkaban, but recovers quickly and turns his head to the wall on his left- focusing very intently on it.
“Why are you looking at that wall?”
“No reason.”
“No reason?” Harry furrows his eyebrows before realization dawns on him, “Malfoy are you waiting for somethi-“
Before Harry can finish his sentence the wall has been knocked down and you’ve grabbed Draco to uncuff him from the table. “Thanks for watching him.” You say with a smile as you clasp your hand with Draco’s and apparate the two of you to the car that you’d left waiting a few streets away.
“What took you so bloody long?” He mumbles as he climbs into the car.
“I was giving you time to flirt with your old crush - you know, fulfill your schoolboy fantasies.” You reply with a smirk and he groans.
“I told you one thing!”
“I’m sorry love, I had to make at least one joke!” You exclaim back while laughing and he rolls his eyes but smiles at the sight of you.
“I missed you.”
You roll your eyes at his sentiment but smile as well, “It wasn’t even that long.”
“Any moment I’m away from you feels like forever.” He grins.
“Oh, how did you survive!” You ask mockingly and laugh- reaching over to give him a kiss on the lips finally. He melts against the feel of your lips against his own- the only reminder he has that you’re his, and he’s happy, and the two of you will always be together. You’re his only reprieve from the constant agony of being alive, from the anger at his parents that sits and wells up in his heart.
A life of crime was not what Draco imagined himself pursuing, not in the slightest, but he’d do anything to spend his life with you. The money, the cars, the houses, the fame- none of it fills him up the way that you do, just by living and breathing on planet earth. “Easy. I waited for you.”
“What?” You ask- having forgotten what you two were talking about before the kiss.
“I survived because I knew you were coming. I waited for you.”
“And what if I didn’t?” You raise your eyebrows- even though you know that you wouldn’t even dream of living without him.
“I still would’ve waited.” He smiles and kisses you again, “I’ll always wait for you.”
“I told you that you’d fall in love with me.” You say with a smirk as you turn to start the car and drive off to your next destination.
<~>
Draco would genuinely start a life of crime to spite his reputation and you can’t convince me otherwise. I sort of feel like I half-assed this one just so I could get it done but at the same time I do really like it.
Anyway, love you all
jean <3
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starrybethany · 3 years
Text
I’m Sure - Adam Boqvist Imagine Part 5
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Word count: 4.0K
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Adam: You followed me
I stare at the three words, blinking with tired eyes. All I want to do is sleep, especially after the day I’ve had with Holden, but the baby decided kicking me was more important. So here I am at four o’clock in the morning checking my social media when I should be getting another three hours of sleep.
I rub my eyes, unsure of how to even respond to the message.
It’s just a statement. I feel flabbergasted by it- really, we haven’t talked in years- well, technically months, but the last time we saw each other we just fucked, and our child went to see him without my knowledge or consent. How the fuck am I supposed to respond to those three words?
Y/N: I think we need to talk.
I sigh, setting my phone down. Might as well get straight to the point. The sooner I tell him about the second baby and ask why he would see Holden without at least running it past me the better. I roll over, pulling the blanket tighter around me. Hopefully I can sleep at least a little bit longer. I’m going to need it to deal with the moody adolescent I’ll be seeing in the morning.
~
“I made some toast and bacon. Just let me just finish cutting up these strawberries and then breakfast will be ready,” I inform Holden as he hops down the stairs.
He picks up the filled plate waiting for him on the table, throwing the food into the trashcan and setting the plate on the counter, giving me an expectant look.
I stare blankly back at him. I know he’s waiting for a reaction. He wants me to blow up so then he feels okay yelling at me instead of starting the confrontation himself. Instead, I just say, “That’s wasteful.”
He rolls his eyes, grabbing his backpack from its usual spot by the door and making his way outside, letting it slam shut behind him. I release the breath that I’ve been holding in, popping a strawberry into my mouth.
I open my Instagram app to catch up on the posts that I’ve missed, freezing when I see that I’ve received a DM. I forgot that I sent a message to Adam last night. Well, technically this morning. After I sent the message, I passed out hard, and I thought the whole thing was a fever dream.
Adam: What about?
Adam: Here’s my number
My fingers tap the screen quietly as I add his phone number into my contacts, saving it and staring at it blankly.
Well. No time like the present.
Before I can even realize what I’m doing, before I can even think things through and decide what to say or whether this is a good idea or not, or hell, even what time it is in Chicago right now, I click on the phone icon.
I curse to myself, raising the phone to my ear. Absentmindedly, my hand raises to my mouth so I can chew on my fingernail. Nail-biting is a nervous habit that I gave up years ago, but I guess old habits die hard.
“Hello?” His groggy voice comes through the phone.
I can’t breathe.
The oxygen gets stuck in my lungs. All I can think about are his hands on my body, sliding down to grip my hips. The twinkle in his eyes as I would pull my shirt over my head.
And not to mention the last time I saw him. His hair is longer than he used to keep it, but it suits him. It looks good on him. And he bulked up since the last time I saw him, too- his abs definitely looked and felt like it, anyways.
“Hello?” He repeats, sounding more awake and borderline annoyed now.
“Adam,” I respond softly, suddenly feeling shy. Come on, where did my confidence go? I’ll need it to get through this conversation.
“Y/N,” he says, all sounds of annoyance out of his voice. “You actually called, I didn’t think that you would-“”Sorry for waking you up,” I blurt out, glancing at the clock and seeing that it’s seven in the morning here. Chicago is an hour behind Philadelphia- it’s what kept me from calling the boys on the team late at night for several years.
“Oh, no, no, don’t you ever worry about that,” he reassures me. It’s quiet. I know he’s waiting for me to speak, to let him know what I want to talk to him about, but I just can’t get the words out. I feel them stuck in my throat, clawing to escape. “So, how’s Holden?”
And there it is.
That question is what spurs me to speak, to dig into the man who hid a huge secret like that from me. But I guess I’m doing the same thing to him now.
“I don’t know, how is he, Adam?” I spit out.
He sighs. He sighs. I want to punch his perfect fucking face.
“If I had realized that you had such a problem with it-“”Such a problem with it?” I repeat, not believing my own ears. Suddenly I’m reminded of why I decided not to tell Adam about this baby and why he wasn’t ready to be in Holden’s life for thirteen years. Hell, it sounds like he’s still not ready.
“My son lied to me about his intentions of going to Chicago, traveled halfway across the country by himself, and saw someone who he���s never met before. Yes, I have a fucking problem with it,” I growl.
“Our son.”
“What?”
“He’s our son. You said my son.”
All I want to do right now is to reach through this tiny screen and hit him upside the head. Really, after I lay out all of my concerns, this is all he has to say to me?
“Whatever. When are you coming to Philadelphia next?” I question. I don’t want to air all of grievances and talk about the new baby over the phone. I’ve had enough communication classes to know that you need to see someone’s nonverbal behaviors instead just hearing what they have to say.
“Why? You want to see me?” Suggestion laces his tone.
No, asshole, you already got me pregnant again.
“Yes. We need to talk about Holden… and some other things,” my voice trails off at the end, not sure how to warn him about such big news.
“Some other things, eh? Well, I’ll be looking forward to that,” he responds, clearly thinking that it’s something regarding us and our relationship, well, our dislike or lust for one another or something, instead of picking up what I’m trying to hint at.
