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newstfionline · 4 months ago

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Saturday, August 3, 2024

After Biden’s Withdrawal, Other Aged Leaders Get Some Serious Side-Eye (NYT) When President Biden abandoned his re-election campaign this month, citing the need to “pass the torch to a new generation,” some of the most envious accolades he received came from 6,000 miles away. In central Africa, in coastal Cameroon, many are longing for their president, Paul Biya—at 91 the world’s oldest leader—to take a leaf out of President Biden’s book. But most think he never will. “He’ll do everything to remain in power,” said Lukong Usheno Kiven, a human rights advocate based in Yaoundé, the capital of Cameroon, where Mr. Biya has been in power for 42 years. Mr. Biya is just one of dozens of notably aged leaders who are also far older than the populations they serve. Presidents Xi Jinping of China and Vladimir V. Putin of Russia are both 71. India’s prime minister, Narendra Modi, is 73. Israel’s leader, Benjamin Netanyahu, is 74, while Mahmoud Abbas, the president of the Palestinian Authority, is 88. But it is in Africa—the world’s youngest continent—where the gerontocracies are most stark. Eleven of the world’s 20 oldest leaders are African, according to research done by the Pew Research Center.

Harris won enough votes to be the Democratic nominee (NYT) The Democratic National Committee announced today that Vice President Kamala Harris had secured enough delegates to clinch the Democratic Party’s nomination for president. She will be the first Black woman and person of South Asian heritage to earn the top spot on a major party’s ticket. Harris’s nomination will become official after the party’s virtual roll call vote ends on Monday, capping off a month of chaos for Democrats. Just two weeks ago, they were still debating which candidate would have the best chance of defeating Donald Trump in November.

Fires Burning at ‘Full Tilt’ Across the Western U.S. Stretch Resources (NYT) It took only a week for the Park fire north of Sacramento to grow into the fifth-largest in California history, signaling the potential for a destructive wildfire season across much of the Western United States. Almost 50 other large or notable fires were burning throughout the region on Wednesday, according to a New York Times tracker. The sheer number of fires currently burning in Western states—both big and small—has threatened to overwhelm firefighting resources at a rate that worries experts so early in the season. “Normally we’re ramping up in July to get to that peak in August, early September,” said Alex Robertson, director of fire and aviation management for the U.S. Forest Service. But this year, he said, “we’re going into August already at our full tilt.”

Extortion and gang violence are hitting even big corporations and business leaders in Mexico (AP) Even Mexico’s largest corporations are now being hit by demands from drug cartels, and gangs are increasingly trying to control the sale, distribution and pricing of certain goods. Well-known, high-ranking business leaders aren’t even safe. On Monday, the head of the business chambers’ federation in Tamaulipas state, across the border from Texas, gave television interviews complaining about drug cartel extortion in the state. Hours later on Tuesday, Julio Almanza was shot to death outside his offices in the city of Matamoros, across from Brownsville, Texas. “We are hostages to extortion demands, we are hostages of criminal groups,” Almanza said in one of his last interviews. “Charging extortion payments has practically become the national sport in Tamaulipas.”

Maduro and Western Pressure (Clarin/Argentina) Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro's decision to declare himself the winner of the July 28 presidential election with 51.2% of the vote, compared to 44.2% for the opposition, has not been recognized by the United States, European Union, some allies in Asia and several Latin American countries. On Thursday, U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken went so far as to explicitly declare that opposition candidate Edmundo González was the winner of the election, saying there was "overwhelming evidence" that Maduro had been defeated. Surely, as happened with the interim government of Juan Guaidó that emerged in 2019 and was recognized by these same countries, the West will intensify its economic sanctions on Venezuela. But it's worth remembering that such sanctions have failed in Cuba for 65 years, just as they have failed in recent years in Iran and Russia. These countries, along with China, have recognized Maduro's reelection claim, which will give Venezuela some ability to resist any sanctions.

Argentina will use AI to ‘predict future crimes’ (Guardian) Under the leadership of far-right president Javier Milei, Argentina has announced plans to use AI to “predict future crimes.” This week, Milei established the Artificial Intelligence Applied to Security Unit, which will use “machine-learning algorithms to analyse historical crime data to predict future crimes,” utilize facial recognition software to track “wanted persons,” and even use AI to analyze real-time security footage in order to catch crimes as they occur. If you know anything about the current state of AI, or have read any articles on the shortcomings of facial recognition software, you’re probably wondering how this initiative could ever end well. Well, so are many human rights groups. Even if the AI detection programs prove less than effective, said a representative for Amnesty International, the use of widespread surveillance programs will force people to “self-censor or refrain from sharing their ideas or criticisms if they suspect that everything they comment on, post, or publish is being monitored by security forces.” Milei has already shown Argentinians that he’s willing to crack down violently on protests, authorizing police to shoot anti-government demonstrators with rubber bullets at close range and warning that parents who bring their children to political rallies will be officially sanctioned by the state.

After much grumbling, Parisians have come to embrace the Olympics (CSM) In the lead-up to the Olympic Games this summer, the French—particularly Parisians—had a multitude of concerns: Would the River Seine be clean enough to swim in? How much would security restrictions take over daily life? And the universal question, would everything be done in time? But after a successfully executed opening ceremony, which took viewers on a virtual journey around Paris’s most iconic monuments, the mood in the city is starting to change. Yes, the sporting venues have been finished. The Seine was clean long enough to host triathletes this week. Olympic organizers said on Thursday that 9.7 million tickets have been sold—an Olympic record. And despite some latent grumbling, the French do indeed seem to be embracing the Olympic spirit. “There is something quintessentially French about cultivating the negative and focusing on what will not go right,” says Éric Monnin, the director of the Center for Olympic Studies and Research and vice president of Olympism at the University of Franche-Comté in Besançon, France. “But now that the Games have started, all I’m hearing from people is how they want to enjoy this moment of togetherness.”

Children of freed sleeper agents learned they were Russians on the flight, Kremlin says (Reuters) A family of Russian sleeper agents flown to Moscow in the biggest East-West prisoner swap since the Cold War were so deep under cover that their children found out they were Russians only after the flight took off, the Kremlin said on Friday. "Before that, they didn't know that they were Russian and that they had anything to do with our country," Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov told reporters. "And you probably saw that when the children came down the plane's steps that they don't speak Russian and that Putin greeted them in Spanish” (the couple had been pretending to be Argentinians).

After Olympics, Turkey’s Erdogan seeks unity with Pope Francis against acts that mock sacred values (AP) Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan spoke with Pope Francis on Thursday about the “immoral display” at the opening ceremony of the Paris Olympics and called for a unified stance against acts that ridicule sacred values, according to a statement from Erdogan’s office. The Turkish leader told the pontiff in a telephone call that “human dignity was being trampled on, religious and moral values were being mocked, offending Muslims as much as the Christian world,” the statement said. In an unprecedented display, drag queens took center stage at the ceremony last week. The ceremony attracted criticism over a tableau reminiscent of Leonardo da Vinci’s “The Last Supper.” The scene featured drag queens and other performers in a configuration reminiscent of Jesus Christ and his apostles.

Problems in Pakistan (NYT) In almost every corner of Pakistan, anger at the ruling elite is nearing a boiling point. Thousands have protested soaring electricity bills just outside the capital, Islamabad. In a major port city in the southwest, dozens have clashed with security officers over what they described as forced disappearances of activists. In the northwest, protesters have admonished the country’s generals for a recent surge in terrorist attacks. The demonstrations over the past few weeks reflect frustration with Pakistan’s shaky, five-month-old government and with its military, the country’s ultimate authority. The unrest threatens to plunge Pakistan back into the depths of political turmoil that has flared in recent years and that many had hoped would subside after the February general election.

They ran for their lives as boulders and water banged at their door (AP) When Deva Das was jolted awake by the roar of gushing water and boulders banging at the door, he grabbed his parents and his kids and began running for higher ground. The family waded through slush and muck, climbed a hill, and stayed there in the pouring rain for nearly four hours. When day broke Tuesday, rescuers found the family and brought them down. When the 40-year-old agricultural laborer got back to the site of his village in southern India’s Kerala state, there was nearly nothing left. Houses were gone, buried under mud or wiped away. Trees were uprooted, and roads were swept away. Families were frantically searching for their loved ones. At least 201 people have been killed in Kerala since Tuesday after multiple landslides in the hills of Wayanad district sent torrents of mud, floodwater and giant rolling boulders to downhill villages, burying people or sweeping them away several miles downstream. The disaster also left behind a trail of destruction in its wake by flattening hundreds of houses and destroying roads and bridges.

Rights group says 13 killed during protests over Nigeria’s economic crisis. Hundreds arrested (AP) At least 13 protesters were killed during mass protests in Nigeria against the country’s economic crisis that turned violent in several states, a rights group said Friday. Authorities confirmed four people killed by a bomb and the arrests of hundreds in the protests that triggered curfews in several states. The protests were mainly over food shortages and alleged bad governance in the country. Nigeria’s public officials, frequently accused of corruption, are among the best paid in Africa, a stark contrast in a country that has some of the world’s poorest and hungriest people, despite being one of the continent’s top oil producers.

These Italians are walking off their wine (NYT) On Thursdays, Luciano Fregonese, the mayor of an Italian town famous for its Prosecco, goes on a stroll. He began the walks this summer to counter the calories he consumed at social gatherings. After all, he said, his job includes countless wine-and-snack obligations. “It’s not easy to say no,” he said. But word of the health walks quickly spread, and his evening strolls have become a sensation, with hundreds of walkers joining him. As motivation for others, he’s planning to add pizza. Have a vigorous evening.

#headlines #news

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consistentlyexhausted · 2 years ago

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Sundays are Fun, aren't they?

I'm writing to you now from my living room sofa, in the middle of what can only be described as a somewhat frigid family meeting. Everyone is here, Mum, Dad, Myself, The Dog and even the two fish in the tank have made an appearance.

The attention of Tatty, my dog, is slipping. She is actively falling asleep on the armchair, and while I do admire her courage in this current atmosphere, she is letting the side down at the moment, making me yawn my head off alongside her.

While I was wanted downstairs by my Dad. Apparently, the speed at which I type is annoying to my mother. It is different from hers, I am much faster and do not do the Praying Mantis-style typing of people her age who aren't as technically inclined as I am.

So now I have returned to my first-floor freedom, my upstairs utopia to pour out such love for that woman to which I owe some gratitude for not only bringing me into this world but pushing me so far away from her that my relationship with my father is so strong.

Think of him as being something of a mother and father to me.

I don't like my living room for one reason and one reason alone, I feel as if it is some battleground, a tentative demilitarised zone between two countries that really want to tear the proverbial throat out of the other. Now it doesn't have the age and remoteness of the one between South and North Korea. It certainly doesn't have the pomp and seemingly lighthearted nature of that particular border crossing between India and Pakistan where they do that weird high kick thing and make faces at each other while fans and others cheer and clap.

No, my friends, this is a newer creation.

Now some for some context.

A few years back, when I was going through my GCSEs, my Mother had an operation to implant electrodes in and on the surface of her brain. This was to hopefully manage her condition of Cervical Spine Dystonia. Her brain would send the wrong signals to the muscles in her neck and pull on one side of them, dragging her chin and therefore her head, toward one of her shoulders.

It is a debilitating condition and she had an uphill battle to even see a specialist in London. That specialist introduced her to the idea of Deep Brain Stimulation, an incredible piece of technology used to treat everything from Parkinson's to Obssessive-Compulsive Disorder. There are also promising results now in people suffering from Tourette Syndrome and Huntington's Disease.

It is an incredible, life-changing technology and while not everyone is compatible with it, my mother was. It has changed her life and a quick Google search will show you some truly amazing videos of people with Parkinson's being able to finally hold a spoon and eat or drink a cup of water at just the press of a button.

The benefits of this operation are many but there have also been some really pronounced drawbacks.

Most notably, and one we were warned about by her surgeon was the chance she would lose her inhibitions, the filter between the mouth and mind that stops us from saying something awful.

Well, she lost that.

I think it changed her as a person.

Now don't get me wrong, I still love my mother but it has made our relationship difficult and her relationship with my brother is absolutely non-existent.

I'm not blameless, and neither is my brother. Circumstances, past grievances, and our own stubbornness have absolutely added to the situation.

My mother might have started changing at some point in my life, but I think I've suppressed many of the memories now. What I do know is that after this operation, immediately after, we noticed something was different.

In the bed opposite her was a woman in a very sad state. At some point, she might have had a brain hemorrhage and that meant that not only was she disabled, but she also relied on a tracheotomy tube so she could breathe. With that tube comes secretions and this woman was in some difficulty with them. She could not communicate her issues, due to her condition, and therefore the excellent team of doctors and nurses on the ward had the job of suctioning those out from time to time.

The noise was unpleasant and so was the talk but what made it all worse was my mother snapping at the doctors to please stop talking and making the noises as it was disgusting.

We should have seen the writing on the wall then as I mouthed an apology at the young doctor as he made to shut the curtains.

Now, not once in the years, my parents had been married, did she apologise to him. Over twenty years of not uttering the words I am sorry is some achievement.

That was the same for everyone in our family. She doesn't apologise and when she does, she doesn't mean it.

You might be beginning to understand now, dear reader, why our relationship is strained.

This lack of a filter has culminated in some of the cruelest things I have ever heard someone say to another. It was and still is mostly directed at my father, who is passive to the point that he won't argue back with her anymore. Whether that is through some conditioning or his nature, he just won't stand up to her unless she pushes him too far.

My dad has suffered from Depression since the pandemic when he was stuck at home, furloughed for an injury he sustained at work. He wanted to work, and he wanted to be out of the house but his company was saving a buck or two by not having him there (being paid rather well for what he was doing at the time).

Of course, that turned inwards, and because he was unable to do much, being in a leg brace as well, she started belittling him for being low. When we first saw signs of self-harm on him, she had the audacity to confront him in the worst way possible, calling him out on it while we were trying to enjoy a holiday.

I think most people, who could handle something like that, would do it in a much gentler way, maybe taking the aside and asking what they could do to help or encouraging them to give the article of harm to you.

This, of course, made it so much worse.

Now there is some private mental health history in our family that I do not yet feel comfortable sharing but, one part that I will, because it needs to be talked about is

My maternal grandfather.

He suffered from Bipolar Disorder, which type I do not know, and while my mother was pregnant with me, he came off of his medication and unfortunately committed suicide. I will not discuss why or how this was done but it happened.

My Maternal Grandmother had lost her battle with cancer some years before and while everyone was still reeling from that, another tragedy struck.

It was cruel, both diseases are so cruel.

As my mother had grown up in an incredibly dysfunctional household, it meant she also had a dysfunctional relationship with mental health. She doesn't handle others' struggles very well.

I won't slander her here, she's a product of so much tragedy that it can be expected and I can't entirely blame her for it.

But what I will say is this...

The operation, the loss of her inhibitions combined with the relationship with mental health issues have turned her into someone I really struggle to talk to.

When you get called miserable and gloomy, you begin to put up your walls. When you get told you're being dramatic, you start to lose faith.

It just so happens that every member of my immediate family has gone through depression at some point and some of us are still going through it. My support system is therefore triangular, not square.

My Dad, My brother, and I are our collective support system and we are all very close because we find it much easier to talk to one another.

Of course, this has bred some serious resentment as one can imagine. There is a keen lack of understanding there, somewhere.

And she lacks the accountability and reasoning to understand that some of it, might just be her fault, hence the never apologising part.

That might be a product of her upbringing.

Who knows.

But for now, the idea of limited to no contact after moving seems to be the only course of action to save my mental health.

