#I wish the colors meshed better together in this but I’ve worked on it so long and I’m happy enough and learned a lot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

1d1195 · 2 years ago

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Zipper

Hi hi, sorry for the short break there. I've been working on this the last three days and it flowed out quite quickly to 9.5K words.

Warnings: Harry doesn't like her (or does he), there's a damsel in distress scene implying SA nothing happens nor described but could be triggering, "enemies" trope, Harry wears a lot of suits and is angry a lot.

Disclaimer: Everything I know about lawyers comes from TV shows.

Harry was a smart guy, but he truly hadn’t a clue as to why he was so mad at the prospect of liking her.

So, he pretended he didn’t. “You and Harry are together an awful lot,” his friend Niall said to her with a smirk once. They were in clear earshot of Harry, and nothing made Harry crankier than knowing his friends saw how mean he was toward her. It was the topic of many conversations over video games and while working out at the gym.

“Enough, Niall,” he muttered. “It’s not by choice.”

“Don’t know why he’s all grumpy about you all the time, princess,” Niall said quietly to her when his back was turned. “He talks about you more than any girl I’ve ever seen him with.”

“He just doesn’t like me much,” she explained.

“Oh, princess. I think it’s quite the opposite.”

Harry hated her. She could never figure out why. She and Gemma were on the same soccer team growing up, so she’s known Harry for forever. Because she and Harry were of the same caliber in school (and the same age), they were always in each other’s classes. Always in group projects together.

It made her wildly popular in school to know the one and only Harry Styles so closely—and she did. She knew he wouldn’t drink tea past four in the afternoon. He liked chocolate candy better than fruity candy. Any time he saw a dog while they were on their way to study together, he would dig a bag of little treats out of his backpack to give away. When his left eye got droopy it meant they had to take a break and she would always recommend some hot chocolate or lemonade (depending on the season) at the coffee shop near the town library.

However, their conversations never delved too deeply. She knew his birthday but not his favorite color—she suspected it was blue or maybe orange because most of his pens were blue and his highlighters were almost always orange. Of course, she knew Gemma and Anne, but she didn’t know what their relationship with Harry was like. Because of school, she knew most of his political opinions—and big shocker, they were roughly the same as hers—but she didn’t know his favorite music or if he liked to sleep with a fan on or not. When he was sick, she didn’t know if he liked sleep or soup. If it was his last day on earth, she doesn’t know how he would spend it. They weren’t things that she necessarily needed to know to define their friendship, but somehow, in her eyes, they were.

Other than school mandated projects, she was convinced Harry wouldn’t give her the time of day. “Can we jus’ get this over with?” Was Harry’s mantra around her during their school days.

She wished they could be friends.

She didn’t want to be that girl, but it was impossible not to be. Harry was beautiful and he was nice—just not very nice to her. She didn’t fault him for it, she wasn’t his cup of tea and that was fine. The way other girls sighed and ahh-ed over him made her jealous. She couldn’t do that. Harry was Gemma’s brother and her peer and that was it.

Needless to say, their lives were clearly going to be attached for the rest of their lives. They were like a coat zipper. They met when they were young and as they slid the zipper to the top more pieces of their life meshed. At first it was soccer with Gemma, then it was school in general, projects and friend groups, and now it was university.

Of course, they were going to get degrees in history and law.

Of course, they would have classes together.

Of course, Harry would be at every party she was invited to.

She knocked on the door to the party her friends were invited to, and she waited as the door opened. “God you’re everywhere,” he muttered taking a swig of the drink in his hand. He opened the door wider to allow her and her friends in and walked away without mingling a moment longer. She sighed and stepped through the threshold while her friends filed in behind her.

“You know Harry?” One of her friends gasped.

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “Grew up together,” she said heading for the kitchen to get a drink. There was a barrage of questioning. The interrogation of how well she knew him, if he was single—he was, as far as she knew—and so on. “He doesn’t like me much,” she shrugged.

“Shut up,” her friend said. “He likes everyone.”

“I’m not sure what to tell you. I’m not everyone.”

They were kind enough to let the conversation drop. But their eyes darted back forth between the two of them whenever they were remotely in the same realm as one another. Harry was never outrightly mean to her. He never made fun of her and never talked ill of her. They talked about school projects and assignments and classes and that was it.

Harry’s friends all really liked her. Of course, they liked her. There wasn’t anything to dislike about her. She was brilliant, incredibly kind, and naturally nurturing. It made Harry nauseous most of the time. He hated she could be so kind all the time—even when he was a dick to her. It made it all the harder for him to not like her.

It was halfway through the semester when her phone vibrated with a message from Harry. She could feel the confusion wrinkling her face as she brought the phone closer to her face as if it was a trick. Harry never texted her. If there was a school project that needed doing, he was highly professional and would only email her. The only reason she had his number was because Gemma gave it to her when her phone was broken, and she was her ride to their soccer tournaments.

Could you read my essay?

Surely this was a trick. She couldn’t help but ask. Really?

Yeah. The response was immediate. Obviously, nothing special. She could practically feel his annoyance through his text bubble.

Sure.

Thanks. Conclusion needs work, I know.

The conclusion may have needed work, but it was a pretty good essay otherwise. A few grammatical errors and a rewording of a paragraph or two and his essay was finished. She didn’t question why Harry asked her. Surely, he had plenty of friends that would be willing to read it over.

His seeking her out was quite the surprise to her, but to Harry it made the most sense. At some point in time, maybe in year ten, he realized that he was probably stuck with her for a good long while. There was no denying she was smart—in fact, Harry thought she was brilliant. Probably smarter than him on any given day. And again, that agonizing kindness made him sick. He knew she would read his essay because she was so nice. If Harry acted the way he did to anyone else but her, they wouldn’t give him the time of day.

But he also didn’t trust anyone else in the world to read his work and know what it needed like she did.

She took all the essay reading to mean it was okay to ask him for school favors as well.

Do you have notes from the history lecture yesterday? I wasn’t feeling well.

I’ll email them to you.

Thank you.

Harry took good notes. She wouldn’t have asked anyone but Harry because she knew they took notes the same way. Of course, they did. If anything, his notes were neater because he typed just as fast as their professor spoke while she preferred to handwrite so she would remember better.

Do you know what our professor meant by this?

She sent him back a picture of her own notes with a marking around the part that Harry was referring to. This was my interpretation, but I emailed him to double check, I’ll let you know what he says.

Thanks.

Harry looked at her notes on his phone again and admired her handwriting. He doesn’t know how she was able to write so much so quickly during their lectures. He saw her shake her hand out every time their professor paused to answer a question or catch a breath. She had pretty handwriting.

The parties they attended together (not on purpose, just by happenstance) were when Harry was at his meanest. He would roll his eyes at her if she was part of a drinking game. Harry’s eyes shot daggers whenever any guy tried speaking with her, always there to remind her of some project they had to do, and he didn’t want to be stuck doing it himself. None of it clicked to her that he was jealous.

Of course, he was. She was the prettiest and nicest girl he knew, and he was mad.

Harry was a smart guy, but he truly hadn’t a clue as to why he was so mad at the prospect of liking her.

“Enough, Niall,” he muttered. “It’s not by choice.”

That stung, made her face warm in embarrassment, but it was partly true. They were practically stuck together. Zipped together by some life force. “Don’t know why he’s all grumpy about you all the time, princess,” Niall said quietly to her when his back was turned. “He talks about you more than any girl I’ve ever seen him with.”

She shrugged it off. It would make sense, he talked about her so much. Other than her roommate she probably saw Harry more than her own family. “He just doesn’t like me much,” she explained.

“Oh, princess. I think it’s quite the opposite.”

Gem suggested I ask if we could carpool home. Save her a trip.

Yeah, of course.

Thanks.

“Do you like her?” Niall asked Harry. “Like, she’s really nice and pretty. Obviously, she’s very smart so—"

He cleared his throat to hide the gasp that nearly left his lips. “What?” He asked, slipping his phone back into his pocket. They were at the library whispering to each other while studying for finals. He could see her in the back corner, headphones in her ears and answering his message almost as soon as he sent it. He was certain she would ace all her exams, no problem at all.

“Your friend from home,” he tilted his head to the girl in the corner. “Do you like her?” He repeated.

Harry shook his head. “No.”

Niall quirked an eyebrow at him. “S’weird...you’re kind of perfect for each other.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled. He wanted no part of it. Sure, she was nice and sweet, and in the right light Harry couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by how pretty she was. But he didn’t want to be with someone he’d known his whole life. He wanted someone he didn’t know—someone that didn’t know his every thought. He wanted to discover a new relationship where he would find someone that didn’t know everything there was to know about him.

Regardless, if he knew all too well that she would be perfect for him.

*A few years later*

“This will be your office,” the sweet secretary informed her. She wasn’t a young secretary, but she wasn’t old either. Somewhere in the middle—she reminded her of her mom and that eased her worry of her new job fresh out of school. “I heard you know your office neighbor here. He gave you a glowing recommendation saying “the bosses would be fools to not hire you” I believe was how he phrased it. They’re all very excited to have you on board.”

She blinked, setting her box down of trinkets she collected ready to have her first big job. A list of clients sat on her desk. She was ready to get started—eager even. Excited and nervous all at once. The box of trinkets would make her office homier and she started setting out the calendar and picture frames as she shook her head at the woman helping her get the lay of the land. “That can’t be right, my professors did my recommendations...I can’t imagine my professors saying that about me,” she chuckled nervously. “I think they liked me and all but—”

“No, no!” She interrupted with a giggle. “Pardon me, one of your references, Harry; Harry Styles,” she smirked.

Blinking in surprise, she felt her lips part in a breathless gasp. She had asked Harry as a parting gift of sorts if he’d be willing to be a reference for her on her job applications. “I don’t think anyone really knows my work ethic the way you do,” she admitted. “I understand if you don’t want to, I’d be willing to be a reference for you as well either—”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “No problem. That’s probably a good idea. Thank you.”

“Harry works here?” She asked, completely dumbfounded. She shouldn’t have been. She should have known of all the gin joints. Her heart pounded and the air in the room felt thin. When she had sent her applications and resumes out to every firm in the area, she didn’t dream that she would still be side by side with Harry. There were easily fifty or so firms in the city. There was no way the length of their lives on this zipper extended to work post-graduation.

“I thought that was why you applied here. Harry made it seem like you both—”

“Hi,” speak of the devil. She wanted to know the end of that sentence. The idea that Harry made it seem like anything was between them—friendship, collegiate respect, anything—seemed paradoxical.

But here he was in all his brilliant and handsome glory.

Harry looked effortlessly beautiful and nearly seductive standing in her office doorway. He was wearing a suit, but it looked like it was nearly painted on him—hugging each of his defined arms and seemed to stretch perfectly over his long legs. Throughout their schooling and university, she wondered when he had time to hit the gym because he didn’t go while she walked on the treadmill and read her textbooks—the one time the zipper of life skipped over their meeting. But it was obvious he had found time. Again, she wasn’t immune to his good looks and persona. She had seen him be nice and lovely to everyone he knew time and time again.

Just not her.

His hair was styled just so, and she could practically see the sweet secretary swooning at the sight of him. “Welcome,” he said. He looked like a kid to her. As if his mom told him to say hi and wish her a happy birthday or something even though he didn’t want to. He smiled weakly at her. It felt forced.

“Hi,” she answered, still in shock.

He nodded at her and left without another word. “He’s dreamy,” she said with an all too familiar sigh. “I don’t know how anyone gets any work done around here.”

She shook her head. “I can’t believe he works here.”

“I completely assumed he told you about the position...His friend is one of the senior partners,” she shrugged. “Louis?” She said. “I think Louis’ younger sister knows of you both or something.” She tilted her head at the woman. “I know everything,” she shrugged.

“You sure do,” she smirked. “Uh...no, I didn’t know Harry worked here.”

“I think it was Harry’s plan along with Louis or whatever—since they were young. They hang out a lot here.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. “I didn’t know that.”

“I didn’t mean to say Harry’s the reason you got the job—your qualifications are outstanding and—”

“No, no, you’re fine,” she promised. “I know what you meant.”

Poor Harry.

For the most part though, the two rarely interacted. They would run into each other in the break room or near the copier in the storage room. On one occasion Harry asked her to read over his outline for a case to make sure he hit all the major components of what he needed to do. Every so often Harry would bring her tea and not say anything at all to her. She found it odd and thanked him even though he never spoke to her.

She was oddly comforted by the fact he was just one room over.

There was a gentle knock on her door before it opened. “Some of us are getting Chinese food and I noticed you’ve been holed up all day—are you okay?” Harry appeared speaking the longest sentence that wasn’t about schoolwork or a case in their entire life. And he even asked about her well-being.

She wasn’t okay. She had a headache, something fierce. It started at the bridge of her nose, gripped the back of her eyes, and was reaching for the back of her head. “Yeah,” she murmured not looking up from her papers on her desk. Her voice sounded weak and scratchy. How long had it been since she looked up? Her neck felt cramped as she raised her head slowly to look at Harry. She wished she had a glass of water.

“Kitten...y’don’t look so good,” he said quietly.

“M’okay...M’jus not feeling so well,” she shrugged. “But I have to get this done,” she told him. “I think I skipped lunch,” if she could fathom the idea of using any part of her brain for something other than this case, she would have noted how Harry so sweetly called her kitten.

He sighed, almost annoyed and she briefly wondered what she did wrong now. He disappeared for a moment. Within an instant he came back with water, pills, and a protein bar. “I’ll get some Chinese for you too.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled glancing briefly at how pretty he looked in his suit and how kind it was of him to bring her medicine. “I’ll Venmo—”

“Shh,” he said and turned off the overhead light of her office as he left. Leaving her in darkness except for the desk lamp to her left. “Try a nap on the couch,” he said. “I’ll wake you when the food is here.”

“Kitten,” he said softly. He gently shook her, and she tried to remember if Harry had ever touched her in their entire lives. The smell of greasy, salty food woke her up the rest of the way. Harry seemed to know her Chinese food order. She searched her memories if they ever ordered Chinese together and how he remembered.

“How’d you know what to get?” She asked stupidly. She could blame the headache or the lack of sleep if he said something mean about it.

He didn’t. “Your friends ordered at a party junior year,” he shrugged. “Remembered what you liked.”

“Oh.” He waited until she was upright and eating—staring at her like one of their science experiments from school. “Do you want some—”

“No, just making sure you actually eat.”

She felt her face warm, and she shook her head. “Uh. Thanks, that’s not necessary.”

“Well clearly it is if y’forget t’eat lunch and make yourself sick.” Again, her face heated up, but she said nothing because he was right. “What are you working on, anyway?” He asked. “That you’re skipping lunch and everything.”

“Uh...I just want to make a good impression and make sure I’m doing everything I can.”

“I’ve never known you to not give a hundred and twenty percent, love. If anyone has a question about your qualifications, you can send them to me.”

“How come you get to act like a partner?” She asked. “M’not jealous or anything—I’m just wondering why—”

“Louis always said I was brilliant or whatever,” he said casually with a shrug. He wasn’t bragging. He was just stating a fact. It was true too. Harry was brilliant. “I always told him it was because I worked with you, but he didn’t believe me. So, when he saw m’name as a reference on your application, I told him he would understand it was your brilliance that helped me be so successful and if he didn’t hire you, it would be a terrible mistake in his career because you would go be perfect and wonderful somewhere else. He’s seen your work, trust me, kitten. He knows how hard you’re working and you’re making an unbelievable impression. You don’t need to skip lunch t’prove your worth.”

This by far was the kindest thing Harry ever said of her—maybe anyone had ever said of her. She was speechless. Maybe it was the sleep still on her brain. Or the pain in her head that caused Harry to turn off the lights, so it was dark and quiet in her office. Or maybe it was because Harry finally said something sweet about her. But she finally worked up the courage to ask a question that had bothered her for their entire lives. “How come you don’t like me?” Her voice was so quiet it pained Harry.

He shook his head. “I like you,” he said with an eye roll. She wondered if it was no longer hard for him to lie like that. Countless people must have asked him over the years. Certainly, by now he perfected the tone and emotion needed to get people off the subject.

“Not really,” she said with sigh. When they were younger it definitely upset her more that Harry disliked her so much. When people asked she would feel a sting come behind her eyes because it would have made all the sense in the world for Harry to be her best friend. Now, it was just a matter of fact. NaCl was salt, flowers bloomed in spring, and Harry didn’t like her. “It’s fine...” but her voice cracked just a hair like it used to when she was asked about why Harry didn’t like her at all. “I just...I don’t know. We would have been really good friends if you did...that’s all,” she gave a small shrug eating another bite of her food.

“You want to be friends?” He questioned, surprised. Even though he was a dick to her she wanted to be friends. She seemed to be a glutton for punishment.

“Well,” she cleared her throat pushing her orange chicken through her fried rice as a distraction. “I guess we’re kind of old to be asking that,” she said quietly. “We just spent a lot of time together growing up. I think it would have made sense,” she explained. It felt like she was arguing another case, it was far more awkward though and while she would have liked to win, she didn’t know if it was worth it. “It’s fine...you don’t have to be my friend. Thank you for the food.”

“Kitten, I,” he sighed and ran his hand over his face pinching his lower lip between his fingers. She could tell from the tone in his voice he was exasperated by her. She should have just eaten faster and let him leave without the third degree. “We can be friends.”

She blinked at her food and then turned to look at him. “We can?”

He tilted his head at her and rolled his eyes. “Would it make you happy?” He asked.

She was lucky her brain wasn’t fully functioning due to the lack of food. That was a weird question for him to ask. Harry never once cared if she was happy or not the entire time that she knew him. “Yes.”

“Then we can be friends.”

Despite their newly found friendship, she tried not to overwhelm Harry. They made small talk when they ran into each other at the office. About once a week Harry would text her asking if she would like to carpool to work and she politely declined because again, she didn’t want to bother him.

“Hey, I’m going to meet a client at Starbucks, do you want any coffee when I get—oh,” she said softly. For the entire time she’d known Harry, she had never seen one hair out of place. Not one shirt collar unpressed. A shoelace never untied.

Right now, Harry’s hair was clearly the result of running his hand through it several times over, his eyes rimmed red, and his papers on his desk distributed haphazardly on the floor. “Go away,” he grumbled looking at the ground.

“Harry, are you alright?” She asked quickly closing the door behind her.

“Fine,” he spit. “Just leave.”

“Uh, no,” she swallowed the nervousness down. She thought about how nice he was when she wasn’t feeling well. She wanted to return the favor if she could. Whatever his outburst was about, she wanted to help. “You don’t look okay. What’s wrong? Can I help—”

“No,” he said firmly.

“Harry, seriously.”

“M’mum was in a car accident, Gem called,” he snapped. He had his head hung low as he pressed his hands to the back of his head. “I have a disposition in an hour and Mum’s in surgery. Okay. Are you happy?”

She blinked. No, she wasn’t happy. But she knew why he snapped. That answered her question about what his relationship with his mom was like. “Harry, I’m so sorry.”

“Whatever,” he sniffed.

“Harry...you...you should go to the hospital.”

God she was infuriating; this friendship thing was a stupid idea. She was too nice and sweet. “Did you not—”

“Harry, it’s your mom,” she reminded him. He looked up at her, again the startling contrast of his usual put together self and this...broken man made her weak. She wanted to pluck every piece of pain from his body and put it somewhere that would never find him again.

“I know!” he nearly shouted. “I can’t leave though,” he said softer than his shout. It was agonizing, she knew it was breaking him.

“I can do your disposition Harry. You have to go to the hospital.”

“You don’t know the case.”

“Give me the highlights.”

He looked up finally, right in her eyes and stared at her. “You would really do this?” He asked. She nodded. “What about your client?”

“I’ll reschedule. This is more important.”

“I can’t lose this one.”

“I’ll do my level best,” she promised. “Trust me.” He did. Implicitly. All the school projects, every presentation, any time Harry forgot something he knew she wouldn’t. She was always there to make everything they did better. “Just go and don’t worry about this.”

Harry sucked his lip into his mouth as she put the phone to her ear and quickly told the other end of the line she had to reschedule because of a family emergency—but she left out that it wasn’t her family. They could do dinner this evening if she’d like on short notice or coffee tomorrow. It was done with ease and grace. The client at the other end didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. “I don’t think I can do this,” Harry admitted; he wasn’t sure he would tell anyone else that except the girl he had known for his whole life. In Harry’s eyes, no one knew him better—even if she didn’t know it. “This client is very particular, and he’s mean and—”

“I can handle mean,” she said firmly. Harry wasn’t in the headspace to realize she could handle mean because of him. “Harry, you’re going to the hospital. You won’t do a good job if your mind is on your mom and you’re worrying the whole time. Then you’ll be worried you’re ruining the disposition so just let me help.”

He nodded solemnly. She was right, of course. She waited for him to make his decision. His knee bouncing the whole time as she picked the papers off his floor, and she organized them into neat little piles on his desk. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she said and pulled her phone from her purse. “Hit me,” she said holding the phone out to him ready to record.

Harry arrived at the hospital. Gemma was in tears but in such shock as she gazed at her arriving brother. “Are you really here?” She asked hugging him tight. He nodded, squeezing her hard.

“How’s Mum?” He asked ignoring her obvious question that he would never willingly leave work—especially if he had an important meeting.

“She’s okay,” she said, eyes red and teary. She nodded firmly. “It was really scary because they wouldn’t say until I got here. Surgery is needed but not life or death,” she explained. “She’ll be ready to see us in a few moments.”

Harry sighed with relief and sat in the waiting room chair. “Christ,” he muttered.

“I thought you had a disposition?” Harry quickly explained the situation and that the sweet girl was taking care of it. “You work with her?” Gemma asked. Harry nodded.

“Yeah, why?”

She shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re...paired again. It’s just fate, y’know?” She mumbled. “S’nice you have her to look after you. To have someone you know and trust nearby,” she told her younger brother. “I love her,” she said with a shrug. “Even if you don’t.”

Harry ignored her. He was focused on his mom. He was relieved she was okay. But he wanted to see her.

His phone vibrated with a text from her. She promised an update as soon as the disposition was finished.

All done. Went well. I left notes on your desk. Let me know if you need anything. Wish your mom and Gem well. Don’t worry about anything else here.

Thank you, kitten.

“Kitten, hmm?”

“Yeah.”

Harry locked his phone. When they went to the room where his mother lay looking banged up but alive, he nearly cried. “Hi Mum,” he sniffed.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” she smirked easily. Nearly unaffected by the wires and tubes. “How’d you get out of work?” Gemma was delighted to tell the tale of the sweet girl. “Oh, I love her,” Anne grinned tiredly. “Why didn’t you ever bring her home, Harry?” She wondered. Harry started to answer but the arrival of a get-well basket on behalf of that sweet girl made its way through the threshold halting all of Harry’s thoughts of an excuse.

Because he really didn’t know why he never brought her home.

At the company party Harry eyed her from across the way. They were definitely friendlier, but Harry was hedging his bets. First and foremost, he was still hesitant to be in love with her. She was perfect and if he thought for two seconds longer, he would realize his stupid idea that he shouldn’t be in love with someone he’s known his whole life wasn’t his issue. Perhaps his issue was that she was perfect, and Harry was not. It seemed cruel for fate to tempt him like that. But maybe there was a reason she was so heavily involved in every aspect of his life.

Harry also wasn’t blind to the implications of dating a coworker.

But most importantly to him, she was so good at everything he couldn’t imagine being a subpar boyfriend when she deserved the very best. Harry didn’t even know how to be a boyfriend. Because of all the schoolwork he focused on he rarely dated anyone longer than a few dates or the occasional hookup.

And he had seen her in action as a girlfriend. Their junior year of university she dated a guy that she obviously adored for nearly a year and a half. She was naturally perfect. Went to every basketball game he was in, brought him soup when he wasn’t feeling well, and looked over his work for him before he turned it in. He was exactly what Harry imagined her boyfriend would be like. Attractive, hardworking, and very sweet to her. They met at the gym while she was studying for her ethics class on the treadmill (he only knew this because he told the story at a party, they both attended and Harry was intently listening).

The only problem Harry had with him—besides the fact he was dating the girl he spent so much time with—was he was not ambitious, and he never planned any of their dates. Harry hated him. She deserved flowers and coffee dates. Ice skating and movies. Once while she was on the phone with her sister when Harry was arriving at one of their study sessions, he knew she wanted a carriage ride around the park at Christmas. It wasn’t hard to figure out, so he was glad when he found out she broke up with him. Even if Harry didn’t like her, he knew she deserved more than that.

“Harry!” It was the client he had to skip out on for his mum the other day. “How’s your mum?” He asked.

“She’s fine, thank you. I’m sorry for the short notice of me not being there,” he said seriously.

“I was mad as hell when she told me you left. I think I screamed at her,” he admitted. Harry didn’t like that at all. The way his blood boiled at the idea of anyone yelling at her made him want to punch his client. Harry never thought himself a violent person, but here he was angry on behalf of a girl he only barely liked. It made him even madder that she didn’t mention anything at all about getting yelled at either. “But she was incredible! You can leave me with her anytime—she was brilliant and poised. I don’t think anyone suspected anything she had to say.”

“Yes, she’s very good,” Harry murmured around a sip of his drink. He was right, too. No one ever suspected the sweet girl to know anything. She was all eyes and beauty. She was softspoken, but her words carried weight. It would be entirely unfair for her to be exceedingly intelligent too. But she was. Harry hated the way people underestimated her, especially when they were paired together. It was like they thought he was only paired with her because she was pretty.

“She’s easy on the eyes too,” he winked at Harry. Harry gripped his drink tighter as he envisioned shattering the glass over top of his head.

“Ha, yeah.”

“Well thank you. I’m glad your mum is okay. I’ll keep you posted about the next meetings,” he said.

Harry nodded. “Have a drink on my tab, please,” he said gratefully.

Harry was suddenly at her side. “You didn’t tell me he yelled at you,” he said interrupting whatever conversation she was in currently.

“Uh, sorry,” she said softly clearing her throat to the gathering that eyed Harry like they’d never seen a man before. It was clear the interruption didn’t bother them solely because Harry was the one interrupting and it gave them an excuse to ogle him up close. She was lucky she spent so much time with him growing up. She could ogle at her own leisure. “Excuse me,” she grabbed Harry by the forearm, and he swore it felt like fire where she touched him. He wracked his brain for a memory if she ever touched him before this moment. “Come again?”

“My client. He told me he yelled at you. You didn’t tell me that.”

“Uh...you were kind of busy Harry. I’m used to getting yelled at, it wasn’t a big deal to—”

“Who yells at you?” He asked quickly. “Why would they yell at you?” Harry felt his blood boiling and he didn’t really know why. He wanted to put her in his office and monitor every interaction she had with anyone else in the world. She should never be yelled at—he would be sure of it going forward.

“Well clients mostly, my sister, you, this woman yelled at me one time at the grocery store—”

“I’ve never yelled at you.”

“Yes, you have,” she shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. We work in a business of yelling, Harry.”

He wanted to throw his glass across the room now. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“Seriously?” She asked.

“Seriously, what?”

“It’s really okay, Harry. I’ve been yelled at before.”

“But you shouldn’t be,” he was exasperated again. It was a quick switch to get to this breaking point of her complete non-understanding of why he was mad. But she didn’t really know why he was mad, and it was unfair of Harry to be so agitated by her when he didn’t even know why he was mad.

“Harry,” she said gently and put a hand on his forearm and gave him a squeeze. She gazed at him with those beautiful, lovely eyes and Harry could feel himself melting at the sweet expression on her face. “It’s okay,” she promised. He tore his arm from her and stalked off angrily sipping his drink before he did something like tell her she loved him.

So much for friends. She thought to herself.

Harry never really avoided her at firm parties. But he seemed like he was at this one. She hadn’t seen him in a while, and it oddly made her uncomfortable to not knowing where he was. She supposed since she had been with him for nearly 20 years of her life, when he wasn’t around, she knew. It didn’t make the party any less fun nor did it deter her from chatting with potential and current clients.

“Hello there,” a man said while she waited for her drink at the bar. She could tell he had too much to drink. It was another member of their team. Someone she saw on a very rare occasion. His client load was substantial and kept him busy and away from the office most days.

“Hi,” she said politely. He was a tall man. And with the alcohol coursing his bloodstream he knew very little of personal space.

“You’re very pretty,” he slurred. Her face felt hot at his assessment, and she wished she wasn’t by herself.

“Thank you,” she said gently and walked toward a group of the women she was chatting with before she headed to the bar to get another drink.

“I’ve seen you around,” he said following her another step. “You’re very smart.”

“Try to be—I have to get back to my friends,” she said gesturing to the women nearby. He frowned but she could feel his gaze on her back as she hurried back over. Fortunately, he was gone when she glanced back.

At the end of the party, she told her friends she was going to use the restroom before she left and not to worry. She would see them on Monday. What she hadn’t accounted for was the stupid drunk man to be in the darkly lit hallway leading to the bathrooms when she exited. “Hello, again.”

Shit.

“Hi,” she said gently. She sounded a lot braver than she was. There was no one in sight at all.

“I wanted to tell you how pretty you were earlier.”

“You did.”

“Well, I wanted to tell you again.”

“Thank you,” she said and stepped forward to brush past him. He grabbed her arm. She felt her fight or flight kick in and she desperately wanted to fly. “Excuse me, I’m leaving. I’m expected home soon—”

“Can’t you come home with me?” He asked with a sick smirk on his face.