“Cool. So, can you take a trip to Philly sometime soon or are you going to wait until hockey season?” I inquire.
“I can take a trip there, just for you. And Holden, of course.”
I can’t help but let a small smile slip onto my face. That sentence shows me that he’d be a good dad if he just put in the effort. It infuriates me that he’s kept that from Holden for years just because he hasn’t felt like working towards a relationship with his son.
“Good. Let me know when you’re in town so we can meet up.”
“What? You’re not going to invite me to stay with you?”
“Goodbye, Adam.” I hang up before he can respond. All I can imagine the rest of the day is his reaction after that phone call. He would have that small, knowing smile on his face, pulling his phone out of his pocket every five minutes to check and see if he got a new text from me or to send the fifth one in a row to me- one that I still would not respond to.
And my heart skips a beat at the thought of that.
~
It’s been a week since the phone call and since Adam sent me a screenshot of his booked ticket to Philadelphia two weeks from then. For some reason, maybe it’s the stupid, hopeless romantic part in me, I had hoped that he would book his plane ticket and hotel room for that night or even the next day. But he told me he had some ‘lose ends’ to tie up in Chicago before leaving.
And it’s also been a week since Holden has said a word to me. I’ve tried talking to him. I’ve asked him about his day, his friends, cooked him his favorite meals all week, I even offered to take him to Target to get a new video game.
None of that has worked. And it hurts. It hurts knowing that after everything I’ve done for him and everything I’ve sacrificed for him, and how Adam has done none of that, he looks at Adam like a God and me like the scum on the bottom of his shoe.
I know it’s what I’m supposed to do as a mother, care for my son and make sure he’s happy, but it’s just- it’s just- ugh.
I start to feel my blood boil as my mom’s voice echoes in the back of my head. Life’s not fair.
It’s then that I realize that I’ve given him enough space and time to figure out his feelings and how he wants to proceed. I don’t want to give him too much space that he begins to resent me and feel like I don’t care about him.
I know that feeling all too well.
I knock on his bedroom door softly, waiting for him to open it before I just walk in. It creeks open slightly, and just as I expected, eyes matching my mom’s peek out to glare at me.
“Can I talk to you, Holden?”
He doesn’t respond, just stares at me.
“Please, you don’t even have to talk, just listen,” I beg.
Fortunately, he opens the door the rest of the way, watching as I walk into his room and sit gently on the edge of the bed. He sits down on his worn computer chair, laptop open to some video game I don’t recognize on his desk.
“I want to start by apologizing for yelling at you last week,” I begin, taking a deep breath. Apologizing isn’t something that comes easy to me- I grew up in a family where the words ‘I’m sorry’ were unheard of. My parents were always right, and I was always wrong.
“I realize it probably wasn’t easy for you to go to Chicago by yourself to meet your dad. Holden, I just want you to realize that I would do anything to protect you, and I love you with my whole heart so realizing that you were in such an emotionally taxing situation without talking to me about it first-“I pause to sniffle, starting to feel tears well up in my eyes. “I felt helpless. And I couldn’t stop wondering why you didn’t feel like you could share that with me and then I realized that it’s because I don’t share stuff with you either.”
He watches as I lift my sleeve, wiping the tears from under my eyes. His face is still blank, but his eyes look like they’ve softened. He’s understanding my words so far.
“So, yes, this baby is also Adam’s baby. And he did ask about you when I saw him back in February, but I let my pride get the best of me and I told him that he didn’t deserve to see you. I’m sorry for robbing you of meeting your father earlier,” I genuinely apologize, maintaining eye contact with my son.
He shifts in his seat, his hard exterior softening with every word. “Well, I’m sorry for calling you a shitty mother. And saying all of that other stuff. And, if it makes you feel better, I did go to the computer programming camp. I just saw Adam when we had a night off.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
He nods.
“What did he tell you? About not being involved in your life?” I ask carefully, curious as to what Adam told Holden to turn him against me like that.
“He just told me that he was working through some stuff,” he shrugs, acting like he doesn’t care but I know my son well enough to tell that he does. “And he wasn’t ready until recently to meet me.”
I bite my tongue to keep it from releasing an insult towards Adam. “And how does that make you feel?”
“Honestly?” I nod, probing him to go on. “Pretty awful. I don’t think I want a relationship with him, mom.”
A mix of emotions run through my body at his word. I feel anxious, because now I have to tell him that Adam’s coming next week and will want to see him, sadness, because my son now recognizes how his father did not want be involved in his life, and anger toward Adam for making him feel like this in the first place.
“Well,” I cough awkwardly. “He’s coming to Philadelphia next week. I’m going to meet him to tell him about the baby. If you don’t want to see him, you don’t have to. It’s all up to you, bud.”
I stand up slowly, rubbing my belly as the baby begins to kick. He always seems to do that whenever I move even just a little bit- he’s an active little guy.
“Oh,” I turn back around just as I’m about to close the door. “How did you even find out who your father is?”
“Please mom, I’m not stupid,” he grins slyly at me, sliding his headphones onto his neck. “You lived in Chicago when you got pregnant with me and worked for the Blackhawks. I figured, since you said you worked a lot, the only guys you really had a chance to be with were on the team. And when I asked you about my dad for that project for school you said he was Swedish, so I just went to the Blackhawks roster in 2020 and found the Swedish players, messaging them some really uncomfortable and intrusive messages on Instagram.”
I chuckle at that, shaking my head. It will never not blow my mind how clever and smart he is. As I close the door to his bedroom, I hear him say, “On the plus side, Alex Nylander is a really nice guy.”
~
The day is finally here. Being eighteen weeks pregnant makes it really hard to hide my baby bump, but I somehow manage to find a baggy sweatshirt that I’ve stolen from one of my ex-boyfriends to cover it up. I don’t want to walk into the restaurant we’re meeting at and have him immediately know.
Somehow my jeans still fit on my legs, but I have a feeling by the end of this lunch they’ll be unbuttoned. It’s just the way it goes sometimes.
I get to the restaurant before Adam, just like how I planned it. I wanted time to scope out my exits in case I need to bail halfway through this meal- knowing Adam, it’s a possibility. I haven’t thought through what I was going to say too much.
I know I need to talk to him about why he would keep Holden going to Chicago to see him a secret from me, and we need to talk about the baby.
But mostly I just want to hear him grovel. The secret, sadistic part of me wants to hear him beg for forgiveness for making me raise my child by myself for the past thirteen years. I want to hear him admit that he fucked up- I’ve never heard Adam Boqvist admit that he fucked up before.
He shows up two minutes late.
I know because my phone is sitting face up on the table and I click on it every five seconds to see what time it is. I tell myself that if it gets ten minutes past noon and he’s still not here, I’m going home and giving up on dealing with Adam ever again.
But then he’s standing in front of me, familiar toothy grin on his face, black beanie on his shaggy hair, and a bouquet of red roses in his hand.
“You’re late,” I state sternly, not letting any sign of emotion onto my face. I need to let him know I mean business. I need to let him know that I’m never getting into bed with him ever again.
“Yeah, sorry, there was a line at the grocery store,” his grin begins to slip, but as he holds the bouquet out towards me, it takes over his face once again. “I got you these.”