I look forward to not having to walk on eggshells around my house.

Toodles

Scarlett

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selfindulgentpoorlywritten · 2 years ago

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Auriferous (Jamie Oleksiak)

Hi! Was I ignoring my WIPs to write this? Perhaps. Anyway, this is my fic for @antoineroussel ‘s surprise prompts! I got Jamie Oleksiak and the word auriferous - yielding or containing gold. Yes, I am obsessed with the idea of men being the one proposed to.

Rating: T

Pairing: Jamie Oleksiak/fem!reader

Words: 4295

Warnings: none

Summary: A craft class inspires you to take the next step.

There are a lot of fun things to do in Seattle, as you’d learned shortly after moving here. You’d been nervous that you would regret the move, but it had surprised you how much you love the city. It’s incredibly different from Dallas, in a good way. You’ve spent a lot of the last year working, but there’s been no shortage of things to do in your free time. Jamie loves tagging along when he can, always eager to spend as much time with you as possible. Dating someone who’s away half the time can be difficult, but the two of you have been able to make it work.

The new season hasn’t started yet, but the two of you are back in Seattle and training camp is right around the corner. Two weeks ago, you’d both signed up for a jewelry making class at the Pratt Fine Arts Center. This is your second class, and while you’re a bit distracted as the instructor speaks, Jamie is endearingly focused. He has a little crease between his brows as he takes notes. Sometimes he’s so cute you can’t stand it.

You’re able to pay more attention once the hands-on part of the class starts, having always been a more tactile learner. Last class had been mostly verbal instruction, so it’s exciting to finally have the tools in your hands. You’ve already cut the metal strip for your band, and today’s challenge is to shape it. Jamie is carefully tapping the strip into an oval, concentrating so hard that you’re not sure he remembers that anything else exists. The metal looks tiny in his huge hands, as he hunches over to reach the worktable.

You beat him to the brazing process, using more force than he does and so having your oval done first. It’s a little beat-up looking, but you think it’s pretty good for your first time. The ring glows bright red under the torch and you carefully wrap the solder around the joint before reapplying the heat. Generally, you aren’t super trustworthy around fire, but at least you have proper safety equipment this time.

Both of your rings are brazed and circular by the time you leave. You discuss the class in the car, watching the city pass around you. Once home, you change into comfortable clothes and watch an episode of a show while you have a snack. With the little time that you have left before hockey reclaims Jamie, you don’t mind staying up late.

The class has gotten you thinking along lines that you’ve mostly avoided. Picking up your life and moving north to be with Jamie had made you think this way, too. You really have structured your life around being with him, and you’ve found that it works well for you. That you wouldn’t change a thing. That you intend to stay by his side as long as he’ll allow, whether that’s forever or not.

“Forever” is the idea that’s been haunting you. The rings that you’re making are sterling silver, but that doesn’t stop you from imagining a little gold band in the future. Even in your longest relationship before Jamie, you’d never really seen the appeal of being married. Now, you get it.

The two of you had begun dating less than a year before he got traded to the Penguins, and you had expected it to fizzle out once he was halfway across the country. Instead, he’d put in even more effort to keep the relationship going despite the distance. You’d surprised yourself by reciprocating it, trying harder than you’d ever bothered before.

It had been way too early for you to even consider moving to Pittsburgh to be with him, and luckily he was traded back to the Stars before you had to reconsider that decision. Another two years went by, and he still hadn’t gotten tired of you. Quite the opposite: he seemed to fall more in love with you over time. Even when you’d moved in together and he had to be around you all the time, he still loved you. Even as he learned more of your flaws, even when you fought, he loved you.

So when he got drafted by Seattle, you didn’t hesitate. You’d never known that someone could make you feel the way Jamie does, so you followed him without regret. Despite your friends’ reservations, you knew what was right for you.

Landing in Seattle had been the first time that you considered how a flash of gold would look on Jamie’s finger, and hadn’t been the last.

You’d mostly avoided the thought until you’d started the class, not wanting to examine how you feel about the possibility. It had been made clear to you throughout your life that you’re a bit too much, more effort than you’re worth. Jamie is the first person who’s ever made you question that idea, and by now, you don’t believe that anymore. Most days. But thinking about marriage brings it back with a vengeance. You know that you want to marry him, that there’s never going to be another person you love like him. Your brain just won’t seem to let you believe that he could feel the same way.

He’s spent the last five years proving just how much he wants to be with you, but certain insecurities are difficult to overcome. You’re trying, though.

When Jamie proudly shows you the setting he’s made for his ring the next week, you can’t help but kiss him. Being so careful about the process has made him move slower, but it’s also made the ring look more impressive than you’d anticipated. You look back to your own setting, slightly different than his. The entire class is making the same pattern, but the instructor had allowed some of you to alter it slightly to be more masculine. The wide band has a few small dents in it, and the setting is a little uneven, but you think Jamie will like it anyway.

His first day of training camp sneaks up on you, only really registering when you kiss him on the cheek on his way out. He’s excited, like he always is, despite the way the previous season had gone. He’s in on the ground floor of something brand new, and he truly believes that things will get better. You admire that kind of strength and optimism.

You’d found a nice work from home job when you moved to Seattle, so you get to sit around in your pajamas while he sweats at the rink. The work is a lot of “hurry up and wait”, so you get to be paid for browsing the internet and watching a bunch of Netflix.

Between meetings, when you’re caught up on your tasks, you remember a website that you used to play on all the time. You open it up, being presented with a clean, white page with tasteful text. You used to think it was so fun to mess around designing custom jewelry that you couldn’t afford. You hadn’t been in the same mindset, then.

The men’s rings are mostly either boring or painfully ostentatious. You play around with them anyway, giggling as you design the biggest, ugliest ring you’ve ever seen. Looking at rings is mostly for laughs, is what you tell yourself. You’re just rediscovering an old pastime, nothing serious.

After a couple more meetings, you have some more downtime, and go back to the website. It’s only another fifteen minutes before you see a piece that stops you in your tracks. All of their necklaces are technically “women’s”, but this one could definitely work for any gender. The chain is less delicate than other options, the pendant a rounded diamond shape, almost circular, with a large stone in the middle.

You click it, customizing it without thinking. With your cushy new job, it’s within your budget. Not that you’d decided on a budget going into this entire endeavor, but the price isn’t anything scary. You’ve clicked the checkout button before your brain kicks back in. Unfortunately, you have awful impulse control. Once you’ve decided to do something, there’s almost nothing in the world that can stop you. So you stare at the order confirmation screen, mentally screaming.

Did you just buy Jamie an engagement chain? Yes. Yes you did.

You try to rationalize it to yourself, anxiety bubbling up from your stomach. It doesn’t have to be an engagement thing. Hockey players wear chains all the time, so you could just give it as a regular gift and he would never know. Except you don’t want to do that. You want to get on one knee and offer it up while you ask him to marry you. But you can wait to do it, as long as you want. It’s not like jewelry goes bad. You could totally let this sit in a drawer somewhere for a month, a year, whatever. Nothing you tell yourself helps quell the fear.

When Jamie comes home, it takes him less than sixty seconds to notice that something’s off. You deflect his questions, coming up with a half-baked excuse about work being stressful today. He gives you a look, making it clear that he knows you’re lying, but thankfully he knows when to drop the subject.

You manage to act much more normal than you feel, after that. You have a thorough discussion with your therapist about the situation, and leave feeling both better and worse. She knows you well enough by now to pick just enough at your insecurities and memories that you spend the next two days trying to untangle the knots she’d loosened.

By the end of your final jewelry class, you and Jamie have two silver rings with dark stones in them. You’d decided before you’d even started that you’d exchange them, but you wait until you get home to do it. As Jamie slips the ring onto your finger, a perfect fit, you can’t help the way your heart leaps into your throat. You return the gesture, admiring the way that the ring glints on his hand. Neither of you can stop smiling, playing with the rings and complimenting each other’s skills.

Luck must be on your side, because the conspicuous package arrives while Jamie is at practice. The second the black box is out of the cardboard, you break it down and take it out to the dumpster so that Jamie doesn’t see it. The logo printed on the box was too clear about its contents to keep around.

The chain is perfect. The loose fit of the golden chain links, the shine of it around the black diamond embedded in the center. It takes a couple tries to get it back in the dark blue box neatly.

You’re already tapping the contact in your phone on your way to stash the box in the back of the closet. It rings while you shove the chain into a larger box of random things you never bothered to unpack, buried in the back of the closet.

“Hello?” Penny’s voice is clear through your headphones.

“Hey,” you greet, “How are you?” The pleasantries don’t last long, as if Penny can tell that you’ve called for a specific reason. She tells you a little bit about her training that day, and you confirm that your job is still just as boring as last time you spoke. You make sure to ask after her parents, and she assures you that they’re doing well.

“Y/N,” she interrupts, “What’s going on?” You swallow, sitting down on the edge of the bed. You let out a deep breath to calm yourself.

“Is it outdated to ask the family for permission to propose?” you ask. Her silence is deafening.

“Is this a hypothetical?” she asks. You laugh a little, fiddling with a loose thread on your pajama pants. Upside to having a work from home job is that you only have to wear a nice shirt, because no one ever sees your legs.

“Maybe?” you reply, “I haven’t decided yet.” You can practically hear Penny shaking her head at you. She sighs, saying your name again.

“Hypothetically speaking,” she answers, a smile evident in her voice, “It’s really up to what makes you comfortable.” That’s basically the response you were expecting, but it’s not exactly what you want to know.

“Hypothetically speaking,” you say, “If I were to propose to Jamie, would your parents want me to ask first?” Penny laughs. You were worried about her being too serious about this, or being mad that you called her about this in the first place.

“Hypothetically,” she replies, “I think that they would appreciate it, but wouldn’t require it.” There’s something terrifying about the prospect of asking their parents for their blessing. They’ve made it clear for years that they love you, and consider you part of the family. But there’s always the tiny chance that they say no, or come up with some condition. What if they think the man should be the one to propose? They’re forward-thinking enough that you don’t expect them to feel that way, but there’s always a chance.

“Okay,” you say, “Okay.” You chew on your bottom lip for a few quiet moments.

“Hey Penny?” you ask, waiting for her “yeah” in response.

“Would you be okay with me proposing to your brother?” you ask, fingers digging into the bedspread. Penny loves you too, even calls you her sister to others. Still, you’re expecting even a slight pause that doesn’t come.

“Of course, dumbass,” she says immediately, making you chuckle, “Now I’m gonna be disappointed if you don’t.” That rips the smile off of your face. You swallow hard, throat clicking. It’s weird to have some type of pressure on this, especially when you’re still on the fence about doing it at all.

“Hey,” Penny calls a couple seconds into your silence, “He’s gonna say yes, okay?” You nod, even though she can’t see it. The nodding helps you find your voice.

“Okay,” you say, trying to convince yourself, “Yeah. Okay.” The both of you let the silence hang this time, neither of you sure of what to say. You keep repeating in your head he’s gonna say yes over and over, like thinking it enough will make it true.

“Let me know when you do it okay?” she says with an upward lilt to her voice, trying to lighten the mood “I’d better be the first to know.” A half-hearted laugh is all you can manage.

“I have you on speed-dial,” you reply. There’s not much else to say, so you close with more pleasantries before hanging up. At least one person thinks that this is a good idea.

As nerve-wracking as talking to Penny had been, asking Jamie’s parents for his hand in marriage is on another level. You’ve been preparing for over a week, rehearsing exactly what you’re going to say and how to say it, talking to yourself in the mirror like a loon. You have Jamie’s game schedule memorized, so you had already planned to do this on the day he leaves for a long roadie. If it goes badly, you’ll need the time he’s away to lick your wounds.

Alison is both surprised and happy to see you when she answers the FaceTime call, fussing over you and how you’re doing. You get through the mom-ness of it all with a smile on your face, overly fond of how she treats you as her daughter.

“Mom, is dad there?” you ask at the first appropriate pause. Alison’s brow furrows.

“Yeah, he’s here,” she says, “Is everything okay?” You rush to assure her that it’s all fine, no bad news. Well, maybe bad news, if they don’t take it well. You’ve amended Penny’s statement in your head for the past few days to say they’ll say yes, which you start repeating to yourself. Alison fetches Rich, the two of them trying to cram themselves into frame in the awkward way that only older people can manage.

“I have a question for you both,” you begin, all of your carefully rehearsed words flying out of your brain. There’s silence as you grasp for them, trying to piece together something coherent. Rich gives a quiet “go on” in encouragement.

“I’m going to propose to Jamie,” you blurt out, the first time you’ve said it in a concrete way, “And I wanted to know if you’re okay with that.” They both look stunned, eyebrows raised and mouths slightly open. The dead air gives you just enough time to panic. You’re not even sure what you’re panicking more about: asking them that, or the fact that you’ve now officially solidified your plan.

“Of course!” Alison practically shrieks, stifling a high-pitched, excited noise with her hand. Rich’s face breaks out into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on him. You let out a comically huge exhale.

“Really?” you ask, mostly in disbelief. This has all been too easy. Not only are they okay with it, they seem excited about it. You’ve known that they love you, but to want you as an official, legal part of the family? That’s more of a surprise than it should be.

“Of course, honey,” Rich replies, his chest puffed up a little in pride, “There’s no one else we’d rather have.” The tears are building up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Being loved and accepted is something you’re still not used to- from anyone but Jamie- and it’s making you emotional.

Alison grills you on the how and what and when, and you answer her questions gladly. She seems to think it’s all incredibly sweet and romantic, which helps your confidence. Even if he were to say no, at least it’ll be a great proposal.

Being that you know Jamie’s schedule, you know exactly when to propose. He has a complete day off a week and a half later. No games, no practice, not even media. You spend the time perfecting your plan, figuring out what you’re going to say. Considering how your preparation had gone when asking his parents, you’re pretty sure you’ll forget everything in the moment. It helps to practice, anyway.

It takes pretty much no convincing to get the guys to agree to lunch that day, them being constantly hungry hockey players. You invite a few of his non-team friends as well, wanting all of his favorite people to be there. Only one person can’t make it, which you consider a relative success.

The morning of, you wake Jamie up with breakfast in bed. It’s something you’re prone to doing now and again since you work from home, so he doesn’t question it. You spend the morning lazing around in bed, before casually bringing up lunch. Surprising him with a huge group of friends would tip him off that something is going on, so you make it seem like you’d been invited by someone else and forgotten to tell him about it. He agrees readily, excited when you tell him it’s at his favorite spot.

You use lunch as an excuse to get dressed up and do your makeup. The sundress you wear, dotted with bright yellow sunflowers, is Jamie’s favorite. You do your makeup in shades of gold to match. Jamie wears a simple combo of jeans and a button-up, but you think he looks amazing. You always think he looks amazing, though.

Lunch is a hit, with everyone upbeat and playful. The only thing you’d had to explain was why his other friends were there, but you played it off that you’d just invited them because you hadn’t seen them in a while. Thinking on your feet isn’t a specialty of yours, so you’re proud of yourself for coming up with something believable. You hadn’t told anyone why you’re doing all of this, just that you had a surprise for Jamie.

He chatters the entire way home, entirely unlike himself. The happiness is radiating off of him, making him shine like the sun. Your heart warms to see him so bright.

When you get home, you spend the afternoon watching his favorite movies. It’s peaceful, even with the way you both comment at the screen throughout. Jamie tells you little trivia facts, some of which you’ve heard before, but are glad to hear again. You’d listen to him talk about just about anything. The day is going perfectly, setting you at ease.