She shook her head. “Let go of me,” she said firmly.

“Come on, I can make it worth your while,” he pulled her arm hard making the space between them almost disappear. She didn’t like how small she felt. She hated that about her job. She was constantly made to feel small because she was a woman. His height didn’t help. Neither did the alcohol.

But right now, it was a hundred times worse, and it made her stomach churn. She wanted to throw up and for a moment she thought maybe that would help her escape. “No thank you,” she said pulling harder on her arm that would surely have a bruise when she looked later.

“Well how about right here?” His smile was evil and vile. She really wanted to throw up now. Why didn’t she just go home with her friends?

With as much force as she could muster, she stomped on his inner foot, and he gasped and released her arm in shock. “Fuck!” He shouted. She hurried down the hall, tears filling her vision but somehow, he was right behind her, grabbing her arm again and pushing her against the wall causing her to yelp. “You’re going to regret that,” he snarled in her ear.

Before she had time to cry or vomit (or both) his presence was gone, and she fell to the floor at the lack of pressure against her body. She scrambled to her feet and turned to see Harry towering over the man he had clearly thrown to the ground. The panic flooding her body subsided immensely. Her heart rate was still elevated on behalf of Harry but seeing him made her feel so much safer.

“She said no,” Harry said with so much anger in his voice she was terrified. He dared one glance back at her to see her back on her feet. His eyes were furious. She had seen him argue in mock trials and even been to some of his real court dates. Harry may have disliked her for a long part of their lives, but she had never seen hatred like this.

She would have hated to be the man on the receiving end of his look. “She’s a taunting little bitch. I’ve heard the way you talk about her,” he snapped at Harry. “Leave us alone.”

“I’ve known her my whole life. She knows I don’t talk about her,” Harry said knowingly. His voice was so deep, and the intensity of his words left her woozy; she couldn’t imagine someone protecting her—least of all Harry. And his words were true of course. As much as he disliked her, no one ever had a bad thing to say about her at the hands of Harry. “I will not be leaving her alone.”

She nearly sighed with relief at his statement. He turned quickly, grabbed her hand, and pushed her in front of him as he guided them out of the hallway and out of the restaurant. There were people milling about, but it was late, and it wasn’t crowded by any means. If Harry wasn’t there, she doesn’t want to think about what would have happened. He ushered them a few paces away from the restaurant up the sidewalk.

“Are you alright?” He asked suddenly, he turned her to face him as they stood under the streetlight outside. She was shaking like she was cold, and Harry wanted to reach out and warm her. The last five minutes were catching up to her violently. “Kitten?” He almost snapped, desperate for some indication that she was okay. “Are you okay?”

She nodded then shook her head. “I-I’m fine,” she said and sniffled wiping her sleeve across her nose. “I just want to go home,” she said with an awkward laugh and then the tears started to blur her vision.

“Kitten, I’m not going to leave you alone until I see you lock your door and you’re home safely. So it’s okay to not be okay, just tell me,” again, he sounded exasperated with her.

“Yeah, no I’m okay...” she whimpered biting her lip trying to erase the thoughts from her head of the last few moments. Harry was there and she was okay. “No...no...” she shook her head as the tears steadily fell. She gasped out a strangled cry and Harry pulled her to him immediately. She was overwhelmed by a lot of things but also that he felt so safe and sturdy as he held her. His arms around her protectively, he cupped his hand on the back of her head and one arm around her waist. The sobs left her freely then.

“S’okay,” he said so gently it hurt more than anything that happened to her. Harry being so nice to her nearly wounded her. The safety of his embrace left her breathless. His thumb rubbing over her hair made her weak. “You’re safe, kitten,” he promised. “I got you.”

Harry held her hand the entire cab ride home. She sniffled and each time she did, Harry squeezed her hand reassuringly. The cab stopped outside her apartment building, and she reached for her purse for money. “Stop,” Harry said putting her hand to her side and paying the driver. Harry followed behind her while they made it up the stairs to her second-floor place. Every so often she glanced back to see if Harry was still there. “M’not going anywhere, kitten,” he promised.

She nodded, unlocked her door and pushed inside. “Can I get—”

“Just go sit down, love,” he shook his head at her. “I’ll be right in,” he said making his way for the kitchen. His voice was gentle. Like when she wasn’t feeling well, and he made her nap and eat.

She followed his direction. She felt a little out of place in her own apartment and she twiddled her fingers together as she waited in silence for Harry to come to her living room. He was there shortly, a glass of water for her. She reached out for it, but Harry noticed how her hand was still shaking. “Here,” he said bringing the cup to her lips. He gently cradled the back of her head with his other hand. She felt like a child as Harry helped her drink, but he didn’t pay any mind to the situation at all—he just didn’t want her to spill and make a mess that she would have to worry about right now. “Can I get you anything else?” He wondered. His voice was so deep and gentle in comparison to the hatred he spewed before in every word he spoke.

She shook her head, more tears filling her eyes. “Thank you,” she said gratefully.

He shook his head back at her. “Don’t,” he sighed. “I would never let anything happen to you, kitten,” he promised. Her heart fluttered, despite everything. It was by far one of the sweetest things Harry ever said to her. “I’m glad you’re home safe now. I can leave if you want—"

She was quick to protest. Too quick. “No! Please don’t,” the words rushed out of her mouth before she could stop them. She turned to look at the empty dark apartment as a distraction from her cheeks turning into two red tomatoes. She cleared her throat regaining her composure as she looked back at Harry. She was lucky the tears filled her vision again at the frustration and sadness of her evening overwhelming her again.

“I won’t go until you want me to, kitten,” Harry answered pressing his hand to her face. He brushed his thumb gently over her cheek bone and caught the stray tear that spilled over. His voice was so quiet and soft. It was so different than every interaction he ever had with her.

“Really?” She whispered breathlessly.

“No, baby,” he promised. “I won’t.”

She didn’t think and wrapped herself up in his embrace. It worked so naturally of course. His arms wrapped around her, and he tugged her carefully, so he was snuggled into the corner of her sofa with her cuddled into him. She sighed with relief as tears flowed onto his shirt and coat. She sniveled miserably. “I’ll have to get this dry cleaned for you,” she managed to mumble between her tears.

“Would you please just shut up?” The exasperation was thick in his tone. It kind of made her smile.

“Okay,” she whispered sniveling still.

After a few moments her cries subsided, and Harry let his fingers dance up and down her arm as he held her close to him. He tried not to think about how perfectly she fit in the empty spaces of his body. “Harry?” She asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you,” she said again.

He sighed, a bit irritated that she was thanking him for being a decent human being and protecting her. But he knew she was uncomfortable and upset. “You’re welcome, kitten,” he said softly. “Go to sleep.”

“I can’t do that, Harry. His client base is too substantial.”

“Let him leave with them, then,” Harry snapped. He was pacing Louis’ office. Adamant something be done.

“Harry, stop,” Louis rubbed his hand over his face. “We can get her a restraining order if she wants, and we can put him on a different floor so he never—”

“You need to fire him,” Harry said. “Or she and I will take all our clients and leave instead,” he promised.

He stared at his friend. “Harry.”

“Louis, you fire him, or you’ll have to represent me when I kill him.”

There was a knock outside Louis’ door before the pretty girl entered, making the anger in Harry’s heart dissipate immensely. “Oh, hi Harry,” she murmured and looked at her feet nervously. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Tomlinson?” She asked softly.

Harry gazed at her so adoringly, he couldn’t stop himself. His blood was on fire the moment he saw her struggling. He never thought about murdering someone seriously in his whole life. Yet there he was—ready to kill someone on behalf of the sweet girl. “Call me Louis, love. Please.”

She nodded. “Louis, then. Am...I in trouble?” She asked curiously.

Harry sighed in exasperation and ran his hand over his face in disbelief. She stared at Harry curiously as he made his assessment. “You’re an idiot,” he said to her.

She looked at her feet, feeling her face warm at his insult. “Harold,” Louis snapped. “No love, you’re not in trouble. I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Oh.”

There was a bit of silence. “Well, are you alright?” He repeated. Harry wanted to shake her a bit. She was beyond infuriatingly annoying sometimes.

“I’m okay,” she said softly. “Uh...Harry protected me.”

“Yes, he’s decent every once in a while.”

She smirked. “He is.”

“Can I do anything for you to ensure you feel safe while you’re working?”

“Oh, um...no—”

“You can fire him,” Harry repeated.

“Harry, that’s not necessary,” she shook her head, her face feeling flushed.

His right eye twitched and he looked out Louis’ window; stuffed his hands in his pockets as he muttered to himself. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not safe while you’re here,” Louis said knowingly.

Harry wasn’t watching her, but she looked right at him as she answered Louis. “I feel safe,” she said softly.

Louis smirked and shook his head at Harry who still wasn’t paying any attention. Talk about an idiot in this scenario. “I’m very sorry that happened to you. He will be reprimanded beyond belief, you have my word. We’ll be moving his office to a different floor as well,” he promised.

“Louis, you weren’t there,” Harry reminded him. “You didn’t watch her cry while she fell asleep—”

“Harry!” She gasped at the admission and her face felt warm. That was not something she wanted her boss to know. It painted the wrong picture—even if she slept so well in the comfort of Harry’s arms. Louis didn’t pay any attention to their night spent together, though. He was keeping his eyes on Harry.

“I wanted to kill him,” Harry repeated. She gulped at the idea of Harry doing something so violent for her. Something that would get him thrown in jail for a long while.

“I understand that,” Louis said simply. “Love, I’m very sorry,” he returned his attention to the poor girl who looked wildly uncomfortable. “If there is something I can do for you, don’t hesitate to ask. I know you have Harry in the office next to you, but if he’s not around, I’d be happy to assist you with anything,” he said kindly.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” she said courteously.

“Harold,” Louis said narrowing his eyes at him.

“Whatever,” he grumbled and stalked out of the office.

“I’m...sorry about him,” she said nervously.

“Don’t worry love, I’ve known Harry for a long while. He means well. He’s just thick headed sometimes,” he shrugged. “I’m serious though, if you need something or want something, let me know.”

“I will, thank you.”

Shaking her head, she exited his office and headed back to her own. She grabbed a cup of coffee from the breakroom as she passed it and tried to think about the to-do list she had for the day. Mentally, she added a dry-cleaner stop for Harry’s suit she cried all over as well. It wasn’t much, but it was the least she could do as a thank you for all he did. As she paced the last few steps toward her office, she tried to convince herself the last few moments in Louis’ office were real. Harry was angry at Louis (and maybe her, what else was new?) for something beyond his control. She wondered why he was so adamant but found it sweet in Harry’s own way.

She closed her office door behind her and tilted her head at Harry sitting on the couch. As she entered, he stood up and gazed at her without speaking. It looked like he was looking through her. She bit the inside of her lip as she held the coffee with both of her hands to keep her tingling fingers warm at the idea that Harry was waiting for her. “Can I help you?” She asked.

“I’m going to be a shitty boyfriend.”

She blinked in complete confusion. It was by far the last thing she ever expected Harry to say. “I’m sorry?”

“I get all wrapped up in m’own stuff and I forget dates even though they’re in m’calendar and reminders and everything. It’ll infuriate you. I’ll make up for it with grand sweeping gestures that will maybe make it better, but they might just make y’madder that I can’t remember the little things.”

“Harry, what—”

“M’so in love with you and I’ve been ignoring it since we were kids. The six months I worked here without you were the longest months ’ve gone without seeing you and I didn’t even want t’see you, but I don’t want to go that long without seeing you ever again. I barely want t’go an hour without seeing you and even when I do I think about you the whole time,” he started to pace across her office back and forth as if was retracing his steps to remember all the things he was saying. Like they were written on the carpet.

“Can you just—”

“I’ll be better than that tool y’dated in third year,” she wondered where that came from because she didn’t even know he knew she was dating someone. “I’ll give you everything y’want or need whenever you ask. I’ll plan dates, I’ll take y’anywhere you want t’go, I’ll walk on hot coals for you, if you ask. I love you so goddamn much, love. I want to murder someone for you, and I wouldn’t bat an eyelash; ’ve never felt this way ‘bout anyone before. You’re infuriatingly sweet and y’never know when t’shut up or what’s good for you. It’s probably going t’get y’killed one day and I don’t know how someone s’sweet could be a corporate lawyer. You’re unbelievably challenging in so many ways and y’always remind me that I don’t know everything even though I think I do. Mum and Gemma want me t’bring you t'Sunday dinners.”

She shook her head trying to process all of this it didn’t help that he was jumping from topic to topic. Harry had given speeches in college before. She listened to many of his own closing arguments and of course read countless persuasive essays. This wasn’t anything like any of that. This was wild and out of sorts. She wondered what was flowing in his head and why it was spewing out like this, why it was happening now. “Harry, what are you—”

“You asked me t’be friends because you thought we’d be good friends since we spent all that time together. Quite frankly you’re m’best friend. Even though I was miserable towards you all the time. I don’t know why I did that t’you and s’jus’ another reason you should tell me t’take a hike. No one knows me as well as you do. Sleeping with you on your couch made m’neck so sore I can’t turn it to the left, but it was the best sleep of m’life and I want t’do it over and over again if I can hold you.”

That made her face flood with heat so quickly she was sure she looked bright red. “Harry, honestly, I’m—”

“I will never hurt you and I will never let anyone hurt you while m’around.” This time she didn’t interrupt him she could feel her face soften at his words and she felt like she was going to cry if he talked any longer. “I don’t think I know anyone half s’beautiful as you, kitten, inside or out,” he said softly. Everything else he said felt like a sprint. A rush of words he had been dying to get out for who knows how long. “Please, be my girlfriend,” he said finally, slowly at last.

They stared at each other silently for several moments.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Thank you.”

2K notes · View notes

captainkurosolaire · 3 years ago

Note

I challenge you to pick five Tumblrs in your social circle and tell them something you admire about their blog!

Only 5? I could probably do 500. However, that's determined by what's considered my social circle. I'm often in my head being incredibly social continuously is really a challenge of mine. I'm always actively marching to something, my flame of passion when I have it, I can do some crazy stuff but it diminishes relatively quickly, so I try to cling. But I'll up your thing and list 25 of my fave people. Ask me this same thing in a Month, I'll keep doing 25, until I do all the people. How about that? (If anyone wants to be taken off mention let me know.)

@eligos-venator

- Has one of the most intelligent and sophisticated minds, I've had the pleasure to know. Literally admire all his aesthetics, work, head-cannons, ideas. It's only a benefit that the dude shares some OC characteristics to my own (Winning features). I really enjoyed the short-thread we did. It was incomplete, mainly because of my faults. I want to actually be better to give him a proper delivery and RP worth his time, but he's incredibly worth the investment of eyes.

@mischiefandmystics

- If there was a Mount Rushmoore of writers who kept me in this endeavor, encouraged me. Sun'ra is one of them. His characterization skills, writing, the delivery and how believable his character is, they're masterful acts.

@mishivymendi

- I wouldn't be nearly tamed or as creatively freed if it wasn't for this gem. She broke my shell, I really didn't at a time ever see myself being anything really beyond a smut writer, but Mishi not only saw potential in me, but brought it out. Her stories and world's she brings to life are so majestically colorful.

@asymphonyofash

- My go-to. He's another pillar individual who saw things in me past just the obvious perception, (Probably second longest XIV RPer I know.) Taught me a lot of the lore, I shot him up and he's sort of become my stapled rock. He's right aside Sun'ra met them about the same, both took me under their wing's as I quietly observed and absorbed.

@lavender-hemlock

- We're always up and front with each other, never feeling like I couldn't say anything around, extremely rare to share that these days. Her gif's are legendary, something on my own terms I want to soar in quality. The writing she does is astounding. Character has so many mysterious pages that are quite addictive to want to explore and learn them. (Encore 20 below-cut)

@under-the-blood-moonlight - Her sweetness and artwork and overall is just a friendly presence to be around. I cherish them so much. One I can jive with more darker undertones with. She's one the most hardworking and ambitiously creative people. I'd mail them infinite hugs if could. Thanks for being you! @roxinova - I owe a lot of credit to her. She's constantly OOC and everything was nudging me too be more inclusive to things and involved heavenly. It's rare for me. I'm really horrible about that my autism sets me back socially, I constantly will be drowned by the next day and be reverted back to better off alone, that's my major crux and weakness. But her thoughtfulness, these things, aren't ever foreign to me, I do pay attention probably better than any would ever give me credit. She's a beacon model to have as a friend. @corpse-dancer - Haven't ran into many words with them, but her character, screenshot game, expressiveness, they're all a marvel to constantly see, alongside her attitude and bringing life character. I do think if I were better, we would click quite splendidly. They've recently reminded and motivated me to pick-up my daily-practice, or try too. Keep being a rockstar. @fair-fae - Few who wouldn't know who she is in this community. She's been in my opinion a huge core. I'm certain she's inspired many who weren't even RPers too try it by seeing her at the Quicksands or elsewhere, a tyme ago. Making no exception, I was even one of those. I used to be in QS every-single day and was often doing my shameless stuff. Though her presence first did show me there's a lot more. I admire her in all fields. Also appreciate her adopting me to the FC and her always thinking of others and giving events, or her aesthetics and portrayal, its the epitome of swan elegance. @thorcat - One of my most treasured friends. Been RPing with them for a longtime. There's never anything complicated between us or a rift of drama, it's just let's go and have fun. We really mesh well, I've welcomed nearly ever character and got the privilege to RP with nearly all them. They always open up envelope and help me, settle on back and just laugh. Whether used to be waking up to their characters humping my afk one or use randomly having a hardcore banter between Ufah and Captain and capturing them as a voidal pet. Memories with them isn't something I'd ever want to lose. I love ya! Never stop enjoying life for anything. @lukawarrioroflight - I get in the gutter find myself lacking motivation or writing, discouraged even... But I never have felt, I could ever do any wrong with this person, they bring the light out of me. So no matter what, how many hospital-beds I yearly visit, it's because of this rare nature, that I come back, even if they're the only one's ever to read my stuff. I would do it for them alone. @scholarlybreadbun - I've only been back recently and they've so much warmth. Their presence is the sun of inviting. The couple and posing all the shipping that stuff makes me even melt. I'm not particularly talented in regards to posing couples, but I took notice of them along time ago and set on quietly improving. Really like them for them, wouldn't ever want them to change that. Ideally look forward to be in their orbit longer so I can bask in them. @seascrapes - Been mutual with them for a while. Their aesthetics and character is all S+ level. I appreciate throwing back tagged prompts with them, one of many people I really think would be enjoyable to collab with any other seafarers. The artwork and pieces of Tal Brook, are breathtaking as ever exceptionally too, not to mention. Love your stuff matey, you're a king. @mai-takeda - Is a myth. Her absolutely sheer friendliness and her attitude, are so positive influencing, I was so thrilled to be welcomed with her and boosted by them early on. I couldn't see myself, wanting to exist where they didn't have happiness like the same she always delivers by just doing so many soft-things. Not to mention her writing... She's a whole world to throw yourself gazes

under. @zhauric - It doesn't go far either without the same breath of Mai, I could say about Zhauric. He's someone worthy to look-up and also recognize they're passionate and inviting, hoisting up literally everything. Could easily find any of their characters comrades with my own, or jiving alongside. Not to mention last XIVWrite, they slaughtered it. So enjoyable to read them all. I like how organized their blog is too, motivated me recently to redux my entire thing. @cadrenebula - They have so many diverse characters and their entire roster is vibrant and is imbued with a massive flux of life. They are able to encapsulate so many character's voices and portray them so effectively too, I really admire that greatly. They've made me think bigger and try myself recently at actually undertaking a huge roster of characters too. I've taken many breaks, but I always am so graciously returned often with them close-by and that's so incredibly sacred. I've seen a lot of people get discouraged or quit, leave, departure, etc. But they always seem to have a bigger house then they had last I took a break and I enjoy peaking in. @silvernsteel - Her artist and gif-work are awe-aspiring, there's little unrecognizable by her photo-sets and edits. They helped me even tip-toe into uncharted with giving me the recipes to try incorporating gifs into my arsenal. Plus so delightfully pleasant to actually talk with and just chill. I want nothing less in life, than the beauty they give, to be returned to them for eternity in all their glorious air. If ever needed anything of me, they've got me. @spotofmummery - We talk about passion or friendliness or overall a person to even remotely try to be, I got to include them. Their web-series and writing, screen-work, everything they do is fantastic. And that's furthered back nearly any I've met showcase or immortalize how just genuine of stellar person they are. I wish them always the energy to create and sparks. @snow-covered-moon - They've never been anything less but absolutely a diamond to know. I enjoy their character, their almost always abundant of energy that's very rub inducing. Their WoL character stories, writing, screen-shots, everyday they open up a new pandora box of joy, there's no mistaken love behind their character and that's infectiously easy to also enjoy something when the author does too. Always healthy to be around, I never feel short of vitality when they're close-by. @letheofthelost - Always cheerful or least encapsulates with me, they're a carnival ride. Just pure epic story-telling and engaging equally as passionate, constantly writing characters, not looking for anything outside of RP or anything really just being their selves, they fade all others. I love their presence, them as a person. Enjoy any character they'll ever come and throw under me, or a change of pace. Always feels easily understandable between one another. @crow-iv - Together we're an unfiltered, unstoppable wake of pure passionate writers and art. But I would say they're far ahead of me, in every regard. Already able to portray multiple characters in a scene and do such in-depth thinking, alongside even sketch or draw right afterwards or a scene. They're so talented, huge reason I set-out on giving them a Crew of cast and actual stories to-tell when I'm actually caught up and if they interested and we both have the room, I really think if further myself, I can be better and supply more for them to draw and I want to see them soar. I want to give them all my improvements and effectiveness. @trishelle - They've such a reinforcing personality and aura around them that easily bolsters anything that dares thinking they're about to be depleted so energizing. Aesthetics, characters, all them are so lively that further compliment their own mun's great welcoming presence. Worth hundreds of smiles and stars, keep high. Wish I had more time to dedicate to learning you! But I do notice and appreciate you. @fracturedfantasia - One of my people, I like to retreat and just talk my full

head-cannons with or learn, share insightful and inquisitive thoughts about philosophies and multi-culture things. Or plotting and in-general, they're a well of information and brimming ideas, they are every making of what makes a quality friend. When you can generally be open-about-all that's a real one right there. Their characters and tarot readings, I always would implore if they're offering. Thanks for giving me any-time. You're truly a treasure. @violet-warder - Never have even came to words with them yet unfortunately but didn't mean as a mutual, I haven't admired all their screenies, writing, or the aesthetics they bring of their character. Glamours is real end-game, I like all what you've done and put together. I care strictly about what represent and give, I don't want to see them ever think anyone want's them gone, they are abundantly so talented and possess things only they can deliver. I think recently came back too, and I'm glad to share, hopefully, overtime I can build you better up. Or eventually even talk, but I'm certain you are a busy-body person too, so we're relatable. @layla-grey - I have a lot of underline issues that set me back as a flawed person, but I've never not been anything but someone who's open, it's why I always do include my f-list in anything or etc. I'm not here to present this facade, and really don't care to be an image crafted by another. No one as of recently or now, am I close with as an RP partner or friend with then this stunning masterpiece. I never let-up on story-telling or anything so I can eventually use my Crew or other Characters, to give them anytime a master entertaining day, they push me to not be short-changed. IC and OOC I would devote my full attention too cause they've never shed from me. Didn't ever matter how much silence or anything, they're always around. And don't expect anything out of me or pressure. Just accept me and I equally share that sentiment, I want you to have everything in this world has to offer. ----- This is just a fraction of people, I've paid attention, noticed or know. I've been around in this Community for many years. There's a lot of things I could say about it, more probably then anyone else. But what matters to me, is recognizing the people who are here, that work hard, build others up, support, constantly are a beam. I don't need to interact with everyone, to know when someone is generally out for good. Or they're out for bad I've learned inquisitiveness longtime ago, I had to survive and remain afloat. I just go out and be me, and along the way, I get to find people like these, who help bring out the best me. I am nothing without these people, creators, writers, artist. I'm a terrible friend, horrible person, I don't have the energy to interact NEARLY with as much as I'd like with you all, If I could clone myself, or if things were different, I would drop it all to be in your orbits more if could. But, do know I appreciate you. And even if you ever do depart from this whole community or anything, know that anything you share, or give, that stuff does matter, somewhere, someone was aspired, if nothing else, by me. ONLY you can give the worlds you see and I am thankful. Do love yourself.

#I acknowledge you #Love you #Keep doing you #Asks answered #I'm the one guy who's never not going to be filtered or unspoken #To many people have left or been broken #Don't you ever think about it.#There's so many many more #But I'll recharge for next time

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fiveisnumber1 · 4 years ago

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Family Support | Five x Reader

Summary: When Five doesn’t know how to deal with his feelings for you he asks his family for some help and things don’t go exactly as planned.

A/N: Five and you are both going to be like 19 in this and everyone else is their normal age. Also AU-ish in which they managed to save the world in 2019.

Word Count: 1,535

Warnings: none

_____________

The Hargreeves children were a lot of things. Powerful, combative, traumatized to say the least. All of them however were not good at one thing: expressing feelings. All of them were bad at expressing feelings in different ways. Klaus was too open, Vanya barely expressed them at all, Diego was too strong with his and Luther and Allison well they were confusing. And then there was Five. Unlike the others Five had trouble understanding his feelings, let alone expressing them. For some time he was fine with his situation but then you came into the picture.

Five remembers when he first met you. It was during one of his trips to Griddy’s Donuts. You were working there as a server to help pay your way through college. As usual he sat down at the counter with his head in a book and ordered one black coffee from Agnes. She lightly placed the cup in front of him and he picked in up to drink. When he took a sip though it was as if fireworks went off. This was the best damn cup of coffee that he had in years. Calling Agnes over he questioned who made it and when she pointed to you it was as if the world faded away. From then on he would go to Griddy’s anytime you were working. The coffee you made was great but seeing you was better. It took him a few weeks but he finally worked up the courage to talk to you. From that point on the two of you quickly became very close. Your kind and happy demeanor was refreshing and somehow meshed with his tough and sarcastic one.

And that’s where his issue was. Even though he enjoyed being around you it made him so flustered. He had no clue what was going on with himself recently. Every time he was with you his heart started racing, his palms became sweaty, he felt warm all over, sometimes he felt like he couldn’t breath. He wondered if he was sick or maybe even dying. Trying to grasp what was going on he turned to his family for help. He called them all over to the house only telling them that it was an emergency.

When his siblings arrived they all sat in the living room staring at him.

“Well what’s the emergency? The world ending again?” Luther questioned impatiently

“I think i’m dying” Five responded

“Oh shit.” Diego says

“Oh no. Five, what is it? What’s going on?” Vanya questions sincerely

“Well I don’t know for sure that I’m dying but I think I am based on my symptoms.” Five responded

“Which are?” Allison asks

“Heart palpitations, excessive sweating, possibly fever, trouble breathing, lack of concentration.” Five answers “And they always happen when I’m around (Y/N).”

Klaus starts to laugh.

“What’s so funny about my imminent death Klaus? Keep laughing and I’ll make sure you pass first!” Five shouts at his sibling

“Now I might not be a MD but I am a doctor.” Klaus replies

Everyone looks at Klaus for explanation.

“I’m a love doctor and you my dear Five have caught the lovebug.” Klaus says turning his attention to Five

“What? Love? No it can’t be. I mean I just like spending all my time around her and talking to her but I mean I wouldn’t say that’s love is it? Oh shit am I in love with her?” Five starts to rant to himself “I- I don’t feel well. I feel all warm and my heart is racing again. I’m going to lay down.”

His siblings all give each other knowing looks. Five is absolutely, deeply, madly in love with you even if he couldn’t see it himself, but they had a plan to help push him in the right direction. Without his knowledge they decided to set up a blind date for the two of you. Luther, Diego and Klaus were tasked with writing the note to get you to come over and Allison and Vanya were to plan the date. The three boys put their heads together to write the invitation, each writing on section of it and then had Diego deliver it to you at work on your break. Going into the back room you read it. It said,

Dear (Y/N),

You are a girl and that is pretty cool. I think you do a great job at your job.

In my opinion you’re absolutely kickass. I wish I could be as cool as you are. Talking with you is like lighting a library on fire.

Your eyes draw me in like a nice glass of aged whiskey. I feel like i’m teetering on the verge between life and death when I am with you. You’re a radiant sight to see and are prettier than the kaleidoscope colors of a good LSD trip.

So I’ve heard at least! I don’t do drugs!

But I’m not lame as hell either. I’m really cool and tough and brooding. I’m a man of mystery.

But like my dad’s liquor cabinet I’m easy to unlock and there is so much good stuff inside of me.

But I only drink in moderation with adult supervision! Anyway you’re really awesome, and I think it would be cool if you could come over to hang out, with me later today, after your work shift is over because it would be odd to hang out at my place if you’re still at work because you’d still have to work.

My address is on the back. Come by later.