“Thanks.”
I don’t make any movement towards them. His smile falls once again and I begin to feel guilty- he did buy these flowers for me, but he also impregnated me and left me twice.
He slides into the chair across the table from me, setting the flowers on the table and coughing awkwardly. “So, have you ordered yet?”
“Just water,” I respond shortly.
“Do you want to split a bottle of wine?”
“I’m not really a day drinker,” I eye him over the top of my menu, then go back to skimming through the items. It’s a charade, though. I already know what I want.
“Are you two ready to order?” The peppy waitress appears at our side, notepad open in her hand.
“I’ll have the chicken alfredo,” I announce, folding my menu.
“I’ll take that too. And a bottle of your sweetest wine, please,” the blonde orders, passing his menu to the waitress. When she leaves, he turns back to me. “I know you like the sweet stuff.”
I take a deep breath, deciding to cut to the chase. I’d rather get through this meal as soon as possible. The sooner we get done talking about this stuff, the sooner I can get out of here.
“Adam, I’m pregnant.”
He chokes on the sip of water he’s just taken from his glass, water dripping down his chin and landing on the table in front of him. I can’t help but watch with a content smile as he coughs, trying to catch his breath.
“Excuse me?” He utters through coughs, wiping his chin with a napkin.
“I’m pregnant,” I repeat. “I’m due in November.”
“Well, uh, congratulations,” he says unsurely.
I roll my eyes, muttering, “You clearly haven’t gotten smarter since last time.”
He seems to catch on to the hidden meaning behind my comment, his eyes widening. “Oh is it- since we-“”It’s your baby,” I conclude bluntly.
A smirk begins to spread across his face. I can’t believe it. He’s smirking just after I told him that he got me pregnant accidentally for the second time.
“Why do you have that look?” I snap.
“My little swimmers work pretty well, don’t they?” He inquires confidently, sipping from his water and succeeding this time.
I lean across the table, turning it on him. “I don’t know, do they? Are there any half-siblings that I need to worry about?”
The smirk is replaced by a look of genuineness now. It startles me, the sudden change of emotions. “No, it’s you, Y/N. It’s always been you.”
I lean back in my seat, the sudden seriousness too much for me to bear. I fiddle with the napkin sitting next to my glass, avoiding eye contact with him. “Yeah, so it’s a boy.”
“Another boy,” he echoes my very thoughts the moment I found out the sex.
I grin at the thought of my second child. When he’s been kicking me at night and keeping me awake, I think about what he’s going to be like. Is he going to cry a lot or is he going to be a quiet baby like Holden was? Will I have to keep an eye on him every minute or will I be able to get some breaks?
And what about when he’s older. Will he like hockey like his dad? Would he like the Flyers because we live in Philadelphia, or would he like the Blackhawks because his dad plays for them?
“Speaking of boys, how is Holden doing? He hasn’t been responding to my texts lately.” Adam means for the question to sound casual, but I can hear the undertone of worry in his voice. Maybe he isn’t as much of a shitty father as I think he is.
“He doesn’t want to talk to you,” I confess.
He doesn’t bother to hide the hurt on his face. I don’t expect him to. I know how it feels to feel unwanted and unloved by your child- I felt it when Holden told me that I’m a shitty mother. And although Adam deserves the consequences to his actions, I can’t help but feel a small amount of pity for him.
“I deserve that,” he sighs.
“You do,” I agree, knowing that I’m shoving the knife deeper into his heart. “But just give him time to decide what he wants to do. It’s all so fresh to him.”
He gives me a small, vulnerable smile.
“Why didn’t you tell me that he was going to see you while he was in Chicago, Adam?” I ask him the question I’ve been dying to ask ever since I found out about the situation.
He shrugs, not saying a word.
“Yes, you do know,” I persist. “So just fucking tell me. Enough of the bullshit, we’re in our thirties now. It’s time to focus on the children, not your fucking pride.”
He looks baffled by my sudden outburst, but it inspires him to answer. “I was afraid that if you found out, you would stop him. Then I’d never get to meet my son.”
“I would have stopped him,” I agreed, causing him to open his mouth to begin arguing with me. I start to speak again before he can begin. “And reschedule the trip to a time that works better with my work schedule so that I could go with him. Yes, you’re his father, but you’ve never been in his life. You’re essentially a stranger to him.”
He narrows his eyes at me like my words are a challenge. “Not anymore.”
I narrow my eyes at him now. “Really? What’s his middle name? When is his birthday? What’s his favorite color?”
He doesn’t respond and I scoff, taking a sip of my water again. “That’s what I thought.”
We’re quiet as the waitress returns with our meals. I cut my noodles, taking a bite of my food.
“I don’t want it to be that way with this baby,” he says, quickly adding, “And Holden anymore. I want to be there for this baby from the start. Or from now, I guess. And I want to be there for Holden, if he ever wants me.”
Mixed feelings begin to flush through my body. This is what I wanted for my kids from the beginning, an active father figure. And Adam’s offering it now, but why am I still feeling so hesitant?
After years of expecting him to step up as a parent and him never doing it, I have reasonable doubts when it comes to Adam’s parenting ability.
“Well, you know it’s up to Holden. You can’t force him to like you,” I begin slowly, trying to phrase my words in the best way possible. “But with this second baby… we can try it. I have a doctor’s appointment in two days. I’ll text you the address and time.”
“But my flight leaves tomorrow,” he whines. “Can’t you just reschedule for today?”
“You have so much to learn, Adam,” I shake my head. “I just hope you realize that being a parent means that you’re selfless more than selfish. Tell you what, go back to Chicago if you want to. But if you go back to Chicago, the only time you’ll communicate with the boys is when they want to talk to you.”
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dadsbongos · 3 years
Text
Hey, Arvin?
Movie/Game/Show: The Devil All The Time Dynamic: Arvin Russell/Reader Warnings: spoilers for the movie? idk, post-ending time Summary: Self-doubt is often clouded as banter, and Arvin knows that better than anybody - especially after growing close to a certain farm girl. ~~~
Arvin didn't know he would wind up on a farm in the outskirted heart of Terrace Park. He truly did mean to sign himself to war in Cincinnati but it just never happened. A lot of things just didn't seem to work out for Arvin, so he didn't bother himself over it too much - not after everything he'd already done. Besides, his work was good and honest and the people who'd taken him in were good and honest.
Father, uncle, sons, and daughter. They were tight-knit - they had to be with the distant lands they'd been handed as a living space. No neighbors for miles, the children only had each other and the animals to play with until he came along. When the uncle came into a bar within town at sundown and convinced Arvin that being a farmhand was a good life. Now, Arvin was up before the sun with calluses burning at his hands and two young boys clinging to his boots as he went around the farm. But he can't say he hated it.
The two boys, only one year apart from each other and over ten years from him, were like little brothers to Arvin at this point. They were balls of sunshine throughout the home and if they wanted to lend a sinner like him some light, who was he to refuse?
The uncle, the man who'd found him that night, was deceptively sweet. A hulking figure with a soft heart beneath all the muscle. Deceptively smart, too. He'd gone to a life of education before coming to his brother-in-law's side at the farm. He was like a mentor and guiding hand, a kind one, a patient one. One who wanted the best for his loved ones; his nephews and niece, his brother by marriage, and for Arvin himself.