Typically, a proposal would involve a fancy dinner at a nice restaurant, but you know better. Jamie likes the upscale places you go on occasion, yes, but he’ll like this better. You take him to the hot dog truck next to the park, ordering your usuals. You walk around the park as you eat, talking amiably about nothing. There had been a similar truck back in Jersey, where you’re from, that you missed when you moved to Texas. When you came to Seattle, Jamie had gone out and found one just for you. This park is a lot safer to walk around after sunset than the one back east, which is a nice upgrade.

Full and satisfied, you head home. You’d made a playlist of all his favorite songs that you’ve been playing in the car all day. He sings along to one of the songs, and you can’t help but join in. You’re both laughing as you walk through the front door, playfully shoving each other.

“Hold on a second,” you say, “I gotta go grab something.” He’s too happy to even be confused by that. By the time you return with the box, he’s moved into the kitchen. You can hear the snap of popcorn in the microwave, Jamie standing in front of it on his phone. The plan is to watch more movies, so you’re not surprised.

You call his name softly and he turns around. The box is in your hand, surreptitiously hidden behind the island. As expected, the words leave you. Guess you’ll just have to speak from your heart.

“Today was nice, right?” you ask. He puts his phone down on the countertop, taking a step closer.

“Yeah,” he replies, “Of course.” That brings you some relief, knowing that he enjoyed your plans. The anxiety is still nearly overwhelming, though. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“Every day is nice with you,” you begin, letting the words come naturally, “Every day since I met you has been the best day of my life.”

“I never really thought that I could love someone at all, let alone the way that I love you,” you continue, feeling yourself tear up against your wishes, “And I definitely never thought that someone could love me back. Especially someone like you.”

“You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever known,” you say, the words pouring out of you, “And I’m so incredibly lucky to have you in my life.” His face has moved from being scrunched in confusion to something soft and bittersweet. You’re beginning to get choked up, so you forgo the other million things that you want to say to him. Ideally, you’ll have the rest of your lives to tell him all of that.

His hand flies up to grip the island counter when you drop to one knee.

“Jamie Oleksiak,” you swallow hard, “Will you marry me?” You brandish the box, cracking it open. If someone had asked you the reaction you’d expected to get, you wouldn’t have said “baffled”. Yet Jamie’s staring at the box, completely perplexed. You tilt the box so that you can look at it too, horror overcoming you.

It’s empty.

What the absolute fuck. The box has been sitting in the back of the bedside drawer since you’d moved it there a few days ago. No one knew it was there except you. Did you somehow get robbed for literally one item?

Suddenly, Jamie starts laughing hysterically. This had been one of the options you’d considered for a reaction, but not for this reason. Your face is burning and you’re truly on the verge of tears. It takes every ounce of willpower to resist the tears, staring up at him with watery eyes.

He steps forward to kneel down in front of you, laughter subsiding into a radiant smile. This is somehow more humiliating than the option where he’d outright rejected you. How could you have been so stupid as to lose it? Jamie cups your face in his hands, kissing your forehead.

“I didn’t realize,” he says, reaching into his shirt with one hand. The chain glints gold in the dim kitchen lighting when he pulls it out. He’s… wearing it. He’s wearing it?

“What?” is all you can say.

“I found it in a drawer,” he explains, “I thought that I bought it and forgot about it.” That is, objectively, hilarious. You sob out a laugh, relief flooding your body. The wetness in your eyes isn’t subsiding quite yet, but at least you hadn’t lost the most important thing you’ve ever bought. Jamie hugs you tight, kissing the top of your head over and over again. You clutch onto his shoulders for dear life.

“By the way,” he says after a minute, “The answer is yes, in case it wasn’t clear.” Now you’re helpless to keep from crying, letting the tears soak his shirt. He’s sniffling too, tear tracks down either side of his face when he pulls back.

“I love you,” you say, kissing him with everything bubbling inside of you.

“I love you, too,” he replies, giving you a quick kiss before looking into your eyes so deeply that you feel stripped bare, “Forever.”

“Forever,” you echo. You both laugh.

#jamie oleksiak imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #RI #andis coping mechanism

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astrosweet · 3 years ago

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🔱✨Makeup in astrology✨🔱

Part 2

.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆. Neptune through the houses .⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆

☆Neptune represents your flashy or showier side its the planet of illusions and rules over makeup, glamour, fashion, theatre, films, T.V. ( Neptune is like Venus minus relationships and romance).

☆Your Neptune placements/aspects can tell you about your makeup style and what will suit you best.

🔱 Neptune in the 6th house could be sensitive/allergic to makeup or it could break you out or you already use clean natural makeup. I would say try to take a break from it for about three days to see if it is affecting your skin but the 6th house is also the house of daily life so you wear it every day either because you like to or you have to wear a specific makeup look for work. your pet always watches you do your makeup. you probably do your makeup in a weird order like mascara first then foundation after that eyeshadow/liner or have a different approach to your makeup every day, but you do it so fast and probably without a mirror because the routine is branded in your brain. the 6th house is ruled by Virgo/ mercury so similar to the 3rd house the innocent and doe-eyed looks are gorgeous on you. also try to do something different with your makeup every day. a daily routine of artistic self-expression is important for you.

🔱 Neptune in the 7th house (this one was hard ngl. it's literally the opposite of self and individuality). People will admire your makeup. It's something you bonder with friends. your significant other can also love how you do your makeup. similar to the 1st house people can give you a lot of shit for your makeup or will use it as a quick jab to your ego but it's really because they're jealous of your beauty. the 2nd & 7th are ruled by Venus but the 7th/Libra energy is much more showy, masculine, and dramatized glamor compared to 2nd/Taurus which is more of sweet feminine glamour. this placement kinda reminds me of New Year's makeup lol but really glamorous and extravagant yet you still want some classiness compared to just a normal party look. gold looks great on you and as well as bronzy contour.

🔱 Neptune in the 8th house. I have this placement so I'm gonna try to not project myself onto this one. but tell me why we all had an fx/gore makeup phase lol. your makeup is bought by someone else or just not with your money. you could also get makeup from other people like the stuff they never used. when you go through transformations you change the way you do your makeup. your makeup is dark even if you didn't mean for it to be. mascara will always smudge and look like you used lower eyeliner so might as well just add some lower line eyeshadow anyways. darker makeup looks best on you but if you are not comfortable with the dark looks just add a little brown (I just use my bronzer) as eyeliner. just a little flick on the end and maybe some on the lower lash line. overall this placement gives me maleficent vibes. you can get Inspo from people who are sex symbols or exude dominant femme fatale energy. Neptune in the 8th house can be really secretive with their creativeness and self-expression and a lesson you have to learn this life is to claim your power and natural creative talents and learn to show them to the world. we naturally have bad bitch, femme fatale energy so embrace it bb ;). you have the power to manifest creative abilities if you want.

🔱 Neptune in the 9th house you could be into culturally different kinds of makeup like Korean makeup, or French makeup, also you could be into cosplay or specific aesthetics like dark academia, and cottage core. you might have lived in a strict household and you were not been allowed to wear makeup. or it's just something that didn't interest you till you got older. as you get older you get better at doing your makeup and if you are good at it and like a specific niche the best look for you is bronzy and sun-kissed. you could be into different makeup aesthetics from different countries and generally like to be adventurous with your makeup.

🔱 Neptune in the 10th house. you could have gotten public praise for your makeup or for being creative. Creative careers are generally best for you. you also could have been told that you need to wear makeup in public or at work. your father(or if you have a dominant mother) could have also been kinda an ass about you and makeup. if you're not into makeup now and you are young you might learn how to do it because it will be an expectation in your career when you're older. bronzy looks and heavy contour can look good on you as well as dramatic but neutrals in more of a glamour way.

🔱 Neptune in the 11th house. you probably learned to do makeup through YouTube and friends. I know you have a makeup inspo Pinterest board with a thousand pins in it. makeup can be a creative outlet for you. a common interest you have with your friends is makeup and beauty gurus.. this placement also gives me euphoria vibezz. y'all can pull off crazy wild looks. the 11th house is ruled by Aquarius which reminds me of blue/greens and glitter lol. also pale regal-like skin and soft features. post ur looks on TikTok/ YouTube/insta you have luck with publishing ur art and posting it can be a service to people by inspiring them and teaching people

🔱 Neptune in the 12th house. I love this energy Pisces rules both Neptune and the 12th house. though this placement does kinda remind me of Neptune in the 8th where you keep your talents and creative abilities a secret. you can get inspiration from your dreams. or your dream of being showier with your talents. a big lesson for you in this lifetime is understanding and showing your hidden talents as well as overcoming the fear of judgment towards your creative abilities. you're amazing at drunk makeup. if Pisces is dominant in ur chart then you won't be as shy with your skills. light blush on ur cheekbones will look amazing on you also white liner in your waterline. and reddish-pink lips but not overdramatic. similar to the 8th you have the power to manifest creative abilities if you want.

Sorry this one took a while I posted part 1 on my birthday and we all know a Leo birthday is not just one day it's a Multi-day event lol.

this one was kind of hard to write bc my birth chart is very left side dominate. part 1 was more intuitive and natural for me to write but for part 2 I had to do a lot more research which my Gemini north node loved. so let me know if you resonate :)

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vvienne · 3 years ago

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ZUKKA FIC RECS

Through the Ice Darkly by chuffystilton

“You know what I think? I think we both hold different pieces of the same puzzle, and we can only solve it if we work together. You and I – we’re on the opposite sides of a century-long mystery.” “We’re also on the opposite sides of a war,” Zuko said drily.

Sokka flapped a hand. “Small details.”

“Not to the people you invaded.”

A century after the Northern Water Tribe attacked, two years after the Avatar’s sudden emergence from the ice and snow – why does the world feel more unbalanced than ever? Zuko and Azula are on the quest for an answer.

ASYLUM by asfearlessasamango

asylum, noun 1. (Dated): an institution offering shelter and support to people who are mentally ill. 2. Shelter or protection from danger.

Or, if Zuko was Azula, trapped in a golden palace with no family but Fire Lord Ozai for years. If Zuko was Azula, now trapped in a marble asylum with no way out that he can see. If Sokka visited. And the complications of a whole world followed.

like the sun inside of you by ofherlionheart

Sokka's expression is caught somewhere between determined and pissed off when he says, “I know you think this is your responsibility. But you’re not going to be alone in this. This is why we’re building you a council.”

“I know,” Zuko says.

“And the only way you’re going to die having done nothing but sit in meetings is if you let yourself do that. You’re not a bad leader if you take a break now and then.”

Zuko scowls. “What, so people can then say at least my father wasn’t lazy?”

Sokka tilts his head. “Don’t you think there’s a difference between laziness and, I don’t know, choosing life and happiness in spite of a terrible dad who tried to take both from you?”

----------

Zuko is sixteen years old when he’s handed a crown, a throne, and a hundred-year ancestral legacy of colonial imperialism. He’s not scared of the work; he’s scared of being consumed by the responsibilities and burdens he’s claimed. What Zuko doesn’t quite realize, yet, is that he’s not alone in this.

oh damage (sweet damage) by interstellar_silence

Sokka doesn’t expect bringing Zuko home with him to go perfectly, but he also doesn’t expect to have to find a way to salvage the summer after it goes exactly as poorly as Zuko had thought it would.

And Sokka certainly doesn’t expect the biggest obstacle to be his dad.

victory lap by dickpuncher420

And then the countries start filing out onto the stage, one by one. And then it’s their turn to step out of the tunnel, into the heart of the National Stadium, into the blinding lights and the deafening cheers and the music that pounds into every bone in his body. And then it finally hits him.

He’s here.

—

Sokka is twenty-two years old when he qualifies for the Olympics.

the firebender’s guide to living life after destiny by chuffystilton

Sokka looked around the throne room with interest. “I always wondered what the world was like from up here - must be nice looking out at your adoring subjects.”

“Being the Fire Lord is pretty dull,” Zuko said glumly, "unless you enjoy hearing people bicker about taxes. After a while, thwarting the occasional assassination is basically a form of stress relief."

In which Fire Lord Zuko and Ambassador Sokka get drunk, go fishing, watch theatre, uncover a conspiracy, visit a teahouse, destroy a historical monument, and reckon with the painful legacy of the past – but not necessarily in that order. [PODFIC AVAILABLE]

The Caged Dragon Sings by AvocadoLove

There have been Omega Fire Lord's in the past, but that had been during times of peace. Zuko is still surprised when Ozai recalls him to the Fire Nation one year into his banishment.

(Everyone has ideas of who he is to marry. No one expects him to decide for himself.)

Boomerangs and Rainbows by mindbending

At Sokka’s behest, the Gaang skips rescuing Zuko during the Siege at the North Pole. Instead they leave him, unconscious, buried in the snow.

In completely unrelated news, Sokka’s haunted by a ghost now.

Unchained Melody by AvocadoLove

Sokka is a man of science, and science says ghosts aren't real. So, he can't be dead... Right?

Too bad science can't explain why the only person who can see or hear him is Prince Angry Jerk.

War Crimes by Lovely_Elbow_Leech

Book one ends with two major diffrences: 1. Sokka went on the mission with Hahn (it did not go well) 2. Zhao survives the North Pole and that proves unfortunate for everybody (except Zhao, obviously)

Imprisoned on Zhao’s war ship, Sokka and Zuko have to work together to survive. They are not very enthusiastic about this prospect.

And they argue.

A lot.

this love burns so yellow (becoming orange and in its time, exploding) by meliebee

Ten months after Zuko is crowned at seventeen, he faces his first coup.

lover, be good to me by shadowhokage

Sokka has an affinity for pet names.

(Spoiler: It’s contagious.)

The Stingray by Smediterranea

“You’re not carrying me.”

“I don’t mind,” the lifeguard says easily.

“I can just hop over.”

“On sand?”

Zuko will never admit it, but being carried feels pretty nice. The lifeguard sets him down and eyes him warily.

“Are you really all by yourself?” he asks in a worried tone. “No friends in town you can call to check on you?”

“No,” Zuko confirms. Tears are forming again with alarming speed; his foot throbs painfully with every passing second.

“What kind of burrito do you want?”

“You don’t have to —“ Zuko repeats.

“I’m getting al pastor. You like al pastor?”

AU: Zuko falls for Sokka, the super hot lifeguard who helps him after an unfortunate encounter with a stingray.

practice makes perfect by aiyah

Unfortunately, when it comes to the horizontal tango, Sokka has two left feet. Luckily for him, all he needs is a good tutor. Enter: Zuko.

(do you take this jerk to be) your one and only by jatersade

Under the leadership of Fire Lord Iroh, the Fire Nation has made every attempt to restore peace and make amends for the harm they inflicted during the Seventy-Year War. Their newest proposal is a literal proposal: a marriage to unite the Fire Nation and the Water Tribes.

The Fire Nation offers Prince Zuko’s hand.

The Water Tribes offer Princess Yue’s.

Sokka is apparently the only person in the world who has a problem with any of this.

Real Slow by surveycorpsjean

“I see.” Zuko closes the scroll. “Is the Water Tribe sending a replacement?”

“Uh yeah,” Sokka gestures to himself dramatically. “You’re looking at him.”

#zukka #atla #atla recs #fic recs #zuko #sokka #I’ll probs add more as I read more #zukka fic recs

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randomshyperson · 4 years ago

Text

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Road to Healing

Gif is not mine.

Summary: The one where you and Wanda travel around the country while grieving together. / Inspired by road trip-themed movies.

Read Complete work on AO3 too.

Warnings> Explicit language (cursing) , mentions of death, grieve and panic attacks. Mainly fluff and sad.

Words: 4.299K (Oneshot)

When Thanos won, you didn't have time to grieve. Immediately on the battlefield, you were responsible for helping to heal the wounded. And you were exhausted when it was over.

