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hopefullystillatheatrestudent · 3 years

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i'm so excited about you taking asks again ahhhh okay so. if you'd absolutely had to choose. what would be your top 5 cockles moments, and why? thank you ily <3

here’s the thing: there are so many routes i could go down with this, because cockles moments come in all shapes and sizes and formats. these include moments from their panels, their bloopers, the footage we get when they don’t even know they’re being recorded, stories being passed down from photo ops & autographs(one of my personal favorite ways to get cockles, tbh, because they’re all insane), and social media(tweets to each other, instagram posts & comments, etc.).

SO! since many a list like this has already been made, and i want to stand out from the crowd, what i’m gonna do is definitively give the number one spot to each of these five categories.(i might even throw in honourable mentions because they’re so despicably in love that they warrant that. i really put my whole pussy into this, guys, i hope you’re happy.)

disclaimer: these are my own personal opinions. but that also means i’m right. so. enjoy.

number one: top cockles panel moment

so we’re starting off with a bang, because how do you even BEGIN to rank what atrocities jensen and misha commit at jibcon. every single one they’ve had is damning in it’s own right, for different reasons.

however, considering just how much unabashed fuckery they’ve given us to sift through, it’s a good thing i do have a personal favorite despite it all. it’s heartwarming, the sweetest thing i’ve ever seen, AND it’s jarringly cinematic - mainly because it has a whole ass arc to it that was years in the making. it might even be surprising to some people, but my favorite cockles panel moment, and what i consider the one that encompasses their entire gut-wrenching journey from 2008-2013 in the most sweepingly romantic gesture possible, is this one.

i want this burned into my retinas. i am not even joking. when i'm through with my explanation, let me convince you why this is thee most romantic cockles moment of all time.

first, some history: people call this the resume off, but many seem to forget the botched attempt at a resume off a year prior. and yes, you guessed it: it's during their break up. it's a juicy time period for a reason, guys. it came across as exceedingly one-sided and VERY awkward. let me refresh your memory as to just how bad it was, and just how hard jensen was trying and ultimately failing at winning misha over: the funniest part of the whole resume off in 2013??? every joke/bit had literally already been made/done. they were just going through the motions again, but the difference THIS time...is that misha reciprocated jensen's energy. it. is. fascinating. i want to get into it more detail in another post, and i'll link it here when i'm done, but the main takeaway, i think, and the main difference that showcases how much they've grown in a year, is that in jib 3, misha flat out refused to do an accent, and this time around, he indulges jensen for literal minutes. when i tell you they're crazy, they're crazy. i can't wait to actually dive into it later.

ANYWAY, the resume off culminates in this moment here. and, like, a million things happen in this gifset. actually, more like a million and one. the music starts playingneediremindyouthatthesongissingingintherain(h e l p), misha starts dancing, jensen 'perpetually fake grumpy' ackles lets misha think he's not going to join, misha sits down defeated, but no!!! that was jensen's plan all along(look at his stupid fucking smirk) and he offers his arm to his dance partner who immediately grins like a fool, jensen then leads misha into their kick step, they perfectly synchronise and let loose, and are then very clearly having the time of their lives, hanging off of each other with joy and ease. from their expressions alone i can tell that this moment is so. so. so. so! much more than what initially meets the eye. i mean-misha is fighting back the biggest smile i've ever seen. to me, it reads like jensen is offering something to misha, something that misha kind of gave up on expecting, and him offering his arm like that is like, a surprise to him in the best possible way(and it's so not platonic, let me just say that.) as soon as jensen did that, it ushered in a new era of cockles. this panel is jensen and misha's favourite for a reason, and i think this moment is the biggest clue as to why.

whew!!! ok. that took a lot out of me and that was only point one. moving on,

number two: top cockles blooper moment

cockles bloopers hold an extremely special place in my heart, because it shows just how fucking disastrous jensen and misha are. they are so goddamn infatuated with each other that they HOLD UP PRODUCTION ALL THE TIME TO FLIRT WITH EACH OTHER(???). let me repeat. let it sink in. jensen ackles; arguably one of the most professional actors on that show who puts everything he has into each scene, with mountains and mountains of notes to prove it: would rather hold up production to flirt with misha collins. this sounds fake. it's not. he does it. all. the. time. and here's the thing guys!!! i'm gonna let you in on a secret!!! misha loves it. he loveesssss it. on top of that-misha collins: overlooked because he's pranked and people assume he's unprofessional as well, but his only pranks are in retaliation/off-set, and he rarely if EVER causes problems if he can help it....lets himself get carried away when it comes to jensen making kissy faces at him!!! are you actually kidding me!!! i mean. misha. it's just a face. you've seen it a million times. i don't buy that it triggers something in you that strongly....you like it, and you like jensen's reaction. you can't fool me!!! lisa berry's face in that one gifset shows just how fed up the crew is with their gross, coupley boyfriend antics.

i could pull up so many examples. sooooooo many. but my favourite was sealed since the moment i saw it.

i actually already wrote an analysis on it but i can't find it :(((( which SUCKS because i really unpacked the whole thing. i'll try to summarise.

basically, a backstory is part of this too!!! jensen and misha both had a really really hard time with this scene(because it's explicitly romantic there i said it), they sat down for hours and poured over their scripts together, they were super super nervous going into filming, both of them, jensen especially, were super hard on themselves for their performances not being true to their characters but they both complimented the other's work(boyfriend moments fr). so, yeah. they weren't confident going into shooting. and how do they get themselves to feel better???? by cuddling each other, apparently.

a lot. a LOT. happens in this specific blooper. to the point that i saw it years before i knew about cockles and it raised all sorts of flags for me.

1) stop pulling my face towards your crotch(as a thinly veiled request that misha would, in fact, move jensen's face towards his crotch, considering it was jensen moving himself there in the first place. also, why so comfy down there guys???) 2) you're my baby daddy i know(in the most intimate voice i've ever heard please) 3) i know, i know, i love you too i didn't say i love you i know but you wanted to say it etc. misha's right, of course. that's what jensen meant.

it just reeks of comfort, familiarity and intimacy between the two, and it's a moment that is extremely sweet and silly at the same time. they're so <3

number three: top cockles found footage moment

WONDERFUL category. truly the culmination of the cockles experience. many people have said that shipping cockles doesn't work because 'they're just onstage you dummies!! they're playing it up for the audience!!!' here's the thing, love. i could not disagree with you more. once you climb your way up the cockles ladder, you soon learn that they are, in fact, playing their dynamic DOWN, not up. they really are just Like That™, and they could not care less about the paying audience, if we're being honest, considering how much time they take to giggle with each other and refuse to let the audience in on the joke. and i love them for it <3

anyway, my point is that this category is for all you naysayers out there, all you 'jensen and misha's relationship is just for show and is real life queerbaiting'(?????lordhelp???) oh yeah? ok, explain this.

he. he. he calls jensen sweetheart. literally enough said. there's nothing to really add here, except, misha and jared then immediately engage in damage control. jared's method is distraction and misha's is retconning('get out of the car, dude') this was what got me to buy into the cockles dumpster for GOOD good. you don't call your buddy sweetheart accidentally and sound so completely earnest while doing it! especially not when that buddy is jensen ackles!!! you think he would let any of his friends call him that? do you?

one more thing; if it was a slip of the tongue, little mouth thing or whatever, you think jared wouldn't have jumped on it immediately??? i can hear it now. 'did you just call him SWEETHEART???' yeah. that's what i thought. you know why he didn't? because it was too revealing.

number four: top cockles autograph moment

i mean, i think we all know what it's gonna be, and if you don't, well, do i have the piece de cockles resistance that is gonna send you over the edge.

if you haven't heard of this story by now, as a cockles, truther, i'm gonna go ahead and get you to read it, because there is no possible heterosexual explanation for any of it, and you're fooling yourself if you think otherwise.

spoiler alert: it's the story where phones weren't allowed in an auto session, jensen nuzzles himself in misha's hair, leans his full body weight onto him, holds his hand, etc. etc. i'm imploding just repeating this back, actually. also, just, the sheer amount of stories from photo ops where they tackle hug each other or slap each other's asses or sing romantic songs to each other or almost kiss is, frankly, a lot. if i could wish for anything, it would be to witness them in person.

and finally,

number five: top cockles social media moment

this one is super difficult, because there's obviously a lot to choose from. but you know what? full send, i'm going with this one:

i just. what to say about this. how often do misha and jensen watch sunsets together for it to qualify as ‘always’ ??? why are sunsets synonymous with their relationship??? that’s like??? a very romantic thing????? ‘this guy’??? the fact that it’s a CANDID??? i don’t know guys.

that could have been better but i am TIRED so. there you go rose ily

#cockles #cockles ask #liz answers #i really just. spend hours. writing about misha and his boyfriend.#why. why do i. do that #long post for ts

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simplee-dreaming · 3 years

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The Runner

(Part 2 here)

A/N: Okay so I've been writing this for a while and only just finished it but I'd like to know whether you guys would like me to turn this into a series? This part works well as a stand-alone but can easily turn into a series if you would like!

Word count: 3194

Summary: The reader works as a runner on the set of Infinity War and developes a bond with Chris Evans.

(SPOILER WARNING: There is one spoiler for Infinity War in this fic, but I'm sure many of you have seen it anyway)

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“Black coffee for Mr Evans please! Black coffee!” A man called over the radio. Your ears pricked up and you ran into the kitchen to make a black coffee. You came charging back out and headed straight for Chris Evans’ dressing room, but his assistant jumped in your path.

“I’ll take that to him.” He said, snatching it out of your hand.

This was your first time working as a runner and you were starting to get the hang of the job. You had only been working there for three weeks and you had about 8 months to go. You were highly excited to work for Marvel, being a fan yourself, but you hadn’t met any of the cast or even the directors. You had caught small glimpses of them but never had any interactions. You had a lot of responsibilities as a runner - making tea and coffee, handling the paperwork, assisting anyone who needed it - and yet you were just chopped liver to everyone on set.

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Another month had passed and you had grown closer to the other runners, the kitchen staff, the cleaners and even the third assistant directors. You were far more comfortable in your job and you even had the opportunity to stand with the third assistant director and watch them film Loki’s death scene...though not your favourite thing to witness.

You still hadn’t interacted with any of the cast but you were used to that by now. It was mainly running orders for everyone and handling the secretary-type roles, which you didn’t mind doing anyway.

Call after call came over the radio with people demanding all sorts of coffees and teas and hot chocolates and cold drinks. Enough to keep you on your feet during the long days. There was a break in demands when they were setting up ready to shoot another scene so you stood with your work friends for a chat before the room had to fall silent. One of the runners let out a small gasp and directed you with their eyes. You turned around to see Chris Evans walking behind you, heading onto set. He turned to you all and gave a little nod and a smile before carrying on. Your heart fluttered. Chris Evans just acknowledged your existence. A stream of small shrieks and giggles came from your group as everyone tried to compose themselves before filming commenced. That was your day made.

------------------------------------

“Black coffee for Mr Evans please! Black coffee!” A man called over the radio. Same guy every day, always his assistant. You quickly marched into the kitchen to get his coffee ready before anyone else did. Strong black coffee with one sachet of sugar. You grabbed the cup, marked it with Chris’ name and strolled over to his dressing room. Once again your luck had vanished when his assistant jumped in front of you and grabbed the cup.

“The order is absolutely correct, yes?” His assistant asked, like he did every time you brought the coffee.

“She makes it the majority of the time, I’m sure she has the order right by now.” Said a voice from behind you. You turned around to find Chris Evans smiling at you. You gave a shaky smile back.

“You know, you make my coffee all the damn time and I don’t even know your name.” He said. You gave a shy giggle. There was a pause.

“So...what is your name?” He asked.

“Oh, um, sorry, yeah, it’s Y/N”, you responded.

“Y/N. Very pretty name. Well, thank you Y/N for the constant coffee. I’ll make sure you deliver them straight to me next time.” He winked at you and you giggled again. His assistant cleared his throat.

“Mr Evans you’re needed in makeup now.”

“Yes thank you Darren. And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Chris?” He huffed. He gave you one last smile and walked off. You were in heaven.

-----------------------------------

A week had passed and you hadn’t interacted with Chris since. Every time there was a call for his coffee, you were busy doing other jobs. You had sorted out multiple paperwork, made drinks for crew members and you were currently assisting the cleaners in cleaning up a very messy set after they had stopped shooting a scene. You didn’t mind because the cleaners were all lovely people, plus it gave you a bit of a break before running all over the place. You were kneeling on the ground sweeping up the smaller bits with a dustpan and brush until a pair of feet suddenly appeared in your eyeline.

“Missed a spot” came a voice from above you. You looked up to find Chris Evans towering above you. He winked.

“You’re everywhere at the moment. I’m sure this isn’t in your job description.” He said.

“It’s not, but the more hands on deck, the quicker this gets cleaned.” You shrugged. “Plus, I don’t mind, all of these people are lovely to work with.”

Chris smiled at you and bent down to help.

“You’re an A-List celebrity, you shouldn’t be cleaning up this mess.” You said.

“You’re right. I’m far too big of a diva to clean.” He replied. He flicked a tiny stone at you and you gasped.

“Now is that any way to treat your staff?” You teased, throwing a bit of soil on him. He laughed and you continued to throw bits of rubbish at each other until Darren appeared.

“Oi! You there! What do you think you’re playing at?!” He asked you.

“Oh, I’m sorry we were just..”

“Chill Darren, I was helping her clean up and I started the rubbish fight.” Chris interrupted.

“Well, you need to be resting. You have a big scene coming up.” Darren huffed.

“It’s fine, I was resting then I got bored and now I’m having fun.” Chris responded.

“Fun? With a runner? I highly doubt that. You best head to makeup and get yourself cleaned up.” Darren said to Chris. He then shot you a glare and marched off.

“Sorry about him, he’s very pompous.” Chris apologised.

“It’s fine. I’m used to it.” You said. Even though you were used to people degrading you for being a runner, it still hurt when they did.

“Well you shouldn’t be.” Chris said. He reached out to squeeze your shoulder but was interrupted by Darren yelling “CHRIS!” at the other end of the room.

“I better go before Sir Shouts-A-Lot yells at me again.” Chris said. You let out a little laugh and watched him leave.

-----------------------

Two more weeks had passed and you had only spoken to Chris on the odd occasion that he would pass you on set. Every time there was a coffee call, Darren made sure someone else made it to stop you two from interacting. You couldn’t see what his problem was but you chose not to kick up a fuss anyway.

When your break finally came around, you grabbed a cup of tea and decided to walk around the studio...just so happens that along your walk was the caravan park where all the actors stayed on set. You heard a familiar voice behind you and your heart dropped.

“Oi! What do you think you’re doing back here?”

You froze.

You slowly turned around, ready to face the wrath of Darren, when, to your surprise, Chris was standing there grinning.

“Good impression, no?” He chuckled. You let out a long sigh.

“Jesus, Chris, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” You scorned, but you couldn’t help smiling,

“On your break?” He asked, gesturing to the tea in your hand.

“Yeah, only a short one though. I get to finish early today.” You said.

“Oh nice! I’ve already wrapped for the day myself. Say, did you want to do something when you’re finished? It’s cool if not, I just thought it would be nice for us to actually talk and maybe become friends? Without the demon on my shoulder.” He said. You smiled instantly.

“I finish in 2 hours, I would love to do something!” You said, maybe a little too enthusiastically.

“Okay okay, um, I have a few movies back in the caravan if you wanna pick one later?”

“Sure, sounds like a plan. I’ll run over as soon as I’ve finished.” You smiled at him.

“It’s a date.” He winked at you and walked away.

Time was moving slower than ever. You kept checking your watch to see how much time had passed but it was only ever a couple of minutes. You decided not to look at your watch for a while and carry on with your duties. The next time you looked at your watch you had half an hour left. A wave of excitement came over you and you went back to finishing up your jobs.

Finally, the time had come.

You finished the jobs you were doing, collected your belongings and clocked out. Butterflies swarmed your stomach as you walked off set and into the caravan park. That’s when you realised you had no idea which caravan was Chris’. You walked up and down and scanned each one, careful not to look like a creep. Suddenly, the door of the caravan on your right opened and Chris stepped out.

“You’re not lost are you?” He asked, smiling.

“I wasn’t sure which was yours, they all look the same,” you said, shyly. He chuckled and invited you in.

You stepped into his caravan. There wasn’t a lot of stuff as it was only a temporary home, but it was still enough to produce a warm ambience. He gestured at you to sit down on the sofa, opposite the tv.

“I have chocolate, popcorn, sweets...salad...what do you fancy?” He asked.

“They’re all fine...except for the healthy stuff, that ruins movie time,” you said. He laughed and poured the sweets, chocolates and popcorn into separate bowls and placed them on the table in front of you.

“Drink? I’ve got fizzy drinks, water, hot chocolate, tea, milkshake...um...black coffee…” he said, you chuckled.

“A milkshake might be nice if that’s okay?” You asked, he nodded and said he was gonna have one too.

You couldn’t help the mix of nerves and excitement flowing through your body. You were sat in Chris Evans’ caravan...with Chris Evans! It really was a dream come true. You tried to calm yourself before you had a fangirl attack but it meant you came off quite shy and quiet.

“Here we are,” he said, placing the milkshakes on the table. “Are you warm enough?” he asked. You noticed you were sat on the sofa looking quite tense. You nodded.

“I’ll get blankets just in case,” Chris said. He went into his room and came out with two large blankets. He passed the softest one to you. You thanked him and adjusted yourself, taking off your shoes so you could sit cross-legged on his sofa with the blanket draped over you. This made you feel a bit more relaxed.

“So, um, what do you fancy?” he asked. You bit your tongue to stop you replying with “you”, you felt it was far too soon in your friendship to make a joke like that.

“Um, Captain America?” You joked. He giggled.

“Nuh-uh, not happening. Try again,” he said.

You had a small discussion on the types of films you like and you settled on Deadpool. Still a great Marvel film, just one that doesn’t have Chris in it so he didn’t have to stress about watching himself.

Chris put on the film and sat next to you, he grabbed his own blanket and draped it over his long legs. He offered you food and you kindly accepted. You both sat in silence whilst the film began, though you kept having to bite your lip to stop you from smiling so much.

About 45 minutes into the film, Chris started to get fidgety, so he tried to adjust himself without making too much noise. In the process of moving his hand, he accidentally scratched the sole of your foot. You let out a squeak and pulled your foot away.

“Sorry, sorry, that was an accident,” Chris said, apologetically.

“It’s okay,” you said, relaxing a bit but praying that he didn’t notice your squeak. You didn’t notice him giving you a side-eye with a puzzled expression on his face.

He sat still for a few minutes then went to adjust himself again, this time deliberately scraping his nails against your sole. You squealed louder and tucked your foot under your leg. You looked over at him and he had a wicked smirk on his face.

“You’re not ticklish by any chance, are you?” He asked, the corner of his lip curling up.

“N-no, you just made me jump,” you said, unconvincingly. He narrowed his eyes but let out a “hm” and turned back to the film.

You were a lot less relaxed now. You were ridiculously ticklish but only a handful of people knew. The trouble was, you did enjoy being tickled but you were always embarrassed by how ticklish you were. Your heart was pounding at the thought of Chris Evans discovering this weakness.

A few more minutes had passed and you couldn’t properly relax. You were still sat cross-legged but your foot was tucked further under your leg this time. Chris let out a little yawn and stretched, you flinched at his movement but still kept your cool. He noticed and tried to hide his smile. When he put his arms back under his blanket, he casually let one hand slide over and gently tickle your toes. This time you let a small giggle slip out and you clamped your mouth shut.

“I think you are ticklish,” he teased. Your heart did a somersault. He gave you a playful smirk and the nerves washed over your body. You couldn’t even find the words to speak. He reached over and grabbed your foot with one hand, pulling it out from under your leg, and he used his other hand to tickle your sole. You shrieked loudly and tried to tug your foot away but his grip was too strong. You couldn’t even twist that far away because of how you were sitting. You fell backwards into the sofa and kept giggling.

“Chrihihis plehehease,” you giggled.

“Aww look at you, you’re so ticklish,” he cooed. You lifted up your blanket to cover your bright red face.