Sincerely,

Five, the handsomest ball of sarcasm ever

You laughed to yourself, you knew this wasn’t produced by the Five you knew and very much loved. Nevertheless went back to work and decided on stopping by his place later. Back at the house though the ladies were trying to put together a nice time for the two of you. They decided on...well they couldn’t decide. Allison wanted a movie night and Vanya wanted a relaxing dinner with music. Granted, they were biased in their ideas because they wanted to show off to you. Allison wanted to show you her movies and Vanya wanted to play her music for you. Luther supported Allison’s idea and Klaus supported Vanya’s and by the time Diego got back the living room was a mess of pillows, string lights and miscellaneous foods laying about. The siblings started to argue amongst themselves about how each of their ideas was better. Startled by the sound of commotion downstairs Five went to check it out. He stumbled upon the 5 siblings all arguing.

“Luther your parts of the invite were so bland!” Diego yells

“Well I had to compensate for all the crazy stuff Klaus wrote!” Luther retorts

“Crazy? You mean crazy romantic!” Klaus adds

“No! Crazy! Just like this clusterfuck of a venue! What did you two do while I was gone?” Diego asks his sisters

“Movie night is more romantic!” Allison replied

“Not when the movies you’re watching are of you! What are you some kind of narcissist?” Vanya yells

“Oh that’s rich coming from you Vanya. You only wanted the dinner so you could show off your violin playing!” Luther replies

“And you only went with Allison’s idea because you love her!” Klaus chimes in while taking a drink from the liquor cabinet

Five had seen enough. Fed up with his siblings arguing he yelled,

“What are you pathetic excuses for human beings arguing about this time?”

All of the siblings stop their arguing and turn their attention to Five. They all look away in embarrassment at the situation.

“Well?!” Five presses

Klaus steps forward first and says,

“Well we just thought that...”

“Since you were having trouble telling this, (Y/N) how you feel about her...” Luther continues

“We thought that it would be nice to invite her over...” Allison adds

“And set up a surprise date...” Diego continues

“For the two of you.” Vanya finishes

“YOU WHAT!” Five yells “I can’t believe that you’ve done this! I really like (Y/N) and I mean REALLY like her. She’s going to think I’m a psychopath and want nothing to do with me if she sees all this. I get it you want me to admit to myself and her that I have feelings for her, but this? This is a mess! She’ll never want to be with me like that if she sees all of this!”

Five looks at his siblings who all have wide eyes.

“What? What are you sad sacks looking at?”

“Probably me,” You say making your presence known to Five

“(Y/N), I- I can explain.” Five stutters out as he turns around to face you

“No need. I do think some of your claims are false though,” You reply

“Huh?” Five questions

“I think I’d still like to be with you even with all this mess. I really like you too.” You say placing a gentle hand on his cheek

“Well if that’s the case then would you’d like to get some coffee with me?” Five asks

"I’d love to.” You answer

Five extends his hand out towards you and you grab it. With your fingers intertwining the two of you happily walk out the door together. As five is closing the door to his home you whisper to him,

“Your family is weird.”

“They are but they’re the best.” He says

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sk8rwillie · 4 years ago

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Forever & Always

aka a juke wedding au

taglist: @reggieshamster @owenmercers @oldsmobile-hotdogs @iridescentkippen @screamin-amuseum (lmk if you want to be added to my permanent taglist)

Today was the most hectic and chaotic day of Julie’s whole life, at least that’s what she thought when Flynn dragged her out of bed to get ready at 5am this morning. For her wedding, she was actually getting married to Luke and it felt like a dream. She swore everytime she looked at any of her friends and family, they were wiping away tears. Everyone in the entire world knew that Julie and Luke were meant for each other and everyone wanted this day to be perfect.

It was now 3pm and everything was going smoothly, the flowers- dahlias and roses of course, had arrived and the venue and caterers were moving everything along. It was the same place where her parents got married, a beautiful botanical garden just along the coast. Flynn and Alex had been keeping her busy so she wouldn’t get so anxious over everything.

Flynn was doing her makeup, using small bursts of purple around the corners to match the color scheme chosen. Julie had obviously chosen purple, a light lilac, as to not seem so pretentious (which made Luke snort when she told him those exact words). Julie wanted this day to be as much his as it was here, but Luke wasn’t having it. He told her he would be happy marrying her behind the Taco Bell down the street from their apartment. As long as they were together, it didn’t matter.

Alex was now doing her hair, which was still a secret but she had faith in Alex’s abilities. He had fought hard to be one of Julie’s bridesmaids which made her and Willie giggle up a storm. She knew Reggie and Willie were with Luke, but she missed them. Especially Luke, she hasn’t seen since late last night because Flynn wanted them to stay apart for as long as possible before the wedding tonight. They had both agreed to her plan, but now regretted their decisions, since their phones were also hidden.

So as she sat as still as she possibly could for Alex, she drifted into a daydream. Well, a memory at least. It was the day Luke proposed to her, which made her giggle just at the thought of her fiancé- husband to be.

It was a quiet night for them, cuddling up on the couch and watching disney movies. He had mentioned he needed to get something, but Julie refused to move from his warm embrace. Tilting her head up to meet his gaze, she pouted. Luke grinned, pressing a kiss to her forehead which seemed to distract her enough for him to move.

As he stood, something fell out of his pocket, but he continued towards the bedroom. Glancing down, Julie’s breath hitched in her throat and tears pricked her eyes. It was an engagement ring, specifically the one she had pointed to in a jewelry shop months ago. She picked it up and admired it, a simple diamond in the middle with oval cut amethysts on either side of it. Everything was silent for a moment, as she looked back to find Luke standing where she found the ring, mouth agape and a creeping blush on his cheeks.

“This was going to be so much better- I had a plan, it wasn’t extravagant but it was definitely less idiotic than this.”

“Yes.” She knew it wouldn’t click for a few moments but she had to say it before her voice got too shaky, her tears already making her vision fuzzy.

“Julie, I love you. You are the best thing to happen to me and I don’t know what I would do- wait did you say yes?” He was so focused on telling her how much she meant to him and how much he loved her and now he was at a loss for words.

She only nodded, bringing her hands up to cup his face. He responded very quickly, wrapping his arms around her waist. It really wasn’t a question of whether she’d say yes or not, he’s known that answer since their 5 Grammy wins a few years ago. She reminded him everyday that she loved him and wanted to spend forever with him. It was the question that all of their friends had been asking since they first met, who will propose first?

Julie was surprised it took this long, in all honesty, knowing how anxious Luke had always been to show her that he only wanted her. They were still fairly young, Julie having only turned 24 two months ago. But it didn’t matter, as long as they were together..

“Jules? Julie?? Earth to Jules!!” Alex had tapped her on the nose and was now waving a hand in front of her face to get her attention.

“Yes, sorry. I’m here,” she smiled and Alex squeezed her shoulder. Handing her a mirror, she held it up to view the work Alex put into her hair and she gasped. It was a simple style, half up half down but Alex had put intricate and small braids into her bun and butterfly clips adorned her head. She hopped out of the chair and squeezed him tight, making Alex laugh and kiss her temple.

“Alex! It’s perfect!” She couldn’t help the tears in her eyes as she pulled away slightly from him. Which only made Alex sniffle,

“Oh come on, Jules. Now you’re making me cry! I guess I'll be crying later anyway. But i’m glad you like it, I’ve been counting down the days to get you all dolled up for your wedding!” Julie only rolled her eyes and lightly shoved Alex’s shoulder. He feigned hurt until she giggled, “You better not mess up your makeup or Flynn will kill me!!”

Now she was standing in front of her wedding dress, trying not to ruin the beautiful work Flynn had done her makeup earlier. A moment later, Flynn walks in, squeezing her best friend’s shoulders. Both staring up at the beautiful dress, “I can’t believe you’re getting married, Jules. I’m so happy for you!”

“Hey don’t forget you and Carrie are engaged now!! So next we’ll be planning your wedding!!” Both girls started giggling, Julie pulling them in for a hug. Until Flynn realized the time and rushed Julie to get into her dress.

There was no better way to describe the feeling when Julie put it on other than she felt like a princess. The intricate embroidered flowers and mesh that ran down her arms. The lace that decorated every inch of the dress. The sleeves comfortably sitting on the edges of her shoulders, allowing her mother’s dahlia necklace to shine against her delicate, copper skin.

Walking out of the dressing room, she is met with Alex and Flynn of course, at a loss for words. But also Willie who’s smiling so wide it looks like it hurts and Reggie who’s wiping tears cascading down his red cheeks. Julie only smiles bashfully,

“If you all start crying then I will too!!”

“You look stunning, Jules. If we’re all crying I can’t imagine Luke is gonna be able to hold it together!” Reggie snorted. Julie gasped quietly, she wanted to see Luke so badly it hurt. She knew she’d be seeing soon obviously but it didn’t mean she didn’t miss his cute laugh and pretty eyes and honest kindness…

Willie walks forward and wraps her in a tight hug, making her immediately melt into their embrace. Willie always gives good hugs and always seems to know when people need them most. As he pulled away, they cleared their throat,

“I know I’m not one of your bridesmaids,’ he giggled lightly as he looked back at Alex who huffed proudly in response. “But I wanted to give you this- something blue, something Luke. He doesn’t know but me, Reggie and Alex put our heads together.”

Looking down at Willie’s hands, she found a silver necklace with a cerulean blue guitar pendant. She can’t help the wide smile from appearing across her features. Willie takes this moment to clasp it around her neck, watching as it sits nicely above her dahlia.

Before the boys can get in another hug session with Julie, Flynn is rushing them out to get ready for the ceremony. Sitting Julie back down, she spruces up her makeup and helps with her shoes (beat up old vans because comfort over style Flynn, no one will see them anyway!). She notices how glossy Flynn’s eyes are and now it’s her turn to fix her makeup,

“I’m only crying because this is actually happening and I love you.”

“I love you too, Flynn. I couldn’t have done any of this without you and I don’t mean just the wedding plans,” Julie presses her forehead to Flynn’s, making them both smile. Flynn squeezes her hands before turning to head out into the venue, Julie’s father taking her place.

Ray can only stand and admire his daughter’s radiance and happiness. He presses a kiss to her forehead and locks their arms together, walking to the edge of the actual venue. No one can see her yet, but everyone is sitting and chatting amongst themselves. She sees Kayla and Nick laughing together, Carrie and Bobby making sure no one can see them cry while their father, Trevor, sniffles stoically.

Ray tugs on his daughter’s arm lightly and she glances back at him. They smile and laugh, “I’m so proud of you, mija. You deserve only happiness and I can see that everytime you look at each other. I only wish your mother was here to see this.”

“Thank you, papí. I couldn’t have done it without you, I love you. I know mom’s watching, I can feel it,” Julie glances up at the sky and smiles. Ray only watched and thanked the heavens for giving him such a wonderful daughter. Handing her the bouquet of lavender and wisteria, he nudges her again, “Ready, mija?”

He walks her out and she knows she can hear music playing because it’s a song that Luke wrote for her. But it’s like everything else disappeared and all she can focus on is Luke. Standing at the end of the aisle, fiddling with his hands, mouth curved into a wide smile. He tugs at the sleeves of his suit jacket, she giggles lightly- proud that he’s even wearing sleeves. His cheeks are flushed and dusted pink, gray eyes big and shiny as they watch her walk closer with pure adoration.

As she reaches him, Ray lets her go and smiles at the both of them. Julie hands her bouquet over to Flynn standing behind her, finally facing the love of her life. They both aren’t really paying attention to what’s being said, just focused on each other. Until it was time for their vows. Luke went first:

I’ll tell you now, I could spend a lifetime telling you how much you mean to me, Jules. I have loved you since the first time I saw when I was 16 in that boring math class. I found myself giddy and excited to get to school just to see you and hear your laughter. You’ve brought out the best in me and my songwriting. When I’m with you, I know I can do anything. I never believed in soulmates until I found you and it felt like coming home. Your warmth and kindness fuels me with the strength to live my dreams- our dreams. Being in a band with you has truly been the best experience of my life and I cannot wait to see what the future holds. I love you more than words could ever say.

Willie hands Luke a ring and he gently places it on her ring finger, sniffling and laughing. They’re both crying by this point, not worried about anything else going on. Julie quickly wipes some of her fallen tears away as she locks eyes with Luke again. Fiddling with the new wedding band around her finger she begins her vows:

When I first met you, I never thought I would play music again. Not after losing my mom, but you gave me a new passion- a new spark for music and I cannot thank you enough. Playing music together became a love language and it only made me realize how deep in love I was with you. You are my rock, you’re ambition and relentless passion in everything you do made me a better person. We compliment each other, two flames bound to one another. Loving you is like watching your favorite movie or reading your favorite book, it’s exhilarating. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you when you let me play ‘Bright’ a song you had written and shown to no one else. You trusted me with something so close to your heart and I knew then that I wanted to memorize all of you. You are my favorite song and you are my person, I love you.

Now it’s Alex’s turn to hand over the ring, Julie slipping it onto Luke’s calluses finger. Now she’s sure there isn’t a dry eye in the room, not after they’d just shared snippets of the true love they had for each other. So when it was time to ‘kiss the bride,’ Julie didn’t hesitate. Wrapping her arms around Luke’s neck and pulling him down to brush their lips together and finally sealing them in a smile.

Pulling away, still smiling, they lock their fingers together and walk back down the aisle as husband and wife. Truly a power couple for the ages. And before rejoining their friends and family for the reception, Luke steals another kiss and another and another. Cupping her cheeks and bringing her as close to him as he possibly can. She snakes her hands back around his neck, digging her fingers lightly through his hair, earning her a small noise in response.

Pulling away, breathless this time and leaning their foreheads together. She presses a kiss to his nose, which he scrunches up when she moves away.

“I love you, Mrs Patterson,” Luke breathes out. Julie only smirks and playfully rolls her eyes.

“And I love you, Mr Molina,” she replies, trying to hide her love stricken smile. Luke only quirks an eyebrow,

“I kinda like the sound of that.”

She smacks his arm lightly to which he only shakes his head and pulls her in for another kiss. Yeah she could get used to this forever.

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joshslater · 5 years ago

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Five Step Program

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I stared at the contents of the envelope, a blue jockstrap, and a folded piece of paper. I hadn’t put much hope into this “miracle solution” to becoming a jock without any of the work. Of course there was a catch. “First 20 customers get their first shipment free of charge” was enough for me to fill out the form with my information. It wasn’t anything too revealing. Name, address, height, weight, age. A box where you could write what you hoped to achieve with this revolutionary five step program. That’s what they really were after, I guessed. Having people enter their dreams so that they can tailor their next scam better. I was even surprised I got anything in the mail at all, and now having opened it, it made even more sense.

I could see how sending a jockstrap to someone perhaps fulfills some legal requirement that the recipient could now look like a jock. It could be a way to avoid getting a federal fraud charge. But I hadn’t spent a dime on this, so it didn’t make any sense. The jockstrap looked like any other jockstrap, I guessed. I’d never owned one, nor worn one. The pouch was dark blue and made with two layers of some synthetic mesh material. The big waistband was light blue with the letters JOCK repeated in dark blue around it. There was a faint smell of synthetic material and detergent. I did a mental sigh and opened the folded letter.

Congratulation on becoming one of our first customers on the revolutionizing five step Jock Express program. As a thank you for signing up, this first part is totally free of charge. Should you wish to continue the program, as we are confident you will after having successfully completed the first session, simply use the URL at the bottom of this page to enter your credit card information and we’ll send you the next item as soon as the payment is confirmed. I’m happy to inform you that we can offer a reduced price for the entire program, should you chose to start it within five days. The price is only $100 for the next installment, and progressively higher as you advance in the program. There is no commitment to purchase so you can stop the program at any point. We’re confident you will want to complete all the five steps in the Jock Express program.

Fuck that! What morons sign up to this kind of shit?

Instructions: The Jock Express is the easiest and most user friendly fitness program ever developed. Simply drink a lot of water, put on the items included in each program step, as you normally would, and go to sleep.

I was even more confused. Why would that sway anyone to put out $100 for at best another piece of gym clothing? I put it all in my in-tray on my desk and let it slip from my mind. I had dinner, watched TV, answered some late emails and the usual Tuesday stuff. By bedtime I walked past my home office and had the sudden recollection that I had something waiting in the in-tray. Then I remembered what it was, and almost reluctantly decided to go ahead with wearing the damn thing. I was still convinced it was a scam, but was immensely curious to exactly how it would work. If nothing else I would get to feel what wearing a jockstrap feels like. I drank a glass of water, put on the jockstrap, and went to bed. The jockstrap was as comfortable as anything and I quickly went to sleep.

Apparently I slept through the first alarm, and jolted awake on hearing the more incessant buzz from the phone. I jumped out of bed and it wasn’t until halfway to the bathroom I realized I was naked. I wouldn’t say massive, as in cartoonish in any way, but my dick and balls were noticeably bigger than before. It took a few seconds for my still startled brain to put the pieces together. The jockstrap had disappeared and somehow affected the body. It hadn’t replaced any body parts, I could still recognize my dick, but it was for sure altered. Suddenly $100 felt like way too little money. I didn’t even put any pants on as I typed in the URL from the letter. Jock Express step #2 for $100 and express delivery for another $25. Annoyingly no option to order all four remaining steps as a package. I just wanted to have them all in my house as soon as possible.

By the time I had entered all my details, checked all the boxes, and clicked the final webshop button I was rocking a massive hard-on. The biggest one in my life so far, by far. I didn’t care right then if I would come late or call in sick, I just knew that I had to take my pre-cum leaking enhancement for a test drive, and slowly started to move my hand up and down the shaft. It felt better than ever, and lasted longer than I have ever before. I’m not really sure how long, because I zoned out a bit while wanking, and then exploded with an epic load of cum. I managed to tilt the chair back and catch it all on my body, but then I felt really spent and dozed off, only to be brought back with a text message from my boss. Sick day it is, I decided.

A more apt description would be a lewd day. I just cycled between laptop porn, wanking and showers, and combinations thereof. I loved the difference it made when wearing underwear. Even when flaccid you could tell here was action waiting, not just only wearing underwear, but while wearing jeans too. I took photos so I had progress photos to compare with.

The next day was a strange one. I worked all day in the glow of someone with confidence, as if somehow I had done some achievement. I kind of surprised myself with how much of a difference it made when dealing with the pileup of emails from yesterday. Big dick energy. I could make decisions so much faster than I was used to. I don’t know if I really had more confidence, or just didn’t care as much. I was for sure giddy with anticipation of what was yet to come by overnight delivery. I forced myself to stay until official end of office hours and then bolted and drove straight home.

Thank God there was a DHL box in my mailbox, or I don’t know what I would have done. I opened it on my way in, and it’s contents were similar to the first one. A folded letter and some folded cloth. Without opening the letter I unfolded the cloth, which turned out to be a plain, sleeveless, white cotton T-shirt. Had there been someone to high five, I would have done so. I’m not fat, but there is a bit of flabbiness I would love to get rid of, so I couldn’t wait for this part. I felt anticipation in my stomach and something else in my pants. I hadn’t had a wank since this morning.

Evening couldn’t come soon enough. The letter said basically the same as the last one. A new URL for the $400 Jock Express #3, which I immediately ordered, again with overnight shipping. Not really sure what to kill time with, I figured a jock would watch sport, so I just randomly put some football on. I hadn’t really paid any attention to sports before, so I wasn’t sure about who was who, what the series looked like, or really what happened on the field besides the obvious. I ended up masturbating to the football, which in my opinion made it better. By 9:30 I decided to drink a few glasses of water, strip, put on the sleeveless T-shirt, and go to bed. I tossed and turned in anticipation for quite a while. The T-shirt had a very loose fit, and the big holes for the arms made it even more mobile, though it was anchored by the crew neck. Finally at some point I managed to fall asleep.

I woke up before the alarm. It was dark enough that I knew I hadn’t slept through them all. Instead of getting up or turning on the light, I just slowly moved my hand to my chest under the sheet. My chest was about the same size, but felt firmer, I imagined. But more importantly I was naked and the shirt was gone. I moved my hand down and couldn’t contain my joy when I started to feel the faint square of abs. I jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom to have a look in the mirror. The effect was better than I thought from just touch. My torso not only looked fit as a model, with abs and V and all, but younger and with better skin. Perhaps an illusion, but it almost looked like my dick was bigger as well.

Having woken up early, after a wank and a shower, I was one of the first in at the office and quickly got ahead on my tasks for the day. I still had the anticipation I felt yesterday, but today it was more like I knew what to expect. It wasn’t just a one-off or a fluke, this was legit and it was happening. As I started early I decided to flex out early and rush back home. I spent the drive home fantasizing about different types of clothing. I was kind of wishing for those sleeves they use in basket, to amp up my arms, but there might be some scientific reason why they changed the body parts in a specific order. Who was I kidding? This wasn’t science. This was magic.

I ripped open the familiar package as soon as I was inside the front door. This time it was white under armour legging of some sort, ending just below the knees. I was considering strip down fully naked and put on the leggings right then and there, and wear them until it was time to go to bed, but decided against it. Even though the descriptions were vague and didn’t really say you couldn’t do that, I didn’t want to risk fucking up the process. Instead I found some underwear in the same color as the jockstrap and took a pair of scissors to an old white T-shirt to make it look like the one I put on yesterday. Then I put on those, and nothing but, and sat myself in front of the TV, determined to actually try to follow the game this time, whichever game I happened to see.

It might be I imagined it, perhaps because I’ve never really seen myself in a sleeveless T-shirt before, but it looked to me like my arms were a bit more defined than yesterday. I realized that I had just assumed only the parts under the clothes are affected, but that’s just something I made up. It could be that it just primarily acts under the clothes, or perhaps it was just a coincidence and the clothes really could change anything. In the end I let it go. It didn’t matter, I couldn’t prove it either way, and I couldn’t watch a game, have deep thoughts and masturbate all at the same time anyway. I was so into it I almost forgot to order the next package. A steep $1000 for whatever the next item was, but so far it was fucking worth it.

I really liked how I looked in the 3/4 leggings or whatever the fuck they are called. Just imagining how much better I would look the morning after made me go to bed with a big boner, despite being thoroughly wanked. I tried to calm myself by thinking of the last game I watched, and not give Jock Express a thought, and it kind of worked. I know I fell asleep pretty quickly and dreamt of football until the alarm woke me up.

“Fuck yeah!” was the first I could think when I saw myself. The thighs were about as large as before, but the line going down them made it obvious they were muscles and not jiggle matter. It even felt different just standing. I’m almost positive my dick had grown even more. Who the hell wouldn’t dish out $400 or whatever for this shit?

While the day started great it quickly became frustrating with all the corporate bullshit. I knew how to do my job. There were just so many fucking rules in the way of doing it in the best way. Perhaps the anticipation of the second to last package made me be in a bad mood. Whatever. I bolted as soon as I could, cranked up the volume in the car, trying to not think of anything until I got home. I almost punched something when I opened the mailbox and didn’t find an envelope. Instead it was just a note about DHL attempted to deliver while I wasn’t home. I could either call them to deliver tomorrow or drive to a pickup point. Like fuck I would wait another full fucking day.

I was furious when I got back into the car, blasting music as loud as I could, but I quickly calmed down. Perhaps this was a good thing? It might be a box with shoulder pads from football or hockey or lacrosse or whatever the fuck else looks hot. You know what else is hot? Michael at the DHL pickup point. I mean, I’m not homo or anything, I’m just saying he was a good looking dude.

The packet he gave me was a bit disappointing though. No way it could contain anything as large as shoulder pads. I didn’t want to fuck with my mojo, so I kept the same routine as before and didn’t open it until back home. Fucking cleats and socks. Another fucking leg day. And they smelled bad too, like distilled vinegar or some shit. As I entered the URL from the letter on my phone I got two more shocks. The price of the last package was ten thousand fucking dollars! And even worse, the delivery wouldn’t arrive until Monday. Two fucking days away. “This is bullshit” I shouted at nobody and threw the empty cardboard box into the wall to no damage to either.

I was still furious and went straight to the fridge, pulled out a cold can of beer, opened it, and downed half of it. It felt better, but I was still upset on the world in general. I looked at the phone screen again. $10k is a fuckton of money. There wasn’t a rush to buy it right now either, if they didn’t do overnight delivery during weekends. I emptied the can and crushed it against the countertop. It hurt my hand, which just added to my anger for being such a weakling. I pulled the rest of the six-pack out of the fridge and threw it in the living room couch on my way to the bedroom. I needed to get out of these stuffy office clothes and cool down with a cold one, or four.

I ripped off the tie and started to unbutton the shirt on my way into the bedroom, and once there opened the door to my wardrobe. I felt like a girl, not knowing what to wear. I hated everything my eyes fell on, and I hated feeling like that. I bunched the shirt into a ball and threw it into a corner, together with the tie. I climbed out of the pants as quickly as I could and threw them there as well. Then I stopped myself.

Everything I saw I really liked, I realized. The pecs, the abs, the thighs, and the generous bulge in the boxer briefs.I yanked off my socks and more deliberately lowered my boxers to let the dick and balls loose. I knew what I wanted from this junk selection of clothes, and opened a drawer with my athletic clothes and pulled out a pair of grey sweatpants. It was Friday and my dick and balls deserved some freedom, I thought, as I put on the sweats without any underwear. I picked up the sleeveless T-shirt from the floor by the bed and put that on as well. I felt so much better. A few beers, whatever game was on, and some more wanking, and perhaps this could turn into a good evening after all.

After two more beers, cum stains on sweatpants, T-shirt and the couch, and fuck knows how many games I zapped through I couldn’t wait any longer. Whatever bullshit the cleats and sock did, the sooner it was over with, the sooner I could move on with the final package. $10k was still a lot, but if I sold all shares I could buy it, keeping both house and car.

The socks went almost up to the knees, but weren’t any real soccer socks or anything like that. The looked more like something someone might have to the gym, or something a skater would wear. Skater was perhaps right, because they smelled like that vinegary acidic smell of really sweaty skater shoes. The socks were white with a wide black band around it near the top, and were a bit off-white on contact surfaces around the foot, as if they had been used in black shoes by someone. As if I would fucking care. I pulled up both legs of the sweats over the knees and put on both socks, pulling them as high as possible. The cleats were black and a bit banged up, but fit perfectly on my feet. I didn’t even remember having given out my shoe size. I was unsure how tight to tie them, so I went with comfortable without being loose.

It felt weird walking with them, like the shoes were pushing your forward. Not at all like my much flatter leather shoes. Somehow my test walking ended up by the fridge, so I grabbed another six-pack and returned to the couch for some more ESPN or whatever.

I had no idea what sport it was on the screen, but glancing out the window I could see that it wasn’t evening anymore. I must have fallen asleep, I realized, but I felt way better than I ought to, given the pile of crushed beer cans around me. I walked to the toilet to have a piss, and it wasn’t until I lowered the front of my sweatpants to grab my morning semi-stiff snake I realized I was barefoot. I was pissing for probably a good minute, aiming down with one hand. Holy fuck so much I’ve kept in while sleeping. I was pretty sure I had cleats and socks on when I fell asleep. I did a few bounces on the balls of the feet. It felt fucking great, and shook loose the last drops of piss from my dick. I dropped it back into the sweatpants, and broke into a smile from how fucking huge of a tent it made, despite being just a semi. I did a few more jumps, looking at how the flagpole in my front swung up and down. I really didn’t deserve to feel this great after yesterday, but I’d fucking take it. I felt so full of energy I felt I could do anything. I wanted to run just to see how it would feel.

I dashed into my bedroom and emptied the rest of the athletic clothes drawer on the floor. Some T-shirts, a pair of basket shorts, white socks and wiped down indoor and outdoor shoes. All of it was underwhelming, outright disappointing. And why the fuck did I keep the shoes here and not by the door? I grabbed the outdoor shoes and without bothering with socks started to mash my foot into it. It was clearly at least one size too small, perhaps several. Who the fucks know how shoe sizes work. I threw both shoes into the wall above my pile of office clothes. Fucking hell. Why do all days start out great and then go downhill so fast, I wondered.

I grabbed a pair of flip flops, the car keys, and pulled the credit card out of the wallet and walked out to the car. The car stereo startled me when I turned the ignition key, as it blared out some hip hop at max volume. I reached to turn it down, but changed my mind. It felt like my mood, as I was driving to my closest mall almost below speed limit. There wasn’t much traffic out anyway on a Saturday morning. As I turned into the almost empty parking lot in front of the mall I realized the fucking God damn shit mall would open for another 40-something fucking minutes. I wished I could turn up the music louder.

As I looked down on the cum stains on my shirt and tenting sweats I decided why the fuck not, and started to beat off in sync with the music.

40-something fucking minutes later I entered the sporting goods store in the mall. Johnson’s or Dick’s or Willy’s or whatever, I don’t care. I picked up some proper compression clothes, like the leggings I had earlier with a matching top. I got myself some outdoor Nike’s, a few proper tanks, some jocks, boxer shorts and socks, new flip flops, and a snapback cap. On the way to the cashier I decided to pick up a wooden baseball bat and a regulation size football as well. Back in the car I ripped off all the stickers and shit and put on something I could run in. The sneakers, jockstrap and shorts, a tank top, and the snapback. I left the car and just ran.

It was a revelation. The first time I tasted ice cream or coca cola, or the first time I discovered I could do something else with my dick besides peeing and hitting it too hard. I felt like a good damn terminator. Like as long as I kept the pace below sprinting I could run for hours. Trickles of sweat running down my face, my arms, my back, wetting the fabric of my clothes where it could, cooling the skin with the breeze my motion generated where it couldn’t. I have no fucking idea how long I actually run. When I finally ended up back in the car I was steaming and real fucking hungry.