And then S.H.I.E.L.D. was triggered, and you knew they would take Vision if they found him. You thought Wanda wouldn't want that. And you ignored the intense pain you felt at the thought of her, and repeated to yourself that you wouldn't want that either. So you used Tony's technology to bring Vision's body back to the Avengers compound. And then you told them that Thanos had destroyed him along with the jewel, and that's what they wrote in their reports.

When you finally returned home, you only slept after you had organized a memorial for him. You didn't ask your colleagues to participate. The remaining avengers just seemed empty. So you left them alone.

Your hands trembled when you touched the knob of Wanda's room. You were looking for a picture of Vis. You found it eventually. When you left the room, your shirt was wet with your tears.

You thought Vision would like a view of the sea. So you left his body in a black wooden coffin, and buried it on the edge of the hill a few meters from the exit of the complex. You figured that Vision wasn't religious, so you just used the 3D printer to create a little iron plate, and stuck it against the ground.

You could not sleep that night. And the next. When you finally did, your panic attacks started. But the emergency calls started coming in, and you knew you had no time for grief. The world needed you now.

You learned to deal with the panic, but the nightmares continued. So you accepted more assignments, until you were too exhausted to dream. And then you got used to it.

And like the snap of a finger, five years passed.

When you defeated Thanos, you fell to your knees. You couldn't find Natasha. And then you couldn't breathe. You realize what was happening, you knew they were back. But you can't go through this again. Because the world needs you again. And then you calm down, and you stand up. And then you are walking.

Steve doesn't come back. You think you hear Bucky crying in his room. But you don't say anything, because he doesn't like to talk about it.

You take Wanda to the tomb of Vision two days before Tony's funeral. She sobs against you as you hug her, your own tears preventing you from seeing your surroundings clearly. You haven't left her side since.

After Tony's funeral is over, you destroy the items in your room with a bat. When you fall to the ground, Wanda sits beside you quietly, and holds your hand. She doesn't mind you shouting Nat's name along with your sobs.

- I can't stay here anymore. - You tell her the next night, while you are in your room. - I can't breathe in this place. - You confess with tears on your face. - I feel like I'm going to die.

Wanda intertwines your hands.

- Let's leave then.

You let out a long sigh, trying to control your tears. And then you nod.

Your mood improves considerably once you are out of the compound. You don't think about Nat, or Tony, or Steve, because if you do, your hands start to shake. But you think about healing. You think about being there for your best friend.

And then you decide to live. And you hold both of Wanda's hands when you tell her that you are going to travel. Travel to all the places she hasn't visited in the United States.

You want to remember that there are still things to live for. You want Nat to be proud of you.

When Wanda nods in agreement, you smile, and hug her. And then you get a truck, and you let Wanda hold the map.

It is hot and humid, and you drum your fingers against the steering wheel, humming softly the pop song playing on the radio.

Wanda fell asleep against the passenger seat some time ago, and it has been a few hours since you left the small motel where you were staying after leaving the Avengers compound.

You are hungry, so you stop the car at the first dinner you find. The loss of movement of the vehicle awakens Wanda.

- Hey sleepyhead. - You joke as you take out your key, and look for your wallet in the glove compartment. - Let's go get something to eat.

You walk to the diner, which is practically empty. Wanda doesn't seem to be fully awake yet, but smiles at you when she catches you looking. You sit down on opposite sides of the table.

- I'll have the eggs and bacon, and pancakes, please. - You tell the waitress, and Wanda gives you a curious look. She orders cereal and chocolate waffles.

- Why are we having breakfast for dinner? - she asks with a smile.

You shrug, laughing lightly.

- It's always time for pancakes.

Wanda looks at you for a moment, and you look back. And then you are having a blinking contest. The waitress gives you a judgmental look when she interrupts the game, but you and Wanda smile and thank her for the food.

You finish eating first, and are distracted by one of the crossword puzzle magazines that the restaurant leaves under the tables.

- Hey, Wands, help me with this one. - You say slightly distracted as you run your pencil across the paper. - "One word. Destined for belonging. Companionship. Devotion" Do you have any idea what it is?

- Soulmates. - Wanda says before chewing another piece of waffle. You let out a contented exclamation when the word fits, and smile at her, who just winks at you, smiling back.

- Does this taste good? - you ask, watching her eat. She nods, pushing her plate toward you. Wanda hands you her own fork to taste the waffles. They are very good, but you don't want to eat any more.

You can't finish your crossword puzzle, and you return the magazine to the table compartment before you leave the restaurant.

And then it is Wanda's turn to drive. You sit in the passenger seat, and turn up the radio as you get back on the road. You wish you could stay awake at night to keep Wanda company, but it only takes four songs for you to fall asleep.

It is morning when you arrive in Virgina. And it is cold enough for you to wrap Wanda in a scarf when she refuses to warm up properly. She just laughs with flushed cheeks when you let her go. You rent a room with two beds, and after you shower, Wanda goes into the bathroom.

You are browsing through the channels when she comes back with a towel wrapped in her hair, she smells good even from a distance.

- Do you want to go out to eat, or do you want to order a pizza? - you ask.

- Pizza. - She replies as she lies down on the bed.

You need to go out and look for a pay phone, because both of your cell phones are off and in the bottom of one of the boxes you are carrying in the truck.

- Shall we watch a movie? - she asks when you come back into the room.

- Comedy or horror? - You counter with a question as you kick off your shoes. Wanda bites her lip thoughtfully.

- Both.

You smile as you hang your coat on the door.

You have been watching "Scary Movie" for twenty minutes when the pizza arrives. Wanda pauses the movie while you stand up and pay the delivery man.

She uses her powers to drag the coffee table into the space between the two beds, and you place the pizza on top of the wood and sit cross-legged on Wanda's bed.

Eventually, you finish the pizza and wipe your hands with napkins. And then Wanda lets the movie sequence continue, and you remain in her bed with the excuse that it was cold. You fall asleep at the end of the second film, but you wake up in the early morning hours with Wanda's hand against your waist. You don't think you should get used to the feeling, so you get up and go back to your bed.

Wanda cries when you arrive in Virginia Beach. You know it is the view of the sea, which reminded her of the tomb of Vision. You stand silently beside her as you entwine your hands. Wanda doesn't let go until you get back to the car.

It's cold, and you shouldn't have ice cream. But you do it anyway. You and Wanda stop at a drive-thru, and have your milkshakes while you drive toward Tennessee.

You let her have the rest of your ice cream even though she's had many tastes already.

On one of the roads, you stop the car on the roadside. You try to normalize your breathing.

- I'm here. - She says next to you in a gentle voice, as she lets you squeeze her hand over your lap. - You are safe.

You exchange directions for a while.

- So you have never been to Disney? - You ask between one lighthouse and another, somewhere in North Carolina.

Wanda denies it with a smile and a nod. She has only one hand on the wheel, and her hair is shining in the sun. You scold yourself for looking.

- Since we can't afford Disney, we should pick something cheap to do - You tell her while looking at one of the tour guides you found at the motel.

- I don't mind just driving around. - she says. You bite the smile from your lips.

- Yeah, me neither.

It takes two weeks for you to talk about Natasha. You have changed routes many times now, and then you sit in the back of the truck, and look at the stars. And Wanda asks you about your nightmares. You say that you dream that Nat is falling, and that you can never reach her. You fall asleep together in the back of the car, many blankets wrapped around you.

When you wake up holding each other, neither of you really minds.

You are near Chicago when you drag Wanda to an arcade in the late afternoon.

You and Wanda try out all the toys that are allowed for you. It's fun, and loud. And you laugh so hard your cheeks hurt.

And then you eat hamburger and fries with soda sitting in a parking lot. You push Wanda's shoulder lightly with yours when she steals one of your fries.

You are in a clothing bazaar when you see Wanda's breasts for the first time. In between trying on various strange outfits for fun, the fifth or sixth time you return to the changing room, Wanda pulls you into the cabin with her. And she smiles so much that you hardly notice them.

When you get back to the motel, you bathe first. You touch yourself in the shower without really thinking about anything, but when you cum, the image of her breasts are in your mind.

In Michigan you bet on a race. And Wanda absolutely beats you. She has flushed cheeks and a sweaty face when you catch up with her. You think it's unfair that she looks so beautiful.

You watch the sunset, and Wanda thinks she has seen an owl.

Your body begins to betray you when Wanda hugs you and you tremble. You decide that it is because you have been a long time without touching another person intimately and being touched in the same way.

You joke with Wanda that you need to find a one-night stand, and she doesn't smile when she agrees with you.

As you drive towards Kansas, a waitress flirts with you. Wanda gets back in the car saying that she is tired, and you don't understand why kissing the waitress against a wall while she has one hand down your pants doesn't satisfy you.

You talk about death in Springfield. You are sharing popcorn while wrapped in a blanket sitting on the grass a few feet from the truck.

- You can't die. - She declares suddenly and you raise your eyebrows in surprise.

- Wanda...?

- I won't... I won't survive.

You turned around quickly, and held up both your hands.

- I wouldn't like that. - You tell her. You know it's what she doesn't want to hear, but you need her to understand that. - I would never want your life to depend on mine.

Wanda sobs, lowering her head.

- I wish you would move on. - You nod to reaffirm her statement, your own face wet with tears. - I know... people expect me to say that I wish you would miss me, or not replace me. But I don't feel that way. - You confess. - I never want to be the reason for your unhappiness. If I die, and well, at some point I will, I want you to go on living. And enjoying it.

Wanda shakes her head, and jumps on your neck. She cries against your collarbone, but it's okay. You think she understood what you told her.

When she calms down, you are silent for several moments.

- What will you do if I die? - she asks, looking at you. You keep your gaze on the stars as you shrug;

- I would die too.

Wanda bites back a smile on her lips, and hugs you.

Bucky calls. You talk for five minutes. And then you text him that when he is ready you will be there to listen to him. You send a picture of you and Wanda, and when he calls again, you talk for five hours.

It takes four weeks since you left the compound to realize that you are in love with Wanda.

You are in a motel somewhere in Nebraska, and she is combing her hair in front of the television, a sitcom playing. And then she laughs, and you realize.

The realization doesn't surprise you though. You take a deep breath, and tell her you're going to get some air before you leave.

You lean back on the balcony, trying to push the guilt away. You can hardly believe it happened so fast and so intensely.

You decide that everything is too recent, and that it would be disrespectful to Wanda's grief, so you guard yourself.

You fight for the first time in Colorado. You are being stubborn and rude, and Wanda is being distant and judgmental. And then you are arguing about the next destination. And then you stop the car on the roadside, and Wanda says she's not going anywhere with you. And you are silent for forty minutes before you two start to cry.

You put your face against the steering wheel, and Wanda lifts her legs onto the seat and buries her face in her own arms.

It takes a long moment for you to calm down. And then you wipe away your tears and Wanda looks away into the window, and you drive away again.

You are staying in Utah for a few days. It is the first time you ask for separate rooms. You want to cry again, but you just take the key.

And then you can't sleep after four hours as you stare at the ceiling.

You get up, and go out onto the veranda. And your feet guide you to the next door. But before you can knock, Wanda opens it, and jumps into you, hugging you tight. Your body instantly relaxes, and you cry as you both apologize, and promise never to fight again.

You get drunk in Las Vegas. Really drunk. You don't remember ever laughing as hard as you did that night. You think Wanda used her powers to win the games, but you can't prove it. And then you're back in the truck, stumbling and laughing, and she has a look on her face that makes your stomach turn with nervousness.

But you swallow your nervousness with a smile, and accept the bottle of vodka she offers you. And then you are in a karaoke bar, singing at the top of your lungs for two hours into the early morning hours. When the owner kicks you out, Wanda holds your hand as you both run around town.

Back at the motel, you are laughing about something you can't remember, and then you fall into bed together, and instantly fall asleep.

When you wake up, you don't care about your headache.

You get the same tattoo in Las Vegas. Wanda holds and squeezes your hand while you are doing it, and you do the same to her. The tattoo artist thought you were married, and neither of you corrects him.

And then you take her to all the tourist spots, and you have ice cream and hot dogs. And Wanda's hand is warm against yours all the way.

On your last day in LA, you visit a nightclub. It is noisy, and lively, and has lots of alcohol. You find it hard to breathe when you see Wanda in a party dress, but she smiles and you follow her.

And then you dance and dance and dance, and you think about nothing. And then you're drunk again, and the girl at the bar is flirting with you. And Wanda's no longer smiling when she gets back on the dance floor.

You think the girl at the bar has asked for your number, but you're looking at Wanda dancing. And she moves her body with sensuality, and then there is a man behind her. Wanda kisses him while looking at you through the lights.

You take a shot of whiskey before leaving in a rage.

And when Wanda wakes up in the morning, she says she doesn't remember anything.

You think that you can no longer hide what you feel when you are on the road, heading for Oregon. But you just keep mumbling the song that plays on the radio.

Wanda bites her lip and has a lost look on her face, but when you ask her what's wrong, she looks away quickly as she says she was just distracted.

You are entertained by the music again.

You get used to your feelings in Portland. The routine helps you keep them quiet and buried deep in your chest.

You and Wanda begin to spend more time in inns, and camping, than on the road, but you still travel around the country.

And then Wanda talks about Vision for the first time. How important he had been, how much she missed him. You listen, and she asks about Nat. And you say that it is exactly the same way.

Neither of you cries anymore at the mention of their names.

It doesn't take long before the world needs you again. Sam calls. Stephen calls. You and Wanda throw your cell phones off a cliff, while toasting a lemonade.

- We are terrible superheroes, aren't we? - you ask looking at the horizon.

- The worst. - She replies before pouring her drink into her mouth.

You get your numbers back the same day by going to an electronics store.

And then you have to go back to New York.

Four hours down the road, and you both stop for a bite to eat in Cleveland, at a diner very similar to the one at your first stop.

Wanda walks ahead of you, hugging her own sweatshirt as she feels the late afternoon chill. You resist the urge to hug her.

- I'll have the waffles with chocolate and cereal. - You ask the waitress. Wanda stares at the menu for a few more seconds, biting her lower lip before speaking.

- I'll have the eggs and bacon with pancakes. - She asks right away.

You are silent for a moment, exchanging glances and quick smiles. And then the waitress returns with your plates.

- Are you ready to save the world again, Wandy? - you ask with a light irony in your voice before tasting your ceral.

Wanda smiles.

- Of course, of course. - She answers with humor. But her expression slowly falls, as if she is remembering something. You look at her with curiosity and concern.

- Are you all right?

- I just... - She begins. And then she straightens her posture, and diverts her eyes from yours. - What happens next? - You frown uncomprehendingly. Wanda looks unsure. - After we finish the job. This ends too?

You swallow dryly, feeling embarrassed and nervous. But you do your best to avoid showing it.

- Do you want it to end? - You ask.

- No. - She confesses as she looks into your eyes.- I'd like us to continue together.

- I'm not going anywhere, Wanda. - You assure her with a smile. And then you bite the inside of your cheek, feeling anxious. - Don't you... don't you wish you had a fixed place to stay?

Wanda blinks in confusion, looking surprised at your question.

- I just... I love the road and all. Mostly because you're with me. - You say, and don't notice her blush at the last sentence. - But I'd like to have a house. Especially now that we're going back to work. I wouldn't mind living in New York.

- Are you inviting me to move in with you? - Wanda asks with a mixture of curiosity and embarrassment, and you feel your face heat up.

- Yes, I ... I'd like that. - You say, and seeing Wanda's surprised expression, you hasten to add. - But I understand if you just want the road! That's fine, I'll stand by you too!