“Oh no you dont,” he said. He stopped tickling your foot and lunged at you, pinning you down to the sofa. You screamed at the sudden attack and pulled the blanket further over your face. He shook his head and vibrated his fingers into your tummy. You shrieked loudly and used one hand to bat away his hands.

“Come on, I wanna see your face when I tickle you,” he said. Your laughter shot up an octave when he started squeezing your hips.

“Oh? Did I just find a bad spot?” He asked. You kept trying to bat him away with one hand but it was no use.

“Remove the blanket or I’m gonna make this worse for you,” he said, sternly.

“NEHEHEVER!” You shrieked under the blanket.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shot his hands under your arms and you screamed loudly. You couldn’t keep holding the blanket over your head with him tickling deep into your armpits. You slammed your arms down and the blanket fell off you in the process.

“That’s better, I can see your face when you laugh now,” he said. The feeling of his fingers wiggling deep into your armpits was absolute torture.

“Surely it doesn’t tickle this much?” He asked. You shrieked loudly and your laughter grew more desperate with every tease.

“Does it tickle more when I mention how much it tickles?” He asked, clearly aware of what he was doing.

“SHUHUHUT UHUHUP!” You cried. He laughed with you which made it worse.

“Ohh, cootchie cootchie coo,” he said in a high pitched teasing voice. That made you scream more and frantically try and buck him off you.

You thought that would be the killer move? Oh no. Not for Chris. He picked up the pace of his wiggling fingers in your armpits and bent down to nuzzle his beard into your neck. His longer hair brushed over your ear too. This was the killer. It was absolute torture. He blew a raspberry into your neck and you fell into silent laughter. You couldn’t cope with him tickling your armpits, his beard tickling your neck and his hair tickling your ear. He laughed into your neck and the vibrations were the final straw. You started hitting his shoulder with as much force as you could and he sat back up, removing his hands.

“Sorry, I went a bit too far. Are you okay?” He asked, getting off of you. You lay there, sucking in deep breaths, and nodded. Your face was the deepest shade of red it had ever gone.

“Are you sure?” He asked, giving you a hand up.

“I...I...” you began, he looked at you with a concerned expression on his face. “I’m okay,” you breathed out. He gave you a soft smile.

You were more in shock at the fact you had just been ruthlessly tickled by Chris Evans. You couldn’t speak, your heart was pounding ten to the dozen.

“You’re quite possibly the most ticklish person I’ve ever met,” he said. Somehow your face went an even deeper shade of red.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you blush,” he cooed.

“Shut...up..” you whispered.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, shuffling closer to you.

“Yeah, I’m more than okay,” you said. He raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t tell me you liked that?” He asked, a hint of teasing in his voice. You blushed and tilted your head down.

“No. Way. You enjoyed that didn’t you?” He asked. You blushed once again and gave a very small nod.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get more adorable,” he said. “Little Y/N enjoys being tickled.”

You looked up at him. A wave of playfulness came over you.

“I’m so gonna get you,” you said. Before he could protest, you launched yourself at him and tackled him to the sofa. You wasted no time in squeezing his sides.

The laughter that came out of him was one you had never heard before. It was so warm and genuine and it only made you want to tickle him more. You giggled at his weak state and switched between tickling his sides, armpits, tummy and ribs to see which one made him laugh the most. It was clear that he was enjoying himself too.

“Aww is Chris ticklish too?” You cooed, surprised at your sudden confidence. You were met with a chorus of begs and pleads but you couldn’t stop yourself tickling him.

It was a really cute afternoon with just the two of you. But you were both too distracted to see who was outside the caravan, watching as you both ruthlessly tickled each other.

Darren.

#tickle fic #avengers tickle fic #ler!chris evans #lee!reader

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teawaffles · 3 years

Text

There’s No Business Like Show Business: Chapter 6

As Moran and the others each supported the players in their own way, Bond, Maya and the company ran the length and breadth of London, staging scenes of their play as they went.

At Westminster Bridge, Alice, played by Maya, ran a Caucus race with the Dodo and his friends. At Bloomsbury, she kicked Bill the Lizard out of the chimney. At Southwark, the Caterpillar taught her how to grow and shrink her body at will. At Knightsbridge, she met the Duchess and her household, and asked the Cheshire cat for directions. At Marylebone Road, she joined a mad tea-party where the time had stopped at six o’clock, then played croquet with the Queen of Hearts in front of Buckingham Palace. After that, she listened to the Gryphon and the Mock Turtle’s exchanges at Billingsgate—— and then, near the Old Bailey, she gave her testimony at the Knave’s trial.

They played a host of strange and fascinating characters, across a medley of scenes and a variety of places. Tonight, the whole of London had become a wonderland of their very own making.

The performance went well, just as they had practiced, and the response was more than satisfactory. The audience only expanded as the play progressed, and the sounds of the cheers and applause growing louder made their hearts leap for joy.

However, on the other hand, a suffocating anxiety had begun to build up within Maya.

The final act was approaching.

A story about a dream, which in itself was like a dream, was nearing its end.

The scene of the trial. The Queen of Hearts jabbed a finger at Alice, who had taken the witness stand, and screeched an order.

“Who cares for you? You’re nothing but a pack of cards!” Maya — Alice — said.

Immediately after she’d said that, countless playing cards were sent fluttering in the air. They reflected the light from the street lamps, sparkling beautifully like snowflakes as they settled onto the stage.

Blackout. Dark curtains were drawn across the stage, such that the audience could not see what was happening on it.

The crowd waited in silence for the next location to be announced, but meanwhile, in the wings, the players were growing agitated.

“……What? The actress playing Alice’s sister hasn’t arrived yet?”

Hearing the report from the crew in charge of carriage transport, Bond was stunned.

“By sheer bad luck, her carriage is stuck in a jam……”

“I see…… This is bad.”

They had considered the possibility that the crowds may hinder their movements across the city. But fortune had favoured them thus far — the fact that it had went so smoothly till now had made them careless.

“What should we do? Of all times, it had to be at such an important scene…”

“——I’ll do it.”

A hush fell over the players. Bond’s snap decision had astonished everyone.

However, the man himself proceeded to put on a wig, and began to pull on his costume without hesitation. Of course, he made sure not to resemble the former actress Irene Adler. Thinking of the comicality of dressing as a woman on top of his current dress as a man, he stifled a giggle.

Having Bond stand in for an actor was one plan they had prepared in case of emergencies. But as he wanted to let the company showcase their own talent, he saved it as a last resort for situations when they were absolutely trapped.

Seeing his resolve, the company members shook off their doubts, and steeled their hearts to see the last scene to the end.

“Maya, are you ready?”

“……Y-Yes.”

Something seemed to be on her mind.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You’re able to concentrate?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

Having confirmed that Maya had switched her full attention to her role, the two of them ascended the stage.

It had only been twenty seconds after the problem was found. The blackout curtains opened, and from a dream, the story returned to reality.

As Alice, played by Maya, lay on his lap, Bond slowly shook her shoulder.

“Wake up, Alice!”

Then Alice rubbed her eyes and sat up.

Bond continued.

“Why, what a long sleep you’ve had!”

Although it had been a sudden substitution, as a former professional, he was right in his element. Watching from the wings, the company members gasped.

“Oh, I’ve had such a curious dream!” said Alice.

Then, buzzing with excitement, she told her sister all about the adventures she had in her dream.

When the story ended, Alice’s sister patted her head fondly.

“It was a curious dream, dear, certainly: but now run in to your tea; it's getting late.”

Nodding, Alice got on her feet and prepared to dash off the stage. Now Alice would leave the scene, and Maya’s part would end—— or at least, that had been the plan.

Just before she left the stage, Alice — Maya — suddenly stopped.

“……Maya?”

Her colleagues murmured in hushed tones at the strange sight unfolding before them.

On stage, Bond had been inwardly shaken by her act, but kept up a smiling face as Alice’s older sister.

Maya remained where she was, silent and motionless. As the actors on stage stood at a standstill, and the scene began to diverge from the original story, the audience also began to grow restless.

Then, Alice turned to face her sister.

“I had a dream.”

“………?”

An unexpected ad lib. Hearing Alice veer off from the script, Bond’s heart began to thump loudly in his chest. But Maya continued to speak in the role of Alice.

“In my dream, there were many strange animals and people, and I kept getting pushed around. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, and they all said selfish things. I journeyed through all that. I didn’t understand any of it until the end…… But it was a wonderful and jolly dream to have.”

Then, Alice looked straight into her sister’s eyes.

“Do you think, I’d be able to dream it again?”

She tilted her head to the side in a cute manner.

To the audience, these were just the gestures of a little girl; But Bond understood the true meaning behind those words, and his heart ached.

After the players left the stage, and the curtains fell, would they ever be able to step into the limelight like this again? Even though their performance tonight was undoubtedly a success, there was no way they would be able to use this extraordinary technique again and again. Moreover, Bond’s support would end here as well.

After this dreamlike night ended, what awaited them was their cruel reality, of life amidst the discrimination and prejudice this society held for the poor.

“When I grow up, will I never be able to dream like this again?”

Alice — Maya — rocked on her heels and toes as she asked this question. To the unknowing audience, this also seemed like nothing more than the actions of an innocent child.

While playing the role of Alice splendidly, Maya was also appealing to Bond.

Could we ever become a distinguished theatre company, and be recognised by the wider world?

They had poured their heart and soul into that cry, and Bond had received it. While staying in character as Alice’s sister, just as Maya did, he wore a sincere expression as he replied.

“Think about it for yourself, and act accordingly.”

His voice was gentle, yet stern.

“Whether you’ll be able to dream like this from now on: that’s for you to think about. Decide on your own. By no means should you constrain yourself by thinking that adults should act like adults.”

Bond had taken Moran’s words and altered them slightly. They now took on a different meaning, but that was alright. Just like how one could interpret an inescapable tragedy as a happy ending, Bond had also given a new meaning to Moran’s words.

The poor should live their lives as befits their station—— to Maya, who’d ridiculed her own way of life as an actress, Bond contended that being born into poverty was no reason to give up on your dreams.

However, even after hearing her sister’s words, Alice was still unconvinced.

She pouted. “But when I grow up, there will also be difficult things waiting for me.”

Even if one were to dream, reality would not allow them to happen. Having experienced this for herself many times over, Maya launched her rebuttal.

To that, Alice’s older sister walked up to her, and gently placed a hand on her cheek.

“Alice, I was so moved by your story. If you just close your eyes…… See, there’s the White Rabbit. And there’s the drowning Mouse. Over there’s the Queen of Hearts, screeching away, and the Cheshire cat, as well as the Duchess.”

Her sister closed her eyes and pointed, and Alice followed her movements with her eyes.

At last, she pointed at the audience: the tremendous crowds, who had been watching their performance with fervour.

“………!”

That very instant, Maya had forgotten about Alice. Enchanted by the crowds, it was this young woman whom Bond spoke to.

“Alice, your story was able to add such wonderful colours to my world. Your dreams, have the power to shape reality.”

Her dreams could change the real world.

Bond’s words pierced straight through her heart.

“If you meet difficult obstacles, remember this sight: for it was created from your dream.”

Then, for one final time, Bond showed Alice the audience watching the stage.

It didn’t matter where you stood in life. Everyone had the right to live their dreams.

Saying his lines in the role of Alice’s sister, Bond conveyed these thoughts to the players.

The crowds watched their improvisation with rapt attention, so much so they even forgot to blink. It seemed this audience, coming from all walks of life, had resonated with their exchange.

Once again, the message exchanged beneath this impromptu performance enveloped the stage and the surrounding crowds in a quiet stillness.

Having understood her sister’s words, a smile rose on Alice’s face.

“——Thank you. Well then, I’ll be off to tea.”

With light steps, she skipped off the stage.

With a peaceful smile, Bond watched her figure disappear, and slowly, the curtains were lowered onto the stage.

Immediately after, a sea of applause thundered like a storm. Joyous whistles and ovations poured forth from the crowds, their deafening cheers rocking the very cobblestone streets.

Then the curtain rose once again for the curtain call, with all the actors lining up on stage and giving a bow. The applause grew even louder.

As the audience showered them with praise, the chairwoman, Maya, shouted over the cheers.

“With that, our play has come to an end. To everyone who has stayed with us all this way — thank you very much!”

She was so moved that she’d forgotten to put on her theatrical tone from the beginning of the play — this was her honest, heartfelt gratitude.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you! Until the day we meet again, goodbye!”

With those closing words, the players bowed in unison once more, and the performance came to an end.

Just as the curtains fell, from the roof of a faraway building, Bond caught sight of Moran giving him a thumbs-up. To his senior, who had been watching over them all this time, Bond responded with a contented smile.

Just like this, the play that had rocked the capital of the Empire for one night only, drew to a close.

Translator’s notes

A rough map of the play’s route across London

At the start of this chapter, the sequence of events described actually follows the exact storyline of Alice in Wonderland. From Chapter 5, we also know that they began at Piccadilly Circus and moved on to Trafalgar Square — again, the respective scenes they acted out are the first two chapters of Alice in Wonderland. I’ve traced their rough route here:

Also, if you recall that in Chapter 5, Part 2, Fred tells the policemen that the next venue is the British Museum, when they were really going to Knightsbridge. From the map, the company had probably just left Southwark at this time — you can see that he really threw them for a loop.

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #forbidden games

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hypermanga · 4 years

Text

Stuck in the middle (Thorin x reader; Thranduil x reader)

Requested by: @queenofmankind

Request: Hi can I request an imagine where the reader is a fem elf who’s travelling with the dwarves company and Thorin feels the tug that tells him you’re his One although he never admit it, just to discover later on that you’re Thranduil’s lover when the Company arrived in Mirkwood.

Word count: 1456

A/N: Because today it is Richard Armitage’s - the actor who played Thorin - birthday , I decided to give this fic a happy ending for our favourite dwarf king

~~~~~~~

Gandalf had asked you to join the Company of Thorin Oakenshield after you told him you wanted to leave any commodities behind and help more people in Middle Earth. Thanks to your long life span, you had seen the rise and fall of many empires, cities and kingdoms as well as many of Middle Earth's secrets that only someone like you had the time to unveil.

Convincing the Company of your use in the quest had been difficult to say the least mostly because of your race and the circumstances, given that you joined them in Rivendell.

"A woman in our quest? And a she-elf to say the least?" Gloin had exclaimed, making everyone mumble and complain about it. It seemed everyone apart from Bilbo and Gandalf was not happy about your addition, which you didn't take as an offence: you knew how the Mirkwood elves had treated the dwarves of Erebor in their time of need; In their position, you would've been just as wary, that's why you challenged yourself to change their opinion about you.

"Mithrandir" you greeted him at one of Rivendell's balconies "(Y/N)" "It feels strange to help the Company" you watched how the dwarves had fun laughing at a member who had just broken a table he was sitting on "I know I ask a lot, given their opinion on elves. Specially Thorin's"

Ah yes, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror. He hadn't been ecstatic with Gandalf's announcement, in fact, he had been quite vocal about his opposition to it "Why would I want an elf" his words had venom, especially at the mention of your race "Elves don't approve of our journey, and I wouldn't trust with my life those who have already abandoned my people once" His eyes had been on you all the time, anger and another emotion you couldn't have pinpointed.

"I understand where he comes from, I only wish to prove him otherwise...That not all elves have the same mentality" "I wish you all the luck to you, he is a very prideful dwarf" Cups of wine clashed together as you enjoyed the Valley of Imladris' gentle breeze.

Disbelief, that's what Thorin had felt when his eyes landed on you and felt a familiar tug in his heart. For years, since he was a young dwarfling, he had dreamed of finding his One but after Smaug's attack, whatever hope he had faded, including the one of finding his one true love. Now, as he had you in front of him, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry: he had found you, yes, but you were from the same kin of those who didn't help his in their darkest hour.

~~~~

Your sword slashed the goblins with scary precision, one only elves could possess. Like a hurricane all fell around you, none coming near enough to inflict any kind of pain or become a menace "Thorin!" You saw a horde of those creatures approaching the Company's leader, who seemed too lost in fighting another group that he didn't notice them. As you made your way to him, you continued executing anyone who went toe to toe with your sword, your eyes trained in the dwarf king; Not even when you ducked or jumped did your eyes leave him.

As you arrived at his position he turned around with wary eyes, which softened when he saw who you were, catching you off-guard "There are too many! Let's fight back to back!" As you said that, more goblins appeared, obliging Thorin to follow your strategy with a huff.