I felt like a shower was in order, but I was too hungry to do that first. I went by Five Guys and had a bacon cheeseburger with fries and a peanut butter milkshake. As I started eating I realized I wasn’t anywhere near tired. It was probably enough running for today, but I wanted to do more. Halfway through the meal I decided I would visit the gym we had a company membership at. I had only been there a few times since the introduction walkthrough. I wasn’t even sure I had the card in my wallet anymore, or if it was in the bowl of stuff in the kitchen.

I made a quick stop at home, unloaded my car, found the card, and set off to the Pacific Wellness Center. The dude in the lobby had a pissy attitude and asked me if I was wearing indoor shoes. I asked him what they looked like, and he let me in. Such a shame, because he was kind of good looking.

Inside the gym the results were mixed. Squats, lunges, planking, and abductor machine all went excellent. It was fun, even. But everything involving arms went miserably. I could only lift a pathetic load, and after a few reps I would be tired. I even embarrassed myself in front of two massive gym buddies. One of them had amazing arms. You could see how strong they were even when he wasn’t lifting, but fuck me what beautiful ‘ceps when loaded. And tanned too. It was lucky I had the jockstrap on, because that body was smoking hot.

I could only stand a few more failures after that and then sped back home, still with hip hop at max, in a mix of emotions. I got naked on the way to the bathroom, and there I spent perhaps an hour in the shower, getting the grime and sweat off me, and wanking twice, thinking of the arms of the hot dude. As I dried myself on a towel I knew I had to buy the last package. Ten fucking thousand fucking dollars. I had to use the laptop to access my bank, and once I had put in the sell order for my stock portfolio I saw the pornhub tabs I hadn’t looked at since Wednesday.

The big-busted bimbos I had wanked my way through the Wednesday suddenly didn’t seem as interesting. I clicked around a bit until I found a muscle stud fucking a Latino girl. How quickly the taste can change, but except for pathetic arms, I’m was now the muscle stud. I quickly entered the URL from the Jock Express #4 box and ordered the last package. The delivery date was still Monday, so come Tuesday the muscle stud would be me. Only one fucking week.

Since I was out of beer I threw on my old shorts and a T-shirt, and had a walk to my nearest convenience store and bought one six-pack for each hand. I was feeling a bit stiff from the training, but it was much better than it ought to be.

As I opened the door back at home the warm smell of gym clothes, sweat, and feet hit me. I did the responsible thing and threw everything in the washing machine, opened a beer, and started to watch whatever was on.

Sunday was just a boring-ass filler day. I woke up at a decent time, had a long run. I passed through the park, but didn’t engage with any of the groups playing football or beach volley there. I could wait two more days to get my arms sorted. I did some cleaning up and domestic shit back home. Then I went to the gym again, but this time I pretended it was leg day, so I didn’t have to embarrass myself. After dinner I had an evening jog as well, and only had a few beers before bedtime.

Same thing on Monday. Woke up pretty early and went for a long run. When I was almost back home I got a text message from my boss, saying we needed to talk about my performance over the last few days. My answer “Suck my balls” probably summed up the conversation much better than any in-person meeting. I found that the best way to find porn with muscle studs in them was to search in the gay section. Just because you like to watch big arms and strong backs doesn’t make you homo. I jacked off to the videos until it was time to eat lunch. By 2 pm I was climbing on the fucking walls in anticipation, and every minute felt like too long. Perhaps it wouldn’t arrive today at all? I heard the mailman at 2:18 and rushed out wearing only shorts and snapback.

The mailbox was stuffed full with a big, soft envelope. I tore it open on my way back inside, kicked the door shut, and emptied the contents on my kitchen table. A big black something fell out, as well as something small that rattled across the table. Ignoring the letters, as usual, I unfolded the cloth. It was a big, black hoodie in sweatshirt material, with the print “STRONG” on the front. Finally arms! I picked up the small plastic box that almost fell off the table and opened it. It contained some sort of advanced mouthguard mad in blue, white, and transparent plastic of different hardness and flex. The kind that football players use.

Not knowing what to do next, I went to the gym and spent a few hours just randomly doing low weight, high rep stuff. I was trying to catch a glimpse of everyone else who worked out to see what their arms and legs looked like. Once I felt it was too obvious I wasn’t doing anything serious I drove home, but instead of going inside I started to walk and walked for hours just looking. It felt good just to be in motion. I didn’t return back until the sun started to set, and it was almost fully dark when I walked through the door.

I decided to just go ahead with the last piece of transformation. I stepped out of my sneakers and pulled off my damp socks. It didn’t smell of strawberries. I pulled off the T-shirt and stepped out of the basket shorts, but kept the compression shorts on. I grabbed the hoodie from the table and put it over my head. Perhaps it was me, but it smelled of musky sweat inside while I put it on. I poured myself a big glass of water and downed it.

I walked with the small plastic box to the bathroom and had a look in the mirror. I didn’t really look that different. The big hoodie hid my newly athletic front. The legs and feet looked strong, but who ever notices that? My big bulge in the compression pants was however a change from the past week that couldn’t easily be hidden. I opened the box and put the mouthguard into my mouth. It fit snugly and didn’t change my appearance much either. Not knowing what to do with the hoodie I put it up over my head and pulled it tighter with the drawstrings so all but my face was gone. Then I turned off all the lights and went to bed.

It was still dark when I woke up. Instantly I knew it had worked, because I couldn’t feel the mouthguard in my mouth, though it felt different. As if the ghost of the mouthguard was still there, prying my mouth open. I felt some sort of pressure on my head, as if I was wearing a hat or a beanie or something. I was about to feel my head when I realized moving my arm felt different. Not wanting to fuck around any longer I went straight to the bathroom again to have a look in the mirror. I stared at my reflection with open mouth. The difference was breathtaking.

First of all I wasn’t wearing any top, so my abs and pecs were on full display, but they were also bigger than before. Everything was bigger. My shoulders were much bigger, my entire upper body looked wider than before, and everything about the arms were huge. My face was still my face, but there were lots of small changes. “Fucking dope” I said with a much deeper voice than what I had before. I smiled a smirk and flexed the arms in different poses. I couldn't wait to show up at the gym doing an arm day. I just needed to have another shower. My dick needed service, and I felt sluggish, as if I hadn't really wakened up yet.

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years ago

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A New Arrangement [Part 6/9][NSFW]

K!nktober 2020 Kink Bingo!: Voyeurism

<- Part 5 | Part 7 ->

Summary: Dr. Chilton does not want your weekly in-home visits to come to an end, so he proposes hiring you for a different service.

(For @thatesqcrush‘s kink bingo. If you’re just here for Kinktober smut, feel free to start with this chapter! It should have all the exposition necessary.)

Frederick Chilton x Female Reader

3,389 words

The sturdy rectangular gray headboard supported your weight, along with a mountain of soft eider-down pillows, as you sat back against it. One hand typed financial figures into a laptop. The other gently ran its fingers through the thick hair of the head resting in your lap.

This had all started as a fairly standard work arrangement.

Frederick Chilton had been through several near-death experiences, and had reached out to your agency to ensure his affairs were in order. You handled end-of-life arrangements: advanced directives, living wills, estate planning, funerals—your business was the one-stop-shop for a worry-free death.

He was only recently out of the hospital since being severely burned over ninety percent of his body, and was shy about it. He was also wealthy enough to cloister himself away from the world. And so you had been visiting him at his home for the past few weeks to conduct business.

Your fingers stopped their lazy crawl through his hair, and he let out a soft whine. Clearing your throat, you pointed out something on the screen that required his attention, and he pushed himself off your lap with a disappointed groan. Once he managed to get into a sufficiently upright sitting position against the headboard, he settled back into you, leaning against your shoulder. He idly laid his hand on your leg, and you covered it with your own, stroking the scarred skin with your thumb.

Because he was so frequently exhausted, you had gotten into the habit of… well, cuddling. Platonically. Professionally. Eventually you grew so comfortable together that you started working from his bed, where he could fall asleep if he needed and not have to drag himself from the study (a short but insurmountable distance when one is in great pain and too tired to even sit up).

It felt nice to be so close with someone, even if you were never allowed to see his face.

As relaxed as you had grown together, he was always covered completely from head to toe. The only indication to the extent of his burns was the scarring that peeked underneath the white chin of his mask, covered his throat, dipped below the collar of his dress shirt, and covered his hands like a gnarled glove.

You closed down your computer after he had finished reviewing and signing all of the necessary digital forms you needed for that day.

Not just for that day, in fact. Those were the last ones. That was it. His end-of-life planning was complete. You could only hope he wouldn’t need it for a long time. The thought of him in a hospital on life support sent an uncontrollable pang through your heart.

Extricating yourself from his clinging limbs, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and packed the laptop in a messenger bag. His hand chased after you, gingerly grasping your hand. A soft, familiar gesture, silently pleading you to stay.

“It’s been a pleasure working with you, Mr. Chilton.” You gave a coy smile. “Sorry. Doctor.”

His pretty eyes narrowed inside the mask, and his shoulders heaved with a short breath of laughter. He had corrected you so harshly the first day that you were sure he was going to cancel your services then and there. He had only been kind to you since. Particular, but kind. “It’s a shame this is our last meeting,” you sighed, and you meant it.

You were going to miss him. He was an unusual client, and you enjoyed getting to know him.

“It does not have to be the last,” he blurted, desperation tinging his muffled voice. “I could continue paying for your time.”

You cocked your head. “Everything is set up. The only thing we’re waiting on is confirmation from the—”

“I could pay you for… other services.” His thumb brushed sensuously over your wrist.

Oh. Oh.

Your eyes widened and you felt a shameful twitch between your thighs. You tried to hold your composure but your cheeks were burning and your face revealed every sinful thought whirling through your mind.

“I do not mean anything untoward,” he said quickly. “Nothing you do not wish to do. I enjoy your company and would like to keep it, that is all.”

Nothing untoward? You deflated. Something untoward happening had been a thought you’d been pushing down into a box with a tight lid for weeks now, and the moment he said that—the millisecond you thought he might want you that way—the lid sprang off like a pressurized cannon, and it would take ages to gather up all the licentious images scattered in your mind and contain them again. But he just wanted company. Any company. Even some random accountant.

A new wave of sympathy welled up in your chest. “You really don’t have anybody, do you?”

He let go your wrist quite suddenly to cross his arms over his chest, and his placid mask turned away sharply. Underneath the expressionless porcelain, you had a feeling the prickly psychiatrist was anything but calm.

“You believe I am lonely?” he scoffed. “My last book topped the New York Times Best Seller list. If I wish for company I can have it. I was merely being sentimental, as I have grown accustomed to you and find you tolerable. It seemed simpler than finding somebody new if we continued with… another arrangement.”

The shyness with which he said arrangement, pronouncing it with stretched syllables to give it weight, made you certain he did intend something untoward until he misread your look of surprise as rejection.

What you should have said was there was no need to pay you to spend time with him—that you were happy enough to do that on your own. That you found it surprising how a man so charming and cuddly could believe he needed to pay for anyone’s company. But the idea of being paid for “services” titillated you, sending an electric jolt straight to your core.

So instead you said, “All right.”

The mask swung back to face you. “All right?”

“What kind of arrangement do you have in mind?” you purred, crawling back onto the bed toward him.

He swallowed sharply. The strip of exposed neck beneath the mask’s chin was red and had the texture of kneaded bread dough, but the bob of his Adam’s apple was pronounced enough for you to see his undisguised arousal.

Since you had been sitting close to each other near the edge of the bed, you were almost immediately on top of him, smoothing the silky fabric of his shirt down his chest. He smelled of spices and a hint of something clean and floral. “Well?” you pouted expectantly. His muscles were stiff as rocks. All you could see through the mask were two pale eyes the color of autumn moss staring in panic from a white sea of sclera.

“I didn’t necessarily mean… i-if you don’t want to…” he stammered, words losing their controlled diction. Apparently he had not anticipated you agreeing so readily, but a stirring in the front of his slacks suggested this was precisely the outcome he had hoped for. You took a chance and ran your palm over the growing bulge, and were rewarded with a gasp, his fingers clenching the sheets. “Yes, that—that is wonderful. Keep going,” he croaked.

He shifted, opening his legs to give you better access, and you turned so your thigh rested over his, skirt riding up, as you rubbed him through his pants. His hands wandered over your hips and back, muscular arms pulling you in closer. Seeking more contact, you buried your face against the kneaded skin his neck where you could feel warm puffs of breath escaping from the sides of the mask. You wondered if he would take it off, now that you were being intimate. Part of you hoped he wouldn’t. The anonymity added to the thrill, to the wrongness of what you were doing. You agreed to let a man you’d never even seen have his way with you for money.

His breath grew ragged as his cock hardened, lengthening under your palm. His hands withdrew from their exploration of your body to clumsily unbutton his slacks, which were tenting under the strain of his growing erection. It sprang free and he stroked himself a few times, but your hand was right there to take over the job. His muscles tensed, prepared to flinch away when you released him in disgust, but you bit your lip, lids fluttering closed as you tried and failed to hold in a lewd noise of pleasure.

He stared at you like you were the most incredible thing he had ever seen. Then he let out a breathy moan, head falling back against the headboard. “You are… quite eager,” he teased.

“I’ve been waiting a long time.”

He wondered if that was true, or if it was just something you said, but he let himself be excited by it anyway, pretending you wanted him.

His cock felt incredible in your hand—heavy, throbbingly hot, like holding a heartbeat, and textured with a mesh of grafts and thin, stiff ridges of surgical scars zigzagging down the shaft to allow it to expand to its full, exquisite length. You wondered if you were the first person he’d been with since his burn, and a weight of importance settled onto your shoulders.

“Am I doing all right?” you whispered, trying to gauge his reaction from an unforthcoming mask. “Tell me what you want.”

“Take off all of your clothing,” he said thickly. “All of it.”

You tugged at your shirt, in a hurry to obey, but he stopped you, and had you get up and stand beside the bed where he could see all of you.

He wanted to watch.

The cold white mask was unreadable, even Chilton’s green eyes disappearing into the shadows, as you began unbuttoning your blouse.

“The skirt first,” he instructed. Your heart skipped a beat. Self-consciously, fingers trembling at the clasp, you zipped down the skirt, letting it fall to the floor in a puddle around your ankles. You looked to him for approval.

His cock was in his hand and he was stroking himself slowly as he called out the next article of clothing for you to remove. It made the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and your cunt drip with anticipation. A wealthy eccentric who had essentially bought you was sitting there in control while you were exposed and vulnerable, not showing any emotion but clearly getting off to you.

Trembling breath shuddered in his throat, strained. As he allowed you to undo your blouse, button by button, his pace built urgency, hand beating up and down in his lap. You could imagine how his face looked beneath that calm mask—how clouded with lust, helpless and falling apart.

God, you wanted to see him. But not knowing was such a turn-on.

At last he guided you to slip off your panties, and you stood naked before him. He stopped stroking himself.

“Come here,” he beckoned with his finger.

You climbed onto the bed, skin prickling with goosebumps, and settled yourself next to him in a familiar cuddling position. His arm easily snaked around your back, supporting and drawing you closer.

“How are you doing?” he asked, ducking his mask close to whisper like it was a secret.

“Nervous,” you admitted, whispering back.

His fingers circled your wrist, calloused with scars but the fingernails polished and manicured, and press into the soft underside. “Your pulse is racing,” he said as if you were a patient. “We can stop.”

The needy whine in your throat cleared up any uncertainty before you could form words. “I don’t want to stop. If you need to stop, we can. But I…” your eyes drifted unconsciously to his cock, thick and covered in distinctive surgical details, and you sucked your lower lip between your teeth. You wondered how he would feel sliding into your entrance.

Pressing your shoulders, he began by having you lie on your back on top of the blankets, exposed for him. Then he asked you to spread your legs so he could kneel between them. You thought he was going to fuck you, but he just hovered above you, watching.

He had taken off his suit jacket before getting into bed, but the end of his blue-patterned tie dangled dangerously above his stiff cock, which emerged from the opening in his dark slacks. He was very well dressed, only revealing what little flesh was necessary. He loosened the knot around his neck, and pulled it off, tossing it haphazardly aside.

Soft green eyes bored into you from their protected porcelain fortress, heating your skin like a fire as they took in the curves and dips and perfect imperfections of your body.

Finally he moved.

Bracing himself on one arm, he leaned above you, hand roving intimately over the same curves of your body his eyes had just navigated. You were so worked up already, your back arched and you moaned the moment he made contact with your skin. You were ready, writhing and straining for him to fuck you, but he only touched you.

He didn’t rush for the obvious areas you expected, but took his time. Instead of going directly for your tits, he caressed the length of your collarbone delicately with just his thumb and two fingers. Then he dipped lower, and you sucked an expectant breath, but he drew a line down your sternum, between your breasts, and splayed his scarred fingers out over the soft of your belly.

You were so ready to explode from anticipation, even the slightest graze of his fingertips sent sparks tickling across your skin wherever they went. You thought about him touching himself while he watched you strip.

It was so hard to know what he was thinking. The mask removed facial expression from the equation, and when he went silent for so long like this, you trembled with how blindfolded you felt, just focusing on his touch..

He traced one finger delicately down your arm, ghosting just over the skin in a wandering, unhurried path that raised a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

The pink head of his cock glistened with precum, waiting just as anxiously as you to bury itself inside you. You wanted to take control, grasp it, and plunge him between your thighs, but you didn’t want to spook him. If this was the first time he was intimate with someone since being scarred, it was a big step. You didn’t mind him taking his time. You were hypnotized by his delicate touches, every inch of your skin vibrating like the air during a lightning storm.

Leaning down closer, he curled his fingers around your neck. You gasped as the throbbing weight of his erection pressed into your stomach—but he was only studying your face. Still, he was much closer now, the heat of his body inches from yours, and being able to feel his cock was almost too much. You reached up to wrap your arm around his back, pulling him even harder against you.

God you were beautiful. And sweet, and intelligent. He wanted to keep you. Maybe it was just how tender he was from his latest life-altering trauma, but he had never wanted anything quite as much as he wanted you.

Your skin was warm and smooth, so unlike his, but you did not mind—or you were skilled at concealing your distaste. He observed with pleasure how you shuddered and sighed and leaned into his touch. How you gasped and moaned and wanted him. It was just for the money, of course. He knew that. Wealth could buy all kinds of love from the sort of person with the proper priorities—though he had not expected you to be one of them. It was a desperate final effort to make you stay. But some surprises were good ones.

He trailed his fingertips along your jaw, over your cheek. You whined as his fingers brushed across your lips, and you parted them, tasting a salty pad with the tip of your tongue. You felt his cock jerk against your stomach. So you licked him again, satisfied to achieve the same reaction, as well as pull a low whimper from deep in the back of his throat. His fingers curled around your chin, thumb still teasing the tender inner flesh of your lower lip, letting your tongue draw him in deeper, pinching the manicured digit between your teeth, and finally sucking on it, pretending it was his exquisite cock in your mouth.

It drove him crazy. With every swirl of your tongue, his cock twitched and grew harder, and a strangled sob would force its way shaking out of him. The contrast between the impassive mask and the lustful noises muffled within its porcelain shell sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, and you rocked your hips against his pant leg. He lowered himself to your ear and nuzzled your neck. His noises were even louder, intensifying your greed for him. Your hand snaked its way up to the back of his head, fingers gripping his hair, and tugged his head down.

He stiffened, every muscle going rigid. Grunting disapprovingly, he knocked your hand away, but to your gasping delight, continued to drag the mask down your body.

He felt sick deceiving you. No matter how much money he had to offer, you would never agree to be with him if you knew what was under the mask. He couldn’t risk you tugging at it. It was terrifying and confusing enough that you were touching him at all—the incredible, gorgeous way your body moved beneath him—and if you knew, you would be gone. It would all go away. This dream would end as a nightmare. He felt awful, but unbridled lust overwhelmed every bit of logic and tenuous scrap of decency he had. He deserved something good, just this once. He was going to make you scream for him in pleasure, not horror.

Hard, expressionless porcelain traveled down your soft skin, its cold lips following the swell of your breast. It brushed your nipple, and you arched your back, moaning around the thumb in your mouth. Your body started shaking with so many sensations—the cold smooth porcelain rolling your hardening peak under its sculpted ridges, his cock pressing into you, and his warm, rough, salty thumb, dripping with saliva as you took out your frustrations on it, swirling your tongue over the pad, bobbing your head, hoping to drive him mad enough to fuck you already.

His movements were jerkier and less patient, you noticed—he was falling apart, too.

He continued moving lower, his thumb escaping your mouth with a wet pop and trailing down your chin as the mask’s pointed nose traced a ticklish path over your stomach, and down, between your thighs. The mask’s nose just barely grazed your clit, but you were so ready for release it made you whimper loudly and grab at his hair, almost coming just from one touch. You wanted to push his head between your legs and let you grind your swollen clit against that nose until you broke, but he brushed your hand off again and you relented. You had an unspoken language built on weeks of cuddling—He was sensitive about certain things. He set a boundary and you knew not to push it.

Though he didn’t let you ride his mask, he stayed between your legs. He pressed the broad flat of his palms against your outer thighs as he deeply breathed in your scent, and you shuddered at the lewd act. He let out the breath with a long, intoxicated sigh.

“P-please,” you whimpered, knowing just how pathetic you sounded. “Please fuck me.” Every muscle in your body was on fire from this agonizingly slow foreplay, straining for some kind of release. A satisfied chuckle rumbled deep in his chest.

“So impatient,” he teased, voice low and soft. “I want to savor every second. Every inch of you.”

You swallowed hungrily.

#frederick chilton #Frederick Chilton x reader #Hannibal #raul esparza #Kinktober #female reader #thatesqcrush kink bingo #my writing

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entity9silvergen · 4 years ago

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Mosaic (Disenchantment Fanfiction)

Summary: We are just mosaics of everyone we love and that mosaic shows everyone we love how beautiful they are. Bean doesn’t think she can love like everyone else but maybe that’s okay.

Fandom: Disenchantment

Word Count: 2K

Characters: Bean

Relationships: Bean/ Mora, Mentioned Bean & Everyone, Mentioned Odval/ Sorcerio, Mentioned Zog/ Oona, Mentioned Zog/ Dagmar

Warnings: Internalized arophobia, first person pov, some self-deprecation, sex mention, drug mention, mention of interspecies relationships in fantasy setting

Other Tags: F/F, Mentioned F/F QPR, Reflection/ Self-Reflection/ Internal Thoughts, No Dialogue, Queerplatonic, Aromantic Character, Aromantic Homosexual Character, Arospec Character, Queer Themes, Unreliable Narrarator, S3E6, Oneshot, AroWriMo 2021

Author’s Note: My friend sent me the line “I am a mosaic of everyone I’ve ever loved” about twenty minutes after I watched “Final Splash.” I’m working on the prompt for Week 2 of AroWriMo rn but I had to drop everything and write a short fic about this. Again, I didn’t really use the prompt but it kind of fits with week 1’s prompt romo/loveless & future.

I’m headcanonnoning Bean as aro or demiro/ greyro. I think in the show it was implied she never experienced romantic attraction prior to meeting Mora because she likes women and I don’t want to erase that in any way but Bean still gives off a big aromantic bisexual homo(queer)platonic vibe.

_____________________

My name is Princess Tiabeanie of Dreamland and I’ve never loved anyone.

I mean, I love my dad and my friends and all that but I’ve never loved loved anyone. Is that weird to say? That makes it sound like I don’t really love my dad and Elfo and Luci and everyone. I probably shouldn’t say that then because I actually love them a lot. They’re my everything.

One time, I was walking down Elf-Ally and this elf was sitting on the side of the road with some chalk. I feel like elves would really like chalk but I’ve never seen any of them use it, not even Arto, except this guy. I’d never seen anything like it before so I asked what he was doing and he said he was making this mosaic to show his love for this other elf he liked. I didn’t really understand it so he explained it to me like this: we are just mosaics of everyone we love and that mosaic shows everyone we love how beautiful they are.

I still didn’t get it so I just laughed at him and he got kind of upset and threw a piece of chalk at me. It didn’t really hurt but Luci was with me and the elf started throwing stuff at him and you know how Luci gets when he hits his nose so we left. I couldn’t really forget what that elf said though.

You see, a mosaic is a mix of a bunch of little pieces taken from different things that all come together to make one thing. There’s this mosaic at the church and it’s pretty freaking ugly but the mosaic this elf was making was just so beautiful. He used so many colors and he drew all these little pictures and hid these words I didn’t understand in them. I’d expect it to be all crude and gross like those scribbly pictures Derek would draw when he was younger that Oona pretended to love but it all came together so well. It didn’t even look like separate pieces. It was just one.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The influences of countless parts of my life, weaving together into an insanely complex mesh- That felt like me. I always felt like something was broken in me but maybe I’m just a mosaic.

I think my dad made me who I am the most. Even if he wasn’t really present most of my life. Sure, we don’t see eye to eye sometimes but I think we’re better because of that. He made me strong. His actions guided me into becoming the woman I am today. He taught me how to keep fighting. Literally and figuratively. He taught me to keep my head up and he taught me how to stab people. It’s pretty cool. I remember this one time as a kid he took me out to the courtyard, stole this guy’s knife, and taught me how to use it. I think I still have the knife actually. I don’t stab people with it anymore though.

(I hope he’s okay. He hasn’t been the same in awhile.)

My mom… Well, I don’t really love her anymore but I did for a long time. She was… How do I put it? A constant in my life. Even though she wasn’t there. What I felt towards her, it kept me together for a long time. When I had nothing to fall back on, I always had her memory. Until she tried to take over Dreamland, obviously. Now I just say she gave me my love for alcohol and that’s pretty sweet too.

(I still miss her. I bet she’s dead.)

You know those pictures where the guy has an angel and demon on his shoulders telling him what to do? That’s Elfo and Luci, and it’s literal for Luci. And maybe for Elfo? He did go to heaven that one time. It can be kind of annoying to hear them bickering all the time, especially since they almost never want the same thing, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Elfo keeps me safe and Luci pushes me to be more than I am. They make life fun. Fuller. Less lonely.

(I’m scared they might leave someday. I wouldn’t blame them.)

I don’t really like Derek but I still love him. Maybe a little less since he tried to burn me at the stake. Maybe a little more since he chickened out at the last second. And a little less because he still went through with it. And maybe a little more since it was an accident. We have a complicated relationship but he’s still my little brother, as weird as he is. He reminds me of what I have to fight for, if that makes sense. I don’t really see him as the future of Dreamland or anything but he’s still a little kid and I can’t really help but have a soft spot for him. Don’t tell him I said that.

(I wonder if he’ll keep me around when he’s king. I’d be lying if I said I was surprised.)

The same goes for Oona. I never liked her but I think I love her. Especially after she tried to save me from my mom. And since she became an epic pirate. She’s awesome. She’s the mom I always wished I had except she was actually there the whole time and I didn’t realize it. I’m happy with how things turned out though. I don’t regret it. Plus she’s got great taste in drugs. I still steal them sometimes.

(I don’t know if she loves me. Maybe she did once but not anymore.)

I kind of hate Odval and Sorcerio in a weird way where I like them at the same time. They’re not really family but always been there. Like they’re kind of like second dads to me. Second dads whose the sex lives I know way too much about. My gay polyamorous uncles? But they kind of care under all that court properness and tradition nonsense so they’ve kind of wormed their way into my heart. They’ve always made my life difficult but I don’t think I would be myself if I wasn’t challenged so much.

(I think they’d rather have me gone. They don’t hide it every well but I can pretend.)

I’m going to be honest, I was really bummed when Pendergast died. We were kind of the same age and he hung around the castle for most of my life. And my dad trusted him so we actually did stuff together sometimes. A lot of adventures that never really went anywhere. He could be kind of a stick in the mud but he never really minded that I’m a girl and let me tag along on crusades and helped me get better with weapons and stuff. And Pendergast was weirdly loyal to Dreamland, even after Dad forked his eye out. Or was it spooned? I don’t remember. Some kind of eating utensil. I wasn’t there when it happened. But it was nice knowing I could trust him. He could be kind of fun though when he was off-duty. Total lightweight though. He threw up on one of those little guys who carries dad’s cape once.

(I wish I’d known him better. I really miss him but I can’t tell anyone since Dad gets set off by anything that even reminds him of the guy.)

Who else is there? That’s right, Mertz and Turbish. Turbish and Mertz. Two peas in a pod. Plus Mrs. Mertz. Don’t get me wrong, they are idiots. Totally incompentant. It’s a wonder they’re still alive. But they’re sweet. And they try. They’re not good at anything but they try. Sometimes I don’t want to try but they tell me I always can.

(I’m waiting for the day they realize they could have a better life. It’ll be weird not having them around the palace.)

I even kind of like Merkimer. As a pig, not a human. God, he was an awful human but he’s a funny little pig. He lets Luci ride on his back sometimes. Both of them like it way more than either of them will ever admit. It’s cute. I think they’re friends. If they’re not, Elfo and I will start plotting until they are. Or maybe not. A Luci-Merkimer friendship might be too much for Dreamland to handle. They’re kind of a lot, even on their own. Merkimer always kind of had a big head and it only got bigger when he accepted his new life. It’s actually kind of inspiring how happy he is now.

(I don’t want him to change but he already has. It makes me sad sometimes.)