Wanda reaches your hand quickly over the table, and she has a huge smile on her lips.

- I would love to live with you.

- Oh. - You sigh ruefully, feeling as if a weight has been lifted from your back. - Cool.

- Cool. - Wanda repeats with a mischievous smile and a twinkle in her eye.

And then you go back to eating in silence.

You are in the passenger seat while Wanda hums a song along to the noise of the radio. It is dark and she is waiting for the first motel she can find to park. And you look at her, looking so good, and comfortable, and happy. And your brain is screaming how much you love her in an endless loop, while your heart threatens to explode in your chest.

So you think you'd better face the landscape because you're getting out of breath. But then Wanda is parking the car on the roadside, and you think maybe she's going to pee, but then she doesn't come out. You turn and find her gripping the steering wheel with both hands as she looks ahead.

- Hey, what happened? - you ask worriedly. Wanda closes her eyes.

- I read your mind.

The confession shocks you immediately.

- W-what? - You retort with a trembling voice.

Wanda opens her eyes, and lets go of the steering wheel. And she has a tender expression to calm you down.

- Hey, it's okay, I...

- No.

You mumble breathlessly, holding back tears, as you quickly unbuckle your seat belt and get out of the car.

You think you finally blew it. Wanda knew, and this was the end.

Leaning against the car, you hugged your arms as you tried to calm your breathing with your eyes closed. You were startled when Wanda touched your shoulders, not even having heard her get out of the car.

- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. - You cried when she hugged you. Your body was shaking. - I tried to avoid it. I'm sorry.

- Stop saying that. - She asked softly, letting her hands caress your back to calm you down. - You didn't do anything wrong. - She tries to say it, but you hold her tight, afraid she'll be gone at any moment. - Hey, look at me.

Wanda asks a few more times before you let go, trying to control your tears. Only when you look at her do you realize that she too has a crying face.

- I don't want to lose you. - You whimper. - I'll control myself, I can send them away. And everything will go back to the way it was before.

Wanda denies it with her head, raising her hands to your face. You think she's going to say you both can't do this anymore, and your stomach flips.

- I love you. - She confesses, looking up at you. - I love you. - She repeats as she wipes your tears with her fingers. You're too shocked to react. - I love you so much.

And then Wanda kisses you. And you stumble with fright, but the car behind you won't let you move away from her body. And then your eyes close, and you surrender. A long sigh escapes your lips as you feel Wanda's tongue on yours.

And you kiss until you are breathless. And then your body is warm, trembling, and Wanda kisses you again, and again, as she presses you against the car.

And then you don't want to be dressed anymore, as Wanda lets her hands run all over you.

You don't separate your mouths as you fall into the back seat, Wanda on top moaning into your mouth.

The glass of the car is fogged as your hand slips on the window, trembling at Wanda's intimate touch, and delighting in the sounds she makes when you kiss her in all the right places.

You are happy. Fucking delighted. And you didn't want to keep driving, not unless it was to a house that was going to be yours and Wanda's. But Stephen and Sam were calling, saying that you were taking too long. Then you drove back to New York, and this time, Wanda's hand was entwined in yours.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda vision #wandavision au #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #marvel imagines #road trip au

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all-things-fic · 4 years ago

Text

Somewhere Only We Know

A/N - Hello, you lovely lot! Hope you are all keeping well in these utterly shit Covid times. Who would’ve thought that we would still be here in December?! Please see my offering for @goldenbluesuit‘s Christmas Fic Challenge. Hope I’ve done a bit of justice with this piece.

I can remember Katie texting me telling me about the challenge, and I’ll admit I was given first dibs and now I’m absolutely shitting myself because I’ve seen all the brillaint entries so far and I’m not sure I really cut the mustard with this piece but I’m proud of myself for being able to put a solid 70% of this together in just one day (that one day being today).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Katie has done a brilliant job and I know how grateful she is towards anyone who has joined the challenge or supported by reading/sharing etc.... I need to stop rambling... Okay, thank you for sticking with me as always and happy reading! .x

***

The last thing you remembered actually reading in the group chat was “make sure you have your wellies”. You were glad that you remembered that part at the very least.

Winds whipped around you as you buried your face further into your cream roll neck cable knit jumper, all but hidden underneath your tobacco borg teddy coat that someone had already likened to Macklemore.

Nothing like being back home with your closest and oldest friends.

Mud squelched under your feet as you walked in line with two of your oldest girl friends, eyes looking over the four males in front of you as they led the way over the grassy hills.

There had been zero planning on what today’s events would bring. It was quite clear that the seven of you just wanted to be reunited with the country air and wind bitten cheeks.

It was nice. How simple it was. On the surface at the very least. That was until you zoned in on the little things.

Like his laugh. The same laugh that always carried somehow and it seemed like the wind was making it that much more prominent than usual today.

There was no denying, he had this glow about him. Even from the back of him. You felt silly for thinking it, but it was true. It was in the way he held himself as he attacked the grassy hills with his feet clad wellies and brown trousers.

Life had changed a lot in over a decade. Christ, had it been that long? You’d all gone from baby teenagers to fully fledged adults. The age range of your friendship differing slightly, the odd person here and there slightly older than a couple of people in the group.

Nonetheless, many of the experiences had been the same. The big job offers, and the even bigger promotions. The heartbreaks, regardless of their prominence or lack of, had been the felt the same. The flirtation between some of you sparked probably a bit more so now with a finesse that didn’t have you rolling your eyes but rather leaning into it.

Four out of seven of you were single. Jack and Jonny were virtually married off, however neither of them were with their partners this year with both deciding to spend Christmas at home and New Years with their significant others. Alice was still loved up and going strong with her fella, as was Grace who you hadn’t heard a peep from as she constantly checked her phone to see when the person she was besotted with finally arrived up North thanks to West Midlands Trains pulling into Crewe.

So that left Will, you and Harry. Harry who had quite publicly made it known that he was single. Well, according to your Mum he had, in several interviews. Including the one that she had described as an ‘incredibly relaxing watch and nice background noise to my Sunday evening brew and ironing session’.

That was a strange one for you, his honesty. In earlier years of friendship, he always seemed quite aloof. Like he was keeping his options open. Guarded in a way that frustrated at least 75% of the friendship group, in the nicest way possible. You knew that was a contradiction but any annoyance came from a good place.

You remembered one night in 2014 when he wouldn’t quite give you a straight answer over tequila shots whether he was shagging someone or not. You also remember the way he’d been pulled away from you tactfully by Alice that night when she sensed how you were about to blow up at his lackadaisical attitude.

The same had been felt in 2016. Not so much in 2018, but you weren’t single then so maybe you just didn’t care.

2019 was significantly different though.

See the thing was, you knew him now. Like, knew knew him.

Some would think it was a lapse of judgment, a reading that you would agree upon given what had happened two days prior if ever prodded about it publicly.

Others would vehemently disagree. Stating how long any sort of energy between the two of you had been bubbling for a number of years.

Looking back you couldn’t even understand why you’d attended his show. You lived in Camden and it made sense, but that’s where the sense stopped. Even the ways he had reached out had been one of the most random messages you’d received from him

There was no context, just a simple ‘I’m playing the Electric Ballroom and there’s tickets waiting for you if you want ‘em.’

And the thing was, you loved that venue. The grungy-ness of it all. The way you had stuck to the floor while trying to dance along to the likes of The Hives and Kings of Leon when seeing them playing there, basking in your sweaty happiness.

But the stickiness of the floor and sweatiness of the room didn’t compare to the stickiness and sweatiness you later found yourself partaking in as Harry took you from behind over the side of his couch.

A shiver rolled through you at the thought, one that you would blame on the December bitter chill because it was a secret. One that neither of you had mentioned since it happened on Thursday night, or to be technically correct the early hours of Friday morning.

He’d been good. Of course he had been.

He had that way about him that night that pulled you under a false sense of endeared security. From his dimpled smile to gleaming eyes. He was happy.

And the way he had shone as he found you on the balcony had warmed you like nothing you had known in the longest time.

It caused you to forget about the worry that had laden you limbs as you turned up at 9.13pm to the wooden doors of the building, wondering how many songs he was in to the set as you convinced yourself he would start at 9.00pm.

As you’d been ushered over to a clear box window and uttered your name to a dorky looking man wearing a tracksuit pull over and watched him handover a white envelope through the circle hatch.

You stood in the dark, next to two much younger girls who enjoyed the way his glances lingered over at their side. Eyes had found Gemma in the opposite corner of the balcony, her dancing and singing with some recognisable faces mainly more so because you had seen them on social media.

You, however, kept yourself to yourself. Until you were anchored in the tightest hug from Gemma that you had ever felt from her and swayed from side to side as she made it known how pleased she was to see you once the concert was over.

That familiarity had been nice. The vibrancy of nostalgia consuming you in your entirety.

Watching him work a room when he finally entered the after party was a sight to behold, in his navy blue pinstripe suit and yellow ‘I’m gonna die lonely’ t-shirt.

He wasn’t. Gonna die lonely, that is.

He glided so smoothly from one person to the next, spilling a drink down himself in the process you’d seen (and later felt when your hand clung to the fabric of his t-shirt as you kissed), making time for everyone in his own unique way.

Big eyes followed you over Gemma’s shoulder when he had finally found himself within your circle and hugged his sister once more that evening. They were hard to read but also openly filled with a glimmer of hope as he dropped his gaze to see what you were wearing.

And when he approached you, he hugged you in a way that managed to pull you into the darkened corner of the dingy space. Spinning your body to keep your face concealed from any prying eyes.

He revealed to you how he didn’t think you were going to turn up, scanning you with his gaze as he spoke. You did the same, a bit taken aback by just how attractive you were finding him. He had always been handsome but the aura he gave off, made your fingers itch to have him closer to you.

Words ran away from you that night as he begged and pleaded with you to tell him what your favourite song had been. Based on first impressions, which the show has been, then Canyon Moon and Watermelon Sugar had smothered you and given you no other option but to pick them.

If he were to ask you now you’d probably say To Be So Lonely, thanks to the drive home being longer than originally thought and said album being your choice of road trip music.

Forget Driving Home For Christmas, nothing slapped more than one of your closest friends admitting to being an arrogant son of a bitch.

After your chat, he mingled some more but Harry was always tactile and that night had been no different. He veered conversations with people you had never seen before to take place by the zone that you all occupied.

He actively kept his back against yours, allowing the faintest of touches and brushing of arms - sometimes hands too if he dropped them down heavily enough with his arms as he spoke - to entice and create a spark.

You were kept late enough to miss the last tube. Battery dangerously low on your phone that you didn’t know if a transaction with Uber would be worth a try.

Jumping into the same car as him had been easy. His soft and tired eyes findings yours in the cab as he leant his head back against the headrest in the back seat and let his lips tip upwards in an expression of tenderness that had you melting in your seat.

“‘S been a while since we’ve both been a bit pissed in the back of a taxi,” he mused, pushing his fallen locks out of his eyes to ensure his view of you wasn’t obscured. “Come an’ cuddle me like you used to do when we went out a’ home and were worse for wear.”

Falling into his side was almost second nature, eyes closing as you let your forehead rest against his jawline and let his worn in cologne fill you senses and scatter your judgment.

You don’t even remember how you ended up kissing that night. A mixture of confessions about missing each other and praise of how good you both were in your own ways. The sound of his whispered, “are you coming home wi’me?” against your lips an offer too good for you to refuse as you sat pressed into his side and half in his lap.

The giggles that night, around dramatic shushes as you tripped and shuffled from the car to his front door were almost haunting in your memory as he tried to chastise you around spluttered laughter about being respectful of his neighbours.

Getting the key in the lock proved unchallenging - one of the better analogies aligned to your memories and latter sexual endeavours - as you slipped into the house. He enjoyed watching the way you walked ahead of him into his home, not realising how much he needed that visual of seeing how well you fit in.

While time seemed to slow in that moment, movements desperately sought the opposite. Hands gripped and clawed like their lives depended upon it.

Looking back now, both he and you wished it hadn’t happened the way it did. Skirt lifted and over the side of his couch. Teeth clashing and hips knocking.

It had been every inch a drunken fumble. A first meeting slightly cheapened but wanted nonetheless. Only made even cheaper by the hush-hush concealing of it ever occurring.

But a secret it was and a secret it would remain.

And oh how you wished you had a pillow you could press you face into right now and scream, this time for an entirely different reason. Unlike that night.

“Not seen a sign of any deer yet, mate,” you heard a voice break you out of your indulgence of recollecting past events. Harry was the worst at wanting to get a reaction.

“Christ, have a bit of patience would yer?”

You smiled at the bickering, just like it always was as the River Dane could be heard in the distance somewhere as you walked. If you listened really close, that is.

Lifting your eyes, your smile lingered as you watched Harry spin his body around and let his hands get lost in the massive pockets of his parka. He walked backwards holding your gaze softly with his eyes twinkling before he gently rolled them at the overreaction and impatience of your friends.

He seemed pleased that you’d enjoyed his teasing as you once again hid you smile into your jumper.

You’d be alright.

***

You heard giggles and screams ahead of you as your friends stumbled in the dark and messed about as you got closer to the viaduct. This place or the people didn’t change, and at times while it filled you with a warm nostalgia, it could be heavily jarring.

A soft and lazy smile pulled at your lips as you felt his heavy forearm lightly tug you closer to him, his lips finding your hair. And then there was Harry.

“Think we should go this way m’self,” Harry mumbled, the nudge of his hips against yours had you stumbling slightly in your heels away from the direction of your friends and somewhere completely different.

“And why’s that?” You turned your face slightly, cheeks warm and flushed thanks to the mixture of alcoholic beverages; eyes glazed as they lifted up to look at him.

“Cause you never would’ve let me when I was sixteen,” he admitted.

“You didn’t ask.”

“‘M askin’ now.”

With slow blinking eyes, you looked at his own unfocused vision. A soft shine to his skin, hair blowing gently against his forehead. The softest of smiles tilted at your lips.

“On yer go,” he nudged you forward, this time more so with his crotch and his hands, which wrapped around your hips to help steer you. Harry was met with only a small amount of resistance from you as you split off from your friends and turned in the different direction.

You bit back your laugh, dropping your head slightly as you felt your heels started to sink into the grass as you walked. Harry was level with you when you sunk down noticing the way you legs slightly gave way, a soft chuckle omitting from his throat as he asked, “You alrigh’?”

“I’m sinking in these bloody things,” you grumbled, pulling your heel from the grass and trying to place the sole of your shoe onto the ground beneath you first.

“So much for no’ being able to take the country out o’ the girl. London’s changed yer, swear it.”

Shaking your head, you cut your eyes to give him a harsh stare for his wind up. His amused expression lit a fire in you like no other. He really wasn’t one to talk though, was he?

“Gi’me your hand ‘ere,” he held his out to you, quickly cupping it when you handed it over and pulled it under his bent elbow. “Remind me again who’s idea this was, eh?”

He didn’t need reminding, he had been one of the keen instigators for the whole jaunt down Twemlow Viaduct. It usually was him, or Jack. The two of them often reminiscing on times they had both raided their parents' alcohol cupboards and managed to sneak out with some dusty bottle that held a liquor that tasted out of date and stale, and if not that then, cheap.

“‘S still fucking freezing down ‘ere, in’it?” He asked, lifting his left hand up to his mouth and blowing against it to try and get some feeling back into his fingers.

“We’re so close to the river, I don’t know why you’d expect anything different?”

“Is this why everyone was always so insistent on necking anything with over 11% alcohol in it when we came down ‘ere as kids?”

“Probably,” you softly laughed.