The father was largely unknown to Arvin. Gone away on matters that nobody seemed to know. Personal business. According to the boys, he used to be an involved and loving man until their mother fell ill and eventually died. And Arvin felt sickened upon that news. He felt pity for the children, he knew what it was like to be young and not understand why your mother had to go and your father was bent on going too. He could only pray that their father didn't go down the path his own had.
The daughter, their ages matching, was his favorite to spend time with. She wouldn't do her chores when the others were around, preferring to sit and watch her family as they did theirs. She would trail Arvin around the farm and talk as he worked. Sometimes she asked about what the town was like, other times she would tease him about being so quiet. Playful. Had enough heart to apologize if she ever felt that she crossed a line. He liked that about her. He liked a lot of things about her.
"Hey, Arvin?"
It was a simple phrase, one he'd heard countless times, but it was different from her. A teasing tone and a smile to match - her legs kicking out as she sat atop a stack of hay and watched Arvin brush the horses' manes.
"What is it, darlin'?"
"You ever take Arkle out for a midnight ride?"
She knew he did. She had to have. Why else would she bother with such a question?
"Just askin' since I hadn't found him out here last night. Figured he'd gotten out until I saw you out in the field with him."
Arvin pulled away from May's dirty brown mane to give the girl a quirked brow, "Why bother askin' if you already knew the answer?"
"I like seein' ya get all flustered. Thought you'd figured that out by now."
"Well, what were you doin' out here so late then?" Arvin returned to the horses as he asked.
"Just thinkin' was all."
"That right?" he spared the girl a quick glance, "What was that head a' yours so troubled with?"
She ignored his question and that didn't surprise him. She didn't like exposing her thoughts to anyone. Kept her worries and doubts to herself like they were precious gems, and with as little as this family had, they might as well have been. When you don't have much to call your own, your thoughts and feelings start to feel like little treasures. Arvin knew that first-hand and he wasn't about to steal someone's treasures by digging where he didn't belong.
"You ain't gotta tell me," he only said it to ease the tension of having been brushed over, "Just know I'm here. You follow me around all day, might as well talk to me if you need to."
The last thing he needed - or wanted - was to lose another person in his life. Especially if just talking to them could've prevented it. He knows he should've been keeping a better eye on Lenora and he hopes beyond hope she forgives him for that. He prays that her and her baby are well-cared for in heaven. If anybody deserves to be in the eternal sweetspot of God's domain, it's his dear sister.
"Hey, Arvin?"
Today, he was shucking corn, seated on a barrel, when she called to him from behind. He turned his head and nodded to let her know he was listening.
"You were awful quiet at breakfast this morning. Barely spoke to the boys at all."
"Just thinkin', darlin'. You ain't gotta worry 'bout me."
"I'll always worry 'bout you, Arvin," he feels her hands settle on his shoulders, "You came into Terrace Park alone. You got brought in by Uncle. You're around my baby brothers all the time. My boys, Arvin. My boys. We might share an age but we ain't share a brain. All I can see into your head is all I know about mine. It ain't just for you, Arvin. My daddy hasn't been the same since Mama passed and someone's gotta take care of the family. Uncle loves you to death and I don't blame him, but I'm still worryin'."
He got it. He understood. He was that way with Lenora, and he just wishes he could've done better to protect her. He wishes he could've keep his father around. He wishes his mother wasn't robbed from him so soon. He wishes he had less blood on his hands.
"Can I ease your worries at all?" he returns to his task of shucking corn.
"Where'd you get in from? Why're you here?"
"Knockemstiff. Coal Creek. Nowhere too far," he inhaled sharply as he went to begin his tale of why he left, leaving out certain unsavory details, "I had a sister. She was sweet. Lonely. I left her alone with the wrong sonofabitch," he felt anger begin boiling inside his veins as he relived that day, "she killed herself over him so I… I left. Had nothin' else there for me than makin' sure she was okay and I couldn't even do that."
"Arvin," she leans forward and presses her hands over his, "you didn't hafta tell me if it was so personal. 'M sorry I pried. Sorry about your sister, too, that's awful."
"No," he drops the corn when he realizes how shaky his hands have gotten, "I needed to get that out," he feels his heart burn the longer that her hands rest on his, "I still miss her. I shoulda been there."
Earskell should've kept tighter watch like he'd said.
Those bullies should've known better than to pick on Lenora.
Teagardin should've followed the book he read by.
"Can I hold you, Arvin?" it's barely a whisper.
He doesn't nod. If he wasn't the one to take initiative and press himself back into her chest then she wouldn't have gotten an answer at all. Her arms come around Arvin's shoulders and circle his chest tighter as his eyes water.
"It ain't your fault. It's that bastard, you know that, don't you?" she pressed her lips to his forehead and rested a cheek to the top of his head, fingers running through his hair, "It ain't your fault. Never was. Never will be."
He appreciates the sentiment even though he knows, deep down inside himself, that he'll never truly believe it. It's kind of her to care so much about a boy like him. He hopes she never has to feel the pain he knows so intimately and he hopes he can protect her brothers like he never got to with Lenora. If not to protect the softness in his own heart for them, then for the sake of a farm girl who's holding him so close as he cries in a cornfield.
"Hey, Arvin?"
It's hours past late and he hasn't been able to catch a wink of sleep. The dining table he's seated himself at is swamped in darkness and he's surprised she can even make out his figure.
"Late night, darlin'?"
"Heard you gettin' up. What're you doin' out here? I know it ain't eatin'."
"How can you tell?"
"Eatin' so late with not even a candle is just sad, Arvin. We got more to worry about than sleepin' if that's what you're doin'."
He grins at her answer and shakes his head, "Just can't sleep. You go on to bed; need your beauty rest."
It's that idea that has her feet practically cemented to the ground and her brows furrowing in her self-consciousness. She feels her gut twist at the mention of her needing beauty sleep even though she knows that's not how he meant it.
"Hey Arvin…?"
He nods before remembering she can't see him, "What is it, darlin'?"
"Do…" she presses her lips into a thin line before finally spewing out the question, "d'you think I'm pretty?"
"Well, what kind a' question is that? Wouldn't your daddy kill me for somethin' like that."
"Daddy ain't around long enough."
"I think you're plenty pretty, darlin', but don't worry 'bout what me or what any other boy has to say on your looks, you hear me? Ain't no boy in control of your body, so don't let any of 'em take anythin' from you," Arvin's quiet, voice rasped, "Nobody livin' in that body 'sides you, so you just make sure you like yourself before worryin' on what anyone else has to say."
He thought she was breathtaking, intelligent, fun - he wouldn't ramble on it for as long as he wished only because he wanted her to realize what truly mattered. She was clearly nervous in awaiting his response, if the quivers in her voice were anything to go by, and he wanted to answer this right. He wanted her to know that at the end of the day, all that mattered was her opinion on herself - because she, and she alone, was inside that body until it died. She had to love herself before someone like him had any say. Arvin's learned how to handle such situations since losing the only people he's ever cared for.
"You really think that?"
"Absolutely, darlin'," he nodded before coming to a stand and beginning to walk out of the kitchen, "You should get to bed now."