His outside mannerisms and attitude, though, couldn't be far more different than how happy he felt that you were fighting together as one, like soulmates who knew exactly how the other fought.

~~~~

"Lady (Y/N)?" Everyone's eyes turned to you when Mirkwood's prince recognized your face "Hello Legolas" You faked a smile, not content at all with your kin's hostility "I demand you let us go"

"That is not for me to decide, but Ada's" You could feel the hatred pouring from the Company's gazes, especially the Durin's folk, but decided to carry along with your plan, with all its consequences.

"I'm sure he will listen to what I have to say" You smiled, ignoring the guard who was checking you for any possible threats.

You were all guided to Mirkwood, where the Company was imprisoned while you were accompanied to the Throne Room "Ah, (Y/N)" The elf king smiled sweetly from his antler throne "Thranduil" "What can I do for you, Nin Meleth?" "You must set free the Company. Their intentions are nothing but noble, as well as their quest" "(Y/N)...You understand I can't let them go without a bargain right?" "If you were a good king who empathized more with the other kins perhaps" "Watch your tongue. While I hold you very dear in my heart I won't hesitate to raise my voice if necessary" "I understand, but-"

Your conversation was cut short as the guards brought Thorin up. He looked dishevelled, a far cry from how you had met: his hair was covered in spider webs, and the ends of his coat soaked in dirty water and mud. And even like that, he still stood proud as the rightful King Under the Mountain, with qualities you'd to admit Thranduil didn't possess.

"(Y/N)" You nodded at Thorin, stopping yourself from siding with the dwarf king, scared of making the situation worse than what it was about to become.

The negotiations didn't go very far, as Thorin wasn't about to give Thranduil Erebor's gems in exchange for the other's help, not when he had deceived his people once

"Imrid amrad ursul!" With those words, you knew Thorin had sealed his fate. for Thranduil was quick to dismiss him, but not before playing another card.

"(Y/N), you will stay here with me. This little adventure of yours ends here" "But-" "I will not repeat myself, dear" Thranduil beckoned you a second time, hand extended which you took with distaste "What?" "Has she not told you? My, my (Y/N), and here the dwarf thought he had any chance with you" Your brows shot up in surprise "My lord, what are you saying?" "I can't believe you have been so naïve my dear" Thranduil smiled, pleased that his pet name infuriated Thorin even more "He's obviously infatuated with you...May I adventure myself to think you are his One?"

Thorin looked at the other king defiantly "You do not know anything about me!" "Oh but you know I do" He just smiled wickedly "Thorin, I didn't know..." "Don't make this any worse" Thorin's voice cracked, defeat etched in his features "I do not wish to do so! In fact, I want to make everything clear. Yes, I have been infatuated with Thranduil for centuries. He was a good elf, one that seemed to take over the world and protect it from any danger" You turned your head to Thranduil "But not anymore" At that, Thorin's eyes widened, as well as Thranduil's "I'm sorry, but you are nothing but a shadow of what you were: you let the forest fall ill, the darkness has possessed it with the spiders. You didn't take part in defending another kin's kingdom you were allied to, and now that you could make amends you decide to be egotistical!" Thranduil's face was like an open book: he felt betrayed, hurt that you decided to side with the dwarves instead of your lover "I'm sorry, but this ends here" You freed yourself from Thranduil's weak grasp and descended the throne's stairs "Is that quest more important than me?" "Yes, it is the right thing to do, but you can't seem to figure it out"

Next thing you knew, the guards were dragging you to the dungeons alongside Thorin, who thrashed around to free himself before being thrown in a cell "You have been blinded (Y/N). Trust me, this will be for the better" Those were the last words you heard from Thranduil before the cell's door closed.

"(Y/N)?" Balin exclaimed, upon seeing you "What are you doing here?" "Thranduil and I didn't see eye to eye on some matters. I thought I could put some sense in him, but he's not the man I fell in love with a long time ago. I'm sorry I couldn't be more useful"

It seemed like some members of the Company wanted to talk to you regarding the "Thranduil's lover part", but Thorin quickly shushed them, not wishing to put you even more down "I'm sure everything will be alright" "How?" "We still have a chance"

A chance that would present itself in the form of a very witty hobbit called Bilbo.

MASTERLIST

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

#the hobbit #the hobbit an unexpected journey #The Hobbit the desolation of smaug #the hobbit the battle of the five armies #Thorin Oakenshield #the hobbit thorin #the hobbit thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield imagine #thorin oakenshield one shot #thorin oakenshield x reader #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit oneshot #richard armitage imagine #richard armitage #richard armitage x reader

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rhmg-au · 4 years

Text

Prequel part 1.

Thinking of some endings for the final confrontation, would try to get them out once I complete the prequel first.

This AU belongs to @rhmg-au . Please follow them, reblog their art, give them fanart, support them in any way possible, etc.

TW: Torture, blood, gore, restraints

(Mod Swanno: Edited with the read more option due to length and content!)

Eyes fluttered rapidly in the dark, the aching pain ran rampant throughout his entire body, the tears in his uniform exposing his skin to the coldness in the room from the lack of heat inside. Two figures seem to be in front of him, chatting with one another.

He let out an involuntary groan of pain, causing the two to turn to them. They look familiar.

“Awake already, Price? Thought you’d be knocked out for at least for few more hours.”

At that statement, the memories flooded back to him, as if he was in the sea in the middle of a big storm, only he was alone on a boat, the lighting and crashing waves wanting to throw him off the only thing keeping him from drowning.

The fighting, the snapping, the discovery.

———

A knock was heard on his door, he was in one of the rooms made for soldiers who needed to rest after a tiring mission or just stay for a break from their duties. His mind was wandering in its own little world, trying to think of ways to get rid of that monster he calls his general, he’s not noble anymore, after what he witnessed him doing to a Toppat, though he is a criminal, it was still so cruel to strip him of his memories and forcefully turn them to their side, and how it was carried out was…too brutal to watch or even hear for that matter. How could he live with himself after such a heinous act?

Those thoughts were carried to the back of his mind when that sound caused by a hand repeatedly hitting the door from the other side to get someone else’s attention inside.

“Rupert? May I come in?”

It’s him, it’s time to play the role of the actor again.

“You may, general.”

Galeforce entered the room as soon as the request to come inside was approved by the soldier, closing it behind him. His smile looked so normal that no one would ever guess that he did so many terrible acts behind that mask.

“What is it you need, sir?” Rupert asked, straightening his posture, and making sure to wipe his face clean from any form of an expression full of hatred. He cannot reveal his true feelings towards the man, or anyone for that matter. They can be loyalists to him, blinded by their duties to ever consider siding with him. No one is safe to talk to about his issues.

“Are you…actually loyal to the government, Mr. Price? I was informed by Dr. V that you were acting quite strange these past few days, and she has a suspicion that you’re a traitor.”

These words caught Rupert off-guard. They knew? How…how could they know? He thought he hid it so well, concealed it from everyone, how, just how?! Did someone snitch on him? “I, I am loyal sir. I was just thinking about my next missions those past days is all.” He was praying that he would buy it, he couldn’t risk to be found out of his resent. He knew it wouldn’t be anything but bad.

“Then tell me…do you know about the latest piece of technology we developed?” What was that supposed to mean? Naively, he shook his head, realizing too late that he made a crucial mistake by doing that.

Galeforce’s smile contorted into a smirk, one that is full of malice. That never meant good, at all. “A device that allows us to know who is lying by just hearing their words and their tone. Think of it like a lie detector, but a better version.” He took out the little gadget, the design was rather basic, just a square shaped piece of metal with antennas sticking out, a screen was visible with lines rapidly going up and down. Such a simple yet complex device. And it’ll be used for an occasion like this. “It’s still in the alpha stages, consider yourself honoured since you’re the first one we’re using to test it.” He took a good look at the lines. “And would you look at that, judging by the way the lines are moving, it detected that you’re lying.”

“No, no sir, are you sure it’s just a misinterpretation? An error?” Rupert knew that he was screwed, yet he still tries to deny it. Anything to get him out of this situation. Anything.

“Sorry to say, Price, but Dr. V told me these lines represent when someone is lying. It is no bug for sure.”

That was the answer he was dreading to hear.

“Now, do you remember what happens to those who are traitors? Or, for you, a potential traitor? You have quite the disdain for me, and that leads to backstabbing.” Galeforce pocketed the device, that grin turning sadistic now.

There was nothing left to hide. He saw through his facade, and now he has the information that he harbours distaste for him.

“You really think I would let something like that slide? What you did was absolute torture! How could you consider yourself to be human after what’d you done?! He may have been a Toppat, but you didn’t have to go to the extreme! What the hell is wrong with you?! Did you even think about how the Toppats feel?! That you took away someone who was so valuable to them, both personally and usefully, did you ever consider that?! Tell me, was there a time you even felt some sympathy?!” He couldn’t contain his rage anymore, he had to snap. It was in there for too long for him to ever hold it back, he may hate the Toppat Clan, but even he couldn’t deny that what Galeforce did crossed the line.

Galeforce didn’t responded, instead he took a step forward. Then another one. His face blank, showing no emotion, no care, no concern, no astonishment, no happiness, only apathy. Before he eventually leapt out and attacked him, like a wild animal would when it sees potential prey.

Rupert didn’t hesitate to fight back, both of them knocked to the ground. He raised his hand to counteract the opposing one ready to strike, catching it in time before it could land a hit on his face. Immediately afterwards, he caught the other hand that threatened to finish what the other arm wanted to begin.

“You could’ve been a valuable soldier here, had you not raise this hatred inside of you.” Galeforce taunted, ripping his hand out of his grasp and grabbed his hair that still stuck out from his hat, pushing his head forward.

“What was I supposed to do? Watch you turn someone into a relentless slaughtering puppet to do your dirty work? That isn’t how anything should go!” Rupert gave him a hard punch, directly on the nose. He wasn’t sure if he broke it, but blood poured out from the openings, a good indicator to confirm his suspicions.

Galeforce didn’t get knocked out, though the sudden punch to the face disoriented him for a few seconds, giving the resentful soldier enough time to rip himself out of his grasp and push him off, making a break for it to the door.

He didn’t make it, because of course he didn’t.

He was yanked back by his uniform, the grasp so tight and so harsh that he felt the cloth made to create this suit tear, and before he knew it, he was thrown against the wall, black starting to tease around the edges of his eyes from how hard his head hit the concrete.

“It’s the least I could do, trust me, I would do much worse.” Blood dripped down from his nose, staining the floor with the crimson substance.

“I don’t need to see them to know you’re a horrible person. I’ll beat the shit out of you and I’ll expose you and your heinous deeds.” Rupert shakily got up, it was rather hard when you’re close to blacking out from a strong hit on the head, but it was manageable.

“Still being cocky as ever? That’s biggest downside to you, always so certain you can do everything no matter how impossible it may seem. How cute.” Galeforce’s smirk increased in size as he approached him, taking him by the neck and lifted him off the ground, feet barely touching the floor. The soldier threw his hands onto the wrist of the general, suffocation is very likely if he was not released soon.

“It’s…not impossible…to get you…dismissed…” With his windpipe blocked, air couldn’t get inside to his lungs, affecting his breathing and speaking abilities.

“Dismissed? Why, so many ridiculous ideas run through your mind these past few days huh?” Galeforce released his grip on Rupert, letting him fall to the floor gasping for breath for a moment.

“They’re…logical…not ridicu…lous…” Regaining his strength albeit a bit slowly, he threw his fist at the general, aiming for his chest. The sleeve on the arm of his clenched hand was caught, yanking him to his feet so violently that another tear was made in his uniform, as well as causing pain to his arm due to how hard it was pulled, almost out of its socket. It took all of his willpower and gritting his teeth to not scream from the pain travelling up the limb.

“You must be forgetting that I’m a general, the public believes me as a good-intentioned nobleman who brings criminals to justice. Nothing can ever convince them otherwise.” Galeforce brought his face close to the soldier’s, letting him see that wicked grin close up, which only succeeded in letting his glare darken. He took ahold of his arm, tightening the grip instantly, as an attempt to prevent escape.

“Not if I get evidence, your acts are inhumane, no one deserves a fate like that.” Rupert spat, bringing his knee up and kicking him right in the stomach, using all of his strength in that one blow.

This action caused Galeforce to stumble back, releasing his grip on his arm in the process. Taking this opportunity, the soldier opened up the door, running out of the room. He needed to get out of here, now.

The attempt at escape didn’t work, as the general caught up with him easily, sending him crashing to the floor as he felt a heavy weight fall onto his body, He looked up, the black around his eyes more prominent.

Before his irises could see who was there, even though he already knew who, a fist collided with his head, causing the void in his eyes to finally take over.

The last thing he remembered before blacking out were these words:

“Really thought you could get away? Now, you’ll face the consequences.”

———

Everything was made clear now.

“What is this place?” His voice sounded weak, probably from the lack of water. “Are you going to robotize me like Green? Is that it?”

“No, something much worse. But now that you mentioned it, it would be a great idea. For now though, we have something else planned.” Galeforce answered, that grin so sinister it might as well be considered taking a spot on the most evil smiles list, if one was created that is.

“I would like to turn you into walking weapon, but I still need to monitor Green for the time being. Consider yourself lucky.” Dr. V added, sharing the same smirk as the one on Galeforce.

Rupert tried to throw a fist in either of their faces, but when he did, his hand never moved. Instead, he was greeted with the coldness of a metal cuff holding his hand down on one of the arms of the chair he was sitting in. It’s likely his other wrist was also in the same state as his left one. Though it should’ve been expected, it still shocked him. He was being restrained.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that you aren’t going to be able to leave. You’ll spend the rest of your days here rotting away while we make you realize just how stupid you are to doubt my acts of protection.” Galeforce informed, as if the feeling of the bindings on his wrists weren’t made clear to him enough.

“Protection?! You call that protection?! You hurt someone beyond the point of acceptance and you call that protection?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Despite his throat hurting after such an outburst, Rupert called him out on that statement of absurdity. Still thinking he’s a hero after everything? Even criminals don’t deserve that happening to them.

“It’s for the greater good. Besides, would you want a cyborg to be roaming free with those crooks?”

“He’s still human!”

“Criminals aren’t humans if they don’t have morals.”

“And you aren’t human if you feel no sympathy for them! Think about the hardships they went through that forced them to turn to crime and we never noticed! If anything, it’s the government’s fault!”

“…Dr. V, do your work.”

“Yes, sir.”

The blonde took out a pair of surgical scissors from her lab coat, walking over to the soldier, who is now struggling in the cuffs that held him in a one spot.

“Let’s begin the lesson, shall we?” Dr. V said, holding the surgical scissors over his face for a moment before snipping a part of his skin with them, blood immediately dripping out from where she made the cut.

Rupert grounded his teeth together, not wanting to give either of them the satisfaction of hearing him in such pain. He knew it would only bring more trouble if he gave them the reaction they wanted to hear, so no screaming. Just endure the pain all enough for something else to occur that causes them to leave. Like boredom or duties.

When no strong reaction came from the soldier, Dr. V dug the blades of the scissors deeper into his flesh, sliding it along slowly and painfully, intending to stop at his cheek if no signs of a scream comes soon. This was only the beginning. The next stages are much, much worse.

Despite the fiery pain growing inside of him from the scissors digging into his skin, Rupert still didn’t give them what they wanted out of him. His teeth were gritted so tightly together to suppress it the best he could. Blood started to leak into his mouth, that metallic taste made clear from the get go. He has to stay strong, this wasn’t the worse thing that happened to him. Seeing Dave getting fired and him going missing were much worse than experiencing torture…

Nothing, no reaction. “You’re stronger than you look. Impressive, but not too impressive.” The doctor pocketed the now bloodied scissors back into her lab coat, the remains of the crimson substance staining the white colour of the garment. She then took out a scalpel, this time instead of his face, she targeted his arm, plunging the sharp edge of the blade onto his shoulder.

The soldier bit down on his bottom lip as to let his teeth rest from the pressure they were under from grinding against each other for so long. Blood slipped out from the bottom lip due to how hard he was biting down on it, the metallic taste more prominent now.

Dr. V’s face contorted into frustration. “Don’t bother trying to hide your pain.” She advised, taking the scalpel out from his shoulder, that crimson substance affecting colour of the metal to make this surgical tool, now just like the scissors sitting inside of her lab coat. She clenched her hand into a fist and made it collide with his cheek, the one that isn’t soaking with blood from the cut. The force in the punch was hard, bound to create a bruise.

Rupert felt his head snap to the side momentarily, causing him to quickly look back to the woman in front of him. “How do you call this revenge if you only really want the Toppats?”

“Anyone who sides with Toppat Clan is called revenge.” Dr. V answered, making an incision on both of his wrists as he spoke, acting and speaking nonchalant about it. “I told you, masking your pain would make things worse. Cooperate with us.”

“You just need to give him a little push in the right direction. As I said before, he’s as stubborn as Green when he was a Toppat.” Galeforce said, his first words in a while.

“And how do you suppose we shove him where we want him to go?”

“Allow me to handle it. I’ve known him for quite a while now.”

The general stood in front of Rupert after Dr. V backed away. He leaned in close to him, whispering something in his ear, his breath causing a shiver to run down his spine. Surprisingly, his eyes widened at what was said, horror written all over his expression.

“Y-you, no you couldn’t-”

“Don’t worry, I trust him enough. But if I find out he’s been going behind my back…”

“Don’t you fucking hurt him! It’s me who you’re mad at, so just do whatever the hell you want with me but leave him alone!”

“I will take action if that’s the case, and what can you do in your current state?”

“This.” Rupert lifted his legs up and slammed them into Galeforce’s chest, the general taking a few steps back due to the impact. Man that hurt…

He looked up after a few seconds, Dr. V coming by his side to check if he had any injuries, pocketing the scalpel beforehand. “Chain his legs too. I’m not letting this happen a second time.” He checked his belt and took a pair of handcuffs from them, handing them out to her.

Dr. V nodded hastily, snatching the restraints quickly and cuffed the soldier’s ankles to the legs of the chair, despite his trashing interrupting some of the progress. “There we go.”

“Someone will find me here, and you’ll regret all of your actions.” Rupert promised, the glare so dark you could probably see a shadow brooding across his face. He’d struggled for a little bit more before giving up, the burning pain playing a part in why he stopped.

“You are in basement of lab, no one knows of this.” Dr. V said, immediately crushing any hope that he may have. Green most likely doesn’t know of this too. “Let’s continue now, shall we?”

Before she could pull out the blood covered scalpel however, Dr. V was stopped by the sound of beeping. “One sec.” She took out the communicator she brought down here, in case of the event someone made a call to her while they were doing what they were doing.

“Hello, this is Dr. Vinschpinsilstien speaking, how could I be of service?”

Rupert saw this as an opportunity, an opportunity to get outside help. It doesn’t matter who it is, the Twins, Victoria, Hayden, Charles or even Green, he can get out of here if he just yells at the communicator. He hated asking for assistance for anything, if he had to be honest, but at this moment, he needed help, he can’t escape by himself.

He was about to shout, to scream, to cause a scene to get the attention of whoever is there, but at the last second, his mouth was harshly covered by Galeforce, both hands were on him to block out his cries for help. Still, he called out anyway, muffled by the hands on his mouth, barely creating any noise.

“…Ah yes, I will be at the lab Green, just come along and I’ll attend to you.” The line cut off soon after Dr. V finished her call with the cyborg.

The opportunity passed…gone.

Galeforce released his hands from Rupert’s mouth as soon as the call was finished, allowing him to take in deep breaths and finally talk properly. “I’ll…I’ll scream down here and…Green will hear me. It doesn’t matter that he’s rewired, he will notice that something’s wrong with me down here.”

“And that is why you shouldn’t speak so soon.” Dr. V said, taking a piece of cloth out from her lab coat, using it as a gag as she wrapped it around his mouth, muffling his words once again. As soon as she finished tying the knot, she and Galeforce left for the door, opening it up to reveal stairs, his only way to freedom if he can get out from this stupid chair. Light temporarily pouring into the room as it was opened up, but soon it was closed, denying any light from projecting itself into the room, leaving him in the darkness again.

What now?

———

Every passing day was torturous.

Literally.

Beating after beating, his blood spilling out from his system, eventually creating blood stains on the floor, chair and his uniform. The smell of the dried up crimson substance still lingered.

Any cry for help was muffled from the gag, guaranteeing that no one could ever find him here while Galeforce and Dr. V continued to teach him the lesson.