“‘S a bit different now though innit?”

“Oh, I’m not so sure,” you started to correct him, shrugging your hand out from under his elbow and reaching for your bag. Quickly fumbling with the clasp, you lifted up the quilted flap and managed to pull out the stainless steel hip flask.

Harry cackled a harsh laugh, his eyes crinkling as he slowly let his laughter die down and softly let his joy wash over his features. “Impressive. Gone all proper on me.”

“You know I haven’t,” you held his eyes watching as he nervously cupped at the back of his neck for a short while, a gentle bite down of his bottom lip, as you quickly uncapped the item and held it out to him. He looked like he needed the courage. You continued, “We’re just a bit more refined, that and we earn a good living. Some more than others, and by some I mean you.”

He held his hand up towards you with an amused grin at your comment. “You first, ‘s yours after all.”

Lifting the item and knocking back your head, you swallowed the whiskey with a small grimace, before offering it to Harry once more. This time he accepted, his right hand making light work of taking the item from your hands and sipping at the contents.

His face wasn’t as contorted as your’s when he swallowed, a fan of the chosen beverage if needs must. “‘S the proper stuff, tha’ is,” he commented with a quick lick of his lips before continuing, “Come a long way from sneaking the bottles of dusty Blossom Hill from the back of the cupboard.”

“Don’t know about that,” you smiled, taking the item and pushing it back into your bag. “I’d still drink if, if it were on offer.”

“‘M sure Mum’s got a bottle or two going at home?”

“Is that your way of asking me to go home with you?” You paused. “Again.”

Harry remained silent at your words. Both you and he knew it was going to happen. A mixture of sparks and lovelorn, lingering glances was enough to make anyone both want to give up, while also giving a burning confidence usually unknown.

Neither of you expected it would be you who started the conversation, however.

“It is, ‘f it’s gonna work. ‘M not sure I could wait any longer t’be’onest wi’yer.“

Laughing, you reached up to push at his shoulder. He always knew exactly what to say, but no way was he going to make a laughing stock of the whole thing. “Oh, give over,” you spoke, harshly swallowing when he kept your hand against the thick cable knit black jumper he had on. “You’ve made it this far, thus far just fine.”

“‘M not playin’,” he whispered, hand gently curling around your own and lifting it up to press against his face. His cheeks were warm underneath the cooler hands, despite the cold night whipping around you both and your mind quickly wondered if he was just as embarrassed for his lack of acknowledgment as you had been. “Homes nice, you’re nicer.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it,” you let your soft voice get taken by the wind.

“An’ what gave you tha’ impression?”

He did. He gave you that impression. By not mentioning it. By treating you how he always did.

“You.”

“Me?” Harry responded, indignantly, blowing out a sigh that had his cheeks puffing out underneath your hand. “‘M not doing a very good job then am I? I can’t keep m’eyes off o’you. ‘S not my fault you don’t bloody notice ‘em.”

But you had noticed them.

His eyes, gaze following your every move, near enough. Stupid little touches. Glances of approval. Not just now, but from years before.

Treating you how he always did.

Oh, treating you how he always did.

Bringing your eyes back to his figure, you saw the way his gaze darted and nervousness dragged at his features. A frown began to set itself between his eyebrows from worry.

“Changes everything.”

Running his tongue along his teeth, Harry pursed his lips. “Everythin’ has changed, changed a long time ago an’all.”

You dropped your hand down, it now massaging against the back of his neck and shoulder as you felt the tension of his body radiating through his clothes. Under the dim moonlight and the odd spotlight that had been added to the viaduct with each passing year for safety, Harry exhumed everything anyone would want in a boyfriend. He was soft, and so bloody gorgeous. Not just because he was personification of an almost six foot tall string of handsomeness, but his character did the talking for him.

He knocked the door before he walked into a room, for example. Who really did that kind of thing anymore?

But you could also still see the heartbreak that lingered, albeit not as strong as it once was, it was still there. And that was problematic and scary. To be on the receiving end of it. Not that you would hold it against him, because you had been him at one point too. At many points in fact.

When the two of you had shagged, because let’s face it that is exactly what it had been, while a sense of familiarity in the person was prevalent it was definitely overruled by the desire to just hit a euphoric high that if hit right could not be topped.

Familiar overruled in other aspects, and it wasn’t to be brushed away. But was familiarity a mask that would slip sooner rather than later? Was it the start and the end?

The both of you experienced similarities in your life that could not be matched by the friends in your friendship group. London had chewed you up and spat you out, ruthlessly so. While rewarding you with long hours but fat pay cheques, careers that catapulted you to new heights and enabled you to see parts of the world that two country kids (which in one way you were) could never have imagined.

Sure Harry’s had been on a much, much larger scale - you would not ever deny that - but you no longer fit in.

And neither did he.

This was a place that only the two of you knew. A place where you watched those around you fall in love and have the time to do so. A place where your friend's happiness was created a lot easier than it wasn’t and allowed a sense of success to weave its way in, through the most unexpected of happenings.

Not a place where you found happiness in your work because there was less of a space for happiness to blossom elsewhere. Not really. Not like you; both of you.

Understanding was vital.

This had been a place you knew like the back of your hand. A place that had you feeling the earth beneath your feet, fresh air in your lungs and had at times made it so you found yourself sitting by a river and finding yourself feeling complete.

Yet looking over at the almost 26 year old, that just wasn’t the case anymore.

And for once you didn’t feel alone.

The sound of the odd piece of cobbled pavement underneath Harry shoes, buried beneath overgrown grass and plants, broke you from your thoughts, as you watched him kick at the ground and scuff his shoes.

He sighed, head tilted back before he knocked it to the side and caught your eyes. A small scoffed laugh left his lips as he shook his head and dropped his gaze to his feet.

“‘S it fucked?”

You hummed, a small frown lacing your features.

“Fucked it, haven’t I? Fuckin’- idiot-“ he breathed out a noise as he clenched his teeth, one that wasn’t quite a growl but enough to let you know he was agitated. Only strengthened by how tight his jaw became.

Before you could even think, the back of your hand gently brushed against the pulsing hinge of his jaw. Muscles taut as you tried to soothe him in a way that your mind was screaming was far too intimate.

You didn’t want him having any internal battle about right and wrong. Not when you had both taken the same steps to get here.

“Thought it was just meant as a one time thing,” you admitted. “Like you needed it, and I needed it. Was what it needed to be at the time. Bit rough, bit sloppy-“

You cringed are the use of the word. Wanting the ground to swallow you in a weird fashion. You should be able to talk open and honestly with someone who you had known longer than hadn’t.

“Rough?“ Harry swallowed audibly, his face fallen. “That’s not-“

His eyes held an emotion similar to sorrow at the mention of the word. “That’s not the impression I wanted to give you.”

“We were both drunk, it happens.”

“Not with me it doesn’t. Not when it’s me, wanting to be wi’you.”

“I mean I was into it if that helps anything?”

“Were yer?”

You looked at him from the corner of your vision, watching his lips try to fight a smile as you rolled yours into your mouth to not give yourself away. You knew what you were trying to do by speaking those words aloud but you wished you hadn’t. Awkward breathy laughs were shared by the two of you as you held his eyes.

“Was I?”

You hummed in agreement to answer his question, letting your smile dance along your lips now and watching as Harry’s dimples started to show. His expression was youthful, slightly smug.

“Good t’know.”

***

Finishing saying your goodbyes to your friends and ignoring their suggestive expression because ‘Harry was stopping as an extra pair of hands’, you shut the heavy wooden door and reached up to close the deadbolt lock at the top. Shortly after, you let your feet drop as you stopped standing on your tiptoes and pressed your forehead against the door.

The silence of the pub was always a strange one to you. A place that was usually thriving, whether it was just your friends, or your parents friends. When the lights were turned out, it was actually quite a lonely place. Regardless of growing up around this sort of industry your entire life and having parents as publicans nothing was more depressing than an empty bar, lifeless and nothing like it was intended.

A suggested lock-in from Jack, who managed to interrupt both yours and Harry’s conversation earlier had not been a bad shout after all. You knew it meant that you would have to deal with the fallout with it being Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t very often that you found yourself in the setting.

Turning to move from the door, you almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the opening of a familiar Lily Allen song start to play over the speakers.

Harry emerged from the corner of the pub that housed the jukebox, slowly rubbing his hands together before he wordlessly picked up the scattered pint glasses that had remained on one of the tables that had been missed by the staff on the evening shift. His eyes glanced over at you, as you stood with a hand to your chest.

This wicked smile and gleam washed over his face as he paused his movement. “Did I scare yer?”

“Do you not think it’s a bit loud?”

He wrinkled his nose at you, a soft shake of his head no, to answer your question.

“‘S your fave innit?” He asked, head nudging to where the jukebox was now hidden.

With a small smile you nodded, “Prefer the Keane version in all honesty.”

“Don’t have it in the bloody jukebox though, d’yer? Can’t like it that much.”

Your smile deepened at his exclaim and how prominent his accent sounded as he spoke, the small clink of the glasses he was holding only heard if you really zoned in.

“Where d’yer want these?” He asked, holding up the five pint glasses he had collected. “Behind t’bar?”

Humming, you nodded and watched as he weaved his way through the tables to you. You frowned as he got closer, not understanding why he hadn’t bypassed you completely.

Once he was close enough to you, you watched as he reached for what you knew to be your own glass of wine that was almost finished.

“Fancy the rest of this or can it go too?”

Looking at him and down to the glass, you gently wrapped your hand around it and brought the lip to your mouth. You knocked the item back quickly, swallowing the rest of your wine, before handing over the now empty glass back to Harry.

“Good girl,” he joked, light laughter lacing each word. “Sit yourself down.”

Wearing an amused and quizzical expression, you let yourself sink down into the wooden chair. Resting your chin on your hand, you spun slightly in your seat to keep your eyes on Harry as he placed the glasses down and lifted the hatch so he could step behind the bar.

With your free hand, you started to tap the worn beer coaster labelled with the Cheshire Brewhouse logo against the table. Part of you hated how Harry had a knack for anything, including knowing his way around a bar.

He busied himself with collating the glasses once more as you let your eyes take in the surroundings you had known, loved and even grown out of.

Your parent’s pub was cosy and friendly. A truly

classic and quintessential British village pub, featuring open fires, bookcases found in the very far corner or the jukebox in the other, lots of old oak and a really pleasant garden with benches for the summat and heaters for the winter. You know the kind that had its regulars that had kids who had seen each other grow up.

The bar was the centre of the pubs house, with an extensive array of whiskies amongst many other delights. A nice range of local ales and a well-balanced, great quality list of wines on offer designed (which you would be taste testing if the service hadn’t decided to take a break) to complement the food menus designed daily by a team of chefs who all have a passion for great cooking using fresh, seasonal and local ingredients.

It looked as Christmassy as Christmas could get, with a real tree which was locally sourced from one of the many surrounding farms and traditionally decorated with golds and reds. Twinkly lights shone, not only on the trees but as part of the garland that was hung above the bar each year, much to the annoyance of your Dad and the delight of your Mum.

Slowly dragging your eyes back to the bar, you watched Harry as he poured you another glass of white wine and started to recap the bottle. He must’ve felt your eyes on him, his gaze meeting yours almost immediately.

“Service is a bit slow,” you jibed, once you knew he was with you. “Going to ruin the reputation of a fine establishment.”

His chuckle was breathy in response, but warmed you through as he turned his back and pushed his tumbler glass up against the device at the bottom of the Glenfiddich distilled malt whiskey, not once but twice going for a double.

“Helping yourself to the stock now, as well.”

“‘M sure your Dad won’t mind,” he responded, twisting his body back around to reach for your own glass and place it onto a tray that sat along the bar top. “In fact he’d probably make a comment about how it’d put hairs on m’chest.”

You laughed, unrestrained, knowing just how right he had been with that comment.

Over the otherside of the room, Harry smiled and shushed you as he walked closer, easily holding the tray with your drinks upon it. “Being a bit loud,” he taunted as he slid the tray down to the oak table.

“Oh, now you’re concerned about the noise.”

With his hand against the back of the chair which was currently housing your outstretched legs, you felt him start to wobble the seat to give you a warning.

“Hang on,” you said, “Plenty of other chairs.”

“This one’s mine,” he responded.

Wanting to roll your eyes but deciding not to, you let your legs drop down and gave the seat back to Harry. Once he was comfortable and he’d taken your drink off the tray, he gestured with his right hand.

Not entirely focused, he had to do the ‘come hither’ motion a couple of times before you finally cottoned on. He was willing to let you put your legs on his lap instead, while he may have taken the seat it didn’t mean he wanted to take away your comfort.

No sooner had your legs been raised to rest against his tan washed velvet corduroy trousers, was he fiddling with the buckle of your stiletto sandals.

“Got mud everywhere,” you commented, wiggling your toes that were painted a festive red and inspecting the little dots of dirt that were splattered against your skin, as Harry dropped the first shoe to the floor and quickly worked on the second. “Dread to think what they smell like.”

“Smell alrigh’ from ‘ere,” he mused, smirk faint but glaring obvious in his tone of voice as he threw a quick and mischievous glance at you. As you elongated your foot against his thighs, the tips of your toes were just about able to press into his thick jumper to try and jab at him for his comment.

Before you were able to put any sort of force behind your action, Harry’s hand clamped down around the top of your foot causing your eyes to snap up away from his hand and up to his eyes.

There he sat watching you, top two teeth pressed into his bottom lip keep his smile at bay. Releasing his lips slowly, his whispered threat left his throat, “I will tickle.”

You tried to fidget away but to no avail. With a whined laugh, you frowned as Harry goaded you by slowly raising his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

You had tried him.

Truth be told you wanted to again.

If he wanted to.

Reaching for your wine, you took a hefty sip and let the silence swallow you both. Harry, who kept his hand on your foot and his fingers dancing gently against the top, let his head fall back awkwardly against the hardwood. His head dropped to the side taking in his surroundings and their familiarity.

“Do you ever get tired of coming back?”

You hummed, sure you had misheard due to the way the blood was rushing around your ears. He turned to look at you, all double chin and puffy cheeks.

“Of everything being the same, but different?”

His whispers captivated you, hushed confessions not quite meant for anyone else but his own mind yet spilling from him with such an ease that he did nothing to fight them.

“I’ll admit, I come home for other people. Not for me.”

“People?”

“Mum, Dad,” you paused. “You.”

His smile deepened. His chin knocking down to his chest, his eyes looking up at you from underneath his curling hair from being caught in the moist winter evening just hours before.

“You can stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you did three nights ago.”

Harry breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring and his chest expanding. A lick of his lips, before his mouth dropped to sit slightly agape.

“What if I don’t wan’to? What if I want t’look at yer like this all the time?”

You found yourself unable to respond, nose burying itself into your wine glass as you pressed your lips against the cool outside to try and hide your burning smile.

His lips curled lightly, before he breathed a laugh once and gently shook your foot with his hand. “Eh? Come ‘ere-“

“Harry,” you breathed.

“C’mon, c’mere. ‘S room for more than just your feet.”

If it wasn’t for the creak of your chair as you slowly started to push yourself out of it, you wouldn’t have consciously been aware of how you were making your way to him.

His body relaxed, somehow managing to become closer to horizontal than sitting upright in his seat, as he peered as you walking the short distance over to him.

With his legs widened, he pressed his face into your side now that you were close enough. His nose inhaled the familiar scent of your perfume which was only faint now due to the other senses and scents it had mixed with throughout the evening.

Rolling his face out of your body, he knocked his head back and pressed his chin where his face had been. The face you showed him was worn with worry, an expression he did not want to meet.