"Arvin," she reached up and took his shoulders into her hand before pressing a kiss to his cheek once she could make it out from the darkness, "you're a real sweetheart, you know that?"
"I'm just me. Ain't the best man, ain't the worst. But I appreciate the compliment," he swallowed down his nerves and kissed her forehead gently, "Sleep well, now, darlin'."
"Hey, Arvin?" she murmurs as he begins his trek back to his room.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you… for everything. I know you haven't been here the longest, but I can't imagine us without you now."
"I can't imagine me without any a' you either, so don't worry about thankin' me, darlin'."
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raelly-writing · 3 years
Text
Little Secrets - Thancred/WoL
Post-5.5. Silly little bit of fluff I’ve had lying around in my WIP folder since before 5.3. :)
---
The Rising Stones lay still and quiet as Thancred made his way through its hallways. Not that it was unexpected at this hour - either it was far too late in the night or too early in the morning for many souls aside for the town guards to be awake.
At least the others out in the field had been faring well when he’d checked in with them, despite their less than pleasant task of intercepting any further attempts to bring captives to the towers. Sure, he could have checked in via linkpearl, but after the chaos out in Pagl’than, it’d seemed prudent to get a feeling for the situation elsewhere.
Well, he could convene with Riol and Alphinaud in the morning, Thancred thought as he took the steps up the stairs to the sleeping quarters in twos. Despite his long travel and the late - or early - hour, he felt rather energetic.
Or perhaps it was the thought of slinking into Viana’s room and just catching a few precious hours of sleep with her after several days apart that put a slight spring in his step. Between his time away in Garlemald, and leaving again to see how the situation at the other towers were, he looked forward to the comforting warmth of her body curled up next to his as he slept. In the dark, still corridor, his quiet huff of laughter at himself seemed far louder than it was. It would have been a hard thing to believe once that he’d be eager to slip into his lover’s bed, just for the simple pleasure of sleeping by their side.
Nevermind that there were no fears of entanglement driving him from leaving said bed early, that he was content and secure in this bond between them that kept him by her side - that he could allow himself to have this simple happiness in his life, despite those moments where he felt it was something he had not yet earned, and those familiar, dark voices whispered to him that she would one day realise that he was not fit for her.
With a shake of his head, he fished out the spare key she had given him from his inner coat pocket and quietly unlocked her door. Her chamber lay silent as he slipped inside and closed the door behind him, bathed in the low light of the lantern left burning on her desk.
Too silent, in fact.
A small frown creased his brow as he quietly stepped deeper into the room and looked around the ornate Far Eastern wood screen that customarily partitioned off her bed from the rest of the room.
The piles of pillows and blankets were untouched, the covers still neatly tucked in. No one had slept in that bed tonight.
Thancred felt a small but potent pang of disappointment. Most likely she had been called off somewhere on an urgent matter, as was wont to happen.
Well, there was nothing to be done about it - guess he was sleeping in his own bed tonight. Tataru and Alphinaud would tell him in the morning where she’d gone, he was sure. Sighing, he reached out to turn off the lantern, when he caught sight of her gunblade lying on her desk with its maintenance kit beside it. Thancred stopped at once, a curious frown back on his features. Looking around he found her katana sitting on its customary stand and her axe hanging off a pair of hooks on the wall by her wardrobe.
“What the-?” he murmured to himself. She wouldn’t have left without any of her weapons.
Just then, there was the sound of a key turning in the lock, followed by a dull thud as someone on the other side pushed their weight against the door. A pause. Then the sound of it once more unlocking.
“Seven Hells, I swear that I locked-” Viana froze the moment she saw him, her eyes going almost comically wide in surprise.
Thancred’s eyebrows rose as he took in her appearance, the surprise he felt not mitigating the heat that instantly crawled up the back of his neck. A dark leather corset hugged her body, with familiar looking bits of gold jewelry twinkling in the low light like little stars against the dark blue cloth of her dress.
A moment of silence stretched out between them.
Clearing his throat, he smiled and gestured towards her. “Were I to check the hallway, would I find Urianger knocked out and robbed off his usual adornments?”
Viana’s shoulders, bared by the cut of the dress, sagged when she exhaled. “Funny,” she replied dryly while she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, turning the lock. Tall boots covered her legs, though even in the dim light of the room he could see the tantalising glimpse of bare skin at her thigh.
He tried not to let his eyes linger, but it was hard not to let his gaze wander and soak in her unusual appearance, used as he was to her in full armour or just lighter shirts and trousers. This was… extravagant, by comparison. “People have on occasion accused me of such feats,” he quipped.
Pausing, she gave him a shy, uncertain look while still lingering by the door. He was not meant to have seen her like this, he realised. Only once, long ago, had he seen her carry herself in such an apprehensive manner - at the banquet that had been held after the Grand Melee in Ishgard. But there were no crowds of gossiping nobles present now to watch her every move.
Thancred gave her a reassuring smile as he took a couple of slow steps forward. “So, do you mind me asking what this is about?” He had an inkling but...
Viana tensed up, and he nearly told her that she did not have to if so was her wish, but then she sighed and procured from behind her the folded together metal rings that appeared to have been suspended from one of the chains around her waist.  “I suppose you’d find out sooner or later,” she said quietly as she took a few steps to close the distance between them.
With a touch of aether, the slender rings flared to life and hovered above her palm - a familiar sight, though hers lacked the intricate decorations of Urianger’s. The bracelets on her arm tinkled when she moved her arm over the astrolabe, her face set in a look of concentration.
Briefly, the room was illuminated by a surge of aether, and then a soothing sensation washed over Thancred, like a gentle whisper of the softest silk over his bare skin that swept away the weariness in his limbs. Rejuvenating magic, tinted with the warm, familiar feeling of her aether.
“I made the mistake of voicing some curiosity about astrology to Urianger while we were dealing with Eden.” The corner of her mouth curled with a crooked smile. “And I fear he took it as a personal challenge to teach me.”
“Ah, a grave mistake indeed,” Thancred chuckled. “Give him an ilm and he’ll take a yalm.”
Shrugging, she eyed the slowly spinning astrolabe with a small, thoughtful smile. “It’s been… interesting to learn though.” Her gaze flickered back to him. “I’ll probably never take this out in the field. I’m barely good enough to heal a minor cut, but I do genuinely appreciate the effort and time he’s put toward this. He’s a good teacher. Very patient with me.”
Thancred’s expression softened. He knew her lack of an education was a sore spot for her, and that she often felt like her non-existent grasp of magical theory made her less of use than the rest of them - that, as per her own jest, her sole contribution to any given problem was to take a beating and punch the issue until it either went away or one of them solved it. Gratitude towards Urianger for taking her under his wing tugged at his heart, along with a content pride in her efforts to learn. Even if Thancred himself thought that she hardly had anything to prove to them, in that regard. She was more than just a weapon. Reaching out, he took her free hand in his and brushed a quick kiss to the back of her fingers, below the rings that adorned them.
“I take it you were out studying the stars then,” he asked, recalling how Urianger would sometimes venture out into the fields of Il Mheg even when the blanket of Eternal Light had made it impossible to see the night sky.
Viana nodded and slipped her hand from his to caress his jaw. The scratch of his stubble made her smile widen a little, mirth dancing in her eyes. “Mm, his balcony has a good view of most of them. Otherwise we go up to one of the towers.”