Every gash, every bruise, he even got some broken bones some days.

Whenever they went away, he cried and cried to himself, tears mixing in with the dried blood that stains his face. His spirit breaking down everyday. He still held onto hope, but it seems his grasp on it is fading away slowly.

“Someone…please…find me…I can’t hold out for much longer…”

#PACKAGE - [ FANWORK ]#[ NON CANON ]#tw blood #tw torture #tw gore #hoooHHH BOY!!! HOLY SHIT - MOD - [ SWANNO ]#submission

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omgkatsudonplease · 3 years

Text

[ficlet, bagginshield] oceans away (bridgerton au)

“Well, someone has shattered the Mirrormere,” remarks Balin drily as Thorin arrives in the kitchen for breakfast the morning after the Bywater Ball. When Thorin raises an eyebrow at him, Balin merely responds by showing him the latest scandal-sheet from Lord Stormcrow. “It says here that the Golden Hare has finally made his match, and somehow, unbelievably, it isn’t to you.”

“Unbelievably,” echoes Thorin. Dwalin has not woken up yet — something about a late night at the Green Dragon — which means Thorin has to make breakfast this morning. He crosses over to the stove, turning it on with some fiddling and grimacing. Bilbo had made it all look so desperately easy...

No. He should not be thinking about Bilbo. He has more or less lost the right to think about Bilbo, after all of those sour words that passed between them.

(How does he tell Bilbo that the reason he’s pushing him away is because he cares?)

“Yes; I was under the impression you intended to inform Mr Baggins of your feelings towards him,” says Balin, brows furrowing thoughtfully, “and yet it says right here that Mr Baggins is to be wed to Miss Lobelia Bracegirdle of Hardbottle.”

The egg that Thorin had been trying to crack into the skillet falls to the ground instead.

“He picked her?” he wonders. Balin raises an eyebrow at the smashed egg, but thankfully says nothing about it as he flips the page of the pamphlet.

“Yes, the wedding is set for Lithe. Apparently there’s plans to make it a very big and lavish affair.”

Almost from the moment he agreed to the union, Bilbo has been caught within a hurricane of wedding preparations. Both the Baggins and the Bracegirdles were ecstatic about the upcoming nuptials, for vastly differing reasons.

“Oh, I knew from the start that whole thing with the Dwarf-king was just a silly little distraction!” exclaims Auntie Camellia Sackville as she and Cousin Otho pile into Bilbo’s parlour for elevensies. “I mean, can you imagine? Being a Dwarf-king’s consort?”

Bilbo grits his teeth, smiling at his aunt from over his teacup. The flowers that had so proudly adorned all of Bag End for the past several weeks are now being disposed of, while Lobelia’s voice can be distantly heard in some other room chewing out an assistant over napkin and silverware selections. Bilbo had decided the instant planning began that he was to have no opinion on anything to do with the ceremony or the reception, since it was clearly an affair for Lobelia’s benefit alone.

“I thought for the longest time that, well, if the Golden Hare was going to be so picky, then Lobelia would be perfect for my Otho instead,” continues Auntie Camellia, while Cousin Otho sends Bilbo a mildly annoyed look through a mouthful of scone. “But I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. The Bracegirdles are the respectable choice, by a long shot.”

“Thorin is a King,” Bilbo points out acidly.

“And a Dwarf!” Auntie Camellia retorts. “Can you imagine that on our family tree? Dwarves and Hobbits do not mix, let me tell you that.”

“There’d be no mixing,” scoffs Bilbo. “Do you even hear yourself, Aunt Cam?”

Otho mouths ‘No, she doesn’t’ over his teacup. Bilbo resists the urge to roll his eyes.

At that moment, Lobelia comes storming back into the parlour, her hair in a disarray and her expression nothing short of thunderous. “Is nobody going to help me plan this wedding?” she demands, with a pointed glare at Bilbo, who merely grimaces at her in response. “I am surrounded by incompetents!”

“You clearly have a vision for the event, and I would just be getting underfoot,” replies Bilbo with a feigned smile.

Lobelia huffs. “Husband-to-be, at least show some excitement in front of our guests.”

“They’re my family,” says Bilbo. “Soon to be your aunt and cousin-in-law. Why don’t you spare me some face and not yell at your assistants for a couple of hours?”

Lobelia bristles like a brooding hen. “If I am to be mistress of Bag End, I expect the help around here to not question my decisions!”

“Sometimes those good folk you call ‘the help’ know much more about the subject than you or I,” replies Bilbo. “I’d listen to them, if I were you.”

Lobelia makes a half-choked-down scream, before smiling sweetly at both Auntie Camellia and Cousin Otho. She then sweeps away in high dudgeon, evidently on the warpath to torment some other hobbits. Bilbo sighs, finishes his tea, and pulls out Holman’s whiskey flask from the side table he stashes it in. Across the table, Auntie Camellia gasps in shock.

Bilbo unscrews the cap of the flask and pours a shot into his next cup of tea. “Anyway, Aunt Cam, you were saying?”

“We should leave,” says Thorin, after he finally manages to cook some eggs and ham for breakfast and is now eating it straight out of the skillet. “Show up to Tumunzahar a little earlier than expected. I do not mind if we must stay in an inn prior to the halls the Ur family have prepared. Just get me out of the Shire and its stuffy protocols and dances.”

Balin harrumphs. “Interesting pivot. I thought you enjoyed being in the Shire.”

Thorin snorts. “Whatever gave you that misconception?” he wonders.

Balin’s gaze slips down to the egg that Thorin is currently stabbing. “I recall the years you spent rebuilding Erebor after the attack by the firedrake,” he says. “You were so determined to restore the Kingdom Under the Mountain you nearly killed yourself from overwork. Not even your grandfather or father had the same devotion you had to the whole effort — not that I would fault them, of course, since your grandfather believed the attack was all his fault, and your father was devoted to caring for him until the bitter end. But that did put the burden of the kingdom on your shoulders far sooner than you deserved.”

Thorin sets down his fork. “I do not understand what you intend to say with this,” he states.

“I’m saying that the Thorin I knew would not run away from something worth fighting for,” replies Balin.

“What makes you think this madness is worth fighting for?” mutters Thorin, though the words are mostly swallowed by the tight, painful knot in his stomach. “He is engaged. It is over.”

“Does he love her?” wonders Balin.

Thorin remembers that the entire point of their charade had been to avoid Miss Bracegirdle in the first place. He shakes his head.

Balin chuckles drily at that. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, I have never seen a pair of stone-headed dolts like you and Mr Baggins in all my life. Actively trying to sabotage yourselves into doing the dutiful, respectable thing when it was clear you two were better off with one another!”

“Did I not tell you it was all a charade?” wonders Thorin, now very much not thinking about the last words passed between him and Bilbo. “That everything you saw at those dances, those promenades... was a lie?”

None of this is part of the charade, if you must know. I was genuinely concerned about you, because, for some Giver-forsaken reason, I’ve come to genuinely care about you.

Have you considered that maybe there are people out there who would think you even braver if you’d step back and let them worry about you for a bit?

“Was it?” wonders Balin. “Was it truly? I know some incredible actors from troupes in Gabigathol and I highly doubt any of them could feign such happiness. Not to mention you, Your Majesty, are no theatre actor. I seem to recall Dís and Dáin kicking you out of the family plays because of that.”

Thorin chuckles ruefully. “I admit, after a while his company was not the ordeal I had feared it would be. I enjoyed being with him far too much to stay away.”

“And you’re going to give that up?”

Thorin sighs. “But he is betrothed already, Balin.”

Balin snorts. “I seem to recall a conversation between the two of you at the Brandywine River Promenade where he mentioned that Hobbits can elope to avoid unwanted matches.”

Just after Auntie Camellia and Cousin Otho leave, Lobelia sweeps off to the dressmaker in Hobbiton to go check on (and possibly berate) the folks working on her trousseau. Bilbo groans, already a little lightheaded from the whiskey, as he and Holman clear up the elevensies spread to get ready for luncheon.

“I owe you another bottle,” he says to Holman, wiggling the near-empty flask. Holman chuckles at that.

“I shouldn’t have decided to hide it there, sir,” he says. “My apologies.”

“It came in handy in a tight pinch,” replies Bilbo. “Quite lucky, if you ask me.”

There’s another knock at the door at that moment, and Bilbo groans. “Should I tell them you’re not home?” wonders Holman.

“I can hear you two through the window, you know,” says Gandalf’s voice not a moment later. Bilbo sighs, shaking his head at Holman.

“Let’s see what Gandalf wants,” he suggests.

Apparently what Gandalf wants is some leftover scones and a thorough dressing-down of Bilbo’s decision to marry Lobelia Bracegirdle. “Clearly I have not been coming around the Shire as often as I need to,” he declares through a mouthful of clotted cream and jam. Bilbo sends a long-suffering look at Holman as his valet fills Gandalf’s teacup for him. “Lobelia Bracegirdle, after all this time of avoiding her?”

“I am tired, Gandalf,” replies Bilbo. “The Golden Hare is tired of running.”

“And it really took Thorin Oakenshield for you to give up your ideas about true love?” wonders Gandalf. “Whatever could have transpired between the two of you? I thought the two of you were getting along splendidly.”

“We were,” agrees Bilbo, even as his chest tightens at the memory of Thorin’s words to him under the Party Tree, his face shadowed even under lanterns and moonlight.

Even though I hold you in the highest regard, I still do not intend to marry.

“We were,” he repeats, loosening his hands against the armrest of his chair. “But he made it clear he will not marry, not even now. Not even after what we have been through together.”

Gandalf’s bushy brows furrow. “So what was the point of your courtship?”

“We were just fooling the Shire for a little while,” replies Bilbo. “Feign a courtship so Erebor-Shire relations don’t get strained by his abysmal manners, and so I can throw off any insincere suitors. Not sure how much that worked out for me, though.”

Gandalf harrumphs. “And yet in spite of that you fell for him anyway.”

Bilbo hates it when Gandalf manages to suss out his inner thoughts with only a couple well-placed questions. “You know that’s ridiculous,” he says. “I am a Baggins of Bag End. I cannot just fall in love with a Dwarf-king.” No matter how big and strong, no matter how kind and gentle.

Gandalf scoffs. “And since when did Bilbo Baggins care to put limits on who he loves? I used to recall a young hobbit who’d go running off into the forests to find himself ‘a Lúthien Tinúviel’ — a hobbit raised on stories of adventures and true love conquering all, who’d like nothing more than to see beyond the borders of the Shire and marry for love like his parents!”

Bilbo sighs. “Those are just stories, Gandalf.”

“And true love is not just in stories,” retorts Gandalf. “It is out there, waiting for you to find it in whatever shape it comes in.”

A silence falls between them then, as Bilbo contemplates the shades of grey on Gandalf’s coat, as well as his mother’s painting hanging on the wall just behind the Wizard’s head. Bilbo had finally taken it back from the Mathom-house, and now the memories of Thorin’s hands and lips come flooding back all at once.

“You should be chewing out Thorin, not me,” he says after a moment. “I wasn’t the one who pushed us apart.”

Gandalf harrumphs. “I am sure Thorin is already hearing no end of it from his advisor Balin,” he replies. “I can worry about your current situation instead. Do you truly intend to go through with this marriage to Miss Bracegirdle?”

Bilbo grimaces. “Do I have a choice?”

“This is madness,” says Thorin. “He will not take me back.”

“It is worth trying,” replies Balin. “At least he will know the true extent of your feelings, rather than whatever you said to drive him away last time.”

“Surely there will be people in Erebor opposed to the notion of me with a Hobbit,” protests Thorin. “We have not even known one another for that long.”

“And with all due respect, thinking too much about the potential negatives will only make things worse.” Balin’s eyes twinkle. “Just go find him at the Elostirion ball, Thorin, and apologise.”

“And if he is not there?”

Balin hums. “He will be.”

“I believe a certain time-honoured tradition could be your way out of this predicament,” says Gandalf, causing Bilbo to snap back to attention. “Find Thorin at the Elostirion ball, and remind him of it.”

Bilbo scoffs. “He’s not going to show up to that,” he says.

Gandalf’s eyes twinkle in reply, and he calmly yet knowingly sips his tea.

Bilbo sighs. “Fine. I’ll go. To apologise for my last words to him. He deserves that much, at least.”

Gandalf chuckles. “That’s the spirit.”

#tolkien #the hobbit #bagginshield #lily's dabbles #bridgerton au #whispers bilbo can't even drink champagne without seeing thorin's faaaaaace

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deathonyourtongue · 4 years

Text

Winter Passing | Chapter 7

Summary: After car accident leaves him at the base of a mountain with no sign of civilization for miles, a breakup is the least of Henry’s problems. Just as death’s icy fingers begin to coil around him, salvation presents itself in the form of an old cabin in a clearing. Despite years of being told fairy tales and ghost stories that warn against such things, he uses his last of his strength to reach the cottage. When he wakes, he finds not a demon, but an angel, long removed from the insanity of the modern world. Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x OFC Word Count: 3K Warnings: A microscopic amount of smut. And an apparition that’s a little gory. A/N : Who wants to guess which actress plays Tabitha? Like what I do? Buy me a coffee (or a commission)!

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Over the next few days, Olivia and Henry fell into a pattern. She’d wake before him, usually to a report of the night’s happenings from Dyster, who’d taken to patrolling ever since Tiago had come and gone. By the time Henry woke, Olivia was making breakfast, and the two would share quiet conversation about everything and nothing. She learned he was an actor who’d had something of a big break, and--up until the accident--had been looking for the perfect follow-up script to keep his momentum going. Henry learned what Olivia was willing to share about her practice and her past, but overall, she remained something of a mystery to him. While that was usually a turn-off for him, with Olivia, it only added to the entrancing nature of her and the place she called home.

Once Henry’s injuries healed completely, he began pulling his weight around the property. He became the early bird, always up and outside when Olivia woke to Dyster’s pecking at her window. She’d never asked, but without fail she’d find him either chopping wood, or taking care of the animals. Though she often wondered what his motivations were for being so helpful, it didn’t take long for Olivia to realize that he simply enjoyed being busy and useful, a quality that made a bigger impression on her than his smile or charm ever could have.

“Good morning, love,” Henry panted as he came in, stomping the snow off his boots and wiping them as best he could before trying to toe out of them with a stack of wood in his arms.

“Here, let me take these,” Olivia smiled, not missing how rosy his cheeks got whenever he exerted himself outside in the nipping cold. If she were truthful with herself, Olivia would admit to having more than just a passing fancy for the man who’d been on death’s door not two weeks prior; she was truly starting to fall for the handsome Brit, and each day they spent in each other’s company, her heart opened just a little further.

Taking the wood from Henry, she moved to the living room, placing the cut logs on the top of the already-neat pile of dried wood. Olivia couldn’t stop her smile as she watched Henry make a beeline for the kitchen, ruffling the top of Gunnar’s head absently as he peeked at everything that was cooking on the stove.

“You outdo yourself every day, darling. I can’t wait!” Henry said with genuine awe and excitement, his blue eyes brighter than ever. His expression sent a rush through Olivia, her heart fluttering and her own cheeks ruddying as she moved to check on breakfast, gently nudging him out of her way and earning herself a chuckle in the process.

“Won’t have to wait much longer. Food’s ready,” she smiled, Olivia laughing sweetly as she watched Henry bolt into action, grabbing plates, cups, and cutlery. By the time she reached the table with the skillet, Henry had already poured their tea and had her plate in hand, ready to serve her first.

It was the little things--like always serving her first--that became endearing; things Olivia knew she’d miss once spring came and Henry was able to go back to his normal life. He was a thoughtful man without any need for validation, and while she figured that part of it was that she’d saved his life, Olivia liked to think that it was mostly just the product of being raised by someone just as thoughtful and caring.

“Thank you,” she murmured softly, Olivia’s eyes closing as she felt Henry’s large hand smooth over her hair, her expression one she rarely wore. So rarely in fact, that even Gunnar noticed, the husky cocking his head to one side in confusion. For the first time in a long time, Olivia seemed content.

“Of course. Thank you for cooking,” Henry replied without hesitation, his smile warm as he served himself.

They ate in amicable silence, bites occasionally interrupted by a glance up at one another, glances that quickly shifted back to their plates, their smiles ear-to-ear. Though neither could deny their attraction, neither was ready to make the first move, so they danced around it, taking what they could in secret smiles, little touches, and--in another quickly-formed routine--solo time spent thinking of the other while they worked out their desires in the most primal of ways.

Alone time had become just as much a part of their routine as anything else, and like clockwork, when breakfast was over, Olivia headed outside to forage, while Henry moved to bathe. Though it was an unspoken agreement, it wasn’t without its perils, and more than once Olivia had walked back inside either to the sounds of his moans, or to him, still wet, moving from the bath to his room to dress. It was frustrating, to say the least, but made for quick work on her part when Henry moved outside to finish whatever chore he’d started before breakfast.

When they’d both had their fill, life would return to normal. With no TV or electricity, they spent the daylight hours reading, writing, and occasionally playing a board game. It was a peaceful existence, one which, aside from the company of Henry, went largely unchanged for Olivia. It was a pleasant surprise to not have to veer so far from her routine as to turn her world upside down. Even her daily practice went unchanged, as Henry seemed to have a preternatural ability to tell when she was ready to use her altar or crack open her book, and without fail he would head to his room to nap or read in bed, always with a warm smile and a gentle touch as he made his way.

Nighttime was when the cottage came alive. It always began with dinner, Henry taking over cooking duties while Olivia handled the drinks. With her hand-crank record player providing a quiet soundtrack, the two danced, drank, and ate without a care. The more they drank, the more affectionate they became with one another, and more often than not, the two would end up on the couch, snuggling together as the snow fell outside. The combination of Henry’s charms and the alcohol flowing through her veins, brought Olivia’s walls down further and further. Each night, her carefully guarded history came out, chapter by chapter, a bedtime story for Henry, who always lay listening intently, as she played with his curls. Though more open, Olivia’s tales were always about her personal history, never about her life as it related to her craft, and Henry knew it would take more than a few drunken evenings for him to earn that part of her story.

“What’s something you believed when you were younger that you know to be false now?” Henry asked, his eyes closed in pure bliss as Olivia’s fingers traced lightly over his face, releasing muscles he didn’t even realize had been tense as he lay with his head in her lap.

“Love magic. Like any other little girl, I believed in all the syrupy-sweet hag tales of frogs turning into princes, true love’s kiss, finding ‘the one’. All a load of crap when you grow up and realize people are cruel to one another and that no one truly cares about your heart if it gets in their way. Even the ‘spells’ I cast back then were silly and sappy.”

“Like what?” Henry asked, his smile ear-to-ear as he opened his eyes to gaze up at Olivia. With his expression so tender and sweet, Olivia found herself saying the words on autopilot, one hand placed over Henry’s heart while the other continued to outline his features.

“By the loving heart of Hecate, by fire, air, earth, and sea, please draw my love to me. Someone to love with all my soul, once we’re together we’ll both be whole. I’ll give my love freely, I’ll love him completely, please Hecate, bring my love to me. As I do say, so mote it be!” Each phrase matched a line traced over Henry’s face, and it wasn’t until she’d closed the spell that Olivia realized what she’d done. Waiting for a tell that the spell had worked, she felt relief when she couldn’t feel a change on the wind. A blush colored her face as Henry looked up at her once more, a gentility in his expression that she couldn’t get enough of.

“Silly or not, that’s a lovely sentiment, darling. There’s nothing wrong in asking for the love you deserve.” Sitting up, Henry made Olivia feel light as a feather as he picked her up and set her in his lap with ease. His hand was warm as he cupped her face, his eyes searching hers. “It may not have worked when you were a child, but now that you’re a grown woman, I’d chance it to say things might go differently.”

Without another word, Henry leaned in and pressed his lips to Olivia’s. It felt as though the earth stood still, Olivia’s heart feeling too big for her chest as she returned the kiss with the utmost passion. Allowing the dam that held her feelings to crumble, she slung her arms around Henry’s neck, getting lost in the softness of his lips and the tickle of his beard.

Henry felt as though he were floating, the experience of kissing Olivia different from any other woman he’d been with. Her lips were nectar-sweet, and the scent of all the herbs she worked with enveloped him in a warmth unlike any other. He felt his heart skip a beat as she settled in his embrace, silently showing that she was just as much at peace with him, as he was with her. The words of the spell echoed in his mind, and Henry couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, knowing at least one passage had come to pass; it seemed as though, in the few weeks they’d known each other and traipsed around their affections for one another, their first kiss truly had made them whole.

“Yes, hello officer. I’d like to report a missing person. Yes, my boyfriend, Henry. He’s been missing for...almost three weeks now? When did I last see him? Oh, well, the day he moved out. You see, we had a little…Spat and he thought it meant we were over, but that was hardly the case. Yes, I’m very worried. Describe him? Well, he’s quite handsome, in the Prince Charming kind of way. Dark hair that curls something awful if he doesn’t keep it trimmed. Blue eyes. Tall, at least six feet. Muscular, but not a body builder by any means. He’s British. I last saw him pulling away in his Escalade--well, not his to be truthful. It was mine and I sold it to him for a dollar when his old car broke down...Oh, right, of course. He said he’d found an apartment on the north side of town. Why he’d want to make the commute to New York that much harder for himself, I’ll never understand. Oh? Yes, he’s an actor, if you can call it that. I called it a vain pursuit, but that’s just me. No, no family here, I’m afraid. I’m his family. Yes, of course! My number is…”