“‘S wrong?”

His ask was lazy. Not wanting to dig deep and know. What if he didn’t like what he found?

“We know how this is going to end.”

“Do we?” He prodded. His eyes moved over your features quickly before they partly disappeared to him, thanks to your curtain of hair which slowly fell down.

His hand reached up, desperately brushing it away and cupping at the back of your head as best as he could while he remained seated.

“How’s that? Tell me.”

“Same, but different.”

You knew you shouldn’t use his words, not in a way that could be considered against him, but they - in the most ambiguous of ways - described everything perfectly.

“Not if I have my way.”

His words were almost lost against your stomach as he pressed his face against you once more and wrapped his hands around you; sweaty, nervous palms pressing to the backs of your thighs.

“Same, but better.”

Harry guided you down to his lap, his lips somehow managing to remain pressed into stomach, or your chest, or your clavicle, as your face became level with his.

“Different, but better.”

He kissed against your cheek slowly, nose nudging at your skin as he willed for you to relax against him. “I don’t know how you like it, like this,” he whispered in confession. “Show me?”

A puff of air left your lips as you turned to look at him with hooded eyes. His mouth was closer to yours than you originally thought, corners of lips brushing as you slightly pulled away.

When your lips met, it was in the softest of pecks that trembled under your nerves. Both sets of eyes looking back at each other as you innocently engaged.

If you were to take your eyes away from him in any way, you would notice those fluffy curls of his falling over his forehead and the lightest dusting of red blush making itself known against his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

He felt like a school boy, lost and clumsy. The kid who was once again flicking paper at you in science class just so he could pull a face at you over something your teacher was saying to get you to laugh.

Mouths hovering over each other, your breathing mixed, as Harry nodded to you slightly. You pressed your lips to his once more, feeling the way he gradually opened up to you, warmed and softened underneath the puckering of your mouth against his.

His hands, that slightly trembled, smoothed over your hips trying to pull your body so that it was more so flush against his. You moaned softly, your hands running over his jumper covered shoulders, fingers digging and pulling at the material just below the nape of his neck.

The chair beneath you moved lightly against the floor, not quite a scrape but a dull drag. Neither of you broke the kiss, but his hands against you allowed fingers to dig in to hold you steady to him so if you were to fall from where you were sitting, he still had you.

His lips slowed, moving to press against your cheeks again as he panted and his warmth breath bounced off your skin. “Think I got it,” he heaved.

“Do you?”

Harry hummed his ‘yea’, before pressing his lips so tenderly to your chin and the underside of your jaw. He felt how you swallowed heavily, throat dry from the way your mouth hung open and your neck further exposed itself as you lolled your head back.

You were falling further and further back, finding it hard to stay upright as he devoured you and made you weaker with each pulling kiss. His groans were needy, muffled and making your ache. While yours were silent and making his desperate to pull something from you. To build is confidence in that he was doing something right, you liked it this way too.

Hands fumbled and dragged upwards at your skirt, faintly aware now how it was similar - if not the same one - to the garment you wore to his show.

“Gonna take this off properly,” he mumbled, feeling the way your hips moved slightly from his hands to roll over him.

“You don’t have to-“

“No?”

Your voices were rushed as you spoke to each other, barely audible but loud enough all the same. His head was knocked back slightly as you hovered over him and you found yourself admiring his blissed out face even only in the lead up.

This was a sight that you hadn’t received last time, and if you had your way it was one you were going to greedily enjoy in all its glory.

Like watching the way his eyes closed and he softly grinned, the left side of his teeth started to show as the one side of his face reacted first while your hands blindly moved to lift up his jumper and the white tee he had on underneath, to allow you to find the button of his corduroys.

“What ya doing?”

“Nothing,” you mused.

He pulled a face, the kind that down turned his lips, eyebrows raised and head slightly tilted to the side. The kind that had you smiling.

“Not trying to get m’trousers around m’ankles for a second time within a week then?”

You giggled. “No.”

“Please do.”

A low moan left you as you pressed your forehead to his jaw and dropped your eyes. Your hands slowly started to pull at the brass button and pop it open before seeking out the zip thanks to his desperate plea, encouraging you to continue.

Hands quickly sought out the waistband of the trousers and gently pulled at the item. From the way that you were sat, you knew there was no way you were doing to make them budge.

“Stand up fo’ me,” he mumbled, quickly helping you get off his lap so that he could make light work of his clothing and pull down his trousers and underwear.

His bare bum made easy contact with the cushion leather beneath him, eyes carefully watching you as your hands moved to underneath your skirt.

The fabric of your underwear slipped so easily down your legs, his eyes just about caught the sight of them as they pooled against your ankles and you kicked them away.

Legs pressed together, you slowly untucked the v-necked blouse you had chosen and pulled it over your head. Wearing nothing but a fancy black bra, and a tight little skirt you hastily snatched for your wine and took a hefty gulp.

You could feel his eyes on you, a gruff groan catching in the back of his throat and when you finally turned your eyes from where they had been looking down at your heaving chest and how great this bra made your boobs look, causing him to move his hand down to start playing with himself.

His name left your lips in a breathy gasp, causing you to look up quite surprised at the find of his right hand gently tugging at his hard length.

“Keepin’ me waitin’,” he groaned, his left hand sloppily reached for the back of the collar of his jumper and tee, pulling the item roughly over his head.

“Fuck sake,” he mumbled under his breath, agitated that he was unable to get both items of in one go.

“Smooth.”

Harry stared up at you with a playful squint, before he gently fell back and moved the chair as he did so, the dull scrape heard once more.

And if you didn’t know he was flushed before, when you first kissed, you were definitely aware now. His eyes were blown out and hungry as they devoured you. Hair wildly haphazard before he let go of himself with a soft slap of his skin and harshly pushed his fingers through it.

“‘S it still a couple of quid for a strip of three,” his words brought you back to him. This smugness radiated off of him as he groaned and leaned forward to push his trousers down all of the way. Over his vans and socked feet, before he toed them off as well be harshly pulled at his white sport socks.

You didn’t even need for him to explain what he meant, staying silent as you watched his hands tug at his corduroys from the floor and retrieve his wallet. As his fingers moved around to find a couple of quid, the jangle of the coins was taunting.

One leg crossed over the other, you swayed and found yourself blushing when he looked up at you once he’d managed to find enough money and then some. With his wallet thrown on the table, he stood proudly from the seat and closed the short gap between your both.

Leaning forward he easily took your lips with his own before pulling away. With his face still close to yours he whispered, “Promise not to look at my arse.”

He didn’t hang around long enough for your reply, instead turning away and brazenly giving you all the time you would ever need to admire him, his fantastic bum and his hairy legs before he opted for a jog-walk type of thing, suddenly conscious that he was absolutely walking around naked from the waist down in a pub owned by your parents.

While you waited you took a quick pull from his whiskey, needing the heftier burn for Dutch courage. Nervousness returned when you heard the endings of what you believed to be Harry whistling.

“Machine ate all m’fuckin’ change,” he grumbled, regardless of the twinkle in his eye at the strip of overpriced condoms he had managed to score from the men’s bathroom. “‘S Durex. Business must be booming, your Dad’s definitely gone up in the world.”

“Please don’t talk about my Dad.”

He smiled brightly before he reached for your face with one hand and pulled you towards him mumbling his ‘sorry’s’ against your lips as he gave you several kisses in quick succession.

His other arm loosely wrapped around your back and pulled you with him as he walked backwards and slowly lowered himself back onto his previous seat. The chair creaked as you joined him, slipping into his lap and feeling the way he was smiling now.

Pulling away from your kiss, he quickly tore away one of the condoms allowing the others to fall without much care to the floor. Teeth took a hold of the foil-like packaging and he tore it not so elegantly with his eagerness.

With his cock nestled in the crease of his own thigh now, the heat radiating from it matched your own agonising yearning. Scooting back to give him space, you heard him groan as he gently rolled the condom down onto himself. Eyes looking up just in time to see him knocking his head back and breathing deeply through nose. The foil-like packaging was back in between his teeth once more as his hands were otherwise preoccupied.

Slowly your hand reached up to take it from his mouth, feeling some playful resistance as Harry continued to hold it in his teeth. His eyes were open and boyishly sincere, as you tugged at the item and he finally released it when you lightly laughed.

“Gi’me a kiss.”

Obliging him, you leant forward and slotted your mouths together a lot easier than you had done at the start of the night. A heat built easily between the two of you, as Harry gave you his tongue and you felt the flex of his jaw under your hand as he worked your mouths together.

He was eager, his hands tightening on your waist before he growled when he understood he had to grab handfuls of skirt before he could cup your backside. But when his skin met yours and you ground down onto his lap, the groan that left him was the most animalistic sound imaginable.

The frown your face fell into showed your desire to whimper, as he kept you atop him and marvelled in the way you writhed, both from satisfaction and keenness at the pressure of his cock against you.

“Can I have you again?” He asked, the startings of sweaty hair being pushed off your face. His eyes peered at you, searching for his answer as you seemed to be able to do nothing but pant and look back at him yearningly. “Are you letting me?”

You dragged your fingers down his t-shirt covered torso and lifted it slightly just to see the quiver of his stomach as pulled you onto him once more.

“Like this?” you voiced, meekly.

“‘F this is what you like then, yea’”, he breathed into your mouth, hands shifting your pliant body. “Is this what you want?”

You wordlessly nod, mouth falling open in a breathy gasp when he managed to move you so he sat so enticingly at your entrance. He was teasing both yourself and him, wanting to keep you both on the edge.

Harry blinked a few times as he looked at you, and you revelled in the way he couldn’t seem to concentrate. His hands held your flesh tightly, fingertips dipping into the skin of your bum cheeks as he gently guided you down.

An unattractive and dull, quite strangled noise, left your throat as you let your forehead fall against his temple. Eyes falling down you see the cups of your bra fall slack, you felt his hands softly gliding over your shoulder blades and shoulders.

He rid you of your bra, hands moving to your chest to squeeze your breasts. His jaw fell slack when you found yourself sitting snugly on his lap - on him - settled and already feeling spent.

This was so different compared to the last time; if not overwhelming so because of the way you both appeared to be so present. Each movement of your hips, and the way they rolled and grinded and dragged felt too much. So much so that you had become nothing more than a mess of short, quick breathing and blushing, sweaty cheeks.

Slack-jaw, you were unable to find it in you to return Harry’s kisses, and his joyful, breathy chuckle seemed to lead you to believe he was fine with it. In fact he was happy to keep going as you were.

Your movements were frantic, and despite the build up, not entirely driven by lust either. Harry continued to encourage you to move as you were; slow, grinding motions on his lap that caused the filthiest of groans and dirtiest of laughs from the two of you. Laughter that was only made stronger as the chair that held you both started to creak too.

You couldn’t do much about it though other than to breathe into each other’s mouth, and rock your hips together with more fervour each time.

“Yea’,” he breathed against your lips, left hand at the back of your head holding you to him, while his right rested just above your bum. “‘S better. That’s better.”

It was better. Better than last time. Better than anything before.

And while it hadn’t been frantic before, it was now as your legs that were hanging down either side of the chair started to tremble and your toes started to dig into the worn carpet beneath them. Hips knocking and your clit dragging heavenly against his public bone, you grasped his name as you buried your face into his neck and dug your nails into his nape.

Harry hissed his approval which fell to a groan as your nails pushed up into his hair and lightly pulled as you sought leverage. There were so many things you were learning this time around and his penchant for liking his hair pulled from time to time, was one of those things.

“God, ‘m gonna come soon,” he admitted, gruntly as he forced your hips down as he anchored his legs and widened his seating position. “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” you whined. “Yes. Like this-“

And as you pressed your face to his once more, he was everywhere. Soft but hard, loving but commanding. Smelled like clean washing detergent but of country air. Inviting and alluring, allowing you your lingering kisses between grounding breaths that became staccato in unison with the movement of your hips.

You aren’t ashamed of the whines that escaped your throat as you squeezed down on his cock, praised by indecipherable works that left Harry but were nothing more to you than lips moving against your rough and dry ones. Word that made the burning feeling of your pending orgasm spread through your entire body, warming you and setting you alight.

It was long and deep, with your toes curling into the carpet they were pressed against now. Barely able to catch your breath, sucking in harshly and shaking.

And when you came to, thoroughly exhausted, you noticed that he was waiting for your say so. That he could let go and enjoy the pleasure brought about by your shared labour.

“Coming-“ was all the warning that you got and was enough to encourage you to watch him as he came, his face completely void of anything other than pure pleasure. Wrinkles and frowns fade, his mouth falling open with his pink lips glinting prettily under the dim Christmas lights around you.

His forehead gleamed with sweat as he wrapped his arms around you tightly and his hips bucked up one, two and three times for good measure. “Fuck me,” he heaved gruffly.

You were suddenly desperate to feel his lips on yours despite the way you both continued to fight to get your breath back, but settled for resting them against the skin of his cheek, which was hot to the touch.

When you felt Harry start to go soft, you reluctantly pulled away and let him slip out of you. He wasn’t so keen to let you get too far, holding you just that bit higher than before with his hand cupping gently but firmly at your hip. “Where’d you think you’re going,” he hummed, eyes still closed as he continued to heavily inhale and exhale.

You softly smiled, taking in his soft face and responded by nuzzling close to him again.

Nowhere. Somewhere. Anywhere with him.

A place where only the two of you knew, like the back of your hand. The same way you knew each other. Now and possibly forever.

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newstfionline · 8 months ago

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Friday, March 22, 2024

America’s happiness score drops amid a youth ‘midlife crisis’ (Washington Post) The United States is no longer among the world’s 20 happiest countries, according to a new report—with young people hit particularly hard and reporting lower levels of well-being than any other age group. The United States fell from 15th in 2023 to 23rd in this year’s World Happiness Report, which was released Wednesday to mark the United Nations’ International Day of Happiness. The country’s results varied dramatically among different age groups, however, with young people under age 30 ranking 62nd out of 143 countries for happiness, while U.S. adults age 60 and above ranked 10th. This is the first time the United States has slipped out of the top 20 since the report was first launched in 2012. But a similar downward trend in youth well-being is also seen in Canada, which ranked 15th overall but 58th among young people this year. Jan-Emmanuel De Neve, director of the University of Oxford’s Wellbeing Research Center and an editor of the report, said that the report’s findings show “that in North America, and the U.S. in particular, youth now start lower than the adults in terms of well-being. And that’s very disconcerting, because essentially it means that they’re at the level of their midlife crisis today and obviously begs the question of what’s next for them?”

In Vermont, ‘Town Meeting’ is democracy embodied (AP) Julie wants more donations to the food pantry. Kipp is busy knitting a sweater. Shorty is ready to ask: Why is so much being spent on a truck? The coffee, fresh-baked bread and donuts have been laid out. Eighty-seven voters have squeezed into the Elmore Town Hall. Town Meeting is about to begin. Across the United States, people are disgusted with politics. Many feel powerless and alienated from their representatives at every level—and especially from those in Washington. The tone long ago became nasty, and many feel forced to pick a side and view those on the other side as adversaries. But in pockets of New England, democracy is done a bit differently. People can still participate directly and in person. One day each year, townsfolk gather to hash out local issues. They talk, listen, debate, vote. And in places like Elmore, once it’s all over, they sit down together for a potluck lunch.