And Bunty. Oh, Bunty. And Stan! The world doesn’t really deserve Bunty. Stan does though. I think they’re the ones who taught me what real love is. Bunty always showed me love as a kid, she was like the second mom I never had but actually did have because Oona was there. But she gave me something neither Oona or Dagmar could. I didn’t really understand it until I saw her and Stan and their family together. I still don’t. They’re really sweet.

(I’d give them everything. I know they just see me as some spoiled princess though.)

I want what those two have. Or what Odval and Sorcerio have. What my dad had with Dagmar or Oona. What Elfo’s had, and Luci’s had, and Derek’s had, and the knights have had. It feels like everyone’s had that kind of deep love at some point except me. I didn’t even realize until I was talking to Mora.

I’ve had the chance to have it. Merkimer, that brother of his I accidentally killed, that one time Pendergast made a pass at me, that Steamland guy… I don’t think any of it really would’ve worked out though. I’ve had a lot of things with guys and there’s been kissing and touching and I’ve always enjoyed it but I think I always knew it would never go anywhere. That it will never go anywhere. And I can’t even blame my dad because it’s all me. It’s always been me. And I’m okay with that? Maybe? I don’t think so but I’m not really good at understanding my feelings. It’s just another thing on the pile of things I won’t work through.

I think I understood what I had with Mora though. It wasn’t… romantic but it felt like it almost was. We just… clicked. It felt right. She was tough and funny and she didn’t hold anything back. She followed her dreams and didn’t let the world get her down. That one night we had together, I felt like we were alone in the world.

Mora gave me the ocean and the stars.

She was beautiful. Maybe that’s what was missing? None of the guys I ever screwed around with were beautiful. Not like Mora was. Not like a woman can be. I really felt like this was it but there was still that disconnect. Like something was there but not quite. Like something was missing. I don’t know what it was.

But then she just left. I had that dream and I just felt so happy. I’d never felt happiness like that. And I never felt pain like the pain I felt when I woke up and the necklace was gone. I definitely would’ve cried if Elfo wasn’t there. I might’ve actually cried a little bit. It’s kind of hard to hear anything when Elfo’s sobbing. Some of those tears might have been mine.

Did I love her? I don’t think so. Not like Elfo loved that boat. It wasn’t romantic. But it was real. It gives me hope. I don’t think I’m capable of the same kind of love everyone else seems capable of and that’s not even a slight at me. It’s just reality. But what I had with Mora, however brief and imagined it was, tells me that’s okay. I don’t need the kind of love everyone else has. Not when I have so many others in my life.

Still, I hope I see her again, even for a second, just to feel that kind of happiness again.

I think that’s what that elf meant when he said we are just mosaics of everyone we love and that mosaic shows everyone we love how beautiful they are. Mora was beautiful and she didn’t see it but maybe she would if she saw how I looked at her.

Stars and the ocean, I’ll never forget them. They’ll be a part of my mosaic forever.

Other AroWriMo Fics By Me, Posted on Ao3, Posted on FFN

#fanfiction #fanfic #arowrimo #aromantic writing month #week 1 #i am doing another one #oneshot #disenchantment #disenchanted season 3 #disenchanted netflix #disenchanted bean #disenchanted mora #i don't know why the tags are wrong #aromantic #aspec #aromantic allosexual character #queer themes

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random-mha-thoughts · 5 years ago

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Study Date (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x Reader

400 follower special! Thank you guys so much again 🥰🥰

Genre: Flufffff

Summary: Todoroki and you are up doing homework late in the library when he exhibits some very strange habits.

Inspo: A part of this headcanon post by @bnhaclaimedmysoul, that blog is floof central I love ittt

Word count: 1,077

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak

a/n: Surprise reveal! This is a little sample piece for a Todoroki x fem!Reader multi-chaptered fic I’m working on in the background. Not sure where I’ll be publishing it, but that’s a far away thought from now. I still have to work out the kinks for the plot, but the characters are pretty much set already. Here’s a little part that serves as a deleted/bonus/extra scene that doesn’t really fit into the plot, but I think it’s really cute and can stand alone as a gn!reader drabble that anyone can read for now. I didn’t put a lot of details to give anything away, but I will say that this is the calm before the storm :).

Enjoy~

My head almost falls off my propped arm, heavy with sleep in the middle of doing a problem. Sitting up straight and stretching, I see the time on my phone says 9:37 PM. I let out a groan, realizing I've been awake for at least 12 hours at this point.

"Are you okay?" Todoroki's smooth voice expresses concern at my sudden noise. His pencil freezes in place over his notebook, mismatched eyes gracing me.

"Yeah, just a little tired." I rest my head against my hand again, pulling my earbuds out. The steady instrumental playlist must have been low enough that it almost put me to sleep.

"Would you like to go back to the dorms?"

Flipping through the textbook pages in front of us, I sigh. "I still have a lot of these math problems to do, I can't stop yet."

Going back to work, I plug myself back up. I pull myself back into a monotonous rhythm of switching between writing and pushing buttons on my calculator as lo-fi music plays on loop in my ears. The numbers have meshed into my brain and become meaningless, and using the same equations over and over have me running on muscle memory.

Suddenly, hands softly capture both sides of my face and I'm snapped out of my reverie. Todoroki's deep stare bores into my soul. The difference in temperature of his hands confusing the senses in my cheeks, but even more unsettling is the way his eyes remain unmoving. The intensity almost makes me believe he has something to say, but I can't fathom the words to ask what it is. All I can do is stare back at his unreadable expression, making me more flustered as the endless seconds tick by.

As abruptly as it happened, Todoroki lets go of me and returns back to his own homework, leaving me dazed and confused about what just happened. The breath I didn't know I was holding finally exhales from me and I remain watching him. Nothing about his demeanor suggests he just did such a rogue action, or for what reason he did it.

Am I supposed to do nothing? Do I just disregard it? His uncaring reaction tells me I should.

Somehow, it's woken me up with a new shot of energy. I reach into my bag and pull out a box of Pocky to keep up that energy while I finish up this dreaded homework. I chew on a chocolate stick, considering that he might have done such a strange thing because he doesn't know any other ways of expressing emotions. In hindsight, it might have been affection in his eyes, they were definitely intense enough for something like that-

I'm shaken out of my thoughts again mid-chew when Todoroki nestles my head between his palms again, the same intense and unreadable emotion creased in his eyes and his furrowed brows. My gaze flickers between those orbs and the thin line of his his lips pressed together, unable to meet his eyes for very long. I'm about to find my voice to ask him what's gotten into me.

And he quickly presses a kiss to my nose before letting go.

My eyes widen and heat flows to my cheeks, stomach doing a quick flip. Oh. My mind scrambles to calm my heart beating at just a simple peck on the nose. Todoroki seems fine, he'd already picked up his pencil and gotten back into his rhythm while I'm still staring at him dumbly.

He must have been trying to figure out how to do it properly from before, silly boy, I think, smiling to myself and basking in the warm aftermath. I can't concentrate on the stupid math in front of me because of his little gesture. The grin on my face can't be helped, refusing to relax.

To calm myself, I grab another stick of Pocky and bite into it to keep my mouth busy doing something else. Scanning over my paper to pick up where I left off, I spot a mistake I'd made in my work. Holding the long treat between my lips, I grab my eraser to clear the entire problem and start over. Picking my pencil back up to fix the whole problem, I furiously rewrite the work over, being the perfectionist I am and reprimanding myself for making such a stupid error.

In the middle of writing, Todoroki holds me once again. He looks down at the treat still hanging out of my mouth. Tilting my head up slightly, he inches closer.

And bites off three-quarters of the stick, our noses brushing briefly.

If my face was hot before, it's nothing compared to now. This time, Todoroki removes his hands and leans back, chewing thoughtfully. By some miracle, the words come out, albeit in a stutter, "I-If you wanted some, you could've said so."

"I thought it would taste better from your lips."

The suave way the words naturally flow out makes me embarrassed, even though we're the only two here. I feel the heat intensifying and making me dizzier. "For someone who can't express your emotions properly, you're a smooth-talker," I mutter, chewing the small piece leftover between my lips.

He shrugs. "It felt right to say, I guess." It's nonchalant, but I can see the slight tinge of pink across his own cheeks.

"Does that mean I can make a far-fetched conclusion about you?" I smirk, wishing to get back at him.

The color spreads and saturates on his face. "I know I apologized about that, it was rude of me."

"I know, I just like teasing you about it." I hug his arm, comforting his ashamed expression that didn't leave at my assurance. "I'm over it, really. We'll be laughing about it in the future."

The poor boy isn't convinced, the guilt still present in his features.

Instinctively, I press a kiss to his icy cheek, watching the darkness morph into shock with a chuckle. "It's my turn to fluster you," I offer in defense.

Cheeks red as his hair, he looks away to hide the color, but the warmth even under his cold side gives away his embarrassment. "We should finish our homework. It's getting late and we have class tomorrow."

I unwind myself from him reluctantly and place the box of Pocky between us, leaning my head against my arm again. This time, to silently admire the beautiful color of my precious boyfriend.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki fluff #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki shouto #todoroki imagine #todoroki scenario #gender neutral reader #mha todoroki #bnha todoroki #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #400 followers special

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spookyspaghettisundae · 4 years ago

Text

Steele Resolve

Over 300 billion years into the future.

"Get out," Dallas told Darkwing.

He eyed her suspiciously, then she shoved him—captain of this ship—out of his very own cabin. Punching the control button by the door, the panel slid shut in between them in a flash, shutting out both him and the glaring light from the corridor.

She stifled a laugh as the hypersteel barrier muffled his yapping—something about being a living god, among other things, rattling on as he audibly turned and wandered away, babbling all the way to the Avian's cockpit.

Dallas waited till he was far enough away, then listened at the door even longer. Ensuring she heard no signs of the cat, the psychotic robot, that disgusting engineer, or—most importantly—the girl.

The ship's star-drive churned, causing all surfaces to subtly vibrate while it steadily propelled the combat vessel through space. It meshed with the rushing of blood in her ears. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light in the cabin, generated only by arrays of glowing buttons, some of them steady, others blinking.

Half a minute felt long enough.

She slid into the swiveling chair that was bolted down onto the floor in front of a quantum entanglement communicator terminal.

The assassin tilted her head back and forth and her neck cracked both times.

With the routine of a spy, she slung out her trusty old ballistic revolver, flicked a concealed switch with her thumb, and slapped the archaic weapon against an open palm.

Then—again. And a third time.

A scrambler chip clicked out of the gun's grip.

She slipped it out and quickly inserted it into one of the terminal's slots. Tapped the power buttons and fired up the device.

The soft blue glow of the screen in front of her illuminated the entire dark chamber she sat alone in. A sigh of impatience escaped her as she awaited the loading bars of the chip's overrides to reach completion on-screen and guarantee her the use of a secure channel.

Meanwhile, a window popped up, listing all recent encrypted text messages she had received from her contacts over the course of the past time units. One of the message subjects read, "DIE BITCH", sent by a certain "Dragon." Many others reflected the bridges she had recently burned and flattered her with other colorful threats and creative insults. Fueled by professional pride, and mixed with a newfound sense of liberty, she smiled to herself and dismissed the entire window with a languid swipe.

Clickety-clackety-clickety-clackety—

Her fingers hacked away at the keyboard with an uncanny speed and precision. Hit the key to transmit with excessive force, a sound of polymers and metal snapping together that cut through the quiet, stale air of the captain's cabin.

Her heart began to race as she awaited response. The ensuing seconds dragged on like molasses, even if they were only few.

A screen, cropped out within the screen, flicked open and displayed a sea of static. The silhouette of her handler turned visible, emerging from within the visual noise, but never fully surfacing in full definition. Masked behind a helmet that emitted an ominous cross-shaped red glow, cast in shadows by a hood.

An agent of the Holy Lahasan Empire.

"Steele? You now also owe me some explanations," said her handler on the other end of the connection, that shadowy silhouette speaking to her from far across the galaxy, distorted by the distance and dampened by the mask.

Dallas leaned back into the chair, unknowingly sinking into it like the many times that the captain had done before, sinking into a spell of deeper contemplation.

She clicked her tongue and finally replied, "Things did not go quite as planned. There were some—complications."

"According to my intel, Agent Reeve was disintegrated in a blast caused by archaic explosives."

Dallas' mien darkened, turning into a frown. "All due respect, but Rourke was an asshole, and—"

"With all due respect, your personal opinions need to leave, exiting through the nearest airlock right now. Not only are you living on borrowed time for your treason against the Empress, but you have a jarring track record of valuable agents dropping dead around you."

"That sounds like your problem, not mine."

The handler's voice dropped in volume, slowed down to a grim crawl. "You remember the cortex bomb I had implanted in your spine, right?"

She scowled at the screen, unable to find any eye contact, instead focusing on the red glow of the cross.

"Come on, I'm too valuable to you. You wanted the best tracker in the universe, which is why you pulled me out of cryo-prison."

"And I am constantly re-evaluating that decision."

Dallas held her tongue. Her chin jutted out and she fidgeted in her seat until her fingers encountered the calming cool of the stainless-steel surface of the old lighter, hidden in her pocket.

"Moving on. Report your progress on retrieving subject K70001-34966."

Dallas decided to play it cool.

She had to play her cards right.

"What a mouthful. We are talking about some girl. Don't you wanna abbreviate that name a bit?"

"No."

Hesitating to answer, she patted her jacket down until she retrieved a palm-sized silvered case from another pocket. She pressed a button on it, and it clicked—also analog and mechanical—triggering its finely-engraved lid to swing open.

Removing a thin cigar from the other three inside it, she lit it up, puffed a few times, and then blew a mouthful of smoke towards the QEC's monitor. The agent awaited her response, but she regained some confidence just in the thought that constantly tested his patience to the point of annoying him.

He had to put up with her.

Threats aside, she was, in fact, the best woman for the job.

"I've gotten pretty damn close. I think it's a matter of weeks, or even days now."

"Be more precise," growled the handler.

"Look, I found out how she's getting around, alright? By stowing away on other people's ships. I'm closely on her trail now. We almost had her too! Sadly, for Rourke, he got killed in that explosion by some idiot that had nothing to do with the job. There was a shootout at this place on—"

"Most of that was in the report. Share more pertinent details, or get to the point," he ordered.

"It's just a matter of time till I can bring her in."

Now he remained silent, processing her meager report. It must have been better than nothing.

"You had best not disappoint. You know we—"

"Yes, yes. Borrowed time."

He said nothing.

Dallas' nostrils flared, blowing smoke out of them.

She squinted and smirked, then asked, "I offed Youssell for you like you requested, right? That wasn't exactly on the books, was it?"

This time, the agent failed to respond.

"Right, and now you're having me track down and retrieve some kid that you lost in the first place."

Though the hood, and helmet, and eerie mask with its cross-shaped glow fully concealed his face, she could practically hear him gritting his teeth as he replied, "Because of your meddling, Steele."

"Well, you have to agree that it's a bit—uh, how to put this—a bit outside of my usual expertise to find people and get them back alive. So, you'll have to kindly stick a thumb up your ass while you wait and give me some time to improvise and succeed. I mean, you do want the kid alive, right?"

More silence followed. Dallas blew more smoke at the monitor, wishing she could be blowing it into his face.

"So, my word—you're getting her alive—or you'll find me as a corpse floating through open space. That is a promise. But if you want this to work out, you'll have to trust me." Saying that, her smirk widened as she feigned every ounce of confidence she could put on display.

With an abrupt flash, the screen within the screen winked out of existence, and the static noise from the scrambled transmission went dead. The handler had ended the communication without giving Dallas any further notice.

"Oh, my. Lovely. Fuck you too, Prince Charming."

She basked in the cold blue glow of the terminal's screen and puffed some more from her slender cigar. She tried to focus on thoughts about how to proceed—of where to go from here. But instead of finding clear ideas and reaching decisive plans of action—something she was usually adept at—pesky memories kept welling up instead.

Thoughts also regularly circled back to the cortex bomb implanted in her spine, but the older memories eventually overshadowed them.

* * *

"I will not ask you again," said the inquisitor.

His hand crept towards a button on the wall outside the cell.

The girl trapped inside, identified on the monitor next to the white energy barrier as "Delinquent K70001-34966", drooled and writhed on the cold metal floor of that cell. She did not respond to the inquisitor's threat.

He pushed the button once more, causing the girl on the floor of the cell to convulse under waves upon waves of searing pain that washed over her, illuminated by bright yellow, crackling energy. Each surge of electrical discharges caused her to spasm until she threw up. Then she collapsed again, one cheek resting in the tiny pool of vomit. Covered in sweat, she lay there, curled up in a pathetic and helpless heap.

This was the umpteenth time that he had used the interrogation interface to torment the young woman trapped within.

The shock trooper standing guard by the inquisitor looked on in disbelief. Her gaze bounced back and forth in between the inquisitor standing outside the cell, coldly and callously operating this abominable torture device; and the helpless young woman who groaned pitifully as she twitched on the floor of her cell, not once having answered his questions, and not once having begged for mercy.

"I missed the memo on the M.O. of how you handle these things. But it's far from palatable," the guard said to the inquisitor.

The masked inquisitor turned to confront the assassin posing as a guard.

"Memo? Palatable? What the devil are you blathering on about?"

VLA-VLAM!

The barrel of the energy rifle in the hands of the false guard glowed.

She had shot the inquisitor twice in quick succession.

One to the chest to send him reeling, the other to the head to take him out.

To her chagrin, his masked helmet with the glowing red cross emblazoned on its front had absorbed some of the shock from the energy weapon, and he stumbled backwards, reeling—but still quite alive.

Damned energy weapons, Dallas Steele thought to herself, encased in the hijacked power armor of the guard. And this was why you can only count on ballistics, she thought next, even though time had slowed to a crawl.

He was too slow on the uptake though, too slow to raise his weapon and retaliate in time. She jacked up her weapon's cadence with a flick of her wrist, unloading a full salvo into his center mass.

VA-VA-VA-VA-VLAM!

The inquisitor collapsed into a lifeless body in the narrow corridor outside the holding cell, the metal of his armor clanked against the hard floor.

She approached him, poked him with the muzzle of her rifle, and confirmed on her helmet's HUD that his vital signs were bottoming out.

Next, she punched the cell barrier controls. The white force field between her and the girl flickered, then it dissipated entirely.

Hunching down over the young woman inside the cell and holding out an armored hand in offering to help her get back up on her feet, she simply commanded, "Get up."

K70001-34966 took her hand, trembling, feeble, and weakened. The false agent helped the young woman limp along through the narrow corridors, using the powered armor's strength enhancements to effortlessly brace the girl's entire weight as she stumbled alongside her.

A voice crackled, coming in over the false guard's armor-integrated headset, "Agent Heinlein, report in. We registered a weapons discharge in the holding area, and Inquisitor Valstrum is not responding. His vital signs are tanking. What the hell is going on back there?"

"Uh, it was some sort of, uhm, equipment malfunction," Not-Agent-Heinlein lied through her helm's intercom. "Investigating it right now."

"We registered seven discharges and you are moving from your post. What kind of—"

"Factory code zero-zero-zero," she quickly talked over the operator, cutting the communication off with a hard reset of her intercom, and shutting him out.

She dragged the girl along as she picked up the pace.

K70001-34966 was pretty out of it. Drooling, bare heels sliding with squeaks over sleek metal floors.

The dozen or more shocks must have rendered her groggy. No matter—she had nothing to do with the mission anyway. Dallas just had to take a moment to silence that pesky consciousness that was knocking on the mental door, begging to be let in from the prison inside the back of her head.

Once they had reached an emergency escape pod, Dallas shoved the girl inside, causing her to tumble forward and fall back down onto the floor, not unlike she had been in the holding cell. Leaving her no time to recover, the false guard shuttered the docking mechanism and ejected the pod. For a brief few seconds, she saw the girl looking back at her helmet-clad face, going wide-eyed with surprise. A jet of steam shot in between them, obscuring that glimpse.

The next moment, the angular pod jettisoned off at breakneck speed as its boosters activated and it shot off into space, hurtling towards a thriving terrestrial planet pockmarked with a brightly lit complex of clustered urban zones. And all around it, the Sea of Stars.

The intercom in the hallway crackled, whined, and then the operator shouted at her over it, "There will be a court martial—"

VA-VA-VA-VLAM!

Four shots had ripped through the corridor and caused the exposed intercom console to explode into a shower of sparks and fizzing.

The false guard ripped her helmet off in annoyance. Her face was covered in a sheen of sweat.

This job was a bust. She would have to cover her tracks. She would have to kill every single person left on this ship.

As two scout troopers rounded the corner, Dalla popped out of cover to greet them with bursts of hyper-charged plasma shots, cleanly removing the head of one of them in the first burst, and ripping the other apart, cleaving his upper body from the rest of him.

One of them had reflexively shot back with a salvo of his own. The powered armor could only absorb so much impact and energy.

Her leg and ribs throbbed, she coughed and grinned and mostly gritted her teeth to ignore the waves of pain, surging from those uncomfortably hot spots, wondering for a moment if it was worse than what the girl had gone through.

Dallas limped away through the claustrophobic corridors. Her breathing had turned raspy. A maniacal laugh emerged from her throat, ending in a hacking cough.

She had never fucked up a job this badly. She was a killer, sure—but she had some rules. Some principles.

No kids.

That was her only condition.

Why did they have to be torturing a kid aboard of this damned transporter? She wanted to kill the guy who had fixed her up with this "milk run".

Her vision blurred. Next, she coughed, blood splattered on the panel by the door. She punched the controls, it slid shut in a flash. She limped away, towards the droning and deafening noises emitted by the engine core.

Tried to make sense of the engineering console and all its blinking lights and inane strings of letters and numbers that said rather little to a woman of her trade.

The outlines of the blast door glowed brightly as someone tried to force the doorway open, using a fusion cutter, from the other side. Trying desperately to get inside to stop their murderous stowaway from sabotaging their star-drive.

Dallas gave up in her failed effort at trying to override the engine's security protocols.

She aimed the plasma rifle at a set of power couplings, closed her eyes and turned her head away. Pulled the trigger.

VA-VA-VA-VA-VA-VA-VA-VA-VA-VLAM!

Sparks and metal pieces flew all over the place, causing her to flinch.

The weapon not only glowed, but steam also rose from its barrel now.

"Critical system failure," a monotonous computer voice announced over the ship's intercom speakers. It continued to repeat the warning, over and over again. The bright white lights went out, replaced by red lights rhythmically rotating and casting everything in an eerie state of emergency.

A revolving alarm sound began to bleat, piercing Dallas' already throbbing skull. The edges of her eyesight blurred, closing in quickly.

They got inside, but the next moments turned into a haze.

A rush of unfiltered instinct—killer instinct. A perfect storm of honed reflexes, augmentations, and pure skill. A ballet of carnage.

Three more bodies hit the floor, clanking, and clattering, and groaning. One of them even yelled for his mother before she snuffed him out with a sudden stomp from her armored boot.

She remembered leaving bloody handprints whenever she pushed herself off the walls of the corridor, methodically making her way back to the escape pods, locking each and every blast door behind her as she progressed, shutting out the sounds of pursuers, of troopers in powered armor chasing her through the transporter's winding hallways.

Just before she lost consciousness, she remembered seeing the ship shrink. Smaller and smaller, as the escape pod she had jettisoned herself with flew farther and farther away from the imperial transporter.

Only moments after the vessel transformed into bright explosions and space debris within the blink of an eye, her eyelids weighed a million tons and she blacked out.

The next thing she remembered, she was on some forsaken planet's surface with a breathable atmosphere, staring down the barrels of high-powered pulse rifles of MilSec soldiers, surrounded by Imperial attachés.

They already had her wrists wreathed in the purple glow of energy shackles, lifting her up and dragging her off, taking her into custody.

"Hello, boys," she said, groaning, then cackling until it was clipped off by her pained coughing.

Unbeknownst to her then, her future handler stood there, amid the attachés. The ominous red cross glowed from the front of his masked helmet as he watched the grunts do the heavy lifting, peeling her out of the damaged suit of armor and confirming that the emergency gel would prevent her from dying.

At this point in time, she did not know him yet, but he recognized her. Had seen her mugshot as a wanted criminal more than once.

Looking back, she knew. In that moment, he already formulated plans for her.

But first, she had to go into cryo. After that, installing the bomb in her spine would follow.

—Submitted by Wratts

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fyexo · 4 years ago

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200926 SuperM Open Up About The Encouraging Message Behind Their New Album "Super One"

The group's members are some of the most skilled performers in K-pop history; Kai and Baekhyun are from Exo, Taemin is from Shinee, and Lucas, Taeyong, Mark, and Ten are from NCT and its Chinese sub-unit WayV, respectively.

When they join forces as SuperM, however, the result is incendiary — otherworldly vocals mesh with indomitable rapping to create powerful performances that leave viewers reeling long after the group has left the stage. Don't believe me? Just watch the group perform their breakneck power anthem "100" and prepare to feel absolutely exhilarated.

It's been less than a year since their debut, but SuperM has already made history by becoming the first K-pop group to debut at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 album chart with the release of their debut EP SuperM — The 1st Mini Album. It's an achievement that youngest member Mark credits in part to their fans, who banded together from multiple fandoms to support their debut; it was also a great source of inspiration for SuperM to work even harder so their next album would be even better than the last.

Now, SuperM is back with their first full-length album, Super One, out Sept. 25.

AKA, today! With the world currently under lockdown due to the pandemic, it was SuperM's desire to create an album that would give fans encouragement and, according to Kai, "take [them] to a place of hope." The 15-track album still includes the group's signature powerful sound with songs like "One" and "100," but also highlights the softer side of SuperM with tracks like the gospel-infused "Better Days" and funky "Together at Home" too.

We sat down with SuperM in a roundtable interview to discuss their new album, Super One, and how they hope its overall message of coming together will bring comfort to fans around the world during the pandemic.

1. After the release of your first EP debuting at No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 200 chart, did you feel any sort of pressure while preparing to release this album?

Mark: It was our first EP release, you know? So to have that No. 1 achievement itself was an honor. It was our first EP as SuperM and to have our fans really combine their strength to support us really felt great, so it motivated us to really work harder on this album. We put double the amount of effort we put in on our last album into this album, so we believe that the quality went up that much as well. We can’t wait for fans to listen to Super One too now.

2. What made you decide to combine two songs together to make your title track "One?" It feels reminiscent of Shinee's song "Sherlock!"

Taemin: When I recorded “Sherlock” with Shinee back in the day, it was one of the first times we were doing this [type of hybrid song creation], so it felt very experimental. At that time, I was a little worried about how it would end up sounding at the end of the recording process, but I think after recording [this kind of song] with “Sherlock,” I was able to see how this song would come to be as “One.” A lot of people might think that mixing two songs together is quite tall of a task, but we were able to do it and I’m really happy with the results.

3. What’s your favorite track on the new album?

Baekhyun: “Big Chance” is my favorite. I personally like taking big chances and looking for big opportunities, so just the title itself caught my attention.

Taemin: I would probably say “Wish You Were Here.” I actually think this would’ve been a great title track as well. I personally think all of the members did a great job in recording [this song] and I love how it sounds. This song is actually one that’s more unexpected from SuperM, because audiences usually expect a performance-heavy song and I think the message within it is one that really brings the whole album together and conveys the message that we’re hoping to convey with Super One.

Kai: “Tiger Inside” is one of my favorites because when you listen to it, you just feel energized and you feel that strength coming from the song. And I feel like it’s a song that showcases all of the members really well.

Mark: I honestly really like “Wish You Were Here” as well, but I’m going to say that I really like “Infinity” right now. "One" is a song that combines “Infinity” and “Monster,” but I feel like “Infinity” has its own story and dynamic and you can feel a different side [of it] than you can feel from “One” when you listen to it.

Taeyong: I'll pick “Together at Home,” because I like that message. Overcome this situation and—

Mark: Netflix.

Taeyong: And just Netflix.

Lucas: My personal favorite is “So Long” because the melody is really addictive, like once you listen to it, it hooks you right away. I really think it’s a song that fans will all appreciate.

Ten: “Infinity!” Like Mark said, the dynamics and storytelling were outstanding on that track. Also, I was so lucky that I got to try this rap/vocal kind of style that I had been wanting to try for a long time on “Infinity,” so I enjoyed recording it very much.

4. What is something you learned about yourself while creating Super One?

Baekhyun: One of the new things that I learned while preparing for this album in particular was that we were able to stretch our limits even more. As you know, we released "100," "Tiger Inside," and now we’re releasing the title track “One." Each of these songs has such a great concept and choreography — just putting all of that together was really challenging, to be honest. I think that was something that I learned when we were able to come together as a group and face that together.

5. Given that each member comes from another major group, how do you make sure that each member has their moment to shine on Super One?

Lucas: Visually, we all have different aesthetics that go along with our individual styling and I think that kind of points to each of our charms. In our upcoming music video for “One,” we all had different designs and colors, but it all still stayed connected. I feel like through those points that we give out through our art that it adds a charm for each of us.

6. Super One features a wider variety of musical styles and influences than your first album. How do you feel SuperM’s musical identity has grown with this new album?

Taemin: I would say that while putting together this album, we were able to [bring a greater sense of] harmony between the members than we did initially. Everyone is just so skilled, but with this album, we were able to experiment more and try out these different genres and see how it all comes together.

8. Which song on the album have you personally come to fall even more in love with in time, and what made you fall in love with it?