Tabitha Norwood’s voice was sickly-sweet, her smile beaming as she spoke to the detective she’d been transferred to. Standing in her kitchen, she pressed the phone to her ear with her shoulder, her perfectly-manicured red nails an accent to her delicate fingers, which busied themselves with tightly closing the lid of a small jar. When finished, she placed the jar by her open window, and washed her hands, her sphynx, Fluffy, jumping onto her shoulder just as the detective hung up.

“Don’t worry, boy. We’ll find him. He can’t have gone very far.” She smiled, tucking one side of her copper bob behind her ear, her smile never once faltering.

“Oh fuck, Henry! Yes, right there! Don’t stop!” Olivia’s back arched high off the mattress as Henry’s hips slammed hard into hers, their bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. Her voice hoarse from the filthiest, most orgasmic foreplay she’d ever had, she was certain Henry would be her total undoing, tea leaves be damned. Every stroke of his length inside her was heavenly, and Olivia didn’t hesitate to plant Henry firmly at the top of her ‘Best I Ever Had’ list, mentally kicking Henry’s predecessor off the podium, unable to remember what her other lovers even looked like as her new love brought her to the mountaintop.

She came with his name on her lips, Henry following suit, his body trembling as visibly as hers was. They lay still connected for some time, indulging in afterglow kisses and feather-light touches, both Henry and Olivia thrilled by how the night had turned out.

Were it not for Dyster’s sudden pecking at the window and Gunnar’s alarm-growl, everything would have been perfect. Henry and Olivia both jumped, but for very different reasons, Henry startled by the noise and Olivia on full alert, understanding her animals’ calls better than anyone. Pulling out of her as gently as he could, Henry scrambled to put his pants on while Olivia wrapped her robe around her body, moving to the window once she was covered.

Though her first instinct was to open the window to speak with her raven, Dyster flew away just as her hand went for the sill and in doing so, allowed Olivia’s gaze to see what had caused all the ruckus.

Outside, by her altar, stood a woman in white. Despite a veil covering her face, Olivia recognized her immediately. A shiver ran through her and tears filled her eyes within seconds. Stuck in place, she watched as the woman held up a grotesque effigy of a child. Deformed in every possible way, the infant’s cries were terrifying and made it clear it was in pain.

In her practice, Olivia asked for very little, preferring instead to give from her heart, and receive only that which the goddess and the lesser gods she worshipped deemed suitable for her to receive. This was a clear message that someone was displeased.

Olivia jumped when Henry’s hand wrapped around her shoulder, and without needing to think, she pushed him away and out of sight. “Stay there. Whatever you hear next, stay where you are.”

There was no room for discourse as Olivia moved to action, yanking open her nightstand and pulling out a long test tube with a cork stopper. Stepping through her door, she opened the tube and let the contents spill into a neat line on the floor. Olivia hopped over it and did the same with the window sill both in her room and the attached bathroom. With one final line at the bathroom door, she changed out of her robe and into a dress, wiped her eyes, and headed downstairs.

Henry sat on the bed, eyes unblinking as he listened for every minute sound he could make out. At first, he heard only the child and the creaks of the house as Olivia moved around downstairs. Gunnar’s bark and Dyster’s cawing came next, both animals clearly agitated beyond reason. Finally, he heard Olivia’s voice, stronger and more firm than he’d ever heard it before.

“GO BACK FROM WHENCE YOU CAME, EVIL SPIRIT! YOUR MASK FOOLS NO ONE! LEAVE THIS PLACE IN PEACE!”

There was no stopping Henry from bolting to the window as an ear-piercing shriek cut through the clearing, and though he might have brushed things off as simply his overactive imagination before, there was no denying what he saw. As Olivia threw a bucket of salt in the direction of the woman, she began to dissolve, reminding Henry of cotton candy in water. Closing his eyes tightly, he pressed the heels of his palms over them, willing the image of the woman’s unhinged jaw and oozing mouth to leave his mind as quickly as it entered.

After a few minutes, Olivia came back inside, and it took only a moment for Henry to realize she was sobbing. Quickly, he moved downstairs, his heart breaking for Olivia as he found her crumpled on the floor by the hearth. Hearing his footsteps, she looked up with a hitched inhale, quickly wiping her eyes in embarrassment.

“Who was that, love?” Henry asked, stopping at the foot of the stairs, his face making it clear that his only concern was for her and her well-being.

“That…” Olivia’s lower lip quivered and more tears slid down her cheeks as she fought to speak. “That was an apparition with my mother’s face.”

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill fic #fic #deathonyourtongueoriginals #winter passing

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jokertrap-ran · 4 years

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[Drama CD] 7′Scarlet Limited Edition Bonus CD: According to the candy in the skull Translations

*Commissioned by @melynir, Thank you! *Spoiler free: Translations under cut

Commissions are still open!

Who is it…? Hurry and name yourself!

I can’t believe it...There’s a murderer among us?

Don’t do this, please! It’s not good to be suspecting each other like this...I can’t...I can’t stand doing this!

You can’t be joking, right? Are you serious? And in the first place…

Yeah. I’m dead serious. There’s certainly someone here among us who’s a murderer, wearing the facade of a human; an undead who has returned to the living.

7’Scarlet limited edition drama CD: According to the candy in the skull.

Undead…? I do know that there’s been a story being passed down around this place that dates back to a long time ago. But...are you...are you seriously saying that it’s true?

That’s right, Kushinada-san. Look. Look closely at the eyes of the owner. He doesn’t seem like he’s joking in the least bit now, does he? And he’s the one who brought it up…

Do you think I’d joke about something like this!? If you’re going to continue fussing about this and being in denial, Isora, I’m going to write you off as the undead himself!

Wha- Why!?

Calm down, both of you! How about you look at Kagatsuchi instead? It seems like he has somehow come to a conclusion about this matter.

R-Really!? Hino-kun!

...Well, I guess.

There’s no longer any need to withhold any information back. Now, Kagatsuchi. Will you tell us exactly what it is that you’ve figured out?

Ngh!

Very well. I’ve actually felt that something was off for quite some time now, but I simply shrugged it off, thinking that it was just my imagination. However, after watching his actions and behaviours for some time...that feeling only got stronger.

Enough of the long-winded talk, Kagetsuchi. Just point the guy out already. Who’s the undead? The murderer not of this world!

I’ll leave the explanations for later then. I’ll tell you who this murderer who’s been making the death toll increase here in Okuzaneto! The worst murderer of this generation! Are you all prepared?

Y-Yes, I am.

Yeah…!

Of course.

The undead...is you!!

What!?

Isora, you say!?

Heh. Hahahaha!! There’s nothing I can do now that I’ve been found out. I’m the undead that has just been introduced by yours truly…

Argh!! Wait a minute--! I really don’t want to act as the undead anymore! I don’t wanna!!

Hey! Isora! That line wasn’t written in the script!

It doesn’t have anything to do with the lines! I can’t help not wanting to do what I don’t want to! I don’t like it! Why do I have to be the undead!?

It’s a role that has to be filled!

You lost at rock-paper-scissors!

Just accept it already.

It’s not like I can, either! I’ve never died before, so I don’t understand how the undead’s supposed to be feeling!

Isora-kun...If your words are true, then you won’t be able to act. Acting, you see, is to express and show something that can never happen; to bring something that you;ve never experienced into reality. Actors who cannot act without having prior experience before will never make it far in this world and they’ll never be able to score a big job either!

You know...It’s not like I want to be an actor in the future or anything.

What? Neko-megane! You seem awfully knowledgeable about these things?

Ah! Could you, perhaps-!?

Urk! O-Oh no…

Could it be that-!?

Please, Hino-kun. Don’t go on any further…!

You’re an only child!?

Ah...That’s all?

Kagutsuchi...You should stop that habit of yours of immediately assuming any and everything. Plus I’ve never heard you assuming anything else about him, other than him being an only child.

I can guess his blood type too!

K-Kagetsuchi! If I may please hear more about that?

I don’t care about his status as the only child or his blood type! Can someone else please take the role of the undead!? It’s not for me. It’s not like I’ve ever acted before. I’m not really good at it and I don’t aspire to be an actor in the future either!

Isora! There’s no need for all that! The only question here is, will you do it or not?

He totally took Isora’s words as if he was just talking to himself…

It’s one thing to make Isora feel that strongly about something, but in all honesty, I’m not one to be putting up with this farce either. Besides, why do I, of all people, have to act in something like this? I am THE Yuzuki, you know?

It’s not like we have a choice either. We’re lacking in manpower. Plus, we only roped you in under the Owner’s orders via Yuki.

Honestly, for crying out loud...Right, someone go fetch Yuki here. I bet he’s the one who came up with the casting and the scenarios. I’m going to make him amend everything before my very eyes!

Yuki says that he’ll only be back late because he has some stuff to wrap up in a meeting regarding a live tomorrow.

A meeting, you say? So he’s off having tea with some idol while I’m stuck here being an embarrassment on his whim?

Well...But he said that Eito-san won’t be participating, despite being the lead. So everyone brought up the question of whether a meeting can really be held without the star.

But, she said that “I cleared my schedule the day before the show so I can give it my all when the live comes!”

Oh? Really? Wait, Neko-megane!? You’re awfully knowledgeable about Eito-sama…

Ahh!! Now, could you perhaps-!?

O-Oh no!!

Enough of this turn of events; we’ve heard it plenty.

This act of ours is supposed to come before that live, right? Why is this even required?

Seems like everything was set up according to Eito’s wishes! And Yuki whipped up a script real quick after having received the job.

Yuki seems really taken with Eito. I’m sure he went all “Leave it to me! I’ll pour all of my heart and soul into coming up with the script!”

I’m kind of indebted to him…

Even still, why did you have to drag all the people staying in this inn right now? Can’t you just leave this to the high-schoolers or something?

That was also because of Eito’s request. Am I right, Neko-megane?

“Yes. Hanamaki-san would be happier about it if that were the case. And I wanted to join too…”

“I wanted to join too?”

“No, I wanted to play the role of an adult once!” So, Yuki-kun said.

He was the one who wrote this script...but who would’ve thought that it would be centered around the undead. Isn’t this going too far?

Well, I think he also wanted to do something Okunezato-esque.

But it’s not all that unusual to do a play based on old myths and legends either, right?

Even after all that, this is still a piece that has quite a bit of suspense in it so we need actors with an adequate amount of acting ability.

How ridiculous. We’re not actors, therefore we’ve got no responsibility nor obligation to be acting in this.

Well, I don’t disagree with acting itself. It’s pretty fun, actually. Oh! Or is it that the Owner’s embarrassed to appear up the stage alone while acting?

Don’t be stupid. I’ve already gotten used to appearing alone a long time ago. Speaking off...I dare say that my acting skill is the best out of all of us here. I may look like this, but I’ve received the best pity acting award during my time in school when I had a part to play in the school’s play!

The best pity...acting...award? Isn’t that bad?

In any case! I’m taking my leave from here! I’m not signing to act like a bunch of monkeys under the farce of a play.

Wait. Don’t be so quick to come to a decision, Owner. Yuki-kun went through all the effort of writing the script! Are you sure you want to put all his hard work to waste? He, who managed to pen all of this down during his free-time even though he was all so busy? The script is one thing, but it must have been hard for him to set everything up like this. Adding all of the time he might have spent on this, just how much effort do you think he put into this?

...You’re actually counting them all?

It is said that the average pay is 50,000Yen. Which means that he should have netted about a hundred or so Yen per shift.

Has Sousuke-san gone stir-crazy…?

But he hasn’t sought payment as if he were working a shift. He was simply doing what he needed to be. Therefore, I think that he has to be repaid in some way, even if it’s to bring what he was working on into reality. Don’t you think so?

Ah...Someone should stop him.

Besides, if we’re so ready to blindside how much work a girl’s putting in, then perhaps we should make the men drop the amount of shifts they’re taking and-

Err, in other words, he’s trying to say that we should do it since Yuki had put so much effort into it. He’d be sad if we don’t so won’t you help us out here?

Amari! That’s just it! That was exactly what I wanted to say!

Seriously? All I just did just now was to wing it-

For Yuki’s sake…? It’s kind of unfair for you to be throwing such a lowball, but...I’ll do it.

Ehhhh? He accepted pretty readily!?

Only this time. And I have a condition.

What is it?

Change the script. It’s not good to be fooling around like that with a script revolving around the undead. It goes against the very will of Okunezato. No matter how much effort Yuki has placed into this, I won’t allow something like that.

After acting along with us this far? I wonder why you’re saying this only now, all of a sudden?

Owner...he must have remembered all the lines by heart. I mean, he’s the only one who didn’t bring a script with him…

Right!? I’m sure he prepared before coming here!

You all...Are you pretending not to have heard what I just said?

No...I understand where you’re coming from. But in all honesty, it’s also pretty hard for me to call this scenario that Yuki has written up to be a job well done.

Really? I think it’s pretty interesting, though.

And just which part exactly are you referring too?

Which part? Well…

The part where the undead opened his mouth and spewed fire, burning everything into ashes! That was impactful!

I don’t really know about that, myself. I mean, destroying the stage? That’s a recipe for disaster.

That’s why we need it to be re-written! So no accidents and woes happen!

It’s fine, isn’t it? It’s just fiction! It’s just a corpse, anyway. And the ending was great too! Everyone breaks out into a dance after the undead being is defeated!

Were you already prepared to break out in dance…? REWRITE!

I suppose rewrite it is...But what will we do about the script? The act’s slated for tomorrow and there’s no way we can write up a new one now.

Simple! We just have to have an original story to base it off. If we are to use an old legend and myth like we’re doing right now, there are tons of it out there!

Ahh...I see. Then...How about Momotaro?

It’s lame but It’s been turning up in commercials lately so it wouldn’t be that odd of a story to be replacing it with. The era, though…

Okaay! It’s decided then. Who wants to be Momotaro? Whoa, wait a minute! 5 people can’t be playing Momotaro!

So you say, but you’ve got your hand raised too.

I’m glad to see that everyone’s enthusiastic about this.

Way too enthusiastic, don’t you think!? Even the Owner has his hand up!

Okay, okay! 5 people acting as Momotaro’s just plain impossible!

Really? I heard that some other place had everyone acting as Momotaro though.

There’s no need to compare to them now, is there? Plus, if everyone’s playing Momotaro, then where’s the bird, the monkey and the dog!? And even if we did make it to the island, there wouldn’t be any Oni.

It’s certainly interesting, but don’t you think this would be hard to act out? If we add the old man and the old woman...5 people wouldn’t even be close to enough.

What if we ask Tsukiyomi-san and Karasuma-san?

The declined.

They...declined…? There was an option of declining!?

He turned it down immediately, thinking of it as simply being a gag prank.

Ugh! I totally thought that I absolutely had to participate in this no matter what…How could I have foreseen this…!?

You know, I’ve always wondered about this ever since I was a kid, but Momotaro must really be one lucky guy to not have died after the Old woman opened the peach as she did. I mean, she sliced it cleanly into half...Oh! How about we have a suspense scene for that? A Momotaro murder! The catchphrase...right! Who killed Momotaro!?

The perpetrator’s the old woman, isn’t it?

To hide the evidence of the act she committed, she closed up the peach and sealed it back up.

And the Old man came back from the mountains, only to be roped into her own conspiracy…

I really can’t see the old granny doing that though...but...I’m kind of interested to hear what comes next!

...Enough. Anyway, we should really think about an act that includes all 5 of us, each in different roles.

Then...How about Urashima Taro? You can be Otohime-sama, Owner.

Rejected! Next.

Then Kintaro! No girls appear in there so it’s settled, isn’t it?

Okaaay! Who wants to be Kintaro? Wha- NOBODY!?

Kintaro...he ends up naked after all.

I...Being naked’s NG for me.

Like hell I’m going to bare my chest for all to see just because of this! REJECTED. Next!

Then, Chikarataro!

No, no, it should be Monogusataro.

Sannetaro!!

Enough of the Taro series! Move away from it! Taro, taro, taro..Enough of it!! Isn’t there anything else!? Something simple! Something that everyone knows!

How about you suggest something then? You were the one who wanted a change of the script, so shouldn’t you suggest something!?

It’s not like I can help it now, can I? Let’s go about this logically. There’s not enough time right not to make an entirely new script. Therefore, it’s only plausible if we go for a story that all of us know; all five of us. In other words, there’s only THAT story.

What’s “that”?

Shakespeare!

Shake...-!?

There’s no way we can go wrong with this. It’s not an exaggeration to say that the entire world knows of his works. It may be embarrassing to act his works out, but there is no easier play to enact in this world than shakespeare. All of his stories are famous beyond famous. So even if we’re only capable of doing a patchy job...Hm? What’s wrong? You’re all being so silent!

Ah!? My…!

Ah...Shakespeare, you say?

Indeed. Which of his stories would you prefer? I’ll let you have the option of at least that much.

Ahh, anything’s fine! Right?

Y-Yeah…! That one’s fine and that one too! Right, Kushinada-san!?

Ah...Yes! The tearful one might be good! They say that nothing’s better than a sob-story, right?

Hm…? Kushinada? Which story are you talking about…?

Ah…That one. You know, the one where someone dies…?

Hm...That’s hard. Most of Shakespeare's works end in tragedy. It’s hard to pin-point which one you’re talking about unless you’re more detailed about it. Isora, which work is he referring to?

Ehh!? W-Which!? The emotional one! You know where the main character dies...or not...or so!

And, you know…! Where the main character falls into despair...or not...or so!?

I...see?

A UFO...UFO!!!

You guys...are you saying that none of you know of Shakespere? Is this how it is, Kagutsuchi?

Urk...I don’t know! Goddamnit! I do know of at least Romeo and Juliet though! But something famous beyond famous!?

S-Sorry...it didn’t really feel like I could deny it...There’s nothing but Shakespere, yeah...actually, Shakespeare, who?

It’s finally out now! I don’t know and it’s hard lying about it like that! Having everything out in the open like this feels much better, right? Right!?

No, all of you were pretty interesting. I never thought that he’d take all of you so seriously when you were all just pretending to have understood whatever he had been going on about. I suppose this is truly what ad-lib acting is!

Sousuke-san, you know about it?

Of course! It would do you good to remember the 4 great tragedies at least! Macbeth, Othello, King Lear, Romeo and Juliet. They’re all also famous beyond their time!

Huh? Amadeus? Learlo? Riaju?

It’s all muddled up, you know.

But! I know at least Romeo and Juliet!

Ahem! “Oh Romeo! Where art thou Roemo!”

Enough! Anyway, Owner. Anything Shakesperaren is out of the cards! It’s simply an impossible undertaking!

Isn’t there anything easier? Something with simple enough lines that all of us know about!?

Kushinada, suggest something.

M-Me!? Then...how about Cinderella or-

Blergh! Don’t you think it’s a little disgusting for all the actors to be men for that?

I don’t particularly mind.

Y-You don’t!?

Ahem! “Cinderella! Please finish cleaning the house up before we return home!”

Hey, Kagutsuchi! Don’t go off starting it all on your own like that! And why in the world are you voicing all the female roles!?

“Oh no! The seams on my dress have come off. Fix it for me!”

Did something like that even happen!?

Well then. “I’m going to the ball! I’ll be leaving the night shift to you then~!”

Aren’t there way too many of her mean sisters here?

“Allow me to magic up this pumpkin…!”

Kushinada…! The fairy godmother has appeared even though Cinderella hasn’t made a debut. Isn’t this bad!?

Hurry, Owner! Cinderella! You’re Cinderella!!

You mean...you’re making…me. Me! You’re making me participate in this...farce?

So, say something?

“Ah...I want to go to the ball too…”

CUUUUUUUT!! Owner! You’re way too despondent about this! Are you even putting your heart in this!?

Don’t turn the tables on me! You had other choices, didn’t you!?

Ehh? But it was proceeding on pretty smoothly!

Kushinada...You haven’t really read Cinderella before, have you? Your fairy godmother seems like it came right out of ‘The man who made flowers bloom’!

Seems like we went a full circle from Momotaro and back again to these old tales.

Did not!!

Argh!! We can’t seem to be able to decide anything at all! And look at the time! Can we really settle this and come up with something new before tomorrow!?

And we said that we’d think of something to base if off since it’s impossible to re-write a script now...but our Cinderella’s practically the original one.

Talk and talk, we did. But we still didn’t decide anything in the end…

Enough. Let’s just stick to the undead story…

That’s right! All we can do now is to do our best with the lines that we’ve already memorised!

Humph. In other words, we were all thrown for a loop...only to come back to the original story about the undead. I suppose there’s nothing we can do about it. It was a mistake to attempt changing out act on such short notice. So let’s go with the undead story. However, let’s change at least the ending.

The ending? Oh! You mean the dance part?

Yes! There’s that too, but this entire story’s ending is way too big for my taste. I’d rather it end off properly, you know?

Then, can’t we just end it off when the undead disappears into the forest? Everything else along with the dance should only come after that.

Right! That’s precisely it! We can’t change too much, else it’ll become a flop.

Let’s do that then! We’ve all already memorized our lines anyway so we’ll only be writing off the big celebration and dance.

What a pity~ The dance was pretty interesting too!

I don’t mind the dance...not really, anyway…

Really!?

Hmmmmmmm? You seem to have all your lines down to pat. Now, now, Yuzuki-sama…?

Did he perfect his dance too!?

I...It was only my responsibility, having taken up this job.

That’s amazing, Owner! I admire actors like that with the hardworking trait! They don’t only remember their own lines, but they also go out of their way to remember everybody’s!

I don’t have to?

Amazing! Owner, you’re a blessing from the gods! A natural-born actor!

No, he’s just a veteran.