The challenge of aid delivery in Haiti (BBC) Haiti counts an estimated 360,000 people who have had to flee their homes because of gang violence. Aid is sorely needed. Helicopter flights carrying supplies from the Dominican Republic have begun to arrive. But with the airport in Port-au-Prince and the port both still closed, far more is needed. Juggling her baby godson on her knee, 20-year-old Sarah gives the appearance of a much older woman. "I go to school with no food, spend the day hungry and then go to bed still with nothing in my stomach," she explains. Many in the camp are suffering from illnesses. Drugs and medicines are often prohibitively expensive given their food budget rarely stretches to the basics. On the days they can't raise funds, they're dependent on scarce donations and aid.

As election nears, Venezuelan government keeps arresting opponents (AP) As Venezuela’s government would have it, President Nicolás Maduro and members of his inner circle have been the target of several conspiracies since last year that could have left them injured or worse. Few details have been released about the alleged plots. But the government has cited them in the arrests of more than 30 people since January including a prominent human rights attorney and staffers of the leading opposition presidential candidate. Local and international nongovernment groups, the United Nations and foreign governments have described the crackdown as a pretext to stifle political opposition ahead of the July 28 president election in which Maduro, in power since 2013, will seek a new six-year term.

Russia fires 31 missiles at Kyiv in the first attack in 44 days, and 13 people are hurt (AP) Russia fired 31 ballistic and cruise missiles at Kyiv before dawn Thursday in the first attack on the Ukrainian capital in 44 days, officials said. Air defenses shot down all the incoming missiles, though 13 people including a child were injured by falling wreckage, they said. Ukraine’s air force said Russia launched two ballistic missiles and 29 cruise missiles against the capital.

Blowing Up Russian ‘Gas Stations’ With Drones (Bloomberg) Ukraine’s fight against Russia’s invasion has entered a new phase, pitting homegrown drone technology against a 2,000 kilometer (1,200 mile) swathe of largely Soviet-era oil facilities. At least nine major refineries have been successfully attacked this year, currently taking offline 11% of the country’s total capacity by some estimates. “Russia is a gas station with an army, and we intend on destroying that gas station,” Francisco Serra-Martins, co-founder and chief executive officer of drone manufacturer Terminal Autonomy, said in an interview. “We are going to focus on where it hits the hardest, and that’s financial resources.”

China on Track to Be Ready for Taiwan Invasion by 2027, US Says (Bloomberg) China is building its military and nuclear arsenal on a scale not seen by any country since World War II and all signs suggest it’s sticking to ambitions to be ready to invade Taiwan by 2027, a top US admiral told Congress Wednesday. Beijing’s official defense budget has increased by 16% over recent years to more than $223 billion, said Admiral John Aquilino, leader of the Indo-Pacific Command. The Chinese military has also been rehearsing other types of military action against Taiwan including maritime and air blockades, he said. “All indications point to the PLA meeting President Xi Jinping’s directive to be ready to invade Taiwan by 2027,” Aquilino warned.

Vietnam: President Vo Van Thuong resigns after a year in office (BBC) Vietnam's president Vo Van Thuong has resigned after only one year in office following a corruption scandal. As his predecessor also quit over corruption, his departure cast a shadow over the ruling Communist Party. While an ongoing anti-corruption campaign is popular with the general public, it has now cost the jobs of two presidents, two deputy prime ministers, thousands of other officials, and seen a former health minister jailed for 18 years.

North Korea’s Missile Threats (Foreign Policy) Pyongyang successfully tested an engine for its intermediate-range hypersonic missile at the Sohae Satellite Launching Ground in northwest North Korea on Tuesday, state media reported Wednesday. The weapon reportedly used a solid-fuel engine, which lasts longer than liquid-propelled missiles and makes launches more difficult to detect, among other benefits. Defense experts believe that the missile was designed to hit faraway U.S. targets, including military bases in the U.S. territory of Guam; areas of Alaska; and U.S. military installations in Okinawa, Japan. The “military strategic value of this weapon system is appreciated as important as” the intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) that can target the mainland United States, North Korean leader Kim Jong Un said. Solid-fuel hypersonic missiles “can potentially neutralize the South Korea-U.S. missile defense system,” Yang Moo-jin, the president of the University of North Korean Studies in Seoul, told Agence France-Presse.

Congress Seeks to Bar Funding for U.N. Agency for Palestinians (NYT) The United States would cut off funding for the main U.N. agency that provides aid to Palestinians in Gaza under a spending agreement on track to soon become law, according to two people familiar with the plan. The ban, part of a massive spending bill negotiated by lawmakers and the White House that is expected to clear Congress by this weekend, would create a shortfall of hundreds of millions of dollars for the agency, known as UNRWA. That could have disastrous consequences for Gazans, who are facing an acute hunger crisis and displacement in crowded shelters and tent encampments. The move would also put Washington at odds with its Western allies over how to respond to the humanitarian crisis in Gaza amid accusations that Hamas fighters have infiltrated the agency. Though before the war UNRWA employees filled a broad array of civil functions in the territory, operating schools and providing health services, they have since become the main resource on the ground for delivering aid to the territory’s besieged residents.

Israel’s military is using Palestinians as human shields in Gaza (Daraj/Lebanon) Omar Ashour, a 34-year-old Palestinian, describes what Israel’s military did to him after his arrest in northern Gaza: It is just one example that Daraj has found of how the IDF is using detainees as human shields in its months-long war against Hamas. “The Israeli military detained me, and took me to a place where soldiers were gathering. They put a camera on my head, tied explosives to my body, and asked me to enter one of the apartments and quickly return to the place they had gathered.” Ashour was forced to respond to all the demands of Israeli soldiers out of fear for his life. Ashour is one of dozens of detainees used by Israel's military as human shields during its ongoing war on Gaza. Soldiers put civilian Palestinians in front of military targets, endangering their lives, according to multiple accounts from recently-released detainees. International law and the 1949 Geneva Conventions prohibit the use of civilians as human shields. The International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia and the Rome Statute also considered the use of human shields a war crime. In Israel, the B'Tselem rights group said that the Israeli army has over the years, as part of its official policy, used Palestinians as human shields and ordered them to carry out military actions that risked their lives.

Taps have run dry across South Africa’s largest city (AP) For two weeks, Tsholofelo Moloi has been among thousands of South Africans lining up for water as the country’s largest city, Johannesburg, confronts an unprecedented collapse of its water system affecting millions of people. Residents rich and poor have never seen a shortage of this severity. While hot weather has shrunk reservoirs, crumbling infrastructure after decades of neglect is also largely to blame. The public’s frustration is a danger sign for the ruling African National Congress, whose comfortable hold on power since the end of apartheid in the 1990s faces its most serious challenge in an election this year. A country already famous for its hourslong electricity shortages is now adopting a term called “watershedding”—the practice of going without water, from the term loadshedding, or the practice of going without power.

Musk’s Neuralink hosts livestream showing quadriplegic playing online chess (Al Jazeera) Elon Musk’s brain-chip start-up, Neuralink, has livestreamed a patient appearing to play online chess using only his mind. In a video posted on the X social media platform on Wednesday, Neuralink introduced Noland Arbaugh, 29, as the first human patient to be implanted with its brain-computer interface technology. Arbaugh, who described becoming paralysed from the shoulders down in a diving accident, said that using Neuralink had become “intuitive” after practising imagining moving the cursor on the screen. “Basically, it was like using ‘the Force’ on the cursor, and I could get it to move wherever I wanted. Just stare somewhere on the screen and it would move where I wanted it to, which was such a wild experience the first time it happened,” Arbaugh said, referring to the superpowers possessed by the Jedi in the Star Wars films.

#headlines #news

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inviberu · 3 years ago

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mirror

An old mirror dirty enough to the point you can’t see your reflection anymore. Faust decided to take a better look at it. He never expected it to turn out as a lost relic from a once prosperous city.

“Oh dear me!” Snow gasped, putting his hand over his mouth to appear more shocked than he actually is. A thoughtful smile suddenly took over his expression not long after as he put his hands on his hips. “I would’ve never thought I’d see this again in this day and age.”

“You know what this is?” Faust’s eyes widened as he examined the mirror in his hands once more, its golden rim giving off a shiny gleam after recovering it from the ruins during their last expedition to the Eastern country. It managed to pique the hermit’s interest after seeing it lay bare on the ground in such a terrible state, wanting to recover it to its former beauty. In some way, it reminded him of himself.

“But of course! This was awfully revered back in the day by both humans and wizards alike. It’s a good thing that my weary self was able to remember it.” Snow chirped, taking a closer look at the mirror. “A relic from a once-famous city—a mirror that is said to have the ability to show you the future. After their downfall, no one had any idea about where the relic laid rest. Ohoho! You’ve come across an exquisite item indeed.”

“The ability to show me the future? That’s ridiculous. I just picked it up from the ground, there’s no way a mirror like this is a lost relic.” Despite the sureness from his words, his voice held a certain kind of doubt that believed Snow. There was no reason for someone like Snow to lie to him after all, there was simply no merit in doing so and Snow wasn’t one to lie about this sort of stuff just for his own amusement.

“You think I jest? I see, then why don’t you try it out for yourself?” Snow’s expression held a smug smile before he remembered something and he let out a small gasp. “I heard it was very moody and picky though, so it might not work on your first try.”

“A moody mirror? The more I hear about this mirror the more I think that it’s a joke.” Faust shook his head.

“Ohoho! Try saying ‘please and thank you’ to the mirror when you try.” What Snow said sounded like a tease but Faust knew well that he was being serious. He didn’t know which one was worse—he could only let out a sigh as he inspected the mirror again. Could a mirror truly tell him of the future? Such an item is far too dangerous to be left out in the open.

“Woah, so you’re telling me this mirror can show you the future?” You wandered inside Faust’s room back and forth but your eyes remained fixated on the mirror placed on his desk, its intricate golden design never failed to catch your interest. It was hard to believe such a thing was capable of showing you the future when all sorts of magic relating to that were either forbidden or extremely hard unless you were gifted with the gift of prophecy like the twins from the North.

Faust let out a sigh, he couldn't bring himself to believe it either but there were a lot of strange things in this world—this was just one of them. "Apparently," he pushed up his glasses as he took the mirror in his hands and looked at his reflection. "Do you want to give it a try?"

"Me?" You asked curiously, wondering why Faust would ask you such a thing but you weren't against the idea of the mirror showing you your possible future. Though you can't help but feel a little bit scared when you thought about the possibilities—there was nothing more terrifying than the unknown future, after all. Faust handed you the mirror and you stared at it blankly. With much hesitance, you nodded.

"I'll try… how does this even work in the first place?" You tried tapping the glass, wondering if it was some sort of touch screen mirror but you were met with disappointment when it did nothing.

"Snow said to try saying 'please and thank you' to the mirror, I don't know if that'll work though. He said it was moody." Faust let out a dry chuckle, the thought still ridiculous to him but never crossed it out as impossible. If the mirror would truly respond to something like that, it only proved the strangeness of this magical world. You shot him a strange look, a moody mirror? But you pushed back the doubt to the back of your head and put your trust in him instead.

"Mirror, can you show me the future? Pretty please?" You cooed, feeling a bit stupid for pleading to a mirror like this. You waited a few moments for a reaction while looking at the object expectantly, only to be met with utter disappointment when it did absolutely nothing. Faust was silent along with you until he let out a small laugh, did you look stupid when you were doing that? You questioned if Snow was just pulling both of your legs, that mischievous old man!

"As expected, it won't work just because we asked it to."

"Geez, Faust! Do you really think a shabby thing like this can show us the future?" Shabby was the last word you would use to describe the mirror had it not been for your rage towards its defect. It looked elegant and regal, as if it didn't spend centuries lying beneath some rubble—it was a miracle the glass wasn't broken by such heavy fragments lying atop of it. You shook your head and gave Faust the mirror, giving up on it after you added: "How about you try it? It might listen to you because you're the one that picked it up."

He shot you a hesitant look, he had a feeling this wasn't going to end well yet he pushed that feeling into the back of his mind and stared at his reflection—he caught a small glimpse of your face in it while you were looking away and he couldn't help but break into a small smile. At that moment, something changed.

The hand mirror shook slightly in his grasp. Faust, alarmed, tried to make it sit still by gripping it tighter but it proved to be futile when it flew from his grasp and a blinding light filled the room—eliciting gasps of shock from the both of you as Faust grabbed to shield you from whatever was emerging in his room. When the light disappeared, it took him a while to get adjusted to the sudden change but once he did, he saw the hand mirror transformed into a full-body one sitting in the middle of his room.

"What in the world…" Faust left your side to carefully inspect the area, making sure there were no more risks in the area before taking your hand while telling you it was safe—aside from the now huge mirror residing smack middle in his room, its golden glow giving off an intimidating aura. You felt your initial shock turn into excitement.

"Isn't this great? It responded to you! What did you say?" You asked him, curious. You weren't paying attention to him at that time, perhaps you missed something.

"Nothing, actually. It just started vibrating and this happened." Faust tipped his hat slightly, closing his eyes and let out another sigh. One strange thing after another, he was bound to be drained at the end of the day, wasn't he?

"That's strange, you didn't say anything and yet it responded to you… curious." You stroked your chin. Faust stepped into the mirror's view and nothing was out of the ordinary, it showed him nothing of the future, only his reflection. He paused, was it broken after being left there for so many centuries? It was a plausible explanation. It was just like a normal mirror now, it was a shame such a relic has lost its true value—eroded along with the years that passed.

That is, until you stepped into the view.

The moment you stepped into the view, everything that the mirror showed suddenly changed as it emitted a faint white glow. You closed your eyes for a second and you could hear the faint sounds of… bells? You opened your eyes slightly to look at the mirror only for Faust to slap his hand over your eyes to obstruct your vision before you could get a small glimpse of what changed.

A bunch of incomprehensible sounds fell from Faust's lips and you tried to remove his hand from your eyes but that just made his actions more frantic. He grabbed your wrist and dragged you away from the mirror to outside of his room. You tried asking him what his problem was but you were left unheard as he left you outside and shut the door to his room aggressively. By the time you tried making sense of the scenario, you were already staring at his door from outside—did he just kick you out?

Your mouth was wide open when the realization dawned on you—what was his problem!? You crossed your arms grumpily, a part of you wanted to knock on his door again to demand an explanation but another part wanted you to storm off without saying anything to him. You pouted, or was he trying to protect you from something dangerous? Magical items could be dangerous if not handled correctly, after all.

In the end, you didn't know what to do and rested your forehead against his door frame with a clenched fist ready to knock at any given time and a defeated look.

To say Faust panicked back there was an understatement, he felt as if his soul was about to leave his body right then and there when he saw the scene the mirror showed him. He could only breathe a sigh of relief, he was glad he acted quickly before you caught a glimpse of it—that would've made things worse and he wouldn't know what to do. He slumped against the door, feeling a bit light-headed and fuzzy, the heat refusing to leave his face. He was embarrassed.

The sight wasn't something particularly scary or tragic. In fact, it was the complete opposite—though that made it all the more confusing as to why Faust would stop you from looking at it. It was a scene that he saw in one of his many dreams, something that flustered him to no end and wished it would leave him alone.

The bells that rang in the background, the happy couple dressed in white as they looked at each other lovingly, a perfect wedding scene straight from the dreams Faust doesn't tell anyone. A perfect wedding scene of you and him in the distant future—together.

To think your fate was intertwined like this… Faust could only hope that it's a future that's bound to happen. But, right now, he can't let you find out about this lest he wants to live the rest of his life inside the forest hiding from you. He would simply pass away from sheer embarrassment, oh how would he even face you? His cheeks burned red at the thought of a wedding with you once again.

#mhyk #mhyk writing #my writing #promise of wizard #faust #mhyk faust #faust x reader #promise of wizard x reader #mahoyaku x reader #faust lavinia #faust lavinia x reader #no beta we die like white #the wedding rot ... immaculate

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