With another wave of her hand, the astrolabe folded back up and she took a careful hold of it before walking past him to the same low cabinet upon which her katana stand stood. The soft light from the lantern caught on the gold chain hanging down between her shoulder blades. Focusing on it, he saw that another star pendant was dangling at its end, and that another, heftier chain was attached to the band around her upper arm. There was an itch in his fingers to slowly undo each clasp and tie, to loosen the corset hugging her body and unwrap her like a fine namesday gift.
“He’s been teaching me about the various constellations and how to draw on them,” she told him over her shoulder, unaware of how his eyes were following the chains looping around her waist, and the small blue gems hanging from them that sparkled like they were distant stars twinkling in the night sky. “Not sure how successful I’ve been at it though.”
She turned around and his gaze instantly snapped back up to her face. Clearing his throat, he nodded. “I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.”
Viana shrugged sheepishly. “Perhaps. If nothing else I might be able to apply some of the theory to my gunbreaker barriers.” Her smile turned crooked, as humour sparked in her eyes. “And, I might not stand around and look like I just got clubbed over the head by Titan whenever a discussion turns theoretical in nature about aether balancing and all that stuff.”
“Ah, my dear, you’re hardly the only one who gets turned around by their theoretical debates.”
A soft peal of laughter made her shoulders shake as she walked back to him. “Well, I suppose I have Estinien as company in that regard, for now.” The knowing look she gave him made it clear that she knew he was obfuscating his own knowledge on the field, but instead of calling him out on it she merely leaned down and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re back,” she murmured.
Smiling, Thancred slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “I’m glad to be back.”
Viana leaned against him and brushed back his hair from his eyes. “Planning on staying for more than a day, this time?”
Immediately he felt the long journey catch up with him, and with a tired chuckle he nodded. “Unless the gods decide to suddenly turn the world upside down tomorrow, then yes, I am.”
Her smile brightened a little at once. “Good.” She leaned down and he eagerly met her in a slow kiss.
Thancred made a pleased noise at the back of his throat, his heart skipping a beat in joy at being back with her. The kiss was short and sweet, familiar and welcoming in tone.
Almost too short, he felt, when she straightened back up. Peering up at her, he felt curiosity tug at him once more as he thumbed what felt like a star shaped pendant. “Haven’t seen you in something like this before,” he murmured with a smile. “Well, aside from that dress at ser Aymeric’s banquet.”
A blush immediately crept up on her cheeks as she glanced away. “Ah, yes, I... asked Tataru for some more aether conductive gear,” she replied while tapping her fingers against his shoulders in a nervous manner. “Apparently she’d gotten her hands on some new patterns in Ishgard that she wanted to try out. Decided to kill two cloudkin with one rock, as it were.” The tilt of her smile turned a little self deprecating as she shrugged, “Can’t help but feel like her efforts were wasted on me.”
Raising a hand, he touched her chin to urge her to look back at him. Thancred held her gaze and let the levity drop from his voice when he responded, “You look stunning, darling.”
Viana’s eyes widened a fraction before her expression settled back into a bashful look. “Not exactly my usual style,” she murmured, her tone uncertain. “It seems a bit… frivolous, compared to my normal clothes.”
“Nothing wrong with a little frivolity, if that’s what you are in the mood for,” Thancred mused.
She pursed her lips with a thoughtful look, before leaning down and pressing another quick kiss to his mouth. “Well, thoughts for a later time I suppose. Mind helping me out of this?”
“Mm, that would be my pleasure,” he replied with a grin and gave her waist a squeeze.
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itsrubberbisquit · 3 years
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My Heart Would Know (12f/13)
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Summary:  Henry had been careful to cultivate his image, particularly when it came to endorsements.  He had never promoted an author before, preferring to subtly follow artists he liked on socials in case any of his fans wanted to check them out too.  That is until his assistant finds him the greatest media since the Beatles and Henry starts falling down an internet hole
Chapter Summary:   Henry hangs out with Evans for a bit, has a really stressful night with Liv and then has a *really* stressful day.  With everyone.  The last day of the con :(
Pairing:  Henry Cavill x OFC
Word Count: 4.9k
Warnings:  Nothing terrible unless you hate angst.  Then I’m not entirely sure why you’re here.
A/N:  THIS SUCKED WRITING TWICE, JSYK.  They both need a fucking hug.  And so does Kylie.  And even Rachel.  The good news is that my favorite NPC gets to show up in the next chaaapter.  I missed Audie.  Another massive shout out to @pensieve-foryour-thoughts​ for the beta.  Anytime you wanna go back through and nitpick, be my guest.
Also, I hit 100 this morning!  And then someone unfollowed me, lol.  I’ll have my celebration post up sometime this afternoon lol.
Metaphorical Tag List: @summersong69​  @omgkatinka​  @rn7rocks​  @introvertedmouse​
If you’d like a tag post a note or send me an ask.  I will do my *level* best to make it work.  Alternately, I have a notification chat group HERE.
Masterlist
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Henry had a phenomenal workout, going through the set of exercises he’d penned in with his trainer the last time he’d been in LA.  The last push up to filming was always one of the hardest but he was dedicated to the look.  Geralt was a hulk and Henry would be too.  He felt particularly swollen that evening, a combination of post-workout serotonin and the low thrum of pre-sex testosterone.  Maybe it was post-sex.  Sex-adjacent?  He mentally shrugged and shut Kal into the suite as he closed the door behind him.
 Whatever it was, it put a pep in his step as he headed downstairs to order dinner.
 He stopped by the front door and kindly asked the doorman to send Liv his way when she arrived.  With a flash of her picture and twenty bucks Henry was positive she’d show up before long.
 A grin spread across his face as he recognized the blond head of one Chris Evans hunched over his phone at the bar.  Standing all alone, the American looked a little rough around the edges in his faded shirt, jeans, and NASA ball cap.  Henry knew the disguise and the posture well, having spent more than his fair share of evenings searching for alone time in a hotel bar.
 On a weekend like this though, Evans was just asking for a stalker fan.
 He slid up next to the American and gestured for the bar keep.  “What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”  He intentionally muddled his accent, sliding easily into the recently vacated Syverson character.  Chris’s eye twitched.  Henry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.  Evans had to take a few moments to wipe the irritated scowl off his face and put his public smile on.
 Henry kept the laugh in long enough for Evans to realize he was being fucked with before he threw his head back.  It had been too easy and too good watching that frustration at being interrupted.  Another feeling Henry was familiar with.
 “You fucker.”  Evans looked like he wanted to give Henry a shove and the Brit leaned away from his hand.  “I’m so people-d out.”  The blonde’s sigh was a lot heavier than Henry would have expected and he tilted his head curiously. 
 “Bad day?”
 “I have seen some shit today.  But, give me a second.”  Evans stood, pushing an empty glass to join two others.  “I need to hit the head.” 
 Henry took the time to get dinner ordered, to go.  He wanted Liv alone, wrapped in a blanket on a couch as soon as humanly possible.  He felt a hand clamp on his shoulder and nodded at Evans as he rejoined him.  “So.  Bad day?”  He may as well spend the time chatting until the food arrived.