The celebration’s a no-go but the dance gets a pass! Alright, once more from the top!

I’ll follow after you, Owner!

Scene 18: Flurin Cafe, start!

Who is it? Hurry and name yourself!

I can’t believe it...There’s a murderer among us?

Don’t do this, please! It’s not good to be suspecting each other like this...I can’t...I can’t stand doing this!

You can’t be joking, right? Are you serious? And in the first place…

Yeah. I’m dead serious. There’s certainly someone here among us who’s a murderer, wearing the facade of a human; an undead who has returned to the living.

Wait, hold up!

What is it now, Isora!? Why are you stopping us again!?

Thinking it through, nothing’s been settled at all! I don’t want to act as the undead! I don’t want to!

You were the one who lost at rock-paper-scissors!

What a sore loser…

Um...we’re repeating the same pattern again..

You have it good, Hino-kun. You have a line that goes “YOU are the undead!!”. I have it pretty hard on the other hand...I mean, what is this line!? “Hehehehe. There’s nothing I can do now that I’ve been found out. I’m the undead that has just been introduced by yours truly, Isora!” This isn’t a vow in a marriage or anything like that!

No good...This doesn’t seem like it’ll get itself settled anytime soon...

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cuddlykillers · 4 years

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Screamtober 2020 - Day 2. Rain Storm

Paulo Ravinski x Reader

“And...cut! Yes that was it, that was the exact shot I needed!” The Director exclaimed while lowering his camera from it’s angle at you. You never expected trying your hand at an audition for a movie would go so well! Here you were with an impassioned artist of his craft, set to star in his latest feature film. It was like a dream. You smiled to him as you knew everything was wrapping up for the day. It was just you and Mr.Ravinski at an on location set in an old museum, it was decorated so realistically aged for the film you would have believed it if someone had told you it had been abandoned for years. “So then when are the other actors going to arrive?” you asked gently. “Other actors?” He frowned, “Oh, the rest of the cast? No you don’t have any scenes with other characters, my vision is for you to be the very soul of this project. The only essence of life the camera picks up. It’s going to be one of my greatest masterpieces.” He smirked. “Oh! Well then are we going to continue filming for the night or pick back up again tomorrow? It’s getting late and the news said something about a storm earlier, I’d rather not have to drive in.”

“I was planning on filming through the night, if that’s alright with you? I understand it’s tiring work but it’s going to make you a big celebrity when we’re done, think of it - you’re name in lights starring in a Paulo Ravinski Production!” He spoke in an animated way, it may have looked a bit crazy to someone else but truth be told you had been growing fonder and fonder of your director since meeting him during auditions. You smiled through the bags under your eyes and nodded, “If it pleases my director.” You answered with a gentle nod. “Good! Spectacular! Now, let me change out the film in this and we’ll begin on the second act of the film. Only three more scenes to go until the grande finale ending!” He muttered as he turned his full attention to his camera and moved towards a table workspace full of film clippings and camera lenses galore.

You moved over to a nearby table, it was part of the decaying museum but had your bottle of water on it and you needed a drink. Suddenly you heard your distinguished director let out what sounded like a cuss in a language you didn’t recognize. Your head whipped around to the sudden shout from him, “Is everything ok?” You called over to him. “No!” He barked back, “Everything is not okay! Everything is wrong! We’ve been derailed from our project now because of this damn-!” he continued on in a foreign tongue as you calmly approached him during his fit. Something was wrong with the camera, you had deduced that much. “Is the film saved?” You questioned, your hand resting on his shoulder as you peered over it to the camera in his hands. He let out a hard sigh and dropped his hands to his sides, letting his head hang which brought down stray locks of his raven black hair he so often kept slicked to the side.

“The footage we have is fine. It’s the film for the rest of the production that isn’t. It seems that storm you were talking about has hit.” Ravinski elaborated. “There’s a leak there above us from the roof, it seems it’s been splashing down all over my fresh film spools. They’re soaked, which damages the emulsion. It’s unusable now, all of it. We cannot finish the project tonight.”

You brought your other hand to your lips with wide eyes, not so much for filming to officially be wrapped up for the night but for your poor director’s obvious turmoil over this fact. He wasn’t just some hollywood hot shot with a camera, he was a true artist and you saw him for the passionate fanatical creator he was. “Mr.Ravinski, I’m so sorry.” You tried to comfort him but he quickly lifted his head back up and began fixing his blazer, bottling his upset. “You can go now. We’ll continue tomorrow after I’ve gotten new film.” He stoically spoke, though a whisper of defeat was still present to you. “Good night.” His words seemed almost like a command as he continued fiddling away with his cameras and film, busying himself.

“Well, could I give you a ride home?” You questioned, trying to help. “That won’t be necessary. Good night.” He didn’t even look at you. Well artists with their temperamental natures, you supposed. You moved over to the door but before you could open it you realized the parking lot had flooded! Your eyes bulged at the sight of your car sitting in a lake that used to be a parking lot for the museum only a few hours ago. You walked back to your director, “Well it looks like I’m stuck here for the night.” You crossed your arms defeatedly. “We both are.” He answered before turning to look at you. He stepped up closer to you and brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, “Then it seems I’ll have to take care of my movie’s star then.” Was his tone more gentle than usual when he said that? You couldn’t help but shiver a bit, whenever it rained you usually felt extra chilly than usual but was that why you shivered now? “You look cold, here.” He handed off his jacket from his shoulders to yours, it was big on you but warm from his body heat which you welcomed. “Oh! Thank you, Mr.Ravinski.” You smiled politely, trying to hide your blushing cheeks. “Come, let us find you a soft place to rest for the night since we won’t be getting any filming done.” He put his arm around you and began to lead you deeper into the darkened museum as thunder rumbled from above. A sudden loud flash of lightning made you jump slightly bringing the director’s attention to you with a playful grin, “You’re afraid of lightning, are you?” He chuckled quietly. “Not really, it just surprised me is all.” You attempted to play it down but he knew and held you closer and rubbed your arm, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe and sound for tonight.”

He found you a soft fainting couch in one of the nicer rooms of the decaying museum, you were beginning to wonder if perhaps the museum was really abandoned after all but those thoughts quickly shifted back to your director as he looped over you as you lay down. “Thank you, Mr.Ravinski, this is just fine. Cozy in fact.” You situated yourself in the cushions. “Good.” He replied, his eyes moving over you. “What is it?” You asked as he openly stared at you. “Nothing.” He was quick to answer, “Just that you’re so beautiful. Like something chiseled from marble by an ancient artist long lost to time. I only wish my camera could get you from this angle right now but alas, only my eyes are here to see it.” He admitted. You smiled and shifted to stand up wanting to give him a hug for his sweet words but he rushed to your side and knelt down, keeping you from moving. “No, please stay still.” He insisted. You rested your head back and looked to him, your eyes sleepy and hooded as you took in his facial features and his icy eyes. “You’re such a brilliant artist.” The words drifted from your lips, “They way you see the world is more beautiful than you think of me.”

Suddenly, as if possessed by a primal instinct his lips crashed into your own. You welcomed it to his surprise and wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him close. The rain continued pouring down on the roof as thunder and lightning continued it’s storm through the night.

#screamtober #screamtober 2020 #screamtober2020 #paulo ravinski #hhn fluff

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melancholicumsomnia · 3 years

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[FIC] A Little Miracle In The Volume Part 2

A/N: Here’s the second part of my fic contribution to PEDRO PASCAL APPRECIATION WEEK 2021! Part 2 focuses on the #ppaw2021 theme of the day, Favorite TV show Pedro starred in. Obviously, I still loved Pedro best in The Mandalorian, but his performance as Oberyn Martell in Game of Thrones was absolutely exquisite!

Thank you to @pedrohub for the incentive to write this little fic. To @pedrocentric, here is Part 2!

PREVIOUS PARTS

Part 1

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A Little Miracle In The Volume

Rory

Part Two

Pedro was limping back to his trailer, struggling against the urge to massage his aching groin. He had just come from the Volume to film a scene with Gina Carano, who plays Cara Dune, and Misty Rosas, who was playing the Ugnaught Kuiil. It was a simple scene actually, requiring their characters to ride through the rugged terrain of Nevarro in order to make their rendezvous with Carl Weather’s Greef Karga. In the pre-vis, they were going to ride blurrgs. In reality, the blurrgs turned out to be mechanical bulls, but with a wider girth.

Brendan and Lateef had seen the dubious looks he was throwing at the machine and they couldn’t help laughing.

“Come on, man!” Lateef said in between wheezes. “There’s nothing to worry about. That thing won’t buck.”

“Hey! You can’t be Mando just by wearing the armor,” Brendan then goaded him. “You must ride the blurrg. Both Lateef and I have done it, so can you.”

Pedro let out a groan and gritted his teeth at that memory. Even his back was starting to ache in sympathy with his groin. “I guess I’m starting to feel my age. I really need to work out more.”

With his trailer looming not so far from him at last, he quickened his pace, wanting that ice pack he had his assistant prepare for him in the fridge.

Before he could reach it, however, Pedro’s eyes were drawn to Werner Herzog’s trailer nearby. The German director was seated in front of his trailer beneath a beach umbrella, the Child on his lap. He was watching something on his iPad, which was propped up on its stand on top of a small table. Pedro heard snickers and he whirled to see the puppeteers Tamara Woodard, Kan, and Trevor with remote controls in their hands, hiding behind the crates.

Deb Chow happened to be passing by and, when she saw the trio, she remarked, “You guys are the worst! You should really stop feeding that old man’s fantasies!”

“We just want to keep him happy,” Kan answered, flicking a knob so that Pedro saw Grogu’s ears go up. Sagely, he added, “We all know the stories about him and Klaus Kinski. We’re not taking any chances.” The others nodded in grim agreement, causing Deb to roll her eyes, mutter “I give up!” under her breath, and march off.

Curiosity getting the better of him in the end, Pedro cautiously approached that imperious figure. “Hi, what are you guys watching?”

Werner glanced briefly back at him and said dryly, “Oh, it’s you.” Going back to the TV show playing on his iPad, he replied, “Since you are playing our stoic bounty hunter, I thought I should explore your previous works. The Child and I were going to watch Narcos, but since it’s about Pablo Escobar, it might be too violent for the little one. So I figured the best option would be your episode in Game of Thrones.”

“Uhm, I don’t think Game of Thrones is also appropriate viewing for a kid that young,” Pedro commented in turn, only to realize what he just said. Wait! I’m talking about a puppet, not a real kid. Oh my God! This delusion is contagious! Grogu looked up then and gave him a sweet smile. But, then again, he’s so cute! Awww!

Werner’s lips pursed in a disapproving pout. “Yes, I know. I was pouring myself some iced tea when that scene of you in the brothel came on. I couldn’t cover the baby’s eyes fast enough, so he was able to catch an eyeful of ample bosoms and buttocks.” He glanced down at the baby sitting on his lap, wagging a finger. “Remember what Grandpa Werner told you. When you see a scene like that, you must never watch, you must never listen.”

Great! Pedro couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes, just as Deb had done. Now, you’re quoting Grizzly Man at him.

At Werner’s remark, Grogu gazed up at Pedro again. There was no mistaking the now lecherous, toothy grin on his little face and the enthusiastic bobbing up and down of his brows.

Scowling, Pedro turned to the mischievous puppeteers. He mouthed out to them, “Guys! What the fuck?”

In reply, the puppeteers gave him thumbs up and wide, conniving smirks.

“I should say though,” Werner then began thoughtfully, “I am very impressed with your performance here. Oberyn Martell, a proud, head-strong, and seductive prince desiring revenge for his poor sister… In other actors, the arrogance would overwhelm their performance, making him a figure to be detested or, worse, a caricature of similar characters in past films. But, no, behind that façade is kindness and gentleness. It’s because of your eyes, I think, and your voice. You’re speaking with a Latino accent in this one. You are from Mexico?”

“No, Chile actually.”

“You have a splendid way of expressing your emotions through tone of voice. Very few actors can do that. Brilliant performance, young man,” Werner gave that reluctant praise. “I can see why they chose you to play the Mandalorian. Even if you are not wearing the armor, you can still carry the character on your voice alone. How old were you when you did this?” “

“Uh, 38, 39, I guess.”

“And how old are you now?”

“I’m 43.” Pedro was not sure where this line of questioning was going.

“And it is only now that Hollywood has taken notice of your talent.” The German director shook his head ruefully. “Hollywood has become too reliant on the so-called ‘star power.’ I dread to think about the other precious little stars who are going unnoticed.”

Pedro was touched by Werner’s words. “It’s okay, sir. I’ve paid my dues, done my share of waiting on tables as a struggling actor. In fact, after working on Game of Thrones, I couldn’t find a single job. It took months before I got a recurring role on another TV show, The Mentalist.”

“Now, you have made it at last.”

“I’m not letting this current success get to my head. I know just how fickle Hollywood can be. To be very honest, I still don’t have that confidence. All this…” He raised his hands to the media campus surrounding them. “…All the work that I’ve been doing in the past few months, it still seems like a dream to me.”

“And that’s a very good attitude to have. Always be true to yourself. Show people who you truly are.” A wry, fond smile formed on Werner’s lips. “I suddenly remembered Klaus Kinski. He had been extremely difficult. He was a man with serious mental health problems. But he never sought to disguise his true self. It made it very hard for people like me, his family, and other people around him. Despite his foul temper, his brutality, it is that frank, straight-in-your-face honesty, I think that’s what I admired most about him.”

Pedro chuckled. “At least, I’m not hot-tempered like Klaus Kinski.”

A towering hulk of a man marched onscreen on the iPad and Werner gasped. “That is no man! That’s a grizzly bear!”

“That’s Hafþór Júlíus Björnsson, one of the world’s strongest men. He played Ser Gregor Clegane, aka ‘The Mountain Who Rides’, in Game of Thrones.”

At that moment, a bright idea suddenly came into Pedro’s head. Should I dare ask him now? He did just praise me after all. Maybe he is already starting to accept me. Okay, I will!

“Uhm, Mr. Herzog?” Pedro began shyly. “Since you liked my past performances and appreciate my worth as an actor, may you please allow me to spend more time with the baby?”

Werner turned to him sharply, his eyes flashing like daggers. “I appreciate your worth as an actor, true. But it absolutely has nothing to do with caring for this baby.”

Pedro was crestfallen. Still, he persisted, “Sir, please. I promise you that I will and can take good care of the baby. My sister Javiera…she often entrusts the care of her kids to me.”

“But they are not your children! You are a bachelor.” Werner looked him straight in the eye. “How could you be a father to this Child when you aren’t one?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, sir, this Child is a puppet.”

“Then how can you commit to playing a father when you cannot immerse yourself in the fantasy?”

“But how can I commit when you’re keeping the Child all to yourself?”

“I have only three episodes to do in this TV show. I want to make the most of this time I have with him. We have just started filming. You have an entire season to bond with him!”

“No, I don’t! I still have to finish my commitments with Wonder Woman 1984. I only have a single episode with the Child this season, so my time here is short!”

Because the two men were arguing heatedly, none of them noticed that the Child was still watching the episode on the iPad. He was staring enrapt as the trial by combat between Oberyn Martell and the Mountain commenced. Many times, Grogu would look closely at Oberyn’s face and then gaze up admiringly at Pedro.

But then, the Mountain struck back with a vicious blow, knocking out Oberyn’s teeth. As the Child watched in growing horror, the Mountain placed his fingers over Oberyn’s eyes and pressed down.

Both Pedro and Werner were shocked when Grogu let out a high-pitched scream, his eyes wide and waving his little arms frantically. A quick glance at the iPad and Pedro realized why Grogu was in a state of mortal terror.

Before Werner could stop him, Pedro scooped the distraught Child up and started rocking him, patting his back. Grogu kept shaking his little head, rubbing his brow over the soft cloth of the cape hanging above Pedro’s collarbone.

“Sssh! Don’t cry, Grogu,” Pedro whispered soothingly in his ear, being careful that Werner did not hear the Child’s name. “It’s just a TV show. As you can see, I’m okay. He never hurt me.” To his relief, his gentle reassurances gradually calmed the Child down.

Still stunned to silence, Werner could only watch with mouth agape as Pedro placed Grogu back on his lap. To his credit, the Child raised his arms to him, wanting more hugs. Despite his longing, Pedro just gave the little one a gentle smile and a pat on the head.

“Stop watching my past works with the Child,” Pedro scolded the German filmmaker. “None of them are appropriate for kids, except for that one Touched By An Angel episode. I wouldn’t even recommend The Great Wall because he might get scared of the Tao Tei monsters.”

Having given the final word, Pedro limped off to his trailer to get that ice pack and some much-needed rest.

Neither man noticed the perplexed group of puppeteers behind them, all of them staring down at their remote controls. Kan even took to giving his controls little shakes.

When their fellow puppeteer Jason Matthews came over, Trevor asked him, “Hey, Jason! Were you controlling the puppet just now?”

“No, I was in a meeting with Dave.”

Tamara interrupted, “Did you install a mic on the kid because we just heard him scream?”

Jason stared back at them. “What mic? You know that any baby noises will be added by the sound guys later.”

Kan gripped a startled Jason’s arms. “We saw the Child move…by itself! And he also screamed, like a real baby!”

Jason grabbed Kan’s hands and slowly lowered them. “Get a grip, will ya? It’s probably just a minor malfunction. Get the puppet from Mr. Herzog and we’ll check it out.”

“But…but…”

“No buts! You shouldn’t have been playing with it to begin with. You AND Mr. Herzog.”

The puppeteers then walked off, leaving his confused crew behind.

“But…but…we did see the Child move by itself!” they argued back feebly.

TO BE CONTINUED

#ppaw2021 #miracle in the volume fic #real person fic #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #pedrohub #pedrocentric

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padfootagain · 4 years

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The King And You (IX)

Part 9: Up To The Skies

Here comes a new chapter for my Caspian series!! It's gonna be soooo cute!! Honestly though, I am making my own self blush and go 'hiiiiiiiiii' because it is so damn cute!

I hope you like this chapter!

Word Count : 2658

Caspian should have felt guilty.

Guilty for enjoying his time in your world. Guilty for forgetting the tolls of his people during his absence. Guilty for how his mind focused only on how beautiful this world was and so… large. Buildings were rising much higher than any tower he could have dreamt to build, and parks were almost woods, and there were so many people everywhere. It was overwhelming, in a magical kind of way. But it was no excuse to not think about his people, not to him.

He also should have felt guilty about the way he dreamt of you that night. Guilty for the flutter of his heart when he saw your smile. Guilty for how he considered taking your hand on the Brooklyn Bridge. Guilty for even thinking of how gentle you were. Guilty for losing track of time while he talked with you. Guilty for getting trapped into your eyes. Guilty for noticing how the sun hugged your silhouette.

And sometimes, throughout the afternoon, he did feel the sharp pinch of guilt, right there, in his chest. But then you would tell him something that made him laugh, or you would just look at him, or smile, or say anything at all, and the feeling in his chest would disappear altogether, like petals carried away by a breeze in the sweet warmth of spring.

He just felt… such a strange feeling when he was with you. Calm. Safe. Reassured. Vulnerable. He didn't know how to describe it, but he felt different, a good kind of different.

"So, this is the Empire State Building."

Caspian looked up with awe painted all over his features. By now, as the sun was about to set on New York City, leaving the moon to take its place. You reckoned you should be used to seeing this look on his face. After all, he seemed awestruck by every place you had shown him during the afternoon. Still, you couldn't refrain a content smile as you looked at his mesmerized expression.

"Shall we go up?" you invited him, and he accepted your offer with a grin.

Caspian was not used to elevators yet. He felt a little trapped in them, nervous, almost claustrophobic. You had explained to him the basic notions, and he had to admit that he was not happy at the thought of being suspended by a tiny string in a metal box, climbing so many meters up. But you were calm, and so he forced himself to seem just as calm as you.

The tiny box you were in was cramped with people, and he found himself forced to be pressed against you. His chest brushed your back, fabric against fabric, but you didn't seem to mind, while he could feel his palms turn wet, and his heart racing to a dangerously high rate, and his throat tightening to a point where he wondered how he could breathe altogether. But no one in the elevator reacted to this extreme promiscuity, and so he guessed that it had to be nothing out of the ordinary for this world. It didn't mean anything. It didn't change the fact that his head was starting to spin as you shifted though, making your arm collide with his.

Finally, the ding of the end of the climb, and this strange feeling in his chest as the elevator came to a stop. He followed you into a hall, and towards the patio.

His first thought was that he had never been so high above the ground before, and it made him a little uneasy. But then he turned to you and saw your grin as your eyes fell on the city splayed at your feet, and he knew that everything would be alright.

Eventually, you made your way to the bannister, and he looked down at the sea of buildings before him, vast, almost unending. The sun was setting, starting to colour the western horizon with paler, almost golden hues while the east darkened to deeper shades of blue. And in between an ocean of concrete, and bricks, and metal, pulsing with life and shaken by an everlasting whisper. Distant sounds of traffic and lives he would never come to know buzzed in his ears while the wind blew colder, making him tighten his collar around his neck. The first lights were alit in the buildings, and he could almost guess the darker shadows of their inhabitants. Strange thoughts crossed his mind about lives in this world, mothers and fathers and children and workers, until he thought of his people again.