Ten: I would choose our ballad song “Better Days” because at first when I listened to the song, it sounded kind of old — seriously, it sounds like it’s from the '90s, a very old pop song. But after we recorded, I realized the song goes well with us and the concept we want to release because the lyrics are very healing. I think when you listen to “Better Days” you can get that energy that us together, we can make a better day.

9. SuperM has all of these modes of transportation that are featured throughout your music videos. At a time when we can’t travel and the world is kept apart, what does this represent to you and how do you want it relayed through the album?

Kai: If you look at our past music videos, there are helicopters, tanks, and a lot of cars. I think that goes really well with SuperM’s concept as a group. That’s why those modes of transportation were kind of illustrated through our music videos in our past songs. We can’t really travel right now because of the pandemic and everything that’s going on, but we really hope that, just like these modes of transportation take you somewhere, that this album can be that mode of transportation to take you to a place of hope and to a higher place where everyone can enjoy themselves and be happy.

10. Looking back on all of your journeys so far, what is one event that you considered a failure at the time, but now you feel it ultimately led to your success today?

Taeyong: As artists, when we start out our careers, I can’t help but feel like a lot of the moments that we go through feel like we’re still trying to get there, or like we’re not fully there yet. There are a lot of moments where it might have felt like a failure, but actually everything was a step to build up to what we have now.

Mark: When I first debuted, my hair was very short, so my bangs were above my eyebrow by like four inches and I honestly hated it during my debut. But coming back to it now, I feel like it was alright.

Taeyong: It was cute!

Mark: It was appropriate just for that age, you know! Just for that time in my life.

Ten: Like Mark, mine is the same. During the debut days like “The 7th Sense,” when I saw my own hair, I was like: “This is not going to work out.” But now I miss it so much; I’ve got to get it soon!

Mark: Hair is an important factor for a debut for us!

11. Mark and Taeyong, you both wrote and produced on the last two albums. When you're writing a song like "100" or "Together at Home," what is your creative process like?

Mark: Most importantly, I feel like whenever we have to create or produce something for our raps and rap making, the main theme and the meaning are what’s most important. This particular album, for “100” or any other song, the main meaning for the whole album is to really bring hope and to encourage people that unison is the only way for us to get through this and through all of our problems. So we kind of used that theme, in a way, to interpret each and every song. So for “Together at Home,” we really felt like, we’re all staying together at home, so what are the benefits and what are the goods that we can bring out of this? What are the ways that we can connect through our songs while we stay at home and everything? So I feel like that process worked for every other song and we enjoyed that while making the raps as well.

Taeyong: Also, the most important thing is the performances. This time, Taemin hyung fixed our choreography [so it has] more detail. I think, this time, our performance is really dope and great and untouchable. I think I’m very excited — please look forward to it. Thank you!

12. What is the key ingredient needed to transform a song into a SuperM song?

Kai: Each member's individual charms are a main ingredient, but if I had to add one more spoonful, it would be the producing and direction of our executive producer Lee Soo Man. As you know, SuperM is a group that is really strong with its performances, so that’s a really key ingredient that’s needed when making a SuperM song.

13. And finally, how has SuperM evolved since your debut together?

Baekhyun: With this new album, especially just the process of recording it, we were able to emphasize the message within the album. All of the songs have their own message, but Super One is all about unity and being unified. I think in terms of the sound of the music itself, we wanted to make sure to relay a message of positivity rather than just focus only solely on the performance. This was an album where we were able to focus on the messaging more, so I think we’ve matured in that sense.

Emelyn Travis @ Buzzfeed

#exo #kai #baekhyun #t: interview #200923 #e: interview

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moscnios · 5 years ago

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SEE YOU AGAIN ━ﾞ

⁺◟ CHARACTERS . . . guido mista fem!reader

⁺◟ GENRE . . . angst oneshot

⁺◟ SYNOPSIS . . . life is unfair and mista learns that the hard way after the love of his life is killed before his very eyes.

⁺◟ CONTENT WARNINGS . . . graphic descriptions of death ‘ blood

⁺◟ WORD COUNT . . . 2.1k.

⁺◟ COMMENTARY . . . i used his epilogue outfit because the purple and blue is SUPERIOR !!! and deserved more screentime. also i don’t know what it is about these types of oneshots like i literally have to hold myself back from breaking my own heart.

The sky was various shades of pink, purples, blues, and oranges. They all meshed well together, behind the setting sun and pure white clouds.

The tides from the beach came further than they had all day, the small children running from the water while screaming and cheering. Other children crying and throwing tantrums as since the sun was setting the beach was going to close soon. The smell of the sea had filled the nose of a lone tan-skinned man, setting close by the beach.

The man sat the closest table to the beach, looking out into the sea. Unlike he usually did, the man let his short black hair feel the breeze from the sea. His hat, which was different than the one he wore just a year ago, sat on the table just to the side of him.

His hat had a diagonal grid pattern to it with the front shaped like a purple downward arrow. He wore a turtle crop top sweater, similar to his hat both in color and design. On his legs, he wore tiger-striped leather pants where a short-barreled purple revolver sat in his side pocket. On his feet were dark boots that he bought recently.

Sitting in front of him sat two slices of strawberry cake. One slice sat in front of him while the other slice sat across from him on the other side of the table as if he was waiting for someone. In reality, he wasn’t waiting for anyone.

He had done it ever since last year. He would come to this very seaside restaurant, sit in this very table, and watch the slice across from him while he ate the one in front of him in silence. The staff at the restaurant at first worried for him, but now they had become accustomed to the man’s behavior.

A certain waitress even took it upon herself to plate the slices in two plates, a place a rose and candle in the middle of the table in hopes of making the man feel better, but it never worked.

A lone tear fell from his eye, down his cheek, as his head slowly fell below his head.

From inside his head, he could hear a woman’s voice.

“Giorno, protect Mista!”

Those three words had haunted him since the minute they left the mouth of the woman who had said them.

The love of his life.

( y/n ).

The woman who opened his eyes. Though their first meeting was not ideal, she had changed his life.

She had witnessed Mista kill three men in order to save a woman. When the first gunshot sounded, she immediately ran and hide behind a dumpster. She peered over the side of it, watching Mista shoot the three men with perfect accuracy. Her eyes fell onto the woman who was shaking and in bad condition and how she thanked Mista, meaning he helped her, he wasn’t the one hurting her.

But she also had witnessed him being captured by police. She was one of the few people who had believed in him and wanted him to be proven innocent.

Without a second thought, she had run to a familiar man, the same man who helped her off the street and gave her a home, Bruno Bucciarati and she informed him on the incident, pretty much begging him to help use Passione’s influence to help change Mista’s verdict and help him out of his sentence.

Her pleas did not fall upon deaf ears, Bucciarati had done just as she wished, swaying the verdict and giving Mista on a Stand fit for gunman like himself.

Sex Pistols.

Bucciarati had officially introduced the two one another and had informed Mista if it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t have known about his incident and wouldn’t have been able to sway the verdict in his favor.

( y/n ), the first of Bucciarati’s recruits. She was one of his neighbors and had often gone fishing alongside him and his father when they were younger. His home was like a second home for her, because she hated being home.

After Bucciarati’s father had passed away, he joined Passione and she had followed him in suit, much to his dismay. She proved herself to be an amazing addition with a Stand with an innocent-looking appearance, but it was anything but that. She was the first to officially join his team, helping him recruit the others.

She is known to be very open and accepting, and Bucciarati’s right hand.

She was.

( y/n ) had passed away a year ago, alongside her teammates, Bucciarati, Abbacchio, and Narancia. Her death had devastated the team, rather what was left of the team, Mista included.

She was the person who Mista had bought the extra slice of cake for.

It was known to the entire team how the two felt for one another. It was obvious. No matter how hard they tried to hide it. The lingering glances, the blushing, the “subtle” flirting, the hand holding and small touches that Narancia would catch, their protectiveness of one another, the way she would play in his hair, their dates to the very restaurant he sat in a year later that they tried to disguise as patrol for Stand users. It was even obvious to Giorno, the newcomer.

Even if it was obvious, neither of them were bold enough to process their relationship publicly.

She was the light of his life and she was taken away from him just as fast as the speed of light.

She sacrificed herself as a decoy against Cioccolata, only thinking of the man she had loved with all of her heart and not about herself.

Weakened, as blood had poured out of the sides of his head, he could not run after her. And that’s when she said her last words.

“I love you, Guido Mista.”

He reached out for her. His eyes were wide as he stared at the sight in front of him. It was as if time had slowed itself, as the scene before him happened slow motion. He watched as the disembodied arm, cut deep into the neck of ( y/n ), slicing through.

Tears had formed in his eyes as he watched her stop struggling, her body just...standing for a brief moment to everyone else, but to him, it felt like an eternity. Her head fell off her shoulders, falling onto the ground, rolling toward him slightly.

Her hands trembled at the sight, his dark eyes looking into the now lifeless dull ( e/c ) ones of his partner. Her mouth was agape, allowing the blood left in her head to drain out. The rest of her body finally fell, blood gushing out of her now open neck.

The first yell for her had been from Number Five, tears flowing down the cheeks of the small entity as it cried out for her as if she could hear.

Mista opened his mouth to scream, to shout, to speak, to whisper, but nothing came out. Streams of tears decorated his cheeks as he crawled to ( y/n ), desperately in hopes that despite how bad the situation looked, she would be okay, she would wake up, this was just some sort of dream.

She wasn’t really gone. There was no way. She was too strong to go out like...this.

After Cioccolata was taken care of, Giorno rushed to heal Mista. The tanned man refused. He wanted to die. He couldn’t live in a world without her.

He didn’t want to live in a world without her.

He held her head close to him, finally finding his voice. He cried for her until he couldn’t cry anymore. He screamed for her till his voice went hoarse. Even then, he whispered until he couldn’t anymore until the words no longer came out and it was just tears. Even if all he wanted was for there to be a way for Giorno to bring her back, he knew that wasn’t possibly. If it was, the blonde would have already done it instead of just standing there and letting him mourn.

As he held her in his hands for one last time, the many memories ran through his head. Her smile, her laugh, just everything about her. One memory in particular that appeared over and over was one where she laid next to him on the beach in the sand, looking at the sunset as she confided in him her past and her hopes for the future.

“I don’t want this life anymore. I want out of Passione. I...I want a better life for myself. I want a job that I don’t have to hide anyone. I want one that I can proudly show off and say that I have. Something cool! Like a doctor or a nurse! Maybe even a firefighter or an engineer! Of course, I’ll have to go to university but I’ve been saving up so I think I have enough to go now. I’m just scared to tell Bucciarati, I just want him to be proud of me...but you’ll support me, right?”

“Of course I will. I’ll follow you every step of the day,” He told her.

But her dreams never came true. She never got to go off to university. She never got to hold her degree, not even step foot inside a university classroom. Her life was just truly beginning, but it was taken away from her in a split second.

When it was all over, ( y/n ) was buried next to Bucciarati on the hilltop of a cemetery, separated from the other deceased.

Mista could not attend her funeral. He couldn’t bring himself to watch them put the love of his life in the ground and cover her with dirt. He couldn’t do it without wanting to jump in after her.

On the day of her funeral, he spent at the seaside restaurant that she adored and where they had many dates away from the team. She had only chosen this place because they served the best strawberry cake and she knew that he loved the strawberry cake.

He listened to the waves crash onto the shore, daydreaming about what could have been. Daydreaming of what it would have been like to have been Diavolo and still have her sitting in front of him with that bright smile of hers. But that was never going to happen.

The first few months of her death, he blamed himself for her death. If he was stronger, there would have been no need for her to protect him and use herself as a decoy. The image of her last moments haunted him to this day. Having to see her decapitated was not an easy sight. Watching her face drop, watching her eyes come lifeless and lose their color.

With the help of Giorno, Mista slowly began to recover and returned to himself, a bit more mature than how he was before. Witnesses the deaths of his friends and his lover had contributed to him maturing.

Mista let out a small sigh, losing his appetite. He pulled out the revolver in his pocket, emptying the barrel, six small entities coming out, and jumping onto the slice of strawberry cake, eating away. All except for one, Number Five.

Number Five, known as the crybaby of the bunch, had simply floated in the air next to Mista, watching its user with sad eyes. The sea breeze blew past, sending shivers down the Stand’s small body. As it shivered, a translucent appeared out of the corner of its eye.

Now sitting across the table was a translucent figure of a familiar woman with a bruised neck, looking at the man across the table with eyes full of admiration and love. A gasp left the entity’s mouth.

Mista picked his head up, looking to Number Five, “What’s wrong?”

Number Five pointed across the table, “Y-You don’t see that?”

Mista followed the entity’s pointed figure, finding nothing at the end, “See what? There’s nothing there. You should probably eat, you’re imagining things. ( y/n ) always did say you had quite the imagination compared to the others.”

The translucent figure giggled.

“M-M-Mista―!”

“I wonder if she’s here right now watching me eat at her favorite place. If I had a second chance I’d yell it to the world how much I love her. I just wish she didn’t leave.”

Her hand caressed his cheek slightly, her touch nonexistent. While it hurt she could no longer touch him and have him feel her, she was happy to just be in his presence.

“I never left, Mista. One day...one day I’ll see you again. Hang on until then, okay?”

⁺◟ BACK TO NAVIGATION . . .

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyō na bōken #guido mista #mista #mista x reader #mista x y/n #mista x oc #mista oneshots #mista scenarios #mista imagines #jjba oneshots #jjba scenarios #jjba imagines #jjba x reader #tw ― death #tw ― blood #night rather than day ── 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘰. 𓂃 ★☆

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greenjacketwhitehatdocmui · 4 years ago

Text

Those Left Behind, Chapter 4

Well, here it is, chapter 4. This can also be found on FF.net here

or AO3 here.

Sorry about the delay, but I’ve had to deal with quite a bit in the last few months. Hope this was worth the wait!

--Doc

Elsa stood before her father's portrait. A lifetime ago, he'd held her hand and admitted that he'd been very nervous when posing. He thought that he looked stiff and uncomfortable.

She didn't see it that way. To Elsa, her father looked regal and in control, a far cry from her state now. She could only hope to be half as good a ruler as he had been, gates notwithstanding.

Would he have been proud of her? No, who could ever be proud of someone like her? She was a freak, her powers a curse. If only she had been born a normal girl like Anna, none of this would have happened.

For years, she had hoped that someone would tell her that her suffering was not in vain. No, it hadn't been just her suffering. Anna's warm, loving heart had been trampled on so many times with each refusal.

What would her parents think? For years, she'd hoped beyond hope that they were out there somewhere. But she knew that it was a lost cause. They could no longer offer her any advice or comfort. She only had their memories to guide her.

--------

Anna practically leapt from her bed and changed. Today was the only day that the gates would be open and she wasn't about to waste it!

Now dressed, she paused as she looked outside the window. She'd done so many times in the last three years. She knew that her parents were gone. She still dreamt about them every so often, hoping that they would have some advice to offer.

The moment passed. This wasn't a day to think about the past. This was a day to go out and bask in the sun.

She dashed out of her room without another look backwards. Today was going to be a good day.

--------

Iduna felt the sunlight on her eyes and groaned. She snuggled closer to Agnarr, who responded with a chuckle.

"And here I thought that you were the early riser," he joked, kissing her on the top of her head. He paused. "Something wrong?"

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. The interior of their "cabin" certainly wasn't very fancy. It was a bit sturdier than the huts that her family favored. It had been built by everyone in the Arendellian contingent. Fortunately, Captain Hansen had been quite adept at woodworking before he joined the Navy. With his direction and the convenient abundance of fallen wood, the makeshift log cabin had been built fairly quickly. Doing so was more comforting than trying to salvage the remains of their yacht.

(They had tried to reach Ahtohallan after the first month. Before they reached the sea, they found the yacht, empty and wrecked. They scavenged the interior, coming away with a map and a few other items. Agnarr had then carved a marker to commemorate those who were lost.)

Outwardly, Yelana had feigned indifference to the construction effort. In private, however, she'd wondered why the Earth Giants had spared any effort towards anyone from Arendelle. It was a conflict that she couldn't quite reconcile. Her faith in the Spirits didn't mesh with her emotions towards Arendelle.

It had been three years since they'd been trapped in the forest. In that time, Iduna saw how much Agnarr had wanted peace between Arendelle and her family. He did his best to try to work things out. There had been trade agreements, general boundaries drawn out and a crash course in Northuldra etiquette and social norms.

Iduna wondered whether or not it was enough. In the last three years, she could count on one hand the times that the misty sky had almost cleared. One night had been particularly calm and she could have sworn she'd seen a star in a patch of midnight blue. Then the moment passed.

"I'm not sure what we're doing wrong," she admitted quietly. "The mist came because everyone started fighting. But now, nobody's fighting and the mist is still there."

Agnarr said nothing for a moment. He looked at the wall and sighed heavily.

"I know," he said softly. "I've tried everything I could think of. I just wish that the Spirits would say something."

"It doesn't work that way," she reminded him, frustration coloring her voice. "Father once told me that the closest he came to communicating with them was like trying to understand raw emotions. They don't really use words, more like sensations. Then he interpreted their desires as best as he could."

He sighed heavily. He'd pushed himself for what peace he could manage between the two groups. The soldiers and sailors still admired him, followed his orders with almost fanatical zeal. The Northuldra had been...resigned and somewhat accommodating, but hardly enthusiastic.

Oddly enough, it was because they were removed from the castle that they could focus on the main issue: Peace with the Northuldra. Had they been still in Arendelle, they would have been bombarded by servants, townspeople and demanding diplomats.

Then again, they would have been a family. There was never a day that they didn't think of their daughters and how things might have been.

"Do you think that Elsa's having her coronation?" she asked.

Agnarr hummed thoughtfully. "She came of age last December," he said. "This would be the most convenient time for diplomats to come in."

“Can you imagine Anna just going from person to person like a butterfly?” she asked. “She’d be having the time of her life.”

A somewhat wicked little smile made its way on his face. “Can you imagine your mother in that situation? I would feel very sorry for the diplomats.”

“Would you?” she asked. “She’d ruffle their feathers like the peacocks they are. They’d act all indignant until they found out who she was.”

“And then they’d fall all over themselves to apologize.” He chuckled. “That’s quite an image.”

For a long moment, they basked in the impossible dream. Then they sighed and got ready for the day.

--------

Yelana stepped out of her hut and surveyed the camp. Everyone was busy, the better to keep their minds off of their situation.

She had to admit that things were better now than they had been three years ago. Agnarr had done his best time and again to try to smooth things out between his people and the Northuldra. Iduna's visits were also a factor. Surprisingly, the Arendellian contingent had been behaving themselves.

It was the younger generation who seemed more curious than fearful, she noted. Ryder, Honeymaren and the other children had been raised on tales of how horrible Arendelle had been to their people. After Agnarr and his sailors arrived, however, there were murmurs that the king didn’t seem like a bad sort.

She frowned. She’d fallen in that trap once before with Runeard.

--------

“Erke, why can’t you be more like Runeard?” she asked her brother-in-law. “He’s a strong leader.”

“What makes him strong?” he gently countered. “Is it because he’s charismatic? Do you admire his ambition? Or is it because he appears `civilized’ compared to us?”

"I just think that there may be better ways to do things," she sighed. "And who knows? Our two nations may become closer in time. After all, Iduna seems quite taken with Prince Agnarr."

He smiled. "I've noticed. She's like Sunna, always following her heart." His smile faded, replaced by a furrowed brow. "Agnarr is a good person, but I'm not certain that Runeard has shown all of himself."

Yelana frowned. "If Runeard means any harm, wouldn't the Spirits intervene?"

"The Spirits trust our judgment. They could intervene in every little injustice, but where would that leave us?" He shook his head. "I think that they're waiting to see what happens. For good or ill, our choices are our own. I think that they'd only act if they had no other choice. And with the power they wield..." he trailed off uncertainly.

"I'm sure that it won't come to that," she said, trying to sound reassuring. "Look, I know that you're cautious of Runeard, but I think that this alliance will benefit all of us."

"Perhaps," Erke allowed. "I still think that the dam is a bit too...grand of a gesture. And when I mention the Spirits, Runeard has an odd look in his eyes.”

“Not everyone is as blessed as our people,” Yelana said. “To have the Spirits on our side, helping us whenever possible—that’s a rare thing.” She offered a reassuring smile. “At least he’s not charging in with an army.”

“I doubt that he’d be foolish enough to try,” he remarked. “Still, once the dam is complete, we can try for further negotiations. I’d like to show Runeard’s people that we aren’t the savages some think we are.”

“Perhaps over a toast?” she suggested. “I think it would be fitting.”

Erke hummed in approval. “A symbol of trust between equals? That sounds like a wonderful idea."

"We can celebrate once the dam is complete," she said. "And maybe in a few years, Iduna and Agnarr..."

He groaned theatrically. "I don't want to think about that now. He's 14 and she's 12, Yelana. I do not want to force them into anything."

"But they are cute together, aren't they?" she gently needled him. "The Wind Spirit likes them both."

"Well, then...Runeard can't be that bad if his son's turned out well," he reasoned.

--------

Yelana tightened her grip on her staff. She had been such a trusting, naive fool. She had talked her brother-in-law into that fateful toast, which led to Runeard's betrayal. And the Spirits had reacted accordingly.

Never again, she thought to herself. We have paid enough for our mistakes.

A gentle touch on her shoulder interrupted her thoughts. There was only one person she would have allowed that contact.

"Good morning, Yelana," Sunna said brightly. "You're brooding again."

Yelana sighed. "I'm just...checking up on a few things."

She had to admit, Iduna's return had done wonders for Sunna's health. In the three years since the Arendellian contingent had arrived, mother and daughter had reconnected through stories and long walks in the forest. While Sunna wasn't the boundless font of energy she was in her youth, she could easily keep pace with everyone else when it came to the chores.

Technically, Sunna could have resumed leadership from Yelana. However, the former had demurred. After all, blood was not the main requirement for leading the tribe. Yelana had proven herself more than capable, even though she was the younger sister. The tribe supported them both. The most Sunna would interfere with Yelana's decisions would be to whisper a delicately-phrased suggestion.

Iduna gave Sunna a reason to live again, Yelana sighed. Another few years and I'd be alone. She gave me back my sister, not a hollow wreck.

"Iduna and I are going to be gathering herbs," Sunna said. "Is there anything that we should be looking out for?"

Yelana ran through her mental inventory. Thankfully, the tribe was pretty healthy, but there was always the possibility of accidents. Besides, the Arendellians were more than happy to take whatever herbal remedies were offered.

"We could use some more spruce resin," Yelana said. "You know how the boys can get." She smirked at her little nickname for the Arendellian sailors.

Sunna sighed. "Give someone a staff and they can walk with it. Give someone a sword and they feel the urge to stab." She shook her head. "I have never liked swords, even before..."

"I know," Yelana said gently. For a moment, they were transported back to simpler times. Both sisters in their prime had been fierce staff fighters, something that Erke had appreciated. The moment passed. "Iduna will be waiting outside. You should get going."

Sunna gently squeezed Yelana's shoulder. There was an odd hesitation in her eyes. "I dreamt of snow last night," she blurted out.

Yelana arched an eyebrow. "Snow? In July?" she asked dubiously.

"It's the strangest thing," Sunna admitted. "It's not like when the Spirits communed with--with Erke," she got out awkwardly. "I don't get visions, not like some of our ancestors. I'm just...ordinary."

Yelana rolled her eyes. "`Ordinary?'" she repeated. "You are anything but ordinary." She paused. "Go on, Iduna's waiting. She'll probably storm the camp soon."

--------

"A vision of snow?" Iduna asked. She'd knelt down to gather some herbs. Her royal clothing had proved to be impractical for the long run, so she and Agnarr had some Northuldra clothing for day-to-day business. Even Mattias reluctantly admitted the necessity of the change. His soldiers and the sailors still wore uniforms, of course.

They'd taken Honeymaren along for an extra pair of arms. She was a good distance behind, allowing mother and daughter some privacy.

Sunna nodded. "It's probably nothing. Maybe I was just hoping for a respite from the heat."

"It's not that hot in the forest," Iduna reminded her. "It's humid, but it doesn't get as warm as it would in...Arendelle..." She trailed off as a wave of homesickness threatened to engulf her. The irony that she was homesick while in the forest had not escaped her.

Iduna relaxed as she felt her mother's gentle hand on her shoulder. They'd certainly had their fair share of disagreements during their reconciliation, but it had only strengthened their bond in the end.

There was, of course, one subject that was never really discussed: Elsa's magic. She had kept that tidbit from everyone. There had been times when she had wanted to tell her mother, but it would have been futile. Elsa and Anna were beyond their reach.

"Calm down," Sunna urged her. "It's the oddest thing. Whenever I mention snow or ice, you have this distant look in your eyes. It's been that way ever since you came back to me." Her expression softened. "You weren't caught in an avalanche or something, were you?"

"No, I--" Iduna shook her head. She hated lying to her mother, even by omission. But she wasn't sure how Elsa's magic would be received. Magic was for the Spirits, after all. Revealing Elsa's magic would most likely lead to Elsa either being worshipped as a goddess or shunned for blasphemy. Neither outcome was terribly desirable.

"It's just that...the girls loved snow so much," she half-lied. "Some of the happiest times had to do with snow."

Sunna eyed her skeptically. She knew that something was being hidden, but she was kind enough not to pry.

Iduna's heart ached. She'd lost track of how many times she'd dreamed of being back in the castle. Countless tears had been shed in the cabin she and Agnarr shared. She just wanted to make things right again. And the worst part was, she couldn't even tell her own mother.

She barely registered her mother's gentle touch on her shoulder. Iduna didn't dare to look back.

"We have to believe," Sunna said gently.

Iduna took a ragged breath. "In what?"

"That you will see them again," Sunna said. "That one day, we'll all see the sun."

--------

Yelana sighed as she saw the glints of metal dancing in the sun. Once again, the troops and sailors were having their morning workout. And that meant...swords.

Inwardly, she scowled at the word. To her, a sword was a barbaric symbol of oppression. The Northuldra had never needed them. The staff was far less intimidating and no less deadly, if it came to that. A staff was also far more readily available in the forest than a sword.

Her scowl faded and she almost smiled. For some reason, the Arendellian contingent was never able to make any fire hot enough to forge new swords. All the swords they possessed were either already on their person or scavenged from their ship. She wondered if the Fire Spirit had some influence in that.

"Discipline and control," she heard Mattias call out to the assembled group. "Any idiot can hold a sword and swing it. It takes effort to use a sword properly."

Yelana's right eye twitched. Runeard had been excellent with a sword. Then again, with a sneak attack, you only had to strike once.

She remembered that Runeard had been proud of his Viking ancestors. He'd made them sound like bold explorers and fearless warriors. He'd conveniently left out the fact that they were raiders and despoilers, something he was most likely also proud of. Runeard, like his ancestors, took what he wanted--though at least he had a thin veneer of civility before striking.

She stood on a small hill that unofficially separated their two domains. She gripped her staff tight as she watched the remaining soldiers and the sailors going through sword exercises. They were using, she noted, wooden practice swords carved from fallen branches. Then she saw Agnarr consulting with Mattias and Captain Hansen, pausing only to look in her direction and nod.

Every day for three years, she and Agnarr would meet at this hill. Heated words were exchanged, but no blows...yet. She had to admit that he was an excellent negotiator, no doubt thanks to expensive tutors. He always came alone, though well within sight of Mattias or Captain Hansen.

She sighed as she saw him approaching. She waited until they were facing each other before she put her staff down and sat on the grass. Unarmed, he did likewise.

Even though he'd been fair with his negotiations, there was something that had always bothered Yelana. She knew that Agnarr was hiding something--something he refused to talk about even in the company of his own men. If Agnarr truly wanted her full trust, he would have put everything out in the open.

Agnarr sighed inwardly. It had been three years of constant negotiation and at best, they had a ceasefire. It was a fragile, tenuous thing, though younger members of the tribe had been less fearful of the sailors. Some of the children were almost on friendly terms with the sailors, though not with the older soldiers.

He wondered if Yelana could see the fear in his eyes whenever he thought about his daughters. He didn't love Anna any less than Elsa, but Elsa's...issues...were a far more pressing concern. Anna didn't have potentially destructive magic at her disposal. But then, in trying to work with Elsa's powers, he found himself giving Anna less time than she deserved.

He had so many regrets and no way to correct them. And he had to try to negotiate with someone who had mostly-good reasons to hate him. He just couldn't accept that his father was a murderer, though.

--------

Mattias eyed Yelana warily. He had a clear view of anything that might have happened on the hill.

"You still don't trust her?" Captain Hansen asked. He'd gained a few grey hairs in the last few years, but he was still in seafaring shape. He had to be; he had an example to set for his sailors.

Mattias shook his head. "Not entirely." He sighed heavily. "At times like this, I wish I knew what King Runeard had been thinking."

Captain Hansen nodded. "It's too bad there's nobody we can ask."

Mattias frowned. Those who had been close advisors to King Runeard had either run from the mist or been killed. He still remembered the almost fanatical zeal with which they tried to defend the king--but to no avail. As the remaining officer, it was up to him.

He ached to go home. He'd found out from Captain Hansen and his sailors that Halima was still alive at her little sweet shop. Oddly enough, she'd never married. It was something he'd always put off for duty, that one day he'd kneel before her and...

He shook his head. He wasn't the only one who was homesick. But until Agnarr had arrived, he'd had to serve as an example for his troops. He'd had to stay strong and resolute, holding back the pain and the resentment.