 “Oh god.”  Evans buried his face in his palms.  “I had this fan at the signing that wanted to talk about pizza.  He was really adamant that he made pizza as well as Leone’s and I could only smile and nod.”  Henry cocked an eyebrow, not getting the reference.  Evans waved his confusion away.  “It’s a thing, it doesn’t matter.  It’s just, this guy spent $80 to tell me how good his pizza was.  I don’t know if he thought he’d impress me or . . . fuck I don’t know.  And then he went on this diatribe about how I’d once said that I didn’t like mushrooms and I was just...baffled.  I don’t remember mushrooms ever coming up but at this point I just have to accept that I must have said something once.  I’m just glad he was harmless.”
 Harmless was good.  Henry had met a few fans that hadn’t felt harmless and he was sure Evans had too.  People who knew stuff that he was sure he hadn’t shared online.  But the internet was weird like that.  It wasn’t all that difficult to find out stuff about a person, especially when you kind of grew up online.  Chris was just that edge of too old to have remembered the good old days but Henry certainly remembered.  He’d had a LiveJournal, and then DeadJournal, and then MySpace, and then he’d landed a couple of roles and had buried most of it because there were some things the world didn’t need to see.
 His lame attempts at trying to write being one of them.
 But Chris would have missed all that and he certainly wouldn’t know that everyone leaves little bits of themselves, a trail that has hints of the truth but never the full view.
 He realized that’s what he’d gotten from Liv before yesterday.  A hint of who she was: kind and compassionate, yes.  Nerdy, for sure.  But he hadn’t seen her sharp wit or the soft way she melted when he was making her cum.  Nor did the internet describe the exact shade of aqua her eyes turned when she was deeply invested in conversation.
 That fan had asked Chris a real odd question but really, it was like asking him if he liked baseball or football.  Superficial.  What he’d learned about Liv and what he’d shared with her since they’d met felt bone deep and heavy.
 He was staring off in the distance while Evans was bearing his soul and the American cuffed him gently on the shoulder for it.  “Man, I don’t think I have ever seen you look, like, truly happy before.  You can’t keep that dumb smile off your face.”  If Chris had hoped to embarrass Henry he’d failed as the Brit smiled even wider.
 “Liv is something else, that’s all.”
 “The author, right?  Looks like you did end up with plans last night.”
 Henry didn’t kiss and tell.  Instead he took a sip of the water that had appeared at his elbow and grinned again.  “Maybe I’ll get a chance to meet her this weekend.”
 “Maybe.  She’s, uh, already seen you though.”  With a chuckle Henry recalled Liv’s run in with the buttress yesterday and the bruise that was getting darker every time he saw her.  He filled Evans in on her clumsiness and they both got a good chuckle out of it.  Chris himself had done plenty of stupid shit on set, much like Henry.  It was a tragic byproduct of doing stunts: on the one hand the stunt crews kept the actors so controlled and protected that it would be impossible to get hurt.  On the other hand, they were actors and it was an unspoken rule that they would push all the boundaries and find the one loophole in the safety precautions.
 Evans was detailing a particularly embarrassing moment on his last set when movement at the door distracted Henry.
 He grinned, recognizing the dark blue dress immediately.  Liv.  She’d taken the time to curl her hair after he’d left her and it framed her face in soft waves.  Her subtle eye makeup was perfect and her lips curled up at the sight of him.  She was breathtaking.
 Literally.
 He was by her side before he remembered oxygen was a thing that people needed to survive.  He apparently also needed Liv.
 -!-!-!-!-!-!-
 Later, after the movie when he held Liv in his arms as she fell apart, and after he pulled her back together with kisses imbued with his belief that she’d be fine, Henry watched her sleep.
 He’d unintentionally robbed himself of the pleasure of watching her sleep the night before and now he wanted to catalog every moment and sensation.  Hopefully this would be the first of many nights spent in her arms, her skin hot on his where she was pressed hip to shoulder against his side.  Henry usually ran warm and between the two of them he’d pulled only the thin top sheet up to her chin.
 He raised a hand and delicately brushed a strand of hair away from her face.  The skin around her eyes was just this side of puffy from her tears but she looked content and calm.  That was good; he’d almost panicked himself when he realized what was happening in his bathroom earlier.  It had been years since he’d held someone like that and even now he was kicking himself for moving too fast.  For touching her too soon before he knew she was ready for it.
 There were dark nights he hoped to forget eventually, the little scars the past had left him with.  Some moments, though, those scars helped to remind him of how to be a better person.  How to be helpful and considerate.  Henry didn’t have these full panic attacks but he’d guided others through them and he was immensely grateful he’d been there to help Liv.  It was troubling, though, that she’d had the attack at all.
 Her points earlier had all been valid but they were the considerations every new relationship had to navigate, weren’t they?  What were they doing?  Where were they going?  He’d thought it was self explanatory but he obviously had done a poor job of explaining exactly why he was here until he’d explicitly laid it out for her.
 For some dumb reason he’d thought Rachel had told her, had told Liv that he was coming to see her.  In hindsight the beautiful woman snuggled in his chest definitely hadn’t shown any kind of recognition that his presence was anything but serendipitous before tonight.  
 He wasn’t sure she realized exactly how dedicated he was to seeing where this was going to go.  And he was deeply invested.  While he would never turn away anyone who was having an emotional meltdown if he could help he certainly wouldn’t go out of his way to comfort them by holding them close.  Then going down on them.
 She’d said the two of them weren’t real, what they were feeling wasn’t real.  That had hurt.  But it was fine.  Everything would be fine.  He’d explained himself and hadn’t chased her off, thank God.  Tomorrow would be just one more day to show her how much he wanted to give her.
 Henry drifted off to sleep with the same nerves he was still prone to the night before the principal shooting began.  Like a soldier on the eve of battle, everything laid out and ready and just waiting for the right moment.
 -!-!-!-!-!-
 Not fifteen minutes after physically pushing Liv out of the door of his suite so she wouldn’t be late for her panel, someone was pounding at his door for entrance.  Kal bolted up from his lap where he’d been getting pets during the morning news, and Henry followed.
 Kylie brushed past him into the room, her phone banished like a weapon and a tight expression around her eyes.  “Have you been online yet this morning?”  He shook his head.  He’d listened to some music while he’d been down in the gym and then Liv and now, the weather.
 “Good.  But . . . shit.  Sit down.”  He dropped to the couch obediently, not at all used to his PA being so agitated or forceful.  Not for a long time.  Not since his last girlfriend had dumped all those photos from their vacation on Twitter.  The super inappropriate ones. 
 “What’s happened?  Kylie?” 
 Her expression was guilty as hell when she finally stopped pacing.  “TMZ ran a story early this morning that’s going to make its rounds, fast.  A story about you and Liv.”
 He cocked an eyebrow and waited for the other shoe to drop.  TMZ was garbage, an absolute rag.  But the fact that someone had picked up and reported on the fact that he was here?  Not much of a surprise.  He’d already talked about a couple of scenarios with Kylie and they had plans.  They had plans but if she was worried then it was a scenario they hadn’t expected.  He narrowed his eyes and pulled out his phone.
 Months, possibly years, ago he’d set up a Google alert with his name.  He tucked the notifications in a tertiary folder so he’d have to go looking if he wanted to see what the paps were saying but it was all right there.