From Cair Paravel, he could either see the ocean or the forest, depending on which direction he chose to face. He pictured trees to replace tall buildings, and the sound of waves instead of honking cars.

And for the first time that afternoon, he felt sad.

You noticed the change in his expression: a little more serious, a stray frown passing like a cloud hiding a distant star. He seemed lost in thought. He seemed… homesick.

"What is it like?"

He turned to you again, and it seemed like the redder sun bent to Earth to kiss your eyelashes.

"What is your home like?" you asked again as Caspian was remaining silent.

He hesitated for a moment longer. Where to begin? Would you believe him?

Did it matter though, whether you believed in Narnia or not?

"Wilder," he answered with a smile. "I live in Cair Paravel, it's a… a castle, a fortress."

"Cause you're a king."

"Yes, I am."

You nodded, but didn't seem to be mocking or questioning him. Instead you waited for him to continue.

"It is built on a cliff, right on the edge of the sea. At this time of year, the waters become more agitated, many boats stay ashore. But then spring will come back, calmer, more welcoming, and many will go back to travelling across the waves. I was supposed to travel to the Lone Islands next spring."

"You seem to like the sea. It's dangerous, though."

"Anything worth living has the power to break you. Whether it is because of its nature or how much of yourself you pour into it. In the end, the things that give your life meaning make you the most vulnerable."

You gave him a smile.

"That's kind of true. What else is there in your castle?"

"Gardens. You would like them, I reckon. They are not as large as your Central Park, but… they are filled with music and fountains, and people laughing all year round. And they hold the most beautiful flowers. In spring, when they are in full bloom, their smell travels even to the shores. And beyond the forest stretches for miles. Just… trees till the edge of the horizon. It feels like the castle is trapped between two kinds of oceans."

He was smiling by now, clearly happy to talk about his world with you. And you reckoned that there was no harm in forgetting for a little while that none of the places he spoke of could be real.

"Tell me more."

You exchanged a smile, and he told you of his home and the places he had explored, while day became twilight and finally night, skyscrapers imitating twinkling stars to match a reflection of the firmament, and you didn't drive him back to Agatha's before the building closed.

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You went home with a smile on your face that evening. You didn't think about questioning Caspian's stories, he seemed to believe in them too much, and for a while, you decided to play along, and believe in them a little as well.

After that first day of visit, you took Caspian to the Metropolitan Museum.

A third day and he had seen the Statue of Liberty.

One more afternoon, and he had gotten lost in the crowd on Broadway.

Fifth day and you had decided to take him to the cinema, where they showed Notting Hill again.

You thought it was a cute movie, that would probably not have him as confused as Star Wars and would make you both relax. Caspian let you choose the seats and tasted pop corn for the first time.

"It tastes very good," he nodded, taking a third handful of candies.

"I'm glad you like it," you chuckled.

"Have you seen this movie before?"

"Yes, I love it. I watch it every time I feel sad."

"Do you feel sad now?"

You shrugged, considering the question. You reckoned that your life could be easier. Alex kept on calling you now and again, mostly when drunk and in the middle of the night. You had been distracted and had not painted much for the past few days. And of course, there was all the general mess that Caspian had dragged you into. Yet, at that moment, sitting next to him in a theatre, about to watch a movie you loved, you reckoned that the adjective that would fit you best was 'happy'.

"No, no, I'm not sad," you smiled up at him, and he returned the gesture.

Along the previous afternoons, you had spent a lot of time talking, sharing facts about your lives, and the more you looked into his heart, the more you liked what you saw. You just didn't know that he felt the same way about you.

You guessed that you were becoming friends.

Sometimes, when he talked of Narnia, you considered that it was an elaborated game to which you had to play along, and you pictured his imaginary world. Some other times you felt like he was too earnest for it not to be the truth. You weren't sure about that yet, but what you had grown certain of was that Caspian was a good man. And for now, it was enough.

The lights went low, slowly fading as the film began. And Caspian laughed at the jokes, and he wished that these two characters would stay together, and he was touched by their declarations. But it was not what he focused on the most.

While Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts played 'love me, love me not', Caspian's eyes often left the screen in favour of your face.

Sometimes you whispered under your breath the lines you knew by heart. Sometimes you laughed. Sometimes you wore a dreamy smile. Sometimes you were close to tears. The light from the screen gave your features something ethereal. If he had been in Narnia, he would have thought you were a spirit, or maybe just a figure in one of his dreams, perhaps a star. Although, he knew you were real, tangible beside him, and every time you smiled, or laughed, or spoke the words before the actors could, he couldn't stop himself from grinning. He tried to understand his gesture as he noticed it, about halfway through the movie. You were not even looking at him, too immerged in the movie you had watched a hundred times, and yet, his heart skipped a beat every time he turned to you. He couldn't remember ever feeling this way simply because another person sat next to him. The thought of how close the two of you were passed through his mind, a hurricane shaking his whole frame, the realization stirring something deep inside his chest, something dangerous and yet wanted. He finally noticed how your hand rested on the cushioned arm of your seat, right between the two of you. Inches away, yet it felt like it was so far away… unbelievably far… unbearably far. He wished he could reach for it.

But he couldn't, could he?

He spent a minute staring at your hand, considering his thought, trying to figure out if it was a good idea.

In Narnia, him taking the hand of a woman would have been outrageous. Would you consider it the same here?

He looked up to your face again, the changing light drawing moving shadows across your features, and he decided against it. It was too lovely a moment to risk breaking it by a silly impulse. For it was all it could be, after all, or so Caspian guessed, at least. A moment of drifting thoughts settling on a ridiculous idea. It couldn't be just because he longed to hold your hand…

Eventually, the credits rolled up the screen, and the lights were turned on again. You turned to him with a large smile on your face.

"Did you like the movie?"

"I did," Caspian nodded.

"Great, cause I don't think I could be friends with someone who doesn't like it."

While you exited the room, Caspian thought about your words more carefully.

Friends. Was it what you were now? Yes, yes he reckoned you were.

The thought made him smile, yet, he couldn't help but notice that he wasn't as happy as he should have been.

To finish the afternoon, you decided to take a walk to Central Park. You bought vanilla ice creams, and kept on talking about everything and nothing, but there was a lot of laughing involved either way.

Caspian made you feel silly. Happy. A little light-headed. Dizzy like drinking a little too much wine. You felt safe by his side, free to be yourself without caring about him judging you. It was refreshing, in a world where one's image could be so used and distorted. You didn't care. And when you thought about the fact that he claimed to be a King, you guessed that you shouldn't feel that way. Maybe it was because you didn't really believe in the Kingdom Caspian was supposed to lead, or perhaps it was simply because of who he was, in any way, you didn't think about that fact at all. You felt like yourself when you were with him, and that feeling was closer to happiness than you had ever felt.

And Caspian had a similar feeling around you. He was more lost than you, and a bit confused by everything surrounding him, but he felt safe for as long as you smiled. Like no matter what could happen, it would end up being alright. It was so different, spending time with you, learning to know you. For once, he could be himself, without the pressures of the throne, or etiquette, or worry about how you might see him only as the King instead of Caspian. And that feeling of being himself, he reckoned it was very close to feeling happy.

The wind blew stronger all of a sudden, shaking the branches above your two heads, lifting skeleton leaves to twist and fly up all the way to the skies. A tourbillon pushed the leaves around you, making you laugh as they got caught in your jacket, and you looked up to see them fly as if to join the branches they had been forced to leave. And while he watched you like this, walking with colourful leaves flying around you, your eyes set to the tall trees and a laugh on your lips, Caspian's whole frame was shaken by a tidal wave of what he could only describe as tenderness. He just felt so… fond of you. A warm, radiant, almost aching feeling that swallowed his heart whole. When your eyes fell upon him again, he thought the sensation would wane, just a blink, a delicate moment to be remembered, but nothing more. On the contrary though, when his eyes met yours, he found that the feeling refused to leave. Instead, it settled down right there, under his ribcage, consuming his whole heart in mere seconds and claiming it all.

And finally, he realized why he felt so happy whenever he was with you. Why he longed to see you again as soon as you parted. Why it seemed now as if his heart wasn't really his anymore, as if it belonged to someone else, as if it belonged to…

Oh.

Oh, no…

*******************************************************************************

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@presstocontinue @ilmiopiccolounivers0 @madamrogers @drinix @sad-orange-thoughts @mxrihollxd

@geeksareunique @giggleberts @sad-orange-thoughts @aylinnmaslow @benbarnes-world @ladyblablabla @drinix @joelynnp @wearetalkingtoyou @mxrihollxnd @rockintensse @cutie-bug @purplocity @rockintensse @newtstarmander @shinebrightlikeafanbase

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#Caspian #Caspian X #caspian x reader #King Caspian #caspian fanfic #caspian imagine #narnia #narnia fanfiction #narnia imagine #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

Text

Like I Never Needed Anyone

Oleg The Prophet+Reader (Modern! AU)

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

Ahh this is the fic with which I am entering the “400 followers celebration” (congrats again, sweetie!) made by @youbloodymadgenius.

For once I low key ditched Ivar (I am sorry babe) for Oleg (also GUYS… I HAVE JUST DISCOVERED THAT THE ACTOR WAS THE ONE WHO PLAYED DIMITRI IN ‘VAMPIRE ACCADEMY’, another crush of my heart..I… am in love).

As always any feedback is more than welcome, even more if you want to see this pairing again!

Have a nice day!

SUMMARY: Life isn’t easy when you are slowly recovering from a break-up in a new city and with a new job, but an handsome Russian prince might just come in and save the day.

WORDS: 7.8K

WARNINGS: Self Esteem Issues, Break-Up, Toxic Friends. low key OOC OLeg (I am sorry but when I usually write modern AU, I try to soften the characters, so sorry), Unprotected Sex (WRAP IT UP BABE, YOU ARE NOT MILIONAIRES RUSSIAN PRINCES… I think) Rough Sex (Dom-Sub Undertones), Dirty Talk, Degrading Talk. Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Fingering, Cum Play, Boss-Employee Relationship.

Destiny sometimes worked in the most mysterious of ways.

The day you had been give one of the best news of your life, your boyfriend had decided to break up with you.

That day you had come back home after having been given a role as a curator in a private gallery in Russia, your boyfriend had been waiting for you with his suitcase by the door.

‘Babe did you already pack the suitcase?’ you had joked, bringing him back inside as you caught him in the act of leaving, thinking he might have played you a joke, since you had sent him the message with the good news after you had received them.

No threat ruining your perfect day.

You had been working so hard to gain a work that properly matched with your skills.

The previous year you had refused a job offer abroad because of your boyfriend’s own career since he was slowly setting himself up in his new job and you didn’t want to disrupt the building romance that was growing.

You had been working through unpaid researches and part-time jobs, that didn’t help you feel confident and enough, but you had gone through them thinking about the small life you were creating with your boyfriend, more as a way to get out of the ‘single system’ than for actual love for Peter, your boyfriend.

He wasn’t your true soulmate, but you had long given up finding it, not wanting to fall again into the annoying scheme of being the only ‘single girl’ among your friends.

Also, you dreaded the dating atmosphere of having to listen to egotistical men who thought you would be in their beds by the end of the night and the awkwardness of fresh relationships.

Peter wasn’t a bad man, he wasn’t attentive or romantic as Disney Prince, but you honestly didn’t think that anybody would ever be like that in the era of Tinder and PornHub.

You had started explaining him the details as you moved around the house and Peter sat uncomfortably onto the sofa, but you didn’t notice it, mumbling about your new job as a curator in some kind of private royal galleries of a Russian prince.

He apparently wanted to open some place of his enormous mansion to expose some family ‘heirlooms’ on special occasions and wanted somebody who would arrange it perfectly and create a proper exhibition.

“… I just have a month to get myself ready” you had mumbled, finally looking at Peter, as you moved closer to him “… I know that this is going to take a toll on our relationship, but… I just… this is a great chance for me!”.

“Babe, I am happy for you” he had tried to smirk lightly, but it hadn’t come out as nothing more than a worried frown and you had expected some comment about how far Russia was and how the two months would have been tough and… “… I think we need to talk”.

You had almost chocked on your own breath, knowing all too well that such a comment was made only in couple who was breaking up and, as Peter distanced himself from you, you realized you were that couple.

“I know that you are worried about Russia… but I have been trying to…”.

“It isn’t simply Russia” he replied, his face moved in a convinced pout, as if nothing you might have said would change his opinion “… it’s just… I have just felt like I am wasting myself here”.

Hadn’t you been so shocked you would have gladly punched him in the face for being just an asshole.

“… you are not my true love, we aren’t each other’s soulmate” and again, without the shock effect, you would have gladly told him that it was why your relationship worked, it was what both you had searched when you had gotten together “… this is not what I want in my life, I want to find true love”.

And as he went on with his ‘I am a free man’ speech, you had just looked at him confused: nothing had given you the notion that you were in a crisis, although maybe you had had to start from the fact that you had never acted as a couple, not putting enough effort and not expecting it.

Maybe, maybe… Peter was right, you had to find your own true love.

And that illusion had lasted for an entire week of crying and self-esteem issues, till you had found Peter on Instagram with his new girlfriend: a tall blonde who looked like the twin of Taylor Swift, which made it extremely difficult for you to hate ‘the tall giraffe’, as you had tried to call her.

But again, each time you saw her stories she was either baking cookies for less-fortunate-kids or writing feminist magazines, which made you question how the freaking hell she had ended up with Peter.

You had almost been glad when you had had to move to Russia, the entire situation there was completely different from and more relaxed from the one back home.

Your friends after your break-up had been low key distant and the sole ways they had tried to comfort you was either to get you to bars or clubs to get you a rebound or presenting you new guys for you to date.

In Russia you hadn’t much to do except work and home, since the mansion you worked in was pretty away from the small apartment you had gotten for your staying of three months and it would take you at least an hour to arrive there.

Also the cold weather had almost killed you on your first week, which made you uneasy to go out, although Cristina, your collaborator at the mansion, tried to desperately get you out, but at least she didn’t push out desperate dudes onto you.

‘We are in Russia, Cristina’ you always protested, as she grabbed you and tried to teach you how to ‘rumba’.

‘But you have a proper Latina in front of you!’ she always replied, talking about how she would dance all night back in Barcelona, telling you should visit her just to do that, once you finished working there.

Cristina was honestly another thing for which you were thankful for, although her cheery personality would bump with your most reserved one sometimes, you honestly thought that she helped you to try to keep a positive outlook in life.

And then there was Oleg, your boss.

You hadn’t seen him when you had arrived, being introduced in the job by Cristina who had arrived a month before you in order to set up and bring some documents and paintings from Madrid, and the only inhabitants of the huge mansion were the staff, alongside a governess and Oleg’s nephew, Igor, who would sometimes visit you during your work, playing around with his puppets.

You had almost thought this was some kind ‘Tun of the Shrew’ shit, but then one day, arriving late, the first time in the four weeks you had been there, you had caught the boss in the exhibition hall.

You had bumped in with some coffee stolen from the kitchen since Cristina didn’t seem to work fully till she got at least a cup of that ‘heavenly beverage’ in her system.

But she hadn’t been in the studio, instead a tall man was there looking around at the still empty walls, since you had focused yourself the month prior onto catalogizing the entire exhibition.

You had almost been scared of the sudden appearance, but the man was as handsome as not many men around there, definitely looking the part of the ‘last Romanoff’, with his piercing eyes and mainly features on a perfect face.

And then he had spoken.

‘Is that coffee? Because I just came back from a twelve hours flight and the one there was shit’.

You had immediately pushed forward the cup, almost as a peace offering.

“… oh you must be the curator, the American one” he had mumbled, after he had almost burned his tongue on the coffee “… I do think that you can already realize that I am prince Oleg, although I hate with all my heart the title, just Oleg around the manor”.

“… (Y/N)” you had been simply able to mumble, looking at him, the way he moved so at ease and confident that got a light shiver of definitely-not-cold, running through you.

“Beautiful name” and the look that he had sent to your body had meant that he wasn’t talking only about your name, although you were wearing one of your least flattering sweater and a pair of deformed jeans which did nothing for your inexistent figure “… shouldn’t you be already putting up the pictures and paintings?”.

And then you had started to rumble everything you knew to the point that Oleg had smiled, and gently touching one of your shoulder he had mumbled.

‘Slower, dorogaya” he had joked softly, giving you a smile that had rendered you speechless.

You had almost been grateful that Cristina had arrived a few minutes later, processing to steal Oleg’s attention from you, since they were old friends from what she had told you and that is why Oleg had chosen her and trusted her for this exhibition.

But still… you couldn’t help but envy lightly the attention that was poured onto your colleague, although you knew it was stupid to be jealous of her.

Oleg’s visits had become more frequent: he was a bit of a control freak which made you put your best into this job, although you had to admit that you loved it with all your heart, it was something that made you feel well about yourself and your abilities.

It certainly helped with your awful self-esteem, since after the break up it had been under your feet.

And if you ignored Oleg’s search for perfection and his outbursts of rage (which weren’t against you, most of them happened against his brothers) he was actually quite the nice boss, and even more an handsome man whose simple smirk got your heart to jump through climbs.

You had a superficial knowledge of each other, mostly when he would stay a bit with you to keep you company as you checked through catalogues and new ideas, asking you questions about your work and the best part was when he would light up as you told him something that got quite the impression on him.

Almost as if he was trying to understand what you said.

Which was something that Peter had never done with you.

It flattered you.

And his petnames made you feel things.

Kitska, Zaika, Malishka and Kroshka and many more that got you more and more interested into learning Russian, at least to know what they would mean, but they still got you to feel heavy and bothered as he pronounced them, smirking at you and licking his lips.

You still remembered after a particular rough day, when you had chosen the setting of the paintings, he had come behind you, his breath gently tickling your ear, as he grabbed lightly onto your waist, leaving a slight pat on it.

“Good job, Krasotka”.

And right after you had come home that day, barely greeting your Swedish roommate, you had moved in your room, gotten into nothing but your panties and teased yourself softly at the repetition of that soft voice, completely untangling the block you had been having after the break up.

Sex with Peter wasn’t exactly amazing, barely the sparks of the things you could do on your own, but after your break up you hadn’t just felt either sexy or enough aroused to think about sex, but Gosh if you hadn’t been able to slip your finger between your thighs desperately and over and over, that night.

Till the shame of having just gotten off thinking your boss had taken over you and masturbation had been even more difficult, alongside watching Oleg in the eyes.

That night Cristina had left you early, she had a date and left work early, as Oleg had walked in for his daily check, finding finally all the walls set up, since you had only two weeks till the exhibition went public, and your work would be over.

Which you would be dreading, not solely because that job was one of the best you had ever had, but also and most importantly you would be missing the people: Cristina, small Igor who would try to distract you to get you to play with him and Oleg.

Before going off Cristina had winked your way, making sure that the door of your work-room was closed behind you.

‘I am not there to chaperone you, so don’t let Oleg win you over with that wicked tongue of his…’ she had joked softly, as you blushed and tried to deny her insinuations “… oh c’mon, you always blush when he comes here, and he has a slight… fixation on your body’.

‘Stop joking around, Cristina’ you had tried to laugh it off, but the ‘caliente’ girl had just sent you a meaningful look, smirking softly as she came closer, mirroring the way Oleg preferred to talk with you: one hand onto your waist and his breath on your ear.

He definitely didn’t do it with Cristina.

‘… he might like you more than you think, sweet girl, and I’ll be very pissed if you can walk tomorrow’ you had blushed, almost burning your face as you tried to intimidate her into shutting up ‘… don’t tell me that you didn’t notice the way his eyes stay glued to your ass when you lowered your body to get the painting folders yesterday’.