He had a better read on troop morale than Agnarr. Mattias knew that tensions were still high between the Arendellian contingent and the Northuldra tribe. All it would take was one spark, one incident that couldn't be smoothed over, to set them against each other again.

--------

The day had been long, and not without some results. As much as Yelana's loathing had been a sticking point, some progress was made. And yet, there was always an unspoken secret that hung in the air between them.

Agnarr noted with some satisfaction that a small group of Northuldra children were leaving the Arendellian camp. They were flanked by Ryder and Honeymaren, who looked amused that they'd been saddled with this duty.

"Did you have a good time?" Agnarr asked with no small amount of amusement."

"The little ones wanted to taste some Arendellian food," Honeymaren said. "Not that there's anything wrong with what we have; they were just curious."

"Little steps, Honeymaren," Agnarr reassured her. "Little steps."

She managed a small, crooked smile. Then she urged her brother and the children to follow her back home.

Mattias approached Agnarr and handed him a bowl of stew and a crudely carved spoon. He accepted it gratefully.

"How were the negotiations?" Mattias asked.

"Same as ever," Agnarr sighed. "I just can't figure out how to get past a certain point."

"She's stubborn, that one," Mattias agreed. "I have to give her that. She wouldn't have been able to lead, otherwise."

Agnarr said nothing. He'd used just about everything he had and Yelana had only conceded minor items. It was frustrating, but one day, there would be a tipping point.

"The Queen's in the cabin," Mattias said, breaking Agnarr out of his reverie. "You should get some rest."

Agnarr nodded. "Thank you, Mattias."

Mattias watched his king move towards the cabin. Then he set about assigning which of his troops and the sailors would have night watch. Not that he was expecting anything unusual, but odd things could happen on even the quietest of nights.

--------

The Spirits felt a disturbance in the air. It was a wave of power that was raw, uncontrolled and terrified.

The Fifth Spirit's power had rushed out towards the misty barrier. Snowflakes formed in the cool July night, seeping through the mist. The barrier only worked on animals and people, not natural phenomena.

Ahtohallan had intended Elsa to be the balance between the other Spirits. In time, she would gain control and focus, enough to subdue another Spirit if necessary.

The wave of magic that had created the snow looked deceptively gentle. Each of the Spirits felt it as a resounding slap, weakening them. It was by Ahtohallan's design, after all.

Most of their strength had gone into maintaining the barrier. None of them could venture outside the forest, weakened as they were. Still, they had to protect the people within--even if they hadn't learned their lesson quite yet.

The Water Spirit had managed to keep a few parts of the river from freezing, guaranteeing a fresh supply. The Fire and Earth Spirits offered warmth where they could with bonfires near each camp. The Wind Spirit mitigated the worst of the cutting, icy gusts.

The Spirits could tend to physical needs. The mental states of the people on both sides were beyond their ability to influence. They had always been happy to help people, but they had never asked for the worship that the Northuldra offered.

All they could do was hope that their efforts were enough. It was simply a matter of weathering the storm.

--------

Mattias and Captain Hansen looked aghast as the snow fell. It was impossible, but it was actually snowing in July. There was only one explanation: Magic.

Mattias felt a snowflake drift into his hand. It melted as he clenched it into a fist, his features twisting into a scowl.

"What have they done?" he growled.

--------

For a moment, Yelana and Sunna were at a loss. Most of the tribe hadn't seen snow for years. For most of them, the wonder and amazement gave way to chills and fear.

Yelana gripped her staff tightly. Obviously, the Spirits had been offended.

"What have they done?" she growled.

--------

Both Agnarr and Iduna had burst out of their cabin when they heard the shouting. They'd been getting ready for bed when they felt the chill in the air.

"What's going...on...?" He trailed off as his breath fogged. His jaw dropped as the snow fell. "No..." he whispered.

"No..." Iduna echoed, her blue eyes filling with tears. "Agnarr, it's--"

"I know," he whispered. It was the day that they'd dreaded for years:

Elsa had somehow lost control of her powers. Now, the world was going to pay the price.

--------

It was thanks to good planning and quick action that neither side had suffered any sickness from the sudden snowfall. Winter clothes were brought out from storage and extra firewood was gathered.

The tension between the groups was at an all-time high. Fingers were twitching for action and tempers were flaring. The men in the Arendelle camp were murmuring dangerous things.

"Can't believe that they'd do this."

"What are they thinking?"

"What did we do wrong?"

"Three years of living together and now this!"

"I trusted them!"

"Goes to show that you just can't trust magic!"

Captain Hansen and Mattias toured the camp. They frowned at the understandably low morale. They found Agnarr and Iduna urging the soldiers and sailors to stay warm, even if it meant condensing the perimeter.

Mattias could see the dread in Agnarr and Iduna's eyes. They knew something, but it wasn't his place to question his king and queen.

--------

The Northuldra camp wasn't in much better shape. They, too, had gathered their huts and campfires closer together to keep warm. The murmurs floated towards Yelana's ears.

"They obviously offended the Spirits somehow."

"You mean that this wasn't our fault?"

"Of course not! We follow the ways of nature! We are the chosen ones!"

"Then this is a sign from the Spirits? Are we finally done with Arendelle?"

The chatter stopped as soon as Sunna approached the group. Her normally kindly features were pinched in disapproval. More than one member of the tribe straightened up. She may have relinquished her leadership to Yelana, but she still carried herself as a leader.

"You would think of waging war against my daughter?" she asked in a low, dangerous tone. "Have we become so hardened that we would be willing to kill our own?"

"She's no longer--" a man spoke up, only to be cut off by Sunna's sharp blue eyes. He gulped and swallowed his words.

Sunna frowned and her gaze swept over the assembled tribe. Many of the men squirmed. The women found that they couldn't meet her gaze.

"The Spirits have never called us to war," Sunna said levelly. "Our way is to live in peace and defend ourselves when necessary, not to strike because we believe ourselves to be superior."

"This is obviously a sign from the Spirits!" a woman protested. "We must do something!"

Sunna fixed her with a solemn, almost chiding look. "Do you speak for the Spirits?"

The woman realized that, despite the cold, people had edged away from her. She looked away in shame.

"No," she croaked out.

Sunna's gaze softened as she gently laid a hand on the woman's shoulder. The woman flinched slightly at the contact.

"I understand that you are afraid," Sunna said, her voice gentle and warm. "But we cannot let fear twist what we are as a people: Peace-loving, understanding and kind."

There was a tap of wood on stone as Yelana made herself known. Her expression was stern, as if ready to scold a child.

"We should follow Sunna's example," Yelana declared. "She has lost the most, yet she still believes in the peaceful ways."

There was a murmur of agreement. The tension defused for the moment, the tribe went on to more important matters like campfires and the state of the reindeer herd.

Sunna and Yelana walked just out of sight, out of earshot. Judging by the older sister's look of disapproval, Sunna was not happy that Yelana had been absent until now.

"You should have been the one to calm them down." She was justifiably angry, but kept it under control. "Where were you?"

Yelana frowned deeply. "I was making sure that nobody was taking advantage of this...storm. We are vulnerable in this snow."

"I doubt that they could sneak up on us in an open field," Sunna remarked. She sighed deeply. "You've carried this anger for decades and I am to blame. It's like comfortable, worn leather. It's rough at first, but you grow used to it--until you can't imagine a day without that anger."

"What should I do, o wise leader?" Yelana snapped back. "You put this burden in my hands, remember? What advice could you offer me now, after years of mourning?"

"One day, I hope that you take this anger and let it go," Sunna said. "This has poisoned you, and with it, the tribe. What good is fighting if you lose sight of why?"

"Agnarr's responsible for this," Yelana muttered. "I can feel it. He's hiding something."

"And you are always upfront and honest?" That was Sunna's "older sister" voice, the one she used to drive home a lesson. "You never told him that you once believed Runeard."

"That is my shame to bear. He never has to know."

Sunna tilted her head slightly. "Is this for his sake, or your pride?"

Yelana found that she couldn't look her sister in the eye. Sunna had every reason to cry out for blood, yet still sought peace. Her older sister would have been a better leader, but she'd declined. Sunna trusted her.

Sunna sighed a frosty plume between them. She decided to change the subject. "In any case, I doubt that his people are in much better shape than ours. They haven't exactly been stockpiling on supplies."

"Are you suggesting that we share with them? Right now? When they could--"

"It was just an observation," Sunna said quietly. She turned back towards the camp. "What good is the bounty of the forest if it is hoarded?"

Yelana said nothing for a long moment. Then she nodded, admitting defeat.

"I will meet with him," Yelana said at last. "If getting through this together is what is required, then I...shall do whatever it takes."

Sunna smiled benignly. It was enough.

--------

It was midday when Yelana and Agnarr met at their usual place. They were both flanked by people close to them. Agnarr had Iduna, with Mattias and Captain Hansen at their side. Yelana had Honeymaren and Ryder while Sunna waited patiently. This in itself showed how tense things had become.

"Interesting weather we've been having," Yelana said acerbically. "I don't suppose that you know the reason for it?"

"I know that neither of our groups is responsible for this winter," Agnarr said carefully. "My people have done our best to abide by the rules and customs we've learned."

"And you don't think that the Northuldra are responsible?" Yelana offered. "We are, after all, savages who worship magic," she finished acidly. "We might have convinced the Spirits that everyone from Arendelle deserved to be frozen."

"I've explained it to everyone, Aunt Yelana," Iduna said, her breath forming a frosty plume. "They all know that we commune with nature and magic--but we don't control either. And we certainly don't control the Spirits. They do as they will."

Yelana's eyes flicked from Agnarr to Iduna. She felt Sunna's reassuring hand on her shoulder. Everything rode on her next few words.

"Oddly enough, I believe you," Yelana said. "If you were in control of this...odd winter...you would hardly freeze yourselves with us. Like it or not, we are trapped together."

"The best option is to pool our resources," Iduna suggested. "Firewood and food can be shared and we'll have a better chance of surviving together."

"Yes, that seems to be where we're headed," Yelana agreed reluctantly. "We have little choice, after all. Though it calls into question whether we had any choice at all."

"Of course we do," Sunna insisted. "Our choices always matter, whether we think so or not."

Agnarr nodded. "Whatever station we hold in life, it all matters."

"Such hopeful words in a seemingly hopeless situation," Yelana remarked. "Especially since the greater picture has not been addressed. Or were you planning to pray our way through the mist?"

"Sister..." Sunna frowned a warning, but it was too late.

Agnarr took a deep breath. Things were tense enough already without him adding to it. But there were several questions that had never been answered to his satisfaction.

“That's an interesting viewpoint," he began. "I have a question of my own: Why were your tribe and the men were trapped for so long?” Agnarr said. “If it were merely a matter of protection, the Spirits could have just forced the troops out.” He thought for a moment. “In fact, given their kind nature, they could have done it without harming a single person.”

“Only Ahtohallan knows,” Yelana said sagely. “If there were a better way, I am certain that the Spirits would have chosen that path. It is not for we humans to question the will of nature and the Spirits.”

Agnarr bit back a scathing response. His faith in religion and spirituality had diminished significantly since Elsa’s birth. After all, there were those who still subscribed to the old saying, “suffer not a witch to live.” And he would do anything to protect his family.

Furthermore, it almost seemed hypocritical of Yelana to imply that the Spirits could be convinced to harm people, then go back to a "who knows" sort of explanation. It honestly rankled him when people used faith as a way to dodge responsibility--or, at least, a straight answer.

"So, for the time being, can we agree to share resources?" Agnarr asked. He had to get things back on track. "It seems to be our best option."

"Of course," she agreed. "It's better to keep warm together than to freeze separately." She held up a finger. "But there is something I would ask of you...in private." She eyed her entourage.

Honeymaren, Ryder and Sunna reluctantly withdrew. Agnarr nodded and Iduna, Captain Hansen and Mattias did the same.

"There is something you are not telling me," Yelana said with a scowl. "You are hiding something from me."

Agnarr clenched his jaw. He forced himself to breathe, to try to keep calm. "This is not something I can tell anyone."

Yelana's scowl deepened. "It is not a matter of `cannot.' You simply will not. Even after three years of living together and trying to build bridges, you still do not trust me."

As if you have trusted me fully? the dangerous thought slipped into his mind, but not from his tongue. Voicing that would have only enflamed matters further.

"Even if I could tell you, it would do no good. Trapped within this forest, it is out of our control," he said flatly.

Yelana stared at him in disbelief. "You know exactly what is causing this winter."

Agnarr said nothing. That in itself confirmed her suspicions.

"It is someone or something in Arendelle that is causing this winter." Yelana's eyes sharpened. "Who or what is doing this? And why?"

Agnarr clenched his jaw. "I cannot answer that question. There are promises that I must keep."

"`Promises?'" Yelana almost spat out. "You honor promises to Arendelle, but not to my people." She kept her voice low, but it took on a dangerous tone. It was deliberate, so as not to draw attention to her entourage. "Arendelle has brought almost nothing but pain to the Northuldra," she declared. "Ever since your father had that dam built, there has only been misfortune."

"Well, if the dam is the issue, why haven't the Spirits done something about it?" Agnarr asked, trying to keep his voice from growing harsh. "They could have easily destroyed the dam. Why haven't they?"

"I am not one to question the will of the Spirits," Yelana said in a low, dangerous voice. "You do not know your place, boy." She paused. "Or are you more like your father than I thought? He thought that a crown gave him total authority."

"It didn't stop him from dying," he retorted.

"We have suffered more than you have."

He clenched his jaw. "Who suffers more if we keep this grudge going? This isn't a contest, Yelana. Both our people are suffering and we need to address it in the here and now."

"And we will," she promised. "But don't expect me to ever agree to things blindly, boy. You still haven't earned my full trust."

The discussion ended, she got up and called for her entourage. Sunna looked especially concerned, but nobody in the Northuldra group said anything.

Iduna was the first to reach him. She noted his drained expression and gestured for Mattias and Captain Hansen to wait.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "I thought that it was going well."

"She knew that I knew the source of this winter," he replied. "I couldn't tell her, Iduna. I just--I just couldn't. If she knew--who knows what she would do?"

She tightened her grip on his gloved hand. She wished that she had an answer.

--------

The unnatural winter had vanished on the third day. Most of the tribe and the Arendellian contingent had cheered as the snow evaporated. The only thing missing was the sun to warm their bones.

In private, Agnarr and Iduna wondered what had happened to Elsa. They hoped that the end of the unnatural winter meant that she'd gained control of her powers. The only other option was that Elsa was forever lost to them. There was no way of knowing, and that had made it more painful.

The frost, however, had set in between Agnarr and Yelana. Their daily negotiations were short, only dealing with concrete and tangible issues. The time for philosophical exchange had passed.

Despite Sunna's and Iduna's best efforts, relations between the tribe and the Arendellian contingent had become stiff and formal. Even Iduna's visits to her mother were enough to cause tension.

Three years of reaching out had evaporated in three days. Three more years passed under this oppressively neutral atmosphere. There were hints of regret on both sides, but nobody knew how to breach the walls that had been built.

Then, the sun briefly showed itself. It was as if the misty barrier had parted, just for a moment. That hadn't gone unnoticed by either side.

--------

"I shall go with the scouting party," Yelana insisted. "It's probably nothing, but it's best that you stay here."

"All right," Sunna agreed reluctantly. "Be careful."

--------

"Mattias, take a small scouting party to see what's going on," Agnarr commanded. "Do not engage unless someone attacks you first. The important thing is to get the information back to us."

"Yes, my king," Mattias nodded.

--------

Anna was worried. She'd never seen Elsa so obsessed before. And the fact that Elsa had been keeping secrets from her hadn't been helping, either. She was still trying to catch her breath after the whirlwind that was the Wind Spirit nearly killed them.

(Well, all right, the Spirit--"Gale," Olaf had named it--seemed friendly enough now, dancing leaves and all. But she was keeping an eye on it.)

Right now, all the noise in the forest just seemed to be out to get her. She'd been camping with Kristoff before, but she'd never felt so overwhelmed at all the noise. As such, she was understandably on edge when she grabbed an ice sword and sliced through some branches.

The Northuldran scouting party had their staves at the ready. They were in no mood for intruders.

"Lower your weapon," Honeymaren said in a low voice. She brandished her staff, ready to disarm Anna if the situation called for it.

The situation was only exacerbated by the clang of swords on shields. The Arendellian scouting party had intervened--not so much to rescue the group as to get information.

"Identify yourselves!" Mattias shouted.

Yelana strode purposefully towards Mattias. "Are you threatening my people, Lieutenant?"

"Do you have a problem with the terms we've agreed to?" he countered.

Anna eyed the two sides warily. Her body was a coiled spring, ready to strike at anyone who got close. She wasn't sure if the ice sword she'd commandeered would actually hold up, but it was sharp, pointy and intimidating.

Yelana frowned. "So, you're here too?" she asked sourly. Her frown deepened as she saw Anna defending Elsa. Something about the two women reminded her of the stories that Iduna told them. After all, platinum-blonde hair was a rare shade on anyone. That bought them some leeway, but she would not tolerate a sword brandished at her.

"Girl, I don't know how you entered this forest, but I will not be held at sword point." Her tone became colder. "Put. It. Down."

That didn't disarm the situation. In fact, Anna was even more tense. "No."

"This isn't helping," Elsa whispered. "I appreciate this, but maybe I should talk--"

"I'd listen to her if I were you, girl," Mattias said grudgingly. "I hate to admit it, but that overgrown stick of hers isn't just for show."

Anna felt Kristoff take a step behind her. He didn't grab the sword from her hand, nor did he try to push her out of the way. He was just there, supporting her without saying a word.

Anna managed a little smile. There were times when those little gestures of his were worth more than any flowery words.

Then both groups charged, intent on taking Anna's sword. Anna prepared herself for a fight.

"ENOUGH!" Elsa exclaimed, a blast of her power coating the ground with ice. Both groups slipped and fell in awkward heaps.

Mattias struggled to pick himself up. He gaped at the assembled group.

"That was magic," he whispered, flabbergasted. "Did you see that?" he asked Yelana.

Yelana blinked. Then a ghost of a smirk appeared on her face.

"Well," she began. "That does explain a few things." She managed to right herself and turned her gaze to Elsa. "So you're the reason for that winter in July."

Elsa blinked. "Wait, you know about--"

Then Olaf decided to make his appearance. Both groups stared in awe as the little snowman dramatically recounted the sisters' story.

(Yelana found it darkly amusing that Mattias was such a softy at heart. She made a note to remind him of this at the most inconvenient time.)

With a gesture, Elsa melted the ice. She looked a bit aggrieved at Olaf's overly-simplified, yet oddly charming retelling. Anna looked mortified. Kristoff, for his part, just kept near Anna, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Thankfully, the introductions were less dramatic than the initial meeting. Curiosity had overcome wariness. That, and Olaf's presence had lightened things considerably.

"Queen Elsa and Princess Anna," Yelana said, a little smirk forming on her face. "I should have known; you have much of your mother in you--including her stubborn streak." She looked pointedly at the ice sword.

With a nervous chuckle, Anna gently put down the sword. "Yeah, I guess I don't need that anymore, do I?" She paused. "Wait, you knew our mother?"

Yelana was trying very hard not to laugh at Anna's use of the past tense. Even though her relationship with Iduna had more than a bit of friction, there were some moments that she just didn't want to spoil.

"My niece," Yelana said. "Which makes you two my grand nieces, I suppose." She looked at Mattias with undisguised, malicious glee. "But the good Lieutenant has something to show you."

Mattias didn't quite grimace at having been saddled with the responsibility. Still, the girls deserved to know. The best way was to show them.

Anna and Elsa were understandably curious as they made their way to the dam. They were amazed that the Arendellian camp was so populated--though they didn't know that most of them were from the royal yacht. Any murmurs were quickly silenced by a glare from Mattias, which promised swift retribution if the surprise was spoiled.

They reached the cabin and Mattias urged them to wait outside. The sisters could see figures inside, but they couldn't make out anything.

"Your Majesties?" Mattias asked softly.

"What is it?" Agnarr asked. "Did you find what was causing the disturbance in the forest?"

Iduna caught the light of mischief in the old Lieutenant's eyes. She wondered what he had found.

"I have," Mattias admitted. "You may want to sit down, though." He thought about it for a moment. "Or not. Maybe just come outside, please. We have...visitors. From outside the forest."

"How is that--?" Agnarr began, but Mattias held a finger to his lips.

"Please, Your Majesties," he urged them. "You've both waited a very long time for this."

Agnarr and Iduna shared a questioning look. Mattias wasn't usually this dramatic.

"Lieutenant?" Anna asked from outside. "Is everything all right?"

Both parents' jaws dropped. Iduna's eyes started tearing up as she trembled. Agnarr wasn't much better off.

Mattias smiled and stepped aside.

"King Agnarr? Queen Iduna? I believe that you know these two young ladies."

As one, the color drained out of every member of the royal family. They gaped at the impossible sight of each other.

"Mama?" Anna squeaked. Her voice cracked as her lips quivered, tears forming in her eyes.

"Father?" Elsa asked hesitantly. She, too, had tears in her eyes. "How--?"

"Elsa? Anna?" Those were the only shaky words that Agnarr could get out. His kingly demeanor had evaporated.

Iduna's hands flew to her mouth as the tears flowed. "My babies..." she whispered. "Oh, my girls, how did you--?" She stopped trying to talk and just opened her arms wide.

Anna dashed forward and hugged Iduna tight. After a moment's hesitation, Elsa joined her. Soon after that, Agnarr completed the group hug, kissing both daughters on their foreheads.

For moments, there was nothing but the quiet sobbing from all members of the royal family. Mattias had backed off a little to give them some room.

Slowly, reluctantly, the parents released their daughters. Agnarr took in a ragged breath as he realized something: Elsa had allowed him to hold her, something she hadn't done since she was 12.

"We thought we'd lost you three years ago," Iduna said. "We had three days of snow in July and then...it was gone."

"It's a very long story," Elsa told her. "I--"

"Ooh!" Olaf exclaimed, popping out from behind Kristoff and Sven. "Does this mean that I can tell the story again?"

Iduna squeaked and kicked off Olaf's head. Kristoff caught that part of the snowman and immediately had a sense of deja vu.

Olaf's head shook itself. "Yup, Anna, she's definitely your mother!"

Kristoff sighed and reunited Olaf's head with the rest of his body. "There you go," he said, straightening out Olaf so that he was facing forward.

Agnarr's jaw actually dropped. He turned towards Elsa to try to make sense of things.

"Did you...?" he began.

"I made him," Elsa confirmed.

"`Made' or were there...other circumstances?" His usually tactful vocabulary seemed to have been out of reach at the moment.

Elsa flushed at the implications. "Father--no, just...he's from my magic. There wasn't anybody--just no."

"I guess I'm kind of like your grandson," Olaf noted. Then he smiled. "Anyway, I am Olaf and I like warm hugs! So, can I call you grandma and grandpa?"

"Take it easy, Olaf," Anna said gently. "Remember what we said about people taking their time getting to know you?"

"But if they're your parents, then they're my family too, right?"

Both Anna and Elsa chuckled nervously. Iduna, however, seemed to find it endearing. She knelt down and offered him a quick embrace. Agnarr, for his part, knelt down and gently patted him on the back.

"Not exactly the grandson I was hoping for," he remarked. "But you seem like a decent sort." He stood up and noticed Kristoff and Sven. "And whom might you two be?"

Anna was quick to intervene; she recognized the "reindeer in the lamplight" look that Kristoff had whenever he had to introduce himself. Introducing himself to King Agnarr was especially intimidating.

"Papa, this is Kristoff Bjorgman, Ice Master and Deliverer," Anna said enthusiastically. "And this is his reindeer friend Sven. Three years ago, they helped save my life and, well...Elsa knighted him in gratitude. So, I guess I should have started off with `Sir' Kristoff Bjorgman."

"We're meeting your parents," he muttered. "I don't believe this."

Anna patted him on the shoulder. "It's going to be okay," she whispered.

Both parents noted the byplay. Silently they agreed to talk to the young man to find out what was going on.

"Pleasure to meet you, Sir Kristoff," Agnarr said, extending his hand. He was duly impressed by the honest, firm handshake that Kristoff gave him.

Anna was almost vibrating with enthusiasm. Her father and boyfriend were already getting along so well! She didn't seem to notice that Kristoff seemed prepared to be executed on the spot.

"I think we should go inside the cabin," Iduna said. "From the looks of it, we both have tales to tell."

Elsa and Anna nodded. Before they could go further, Anna raised her finger.

"Before we do, could we have another group hug?" Anna asked as she sniffled. "Because I really, really missed that."

Agnarr and Iduna were more than happy to oblige. For the moment, their stories could wait. Right now, however it had happened, all was found.

#frozen #frozen 2 #king agnarr #queen iduna #elsa #anna #agduna #northuldra

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harry-sussex · 5 years ago

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KATIE’S TOP 10 15 BEST ROYAL WEDDING DRESSES OF ALL TIME

15. Princess Madeleine in Valentino (Sweden, m. Christopher O’Neill, 8 June 2013)

The only thing I can say I hate genuinely about this dress is that it never sat right off her shoulders. It looked like it was slipping and sliding all day. Other than that, wow, this dress is gorgeous. The color is beautiful, combined with that fantastic tiara and gorgeous veil. Lace but not too much lace. Absolutely beautiful!

14. Mette-Marit Tjessem Høiby in Ove Harder Finseth (Norway, m. Crown Prince Haakon, 25 August 2001)

I love a simple wedding dress, and Mette-Marit really hit it out of the park with hers. I love that she was involved with the design. I love that she accessorized really minimally to let the dress and that fabulous veil shine. The only thing I’d like to have seen is a bit more bling in the tiara, but she still looked absolutely beautiful!

13. Countess Olympia von und zu Arco-Zinneberg in Oscar de la Renta (France/Austria, m. Prince Jean-Christophe Napoleon Bonaparte, 19 October 2019)

This dress is so far out of my comfort zone, but it is absolutely fabulous. So quirky, so intricate - I’m in love! It’s classic Oscar de la Renta and it fits her beautifully. I’m not a fan of what the cape does in the chest area and I would never, ever wear this myself but it’s a work of art! Absolutely fabulous!

12. Camilla Parker-Bowles in Anna and Robinson Valentine (United Kingdom, m. The Prince of Wales, 9 April 2005)

I think this is stunning for a second wedding. The color, the gold accents, the classic Philip Treacy headpiece - absolutely magnificent. It looks bridal without being juvenile, and it’s gorgeous while still being appropriate for the occasion. I’ve always loved it!

11. Crown Princess Victoria in Pär Engsheden (Sweden, m. Daniel Westling, 19 June 2010)

The combination of the simplicity of Victoria’s gown with the Cameo tiara and that gorgeous, intricate bouquet is exquisite. The Cameo needed something simple to let it shine and Victoria and Engsheden did not disappoint. The color and material were perfection and this is how you do an off-the-shoulder short-sleeved look! Combined with no necklace to really let the whole look shine, this is one of my favorites!

10. Beatrice Borromeo in Armani Privé (Monaco, m. Pierre Casiraghi, 1 August 2015)

This is the first of three (yes, three) mentions of Beatrice Borromeo on this list. She’s gorgeous and would have made a beautiful bride wearing a trash bag but this dress is something else. It’s classic bridal with just a touch of high fashion and I love it. That lace is so, so delicate, only someone as graceful as Beatrice could have pulled it off. Her veil is gorgeous and although I missed a tiara, she’s literally sparkling in the delicate, shimmery fabric!

9. Catherine Middleton in Sarah Burton for Alexander McQueen (United Kingdom, m. Prince William, 29 April 2011)

What a love affair the world has with this dress, the modern icon of all wedding dresses! It would have been easy to overwhelm Kate’s figure with a full skirt, but Sarah Burton nailed the proportions perfectly. The lace is exquisite from her neck to her shoes. I love how she brought back lace sleeves in bridal fashion. The peplum detail on the back of the skirt is incredible. It fit her like a second skin in the best way and she looked every bit the fairytale princess walking down the aisle. Her veil was just the right length, too - not too long but not too short. It’s no wonder this is the new iconic wedding dress!

8. Meghan Markle in Clare Waight-Keller for Givenchy (United Kingdom, m. Prince Harry, 19 May 2018)

I’ve said before that I love a simple wedding dress, and Meghan did not disappoint. The boat neckline was so flattering on Prince Harry’s bride, and the color and fabric were just the right combination for her. I stood on the Long Walk during their carriage procession, and I could see Meghan coming from a mile away because she was literally shimmering in the sunlight. I wish it was better tailored - my only true grievance - but everything else was gorgeous. And that veil! What can I say about that veil? It literally sparkled in the sunlight going up the stairs to the chapel. I can’t say enough - and the fact that it included a patch of the dress they wore on their first date? My heart!! If this was better tailored, it would have been top 5.

7. Princess Eugenie in Zac Posen (United Kingdom, m. Jack Brooksbank, 12 October 2019)

The first reception dress of the list! Eugenie’s ceremony dress was pretty, but not my style. This, however... how could one go wrong with a pale blush cape dress that fit her perfectly? She looks like an ethereal goddess, like she’s descended from the clouds to grace us with her presence. The color is magnificent, the fabric so delicate. I don’t know how it’s possible to look so beautiful and so comfortable at the same time, but Eugenie and Zac Posen really pulled it off. This was such a pleasant surprise when comparing it to her ceremony dress - I loved it!