 Henry’s jaw dropped at the headline and the subsequent suggestion that he was some kind of . . . gigolo.  That was certainly . . . new.  And for ten grand?  He scoffed, head shaking with the ridiculousness of the article’s suggestive nature.  It was, as expected, garbage and it didn’t overly bother him.
 But.
 It was probably going to bother Liv.
 She’d shown, on more than one occasion, that she wasn’t particularly interested in the limelight.  She didn’t want reporters dogging her steps and she certainly hadn’t expected these kinds of articles to be published while she was in the middle of her workday.  “Rachel?”
 “She knows.  She just texted me that she doesn’t think Liv’s seen it yet but she’ll talk to her after the panel.  I’m so sorry, Henry.  I thought with the way we’d transferred funds that it wouldn’t look like it came from her at all.”
 He frowned.  “Why would the donation matter?”  Surely it would be the suggestion that Liv had paid him to show up in Atlanta, to spend time with her.  Lots of naked time.
 Kylie didn’t answer him and he grabbed a hand, if only to keep her from wearing a rut on the carpet.  She looked close to tears.  “Kylie?  What the fuck is going on?”
 -!-!-!-!-!-!-
 Things Henry Cavill had learned during his time in Atlanta so far:
 1.       They had fantastic steakhouses here.
2.      The weather was pretty good.  A little hot and kind of humid but not as bad as Florida. The sunshine was nice.
3.      Liv Orton was amazing and beautiful and everything he’d been building up in his head over the last few months.  And way more.
4.      She’d been lied to and was now missing.
He couldn’t begin to imagine how or why Rachel had thought her scheme was a good idea.  He was so irritated by her unending machinations at the moment that he couldn’t talk to her.  It would only end in him yelling about her constant immaturity and he had no desire for that kind of exchange.
 It was bad enough Kylie had gone off on a tangent when she’d realized Henry wasn’t mad at her.  A tangent that had Rachel sobbing through the phone and Kylie locked in his guest bathroom.
 He left his PA to figure out the mess she’d helped land them all in while he went on an adventure to find Liv, the truly innocent party in this whole clusterfuck.  Somewhere in his wanderings he’d sent his agent, Sal, a message to fix this.  Or, at the very least, get TMZ to print a retraction because honestly?  That whole article was garbage.
 Sal asked if he’d like to release the information that Liv had made a ‘donation’ in his name and Henry declined the suggestion.  He wouldn’t do that, not until he talked to Liv and figured out what she wanted to do.  This was the first real speed bump she had experienced because of him and he wanted to make it abundantly clear that they would do whatever she needed.
 She wasn’t in her hotel room, nor the hotel bar.  She wasn’t at the hotel with her panel.  He estimated it’d been almost three hours since her talk had ended.  He stood on the corner of Congress and Peachtree and thought hard.  With one last check at his own suite, going so far as to check all the rooms just in case she’d talked a key out of the front desk, he headed to the Marriott. 
 When they’d been here, their first night, she’d mentioned that the rooftop pool had long been her favorite location in the city due to it’s relatively low traffic and the fact that they had the best vodka tonics in town.
 His hunch was rewarded by a loose-limbed Liv hiding away in a lounger.  He drew to a stop in front of her and waited for her to look up.  His heart almost broke at the abject misery on her face when she looked up at him.  He cursed TMZ and Rachel and Kylie and even himself for causing her pain like this.  Completely unnecessary and cruel pain. 
 Liv didn’t move, giving him such a steady look that he’d believe her sober if not for the empty glasses next to her chair.  He sighed and took the incentive, asking her to move her legs with a tap.  He frowned when she gave him just the barest sliver of the lounge but sat all the same.  She was clearly very angry and he couldn’t blame her.
 She was blameless at the end of the day.  And he was the fool who’d started falling in love with a lie.  But, it was like he’d realized with Evans.  He’d known a small sliver of who she was, with that donation to Durrell.  It had led him to seek more and he’d liked what he’d found.  What did the original deception matter in the long run?
 The silence ragged out for an uncomfortable amount of time and he let out another sigh.  He detailed the steps that Sal was taking to have the article removed.  He tried for a moment of flirtatious levity and the smile died on his face when she refused to engage.  His heart clenched, warning bells sounding in the distance.
 “Did Rachel pay you to come here?”  She looked immeasurably vulnerable when she asked the question.  If she hadn’t already been crying most of the afternoon he was fairly certain he’d have seen tears.  It was in the corners of her eyes, a tightness he’d marked the night before.
 His stomach dropped and he reached out to anchor her to him.  “No.  Fuck, no Liv.  No one paid me to do anything, to come here.”  His words failed to reach her and he pressed onwards.  “You didn’t even pay me to begin with.  That donation paid for the bat annex at Durrell and I loved that.  That you’d be willing to do something selfless just so I’d read your books.”
 Her laughter sounded hysterical and those warning bells grew louder.  “I didn’t though.”  She hadn’t made that donation.  Rachel had.  Kylie had told him as much earlier and now Liv was detailing how she hadn’t, wouldn’t ever, do something like that.  It just wasn’t a thing she could entertain.
 Henry was losing her.  He could see it in her expression and read it in the complete lack of reaction she had to his presence so close to her body.  Where they’d had intimacy just that morning there was now a painful distance.  Solutions.  He needed solutions and he did the best thing he could think of.  He pulled her into his arms and tried to recreate the comfort he’d offered the night before.
 But even as his arms tightened he could feel the resistance.  He could hear the pain and her betrayal at the whole situation.  This really really wasn’t her fault.  It really wasn’t his either, but he was fairly certain he was about to pay for it.
 He offered her options: more cuddles at the pool.  Her room?  His, with a side of Kal who could cheer even the most dismal mood?  He kept the hopeful, almost desperate smile on his face as long as he could.  “Liv- what do you need?”
 He had hope right until she pushed him back and met his eyes, tears finally glittering in her own.  “Nothing-  I don’t need anything from you.”  His grip loosened immediately, but he didn’t let go.
 Those sirens were deafening now, warning of the impending doom bearing down on him.  The sirens couldn’t stop one last effort to impart the importance of the last few days.  “Liv, I have to tell you-“
 “Thank you, Henry.  This was a pleasant fiction.  For a little while.”
 Henry’s heart stuttered to a standstill.  It was almost cruel, using a quote from their favorite movie, to indicate the seriousness of her words.  A pleasant fiction.  He looked away, not at all willing to show Liv how bad this hurt.  He nodded instead and let her slip from his arms. 
 He felt cold without her but it wouldn’t be proper to argue.  Not here, like this.  He inhaled slowly, exhaled with an equally controlled measure, then looked down at her one last time.  She looked resolute and he knew this really had all been a pleasant fiction, one that she wasn’t or wouldn’t make a reality.
 “I . . .um.  I’m really happy that we met.  No matter the outcome.  And you have my number.  If you ever find yourself in-”  Henry snapped his mouth shut before he could embarrass himself.  The woman had given him her answer and he needed to accept it.
 He didn’t have to like it but he did have to accept it.  He kept his head down and refused to make eye contact on his way back to his room.  He was going to pack his stuff and his dog and his equally heartbroken PA and get the fuck out of Atlanta. 
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