6. Beatrice Borromeo in Valentino (Monaco, m. Pierre Casiraghi, 25 July 2015)

Never in my life could I have imagined myself picking a purple wedding dress in a list of favorites, but here we are. Beatrice’s civil wedding dress was everything one could have expected from her - delicate, feminine, with an almost fairy-like quality that many couldn’t even dream to pull off. She literally looks like a goddess. The lace overlay cape was something out of a dream, and the natural flow of the skirt is magnificent. I love that the lace detail up top matches the lace detail at the bottom. Ethereal is the word I would use to describe this dress - absolutely heavenly!

5. Elisabetta Rosboch von Wolkenstein in Valentino (Belgium, m. Prince Amadeo, 5 July 2014)

The delicate details of this dress are everything! I love the matching neckline with the sleeve structure and the chest/mesh detail. I especially love how those details match the veil outline. I usually don’t like mesh paneling very much, but Elisabetta pulled it off beautifully. The simplicity of the skirt is complemented by the gorgeous overlay. Plus, there’s something so gorgeously simple about the twist in her hair that I just adore. The skirt is flattering and of the right proportion, and I love how vibrant the white is. This is truly one of my favorites - so delicate and feminine!

4. Claire Lademacher in Elie Saab (Luxembourg, m. Prince Felix, 21 September 2012)

Y’all know I wasn’t going to get through this list without my main man Elie Saab. This dress is truly a masterpiece, a piece of premier artistry. The lace detail is simply unparalleled, and it being head-to-toe does nothing to detract from the magnificence that is Princess Claire and Elie Saab. I love the high neckline and the minimalistic jewelry. Plus, that tiara with her dark hair and that gorgeous veil? *chef’s kiss* magnificent. Absolutely otherworldly.

3. Countess Stéphanie de Lannoy in Elie Saab (Luxembourg, m. Hereditary Grand Duke Guillaume, 20 October 2012)

God, what a dress. What can I even say? That lace? Incredible. The skirt? Fantastic. The train? Phenomenal. Veil? Unreal. I really don’t have anything technical to say about this other than good Lord, it is out-of-this-world, show-stopping fabulous. Stéphanie’s usual style is not my favorite but it’s truly all forgiven because she pulled out the big guns with this royal wedding dress, the epitome of what a royal wedding dress should be. The only thing that heightens this above Princess Claire’s Elie Saab masterpiece is the color - it’s so gorgeous, so flattering, I have no words. Also, I’m a sucker for this kind of veil - mounted on the back of her head and thin enough to be transparent. The whole thing is mesmerizing - an absolute work of art.

2. Beatrice Borromeo in Armani Privé (Monaco, m. Pierre Casiraghi, 1 August 2015)

Beatrice’s second reception gown rounds out my favorites of hers from her wedding week. I love the simple lines of this dress - the v-neck is so flattering and I love that the straps are thin without being too thin. The A-line cascades down through the skirt beautifully, the belted waist ties the full thing together. The construction is truly magical, a genuine workpiece. I can’t talk about this dress without discussing the cape-like effect of the back. She looks like she is walking through the clouds with the gorgeous wispiness of the cape. I love that the pieces are separate, and I can only imagine what they looked like in motion. Armani truly outdid himself with this - it was perfectly constructed from top to bottom. A true masterpiece.

1. Lady Gabriella Windsor in Luisa Beccaria (United Kingdom, m. Thomas Kingston, 18 May 2019)

And finally, last but certainly not least - the inspiration for my future wedding dress if I ever get married. Lady Gabriella stopped me in my tracks when I saw this dress. Literally, I was walking and looking at my phone, and I stopped short when I saw it. The cape is just divine, that’s the only word I can use to describe it. It’s like Beatrice’s second reception dress, but kicked up a notch with that absolutely inimitable lace overlay. The skirt is proportioned beautifully, and I love how it flatters her figure without suffocating her. The shoulder/cape detail is heavenly. I could stare at this dress all day long, it is so magnificent. It is delicate and feminine with magnificent construction, structured and lined beautifully with an element of softness and romance that cannot be paralleled. It’s no wonder this is my favorite royal wedding gown of all time. It’s just extraordinary. I’ve done my best to explain in words but I simply cannot. This dress is incredible. Heart-stopping, show-stopping, jaw-dropping magnificent.

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mannien · 5 years ago

Text

“You’re Shaking”

Pairing: Tom Holland x Millie Beaver (my own fictional character)

Summary: When Millie is supposed to be strong and emotionally ready to celebrate her sister’s wedding, the best friend arrives to the rescue.

Word Count: 5.6K

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, friends to lovers tropes, weddings

Author’s Note: HEY! HI! I’m new at this! This is my attempt at the writing challenge made by the lovely @cunaeparker! I would post it on the deadline on the 30th, but it’s my birthday as well, so I’ll be probably busy eating chocolate then. Also, it’s a part of the fic that I’m currently writing, hence the specific characters here. If you have any questions about the plot, just ask!

When I first heard that my oldest sister was getting married, I knew I wanted to be a part of this. She may have not known that, but it’s been a very emotional ride for me, personally. Seeing her life roll out a red carpet in front of her, leading straight to the world of eternal love and happiness, it made me realize a lot of things about myself, too.

First and foremost, it showed me what love should look like. Liz and David were the definition of true love for me, and I could not thank them enough for unknowingly telling me this. But months of preparation, more frequent family dinners, and a bunch of personal issues later, the reality hurt like a motherfucker. Since their eye-opening engagement, I’d been struggling with my own relationship and my own happiness.

It’s not that I didn’t like my boyfriend Frank. If I didn’t, we wouldn’t have spent over 2 years together. He was kind, a little less thoughtful than I would like but still a decent amount, very handsome, and a tiny bit more intelligent than me in our common areas of expertise. In addition to it all, he was able to handle me, a very messy head, so there was really no reason for me not to be with him any longer.

Except, there actually was.

I never mean to point fingers either, because I don’t blame people for my feelings. But a number of conversations with my best friend also showed me that there are people caring more about me than Frank; people who are willing to sacrifice more and who pay a lot more attention to the details that make me, well, me. Although, perhaps I shouldn’t compare those two relationships; the guy who got to make out with me has known me since we took the same advanced journalism class at the university. But the one who actually knows the size of my shoe and what allergies I used to have, he’s known me forever. Of course, we had our better or worse times; months when I would be too busy writing essays to talk to him, and he would be lost in filming another blockbuster movie. But at the end of the day, he was like a brother to me. He took care of me. However, most importantly, he knew I was unhappy with Frank and he pointed it out to me a couple of times.

My sister’s happiness and my best friend’s care worked, though. They made me face the reality. They hit me in the face with it so hard that I’ve been feeling like shit for the past month. It’s been exactly a month since me and Frank broke up. To top it off, precisely two hours before the ceremony, at this gorgeous castle in the middle of nowhere in Scotland, my memory played me and told me: “Hey, Millie! It would’ve been your and Frank’s 3-year anniversary!”

This unbearable stream of thoughts hit me when I was watching Liz smile to the mirror at her glorious hairdo. It wasn’t too complicated, her hair was only curled and pinned up in a few right places, but her beaming expression was something to die for. She was ecstatic to marry the love of her life and I couldn’t blame her; it was her day, she was beautiful, and her fiancée was the nicest and most trustworthy man in the world. My torn apart heart envied her, but my face squeezed out the tiniest smile. She was happy, and nothing else was important.

“Come on Millie, let’s give her a breather.” Our middle sister pulled me out of trance. She already had her face full of a glittery, smoky makeup. Leaving Liz’s room meant we will see each other again during the ceremony, and that I needed to get my shit together.

We walked down the dark hall to where our rooms were, just a few doors apart. Our whole way from Liz’s she was on her phone and I stayed silent, patiently listening to her fingernails tapping against the screen, while I did all I could to hold back the disgustingly growing need to throw up from stress.

“Sam, could you stop for a minute?” She looked up at me, right when she was about to open the door to her room.

“What’s up?” She asked, her eyebrows narrowed in concern. I opened my mouth to say something, but I wasn’t even sure what would I allow myself to say. Should I say I’m nervous? Should I start rambling about how my heart is still aching, especially so because of the wedding? How I was supposed to have a peaceful relationship and an obvious choice of date for my sister’s big day but instead, I had to realize that I simply wasted 3 years of my life and emotional devotion?

“Do you…” I started, but nothing came out. I had to swallow down the terrible taste in my mouth. “…how do you turn off your emotions for an event like this?”

“Oh, sweetie…” She no longer had her pretty London accent. A few years in California made her tongue roll differently on each word, and I could barely feel the warmth of her voice. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this, especially now.” He hugged me, but not with all she had in her, because we both respected the effort put into her face. It saddened me, but that was the reality.

“I’m sorry, too.” I whispered.

“Hold on tight, okay? It’s gonna be alright. You’re a fierce one, Mills.”

“I wish I was.” I pity-laughed at myself, but soon regretted that. Sam’s hand slapped my arm quite harshly.

“Hey! Stop that right now. Go on, put that fancy dress you’ve got, make your eyes and lips pop, we’re the Beaver girls, right? Now chop-chop, move your arse.” She pushed me in the direction of my room with a grin. I tried to mirror her expression just for the sake of her attempt to be British again. To be homey, again.

When I was trying my hardest not to lose it emotionally, I focused on practical tasks. I mastered my makeup and sprayed myself with that setting spray the world was screaming about. My hair was a little unruly and I needed an extra bobby pin, if I wanted it to stay up and show off my dress. The self-conscious me didn’t want to, but Liz would want me to. And today was about Liz, so I fought with that high, slightly messy bun until my arms went numb.

My dress was the trickiest part. It required me to tie three bows and zip my whole back up to the neck. Maneuvering all that without messing up anything else in my appearance didn’t sound promising, and being harsh with the material wouldn’t work either. The dress was a work of art to me, so when me and Liz both looked at it one evening, she told me straight away she will ditch the sister dress code. She didn’t make us wear all similar colors, but rather encouraged me to pull the most ‘Millie Beaver’ look I was capable of. So, I ended up with a black tulle uneven material ending somewhere above my knees, going up to the waist in the tiniest folds in an A-line skirt. The see-through, sheer fabric was covered with draped embellishments made out of the tiniest sequins. They made a sort of brush-paint effect that covered my body from my bottom just above the round of my breasts. The neck and loose sleeves made of the thinnest black mesh which barely changed the color of my skin, ended with intense black stripes ready to be turned into the prettiest of bows. I don’t know if it complimented my body, but it definitely made me feel like the prettiest version of myself.

As I was getting into the long sleeves and pulling the body above my boobs, I loud knocking noise interrupted my focus. Intuitively, I looked at the time and exhaled a calming breath, knowing I still have some time and I’m not running late. I held the top of my dress with my right hand, not wanting it to slid down when I open the door.

Tom looked ready to knock again. His fist hovered in the air for a second, until he raised his eyes and noticed me. He smiled down at me with the warmest facial expression I was given today by anyone, or so did I think. I couldn’t help but give him a one good look over. He was dressed up in a very deep navy-blue suit; the kind of navy blue that makes each man look a hundred times more attractive. The way it clung nicely to his broad shoulders told me it was tailor made from a thick and rich material. His crispy white shirt had a few buttons unmade, so it didn’t hug his neck but rather made his throat more exposed in a way that I always tried to avoid. The smile reached his eyes and woke up the wrinkles around them, making his face look even prettier than before. His short brown locks were tucked away nicely with the tiniest amount of hair gel, and I knew right away he had done it on purpose; I’d used to make fun of the shiny look he so often went for at public events.

I could swear that all these details about his appearance my mind grasped within seconds. He didn’t make a funny comment about it, he just greeted me sweetly and nodded at me.

“Hey, Mills.”

“Hey!” I tried to return his smile in a way that would tell him how happy I was to see him. Or maybe how relieved? “Come in, just… avoid the preparation mess.” I laughed and let him in. I closed the door and unintentionally glanced at the way the suit nicely covered his muscular back and bottom. “Look at you, movie star!” I tried to whistle, but I failed and just blew into the air with a little swish to it. He turned to me with a raised brow and laughed at my poor attempt to be sassy.

“I called you, I didn’t know if you were busy right now and I didn’t want to interrupt if you were with Liz.”

“Oh, sorry,” I mumbled quickly, getting close to the phone that was peacefully left alone on the nightstand and charging. “I’m not feeling good, so I just wanted to get ready and face the world after.”

“What’s wrong?” His face scrunched up in concern.

“Just, you know…” My lips formed a tight smile. I shrugged and as it made the shoulders of my dress slide down my arms a little, I remembered that I still had to fix it and put on properly. I hugged the material tight to my chest and fought the terrible urge to bite my lips. “… a bit stressed out.” I mumbled, not willing to go into detail and break down. My mind worked really hard to change the subject as quick as possible, just because he knew I was overreacting and he would want me to be honest. It was a self-destructive behavior, really, but I couldn’t help it when the vomit was trying to make its way up my throat once again. I glanced at him fidgeting with his hands and only then noticed that he was holding two ties in his left hand. He opened his mouth to say something, but I didn’t let him. “So, spill the deal Thomas. You’ve never told me who’s your plus one?”

He watched me carefully, as if he already knew what I was up to. I hated this about him, but he played well. A knowing smile spread across his lips as he held up the ties.

“That’s actually one of the things I wanted to discuss with you. The last thing I want is to make you feel uncomfortable tonight, so I wanted your help with these.” He held both accessories in separate hands and put them close to his chest, comparing the way they looked with his suit.

“You can’t choose your tie?” I asked with a chuckle, while pulling the dress completely over my shoulders and hoping it would stay in place, although unzipped and untied. “What happened to your fashion sense?”

“Well, the fashion sense is still here, I mean…” He started cheekily, giving me a slow pirouette to show off of his outfit. “…it looks pretty good if I’m honest.” He laughed. “But no, I wanted to ask you because first of all, you know better,” the pure confidence in his voice made us both chuckle happily again. “and second of all, this option is for me going solo,” his hand holding a striped tie in different shades of blue moved to the middle. “and this one matches your dress, so that I could be your plus one.” He held up closer the burgundy one, with tiny golden embroidered elements. It was almost the exact shade that my dress had bursting out the most from the waist. We would match in a very delicate way, not overwhelming others with the similarity, but rather stating that we probably knew what we were doing.

My heart was rapidly beating, making my insides warm up from this single gesture that he offered. I felt tears well up in my eyes. He knew I was hurting during my relationship, he saw me hurt when I fought for what I had with Frank, as well as he saw me in pain when we called it quits a month ago. My lower lip quivered, not sure if it wanted to let out a tiny sob, or spread wide in a smile. I felt confused emotionally, but the simplicity of Tom’s thought spread a fuzzy feeling across my body.

I moved closer to him, forgetting about the lipstick and biting my lower lip. I took the dark red tie from him and straightened it up, before pulling it over his neck with a small smile. I started the first two moves that I had known from TV, but then absentmindedly started to play with the fabric, trying to look professional.

“Do you even know how to do it?” He tried not to laugh too much at me, so his stifled joy ended up in a sucked in smile.

“YouTube knows.” I smiled up at him. His eyes glistened in a joyful expression as he breathed out a giggle. He took out his phone from the jacket pocket and quickly searched for an easy tutorial for me.

“Go on.” He encouraged me and held his phone up, so that I could see the instructions. I focused on the task and felt the nerves creeping away. My hands slowly relaxed and in swift motions I finished up a loose knot. He noticed my progress and threw his phone on my bed. His gaze was fixated on me; I could feel his brown eyes watching me carefully.

“Can I finish this off?” I asked very quietly, not sparing a look at his face. My fingers hovered over the undone top buttons of his shirt and only when he didn’t reply, I looked up. He was already watching me with an expression I rarely saw on him. He was eyeing my face so closely and delicately, almost as if he tried to memorize that moment. He gently nodded his head and did so while locking our eyes. I swallowed heavily, trying to push away the nauseous feeling that crept back in as a nervous reaction. Very carefully I started working on the little buttons. Then I put his collar up to fit in the tie and gently pushed up the knot, focusing on not wrinkling anything. Then I smoothed out his shirt and smiled proudly to myself.

“Well done!” He chuckled at my childish pride and touched up the knot himself.

“Thank you for doing this.” I whispered, tapping lightly at his chest. I smiled up at him, feeling the tears threatening to escape again. I moved away from him; I didn’t want to become a mess shortly before such big and happy family event.

I started walking towards the bathroom and attempted to zip up my dress at the same time. Soon enough it turned into desperate fumbling with the material at the beginning of the zipper, because it sucked in a tiny piece of fabric. I couldn’t imagine taking it all off and then putting on again after a fight with the zip, my perfectly imperfect bun wouldn’t handle it well.

“Hey, could you give me a hand here?” I turned to him, as he was putting his phone back in the pocket. We used to see each other in many innocent, yet body revealing situations. Hence, we were usually comfortable with one another so that sleeping in the same bed only in our underwear was okay. We made fun of each other’s bodies and somehow, we knew them probably also for the sake of memories from our shared early childhood.

But it felt different this time. The fact that I was so emotionally exposed to him today was possibly one of the reasons why I felt nervous. I knew we were best friends, he was a brother I never had, but suddenly it felt intimate. I was conscious about the fact that I had no bra on, and although I made sure I wasn’t flashing him anything, he had to reach to my lower back to fix the zipper and then slide it across my bare skin.

“Please be gentle with it.” I added. His knuckles softly pushed against me, when he tried to slowly pull the zipper up.

“Exactly how gentle are we speaking?” He chuckled. Then he put one hand on my hip and led me slightly backwards, so that he could sit on my bed.

“Gentle as in I spent all my savings on the only dress I have for my sister’s wedding.” I turned a little to him, trying to steal a glance at what he’s doing. “It’s okay if you can’t do it, I’ll have to try…”

“Shut up, I’ve got it.” He shushed me and pushed me slightly forward again. I felt him stand up and take a light grip at the zipper, before gently pulling it up my spine. “Straighten up.” I stretched out my back as he asked, or maybe even a little too much. My hips moved backwards and made my butt hit his front. It made me feel nauseous again; I was definitely not ready for a wave of seemingly irrational feelings. It was just Tom, and yet I was scared of accidentally touching his crotch with my ass. “Alright, all pretty here.” He smoothed out the material on both my shoulders and I could feel him hesitate for a moment, before he let go of me completely.

“Thanks.” I smiled shyly at him and made my way to the mirror, before he could say I was nervous. I started working on the bow on my neckline.

“Oh, so you’re tying them all up?”

“Yeah, that’s how it’s supposed to look. So you better watch carefully, cause I can’t do the other two as pretty as this one.”

“Man, I thought I only came here to decide on a tie.” He moaned mockingly. I could see him in the mirror, he came up to stand next to me and watch my fingers in action.

“You’re free to go, I can always ask my mom to do it for me.” I shrugged, straightening up the loose ends of the bow.

“And leave my date for the night? No, thank you.” He winked at me cheekily, and I laughed at him. I pulled out my tongue at him and scrunched up my nose. “Don’t do it, your face will stay like this forever.”

“Wouldn’t you like that? At least you could laugh at me, if my jokes aren’t funny to you.” I challenged him, raising an eyebrow.

“Nah, at least one of us has to stay pretty.”

“I thought you said you were pretty?”

“The word is CUTE.” He emphasized. “And there are people who agree on this.” He added. I reached out with my hand to him, so he could try and make an even bow.

“Your granny?” And there it was. Making fun of him as a coping mechanism, whenever I was noticing the upside of his appearance and thinking about it longer than necessary.

“She’s my number one fan, so she counts.” I pointed at the longer end of the knot, so he started fixing it to make it even with the other.

“I thought she was Paddy’s number one fan. Or Sam’s for his abnormal cooking skills.” He smiled soundly at this. “But hey, don’t worry. Your best friend is your fan.”

“You mean Harrison? Yeah, he’s okay. But he’s got history of being more of an assistant, you know?” Tom snorted out a loud laugh at his word and I couldn’t stay silent at that.

“I thought you had another best friend?” He pretended to be deep in thought. I briefly checked on the ready bows and straightened up my sleeves.

“Can’t think of anyone else. Care to share?” He playfully scratched his chin like an old aristocrat. I moved around him to start gathering my things, keeping in mind that I should touch up my lipstick.

“For all I know, you’ve had one super fan ever since you met her as a wee nicked kid.”

“Wow, I must’ve had a very peculiar taste in choosing my best friends.” He laughed, and I only sent him a sideway smile. Although I was the one to encourage our fun exchange, I wasn’t sure if it made me feel comfortable. I wasn’t doubting his friendship, but sometimes I would get this nagging thought starting with ‘what if….’ I didn’t know how I felt anymore, and the sole fact that I was packing my small handbag to my sister’s wedding was near to give me a serious panic attack.

I sat down on a little chair next to the window and started doing up my deep red, velvet lace up pumps with four cross-straps that ended in tiny golden buttons. These were also way out of my every-day comfort zone, but figured as the prettiest pair of shoes I owned. Plus, they went well probably only with this dress. I actually had to spend a couple of days walking around the house in them, just so I could remember if I could walk in high heels.

I stood up, slowly moving around my feet to adjust the fit, and that’s when my mind became a complete mayhem.

“You look so foxy. You should wear heels to work, I bet they would take your ideas seriously in these.” Frank’s words kept on replaying in my head and I was ready to rip those shoes apart. I felt a terrible scrunch in my tummy and I couldn’t hold it anymore. As quickly as I could without tripping over, I made my way to the bathroom and knelt next to the open toilet, ready to empty my stomach any second. A loud sob escaped my lips when nothing would come out and I had to live through the worst wave of nausea. I started ugly-crying, letting go of every inch of calm that tried to keep my nerves under control. I leaned with my elbows on the toilet seat and just held myself there.

“Minnie, are you okay?” I felt Tom squat beside me, his hand gently laid on my back and started rubbing it in soothing circles. I just shook my head and kept on crying, unable to even talk to him. I tried taking deep breaths to calm my body down, but another loose thought about my ex-boyfriend clouded my head and I leaned over the toilet again, hoping this could end already in one way or another. Tom’s free hand went to the bow that started hanging in a risky zone and tucked it close to my chest. His other one went up, massaging slightly my neck to help me relax. “I will breathe with you, okay? It might get better if you follow.” He said in a hushed, yet stern voice. “Come on, one large in,” he inhaled loudly and I tried to mimic him. “now hold it for a second for me, let your body relax,” except that I couldn’t, and my face scrunched in misery. “It’s okay, try again Mills. It’s just a panic attack, you can get through this. Come on, breathe.”

He guided me through a few more deep cycles until my crying stopped. Somewhere during the second inhale I was breaking again, so he rested his forehead on the side of my head, right above my ear, where I could feel his breath on my skin and focus solely on it.

“That’s my girl. You’re safe with me, okay? I promise.” I only nodded rapidly. He slowly moved away to kiss my head in a protective gesture, as he used to whenever he was being affectionate with me.

“Fuck, I’m such a mess!” I groaned in frustration, still feeling the heavy beating of my heart. I sat down on the floor, trying to untangle my feet from under me and rest them somewhat comfortably, even if it meant resting my legs in the most revealing pose. I rested my back on the side of the bath and hid my face in my hands. I squeezed out a few more tears, until I felt a gentle tug on both my wrists.

“Look at me,” Tom asked sternly. He massaged my wrists and patiently waited for me to lift up my eyes to his concentrated gaze. “You’re a mess only if you let yourself feel like one. And I’m not here to see you miserable.”

“Easy for you to say! My sister’s about to get hitched and I keep on thinking about how… how I used to hope, that this would be me and Frank one day because my mind is so fucked up and… and I allowed him to treat my feelings like shit! Just because I wanted someone to fucking love me and want to have a life with me and be my fucking lover!” I let out loudly with a broken sob mid-sentence.

“For fuck’s sake, stop hurting yourself!” He raised his voice and I could feel my heart drop. “I understand it fucking hurts. And I’m so, so sorry, I know you were deeply invested in your relationship with Frank, I get it. But please, for just one moment, try to imagine how would it be if you stopped dwelling on this shit!” He took a frustrated breath and tried to remain composed. He stood up and leaned back on the sink with crossed arms. He closed his eyes, but then started watching me carefully, as if to see if I was going to snap again.

I just sat there motionlessly, too shocked to react in any way. My brain was tired from the panic attack, my body ached from the nerves, and my tongue got cut off by shame. I closed my eyes and tried to rethink my current situation, sort out my feelings. There was a part of me that wanted to reach out to hope, to reason, and to the right place in my heart. Right when I was imagining the right place for my heart, my eyes snapped open to check if Tom was still standing there. He was, eyes glued to me, posture flexed and ready to react. But his face so soft I wanted to burst out in tears again. He was this soft for me.

I reached out to him with my hands and he pulled me up from the floor.

“Exactly how many times should I fucking remind you that you’re better than this, that you actually are lovable, and that there are people who care about you more than that asshole, the one who actually called himself your boyfriend for three years but didn’t deserve it at all?” He asked gently, stepping closer to me. He swiped his thumb underneath my eye, where probably a mascara disaster was happening. Tom gave me a broken smile and it was that smile – the one that made my heart grow and get warm. And suddenly I got goosebumps across my whole body because he was the one to make my mind shut up. All that was left was pure admiration for his care, for his tender smile and for his sparkling brown eyes. This revelation made me feel incredibly exposed to him and almost made me feel shy.

“Could you tell me that one more time?” I replied quietly, still feeling the touch of his hand on my cheek. Curiosity led my voice and made me swallow hard. He smirked at me in a way that I knew made girls swoon over him. However, this time was different and I was the one over the moon.

“Millie, you are incredibly lovable and I fucking care about you. You can get through this and you will, just get your shit together.” He chuckled at the end and I mirrored his reaction, but still heard the first two most important phrases ring through my head. “You are too gorgeous to be still thinking about someone who didn’t make you happy, alright?”

“You promise?”

“Do I promise?” He asked dumbfoundedly and turned us both around, so that we were standing in front of a tall mirror. “Look at yourself, you’re a doll,” He wrapped his arm around my waist when he said that. It felt really warm and right. “you’re perfect in every inch, you look exquisite, hell I’m gonna say it…” he started before cracking a soft, almost nervous laugh. It was obvious he tried to stay composed and professional, but he broke. “you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, that’s it. End of this discussion. Now fix your pretty face, get your fancy bag, and we’ll go see your sister at her happiest.”

I did as he asked but with the amount of warm words that kept replaying in my head, the fifteen minutes that it took me to freshen up felt like a mere second. I felt as if my body was just existing and my soul was floating beside me, intently watching my and Tom’s every move. My floating side kept pushing me into his side, knowing that it will be the best way to stay safe and content. Tom always was a gentleman, his parents raised him well. However, this time when we walked down the corridor to the stairs, and then to the foyer where some guests gathered before entering the main hall where the wedding was supposed to take place, I couldn’t stop thinking about these little gestures. Carefully keeping his hand on my lower back whenever we were turning or passing someone. Smiling down at me whenever I stole a glance at him. Letting me go everywhere first, but not before smoothly checking if there was anything I would possibly trip over. Staying by my side all the time and making sure I was okay. Of course, he was now my date to the wedding. But if any of his brothers were at his place, it wouldn’t be the same.

We were approaching more crowded groups of people and I slowed down. I started feeling incredibly self-conscious and uneasy, especially with the looks that people I knew gave me. Most probably, they looked because I was the bride’s sister, I was finally wearing heels, I had the most makeup since last Christmas, and Tom was side by side with me. Although I doubted it stunned our families that we could be seen together, there were a lot of Liz and Dave’s friends whom we didn’t know, or just old aunties who loved a good gossip. I became fully aware of all of the eyes pointed at us and I felt my insides tremble dangerously. I stopped abruptly and tried to mask my nervousness by fake-fixing my dress. Tom looked back at and raised his funky eyebrow at me, silently asking what’s up. He stepped closer to me and blocked the view of the most intense stares. I stared down at the bows at my sleeves and started anxiously rearranging the strings. I exhaled with an audible shake to my breath and closed my eyes. We stood face to face and I could feel him watching my movements.

“You’re shaking” He whispered, bringing his mouth to the side of my head. Then I felt his fingertips gently touch my hand, before he slowly slid his fingers through mine. Our hands molded together and it calmed me in a way I didn’t know was possible.

“I’m nervous.” I mumbled, so that only he could hear. He left a sweet kiss on my cheek and winked at me.

“No shit, Sherlock.” I let out a nervous laugh and he seemed pleased with my reaction. “Come on, head up, you’re gonna walk in hand in hand with Peter Parker.” He slowly maneuvered the hand he was holding so that I could easily take his arm in an elegant way

“I would rather walk in with Tom Holland.”

“You’re lucky he’s friends with Parker. You can have both.”

Tagging some of the people who I wish would read this bc I love their blogs even though not all of you probably love Tom but I LOVE YOU

@lauras-collection @peeterparkr @thirsttrapholland @fondlynarry @niallandtommo @heyhihellowhatsup0 @constellationsv @angel-spidey @starkissedholland

#saws300followerwc #writing challenge #tom holland #Tom Holland fluff #Tom Holland blurb #Tom Holland fanfiction #prompt challenge #my writing #millie and tommy #millie and tom #my fic #tom holland blurb #tom holland fluff

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