‘Men like Oleg don’t go out with girls like me’ you had muttered between gritted teeth.

You had barely landed a Peter, an Oleg… Gosh… you couldn’t even fathom why he liked teasing you so much.

‘Oh sweetie…’ had replied Cristina as she got away from you ‘… you have no idea what men like Oleg want till they ask you’.

And you couldn’t help but work the rest of the time with a worsening blush, even being startled as Oleg walked in with coffee in his hands, simply wearing house clothes, which for him meant a black turtleneck that probably was worth half your apartment, and loose sweatpants that weren’t loose in the right place.

You had taken a small peak when he was distracted.

And Gosh… since then you had been scared and horny at the same time.

The ‘don’t masturbate on your boss’ rule certainly didn’t do anything for your thoughts.

“Hey, it’s just me, Oleg!” he laughed, pushing the coffee mug next to you “… no murder ghost, we don’t have any of those here… I think”.

“That’s reassuring” you shot back, grabbing the mug and drinking a big gulp of it, to calm your nerves “… no wife hidden in the attic, Mr. Rochester?”.

“Just a crazy wife, but sadly I don’t own an attic” he blurted out and you couldn’t help but be a bit taken aback by the knowledge that he was married.

You had gotten off not only to your boss but also to a married man.

You were so going to hell.

“… but let’s just say that she isn’t my wife anymore, even worse than ‘Jane Eyre’ “ he mumbled lightly, making you let out a breath of relief “… we split up six months ago, but we had stopped being lovers a long time before that, it was… complex”.

“I am sorry to hear that” you muttered softly as you calmed yourself, seeing as much as that little confession had impacted onto Oleg who looked like he was breaking himself apart, keeping his gaze onto his hands to avoid yours.

“But I hadn’t come here to talk about this sad stuff…” he mumbled, something softer settling in his eyes as his gaze came onto you “… I wanted to actually invite to dine here, since we have both been left alone, Cristina is out on a date and my brother Dir brought Igor to the cinema, and the staff took an holiday, so…”.

You couldn’t help but be a bit confused and shocked by the invite, unsure whether it would have been unprofessional to accept it or rude to reject it.

“It would be amazing, but I have to go home before it is dark, even more because there isn’t Cristina with me… so…” you tried to be polite, finding a rightful excuse but before you could finish your ramblings, Oleg stopped you, again touching your shoulder as he moved forward.

“That’s why I wanted to ask you to stay, actually, kitska” he replied softly “You could sleep here at the manor for one night, if you don’t have anything better to do, obviously. So, you wouldn’t have to go back all alone…”.

The entire proposal was also rightful, if you thought that you were uneasy to walk alone at night, but you still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were trespassing some boundaries.

“Ahem…” you stalled and Oleg went a step further, destroying any boundary you might have set for yourself, taking your hands in his.

They seemed so small in his hold, rough and definitely hands that worked their way to the success, contrasting strongly with his ‘prince’ image.

You almost wanted to know what they would feel elsewhere.

“… c’mon, zaika! Don’t leave me with the ghosts!” he mumbled, faking a pleading tone which got you to blush under the intensity of his gaze, a dominant one that made you blush roughly.

“You said there weren’t ghosts!” you tried to shift the attention, knowing that the decision didn’t belong to you anymore.

“… that I know of…” he replied with a devious smirk “… pretty please”.

“Just because you asked so nicely…” you muttered back and Oleg almost jumped onto you in an hug that made you blush and tremble and you were quick to push him away lightly “… I just need to do a small shower before, everything, if you don’t mind”.

“Oh no please, don’t, the stench might scare off the ghosts” and you lightly kicked him in the shins.

He couldn’t talk to you like that, whether he was your boss or not.

“That wasn’t nice” you replied, as he giggled lightly, grabbing one of your hand and again annulling the distance, he brought you closer, kissing the back of it with a warmth that made you red all over your face.

“… forgive me please, my lady” he mumbled, and you were again quick to push away your hand from his hold, aware that this was slowly taking a turn you didn’t know if you were ready for “… I am going to get the room ready, now, till a few of the staff are still here”.

“Thank you”.

And now you were just having an existential crisis, about what it meant for your hot boss to ask you out to dinner…

---

You had never been this grateful for the dress you had packed for work.

Once Cristina had dumped an entire pot of red paint on your clothes which had been rather uncomfortable to stay in, mostly for the stares of the people on the bus on the way back home.

Hence you had started to pack a change of clothes to work, something you wouldn’t feel the need to wear any day and something that was easy to smuggle in your bag, such as a small dress and stocking.

Nothing glamorous or such, only a simple maroon dress with an high neck and an asymmetric cut to the hem of the skirt and although it was no ‘little black dress’ or some expensive gala elegance, it fell just right onto your body, highlighting your figure in a flattering but shy way.

Sadly, you hadn’t brought also your make-up bag, since you didn’t wear it at work, but you had been able to style your hair properly in order for them to be up in an elegant but effortless updo.

Looking yourself in the vintage mirror, you didn’t feel bad about the entire ensemble, it even made you smile, when you hadn’t been able to properly look at your body in months.

You exited the room and moved towards the stairs since the mansion had the rooms on the first floor and the dining room at the ground floor.

And as you were appearing on top of the stairs, Oleg appeared at their bottom, and he looked at you stuck in his position as you moved down praying not to stumble, suddenly at unease without your working coat to shield you from painting and dust and… more importantly, men’s gazes.

Such as Oleg’s.

As you were on the last step, he quickly moved onto you to help you, offering you his hands.

“… I was going to check on you” he said breathless, before he calmed himself reappearing relaxed “… to see if the ghosts had stolen you away”.

“Ah no just enjoying your warm shower, this weather is simply not for me” you replied softly, trying not to give too much thought at the fact that Oleg kept your hand in his, lowering it by his side.

“… there are ways to warm up” he joked, before he gently pushed you behind him in the dining room, the smaller one that the staff used, which was warmer and more intimate, definitely making you blush as Oleg left your hand when you sat down, him in front of you, the innuendo in his world badly hidden “… like warm food! I got the staff to prepare you some special meals, just before they left, hope you’ll like them”.

“They were very gracious” you mumbled softly, your smile faltering a bit due to the fact that although Oleg had all that flirty attitude towards you, it would just end up in a more friendly conversation.

You couldn’t help but call the entire thing ‘mixed signals’.

“Not as much as you” he replied, sending you a small look from the side of his eye “… you honestly look gorgeous in that dress, should wear them more often”.

The suggestion made you dizzy, and you hadn’t even come close to the wine, which was a bad sign.

“… I don’t have a lot… of occasions to wear them” you mumbled “… I prefer my warm and comfy sweaters, wouldn’t want catch a cold so close to the end of the exhibition”.

“Oh no talk of the exhibition, tonight!” he made you promise, lightly raising his hand from the table to settle it onto your thigh, the upper part of it in a move too bold for him “… let’s talk about anything else, please, just do like if I was Cristina”.

And you had erupted with laughter, trying to imagine the burly man as your Latina friend.

A small chihuahua with teeth and a pendant for raggaeton.

“… ok just like a friend, not simply Cristina” he admitted softly, as you smirked lightly “… got anyone waiting for you at home?”.

You couldn’t help but notice a tone of investigation in his question but played coy and gave him the truth.

Nothing would have changed if you had lied.

“… no one, except my mom” you mumbled softly, twirling the wine inside of your glass “…and my friends, but I am secretly happy to get away from them”.

“No boyfriend?” now Oleg’s tone was definitely more interested than proper, as he avoided looking at you and ate his meal, pouring himself another glass of wine and filling yours, although you had barely finished your first “… a girl like you might have not only a boyfriend but a lover at home”.

Although it was a joke, there was some kind of bitterness to it.

“I had one” you muttered softly, again taking a quick drink from your glass, although you wanted to dunk the entire bottle “… we split up before I had to go to Russia, apparently ‘I wasn’t his true love’ “.

You expected pity, maybe agreement with him, since a good half of your friends had stood by his side.

Not the way Oleg looked almost hurt, as if he had put himself in your shoes.

Or maybe he had been in them.

“… according to my ex-wife, I started neglecting her, and we had married too young to know what we truly wanted… all the passion burned out… yadda yadda yadda…” his immediate reaction was to let out a bit of that rage in his own work, against his competition, almost as if he used it not to break down “… all shitty excuses for cowards who can’t face their own flaws”.

“Oh no, believe me… in this case, he had a few rights” you had mumbled, immediately feeling all your insecurities coming crashing down “… there is obviously something wrong with me”.

Because you weren’t a tall giraffe who baked for poorer kids and wrote feminist articles.

You couldn’t be it ever in your life.

You were simply a clumsy art curator, with a kink for having everything under control and comfy sweaters.

You weren’t the type of girl who was interesting or gentle or beautiful…

“Nothing is wrong with you, malishka” now Oleg’s hand squeezed lightly your thigh under your table “… you are smart, sweet and fucking beautiful, and if that Сволочь didn’t see it, then it’s his fucking problem. He is the one who has… everything wrong”.

Meanwhile all this happened Oleg’s face had shifted to meet yours and his eyes were so strongly set onto you that they made you shiver, almost in fear.

Not of him, but of the intensity, with the worry of not deserving his words.

“… I don’t… “ you didn’t know what to say, but as Oleg moved closer taking his hand in his free one, you felt like nothing had to be said “… it’ll take me a bit of time to feel like what you said is true… but thank you… really”.

“I just hope you’d believe me, right on the spot” his voice had a nostalgic tone that froze you on the spot, as he pinned you again with his pretty eyes “… you deserve to be showered with compliments, every day, (Y/N)”.

“Maybe I should stay more, since you are so lenient on giving them” you teased him, moving away the attention from yourself, suddenly the air was too heavy, threaded with muttered whispers and bad memories.

“… if that is all you want to, stay here all you want” he had softly leaned back and the turtleneck had tightened over his muscles as they shifted under the black fabric, and you couldn’t help but feel your body warm up at the sole thought, as you mimicked his position “…I think that I’ll gladly gave you any compliment you want, kisa”.

Gosh, that breathy tone, almost a note higher than a moan…

It made you feel things.

“… flatterer” you shot back, lightly kicking his shin with your feet and Oleg smirked, downing another glass that shadowed his smile.

“Just for the pretty ladies”.

The entire night passed with you finishing half a bottle of expensive red wine, in an exchange that seemed a move stuck between ‘will they or won’t they’, in something that dragged things to be hot but still hazed and confused.

The wine had certainly made you lose all your inhibitions, and you were currently onto Oleg soft sofa, a vintage piece which was too big for two lovers, and too small for two friends, to the point where you were sat on your knees, the dress stretching a bit, in a way that made you uncaring, and Oleg was next to you, not directly touching you, but his arm was stretched over the back of the sofa, in ‘an almost hug’.

“… oh c’mon don’t tell me that you seriously fell onto your ass the first time you tried skating” you laughed out loud, as Oleg faced away with a smirk on his face “… you are a shame for your nation for sure!”.

Oleg shifted quickly position, a bit too quickly for your hazed sense, lightly pushing an hand over your mouth, in a way that made you open your eyes immediately at that gesture, as his hands moved quickly from simply hovering over your mouth to gently trace your lips, something that made you follow them as they retreated from your body, pushing it forward and arching it towards him.

“… don’t scream my secrets out to everyone” he retorted, lightly falling back on his seat as you, lightly closer to him.

“Or?” you shot back, a wicked smile of teasing on your face, his touch having uncovered something wicked in you.

“… or I’ll have to shut you up, kisa”.

“You always call me those strange names and I don’t understand what you mean half of the time” your tongue was now definitely loose.

“I just called you… ‘kitten’… I think it is the proper meaning in your own tongue”.

And as your chatting spirit had appeared it immediately disappeared at the knowledge of that.

You had known that they were term of endearment, but ‘kitten’ sounded so sexual.

As Oleg’s behavior.

You choked on your own saliva and a situation of stall appeared between you two, as you felt an awkward silence falling onto you.

You were frozen under the possible fear of what a move from you might entail, although Oleg’s teasing had left you hot and bothered, enough to make you feel like you could just move forward and kiss him to end all that waiting.

But what if it went wrong?

What if he simply didn’t want you like this, although he had said all those sweet things?

And the touching that had inflamed what was between your thighs, maybe was just normal for him.

Different cultures, different reactions.

And then he did something that was common to both your culture: he kissed you.

He leaned in, almost impatient, pressing harshly his lips onto yours, with a force that left you aching desperately.

Almost as desperate was his grip onto your hands, as he pinned them onto your lap.

Peter had always touched you so distractedly as if you could have been anybody under his hands, but Oleg had a flame in the way he deepened the kiss, making you open your mouth, that would have been almost too violent, hadn’t you been aching for him so desperately.

As you both lost your breath, you lightly distanced yourself from him to take again your breath, turning your head not to show Oleg the deep shade of red on your cheeks, due to embarrassment and your lost breath, as you tried to collect yourself.

Any dizziness from the wine gone and replaced by your desperate need for Oleg.

“Did I scare you, kroshka” his gaze was burning into you, daring you to turn back and face him.

“… I just need to take…” you tried to calm yourself with a small smile “… a breath”.

“I didn’t mean to come onto you this strong” his voice was seriously worried and as you turned lightly, looking at his hands, he seemed to be stopping himself from touching you again “… you must think I am a Мудак…”.

“I am not… I can do my own decisions” you retorted, not wanting to be made feel like a breakable good, because you weren’t in any shape or form, and even if you couldn’t stop the contrasting feelings in the pit of your stomach, you didn’t want to go back to that insecurity.

Oleg’s kiss had ignited something in you, that brought you to feel desperate and bothered.

You didn’t feel like going back to the vulnerable state you had always been, when Oleg treated you like his most beloved possession, with desperation in his eyes

“Don’t try to fix me, I’m not broken” you spoke your words slowly, to make them more meaningful as you inched closer, till you were right onto his laps, your hands cornering his face, as they set on his shoulder to steady yourself, your lips coming closer “… don’t worry, I am a big girl and I know what I am getting into”.

And you were the one who initiated the kiss, it was more teasing and softer as you smashed your lips together, biting lightly at first his upper lip, before delving into the bottom one, as he tried to get some control of the kiss, slipping his tongue in your open mouth, but you immediately closed it, distancing yourself quickly, with a smirk on her face.

And then you did it all the same, stopping every time Oleg tried to control it, in a way that was making him grow restless between you, as the atmosphere moved to a more tender and relaxed one, your teasing giggles making Oleg smirk into your mouth, although his hands wandered, gently caressing your back, and then moving slower and slower…

“… what do you say we move this to my bedroom?” he suggested, wiggling his eyebrow at you as he pushed you closer to him, with his hand onto your back.

And although the kisses had broken a few of your insecurities, now you couldn’t help but doubt the professionality of it; what would have happened if he wanted simply a night of sex?

What if he was disappointed and you had to see him around?

You tensed against him at all those thoughts, even more at the realization that suddenly you wanted more than sex, although you weren’t sure of Oleg’s opinion.

Which was definitely not a good idea.

“What is troubling you, kisa?” he asked again softly, his eyes searching yours as he adjusted your hair behind your ears, pushing a soft kiss on the exposed skin, making you tremble lightly, melting under his attentive touch.

“… you are my boss…” you mumbled voicing your inner conflict, avoiding his eyes as you let yourself lean in further in his kisses “… wouldn’t this… ahem… be unprofessional”.

“If this is up to me…” he had a devilish smirk that made you tighten the grip onto your thighs, splayed on him “… I don’t think this is unprofessional, but I may be a bit egoistical, since I have been pretty in love with that body and mind of yours, since I first saw you”.

Had he seriously said ‘love’?

“What if… things are awkward?” because you couldn’t envision a bright side of this without a dark one.

“Then you are here only for two more weeks, and then I’ll disappear from your life” his voice had a nostalgic tone that made you caress his handsome face, starting from that strong jaw that tried to form a small smile “… but believe me, I don’t disappoint ladies, I never have”:

You giggled, a bit comforted by his words, and too far gone behind his charms to do anything more than nod softly and let him softly raise you from the sofa as you nodded against him.

“… then maybe you should show me those skills ‘that never disappoint ladies’ “.

“Your word my command, printsessa”.

And that’s how you ended onto Oleg’s antique bed, still comfortable enough as Oleg pushed you onto, your back arched against him, rutting like an animal against his growing erection, the size of it already impressive, brushing against you through his sweatpants.

He was still dressed, but you had already discarded your dress, which he had thrown out carelessly once you were back on your feet on the threshold of his bedroom, barely giving you the time to look around as he gripped onto your thighs, raising you as you giggled.

Then your stockings had been quickly discarded, being ripped off your body.

You had almost squealed in shocks as you fell onto the bed, completely losing yourself in Oleg’s savage gaze, as you pushed him playfully.

“Ripping my clothes won’t get you any points, prince!” you shot back, and his hand simply lowered itself cupping your sex, making you smirk lightly, as he looked at you smugly.

“… then why are you wet?” and he brushed his fingers a few times more onto your clothed core “… should I assume that this is the outcome you had hoped for tonight? Your matching bra and panties say so to me, at least”.

“No, you just got lucky” you retorted softly, wanting to knock down his ego a few notches

Although it seemed impossible.

Your bra had been discarded with much more gentleness, the man unhooking it expertly with just one hand, meanwhile the other already gripped one breast softly, as he mouthed sweet loves bites and kisses onto your neck.

He groped you with his big hands, rolling his nipples against his palms in a rough motion that made you screech softly as his mouth caught yours again, pulling your hair back to get the full control of the kiss.

You weren’t able to deny him or tease him as you had done on the sofa.

“… I think that I got lucky from the minute I saw you in that awful hall, Gosh the sight of these tits accompanied my dreams for quite a few nights”.

You were almost relieved to know you hadn’t been the only one to dream about this.

Although you weren’t going to tell the man, his ego almost as big as…

His erection brushed through your barely clad core and you ate up a moan, biting down onto Oleg’s lower lip in an attempt to calm your feverish body, which instead continued to follow him desperately, as he realized the soaking situation down there.

Your panties doing not much to hide it.

And even less as he slipped them, ripping them off.

“You owe me a new pair”.

“I prefer the thought of you without them, so that I can pull you in the first hallway and make you mine” he muttered and then his attention shifted, something being ignited in his belly by your own desperation.

“… and what about the others?” you teased him as he moved to gently kiss his way down your body, stopping at your breasts to lavish them, almost torturing them since they were oversensitive from his hand, but you didn’t mind, and shifted one leg lightly to the side, a bit pushing it to your side, to let him feast his eyes onto the masterpiece between your legs “… what if they see me without panties?”.

His grip onto your hands, immediately froze you and made you smirk as you understood you had hit a sore spot, and slowly Oleg came face to face with you.

“Then we would have a problem” he smirked, but his eyes held a dangerous tone to his words, as he softly tapped at your thigh to make you focus and he lightly dragged the back of his hand against the soft expanse of your inner thigh “… because I don’t like others tampering with what is mine”.

“Am I yours?” you replied, playing a dangerous game with the man but true interest flashed in his eyes.

“… yes you are, dorogaya” he smirked softly, before he dove against your thigh pressing a kiss on the soft expanse, and right when you were relaxing he bit onto the skin, making you almost yelp at the surprise “… and believe me you’ll know by the end of the night”.

“Aren’t you pretentious, prince?” you shot back, teasingly “… always in need of something to stroke your big ego?”.

“Would you prefer to do the stroking?” he replied, almost purring, but didn’t give you any breath to reply as he dove from your thigh onto your wet heat, darting a soft kiss that stole your breath, as you kept it in your lungs, waiting for his next move.

And his hand joined his tongue on your sex in a delicious teasing that showed you shouldn’t have played around with this man: he was truly dangerous, as he withhold you with the gentlest of touches and a desperation that made you almost arch violently against him.

“… not so powerful, kisa, when your nails are not sharpened” he joked with you, as he gently licked onto your pearl, his fingers dipping teasingly past your folds, making you adapt yourself around them, as you wetted them with your essence.

There was something so primal in your coupling with him that didn’t allow you to feel anything else than the moment.

No shame for screwing your boss, or insecurity for what Peter hadn’t seen in you.

You almost felt beautiful, worshipped under his attentive care.

And when he had enough of that he made you feel like a true woman.

He pushed you onto your hands and knees, something which surprised you quite a bit, since he had been teasing but mostly attentive and gentle, and in your previous sexual experiences you had never done it in any other way than missionary.

But you were under his spell.

And let him push his cock into you, as it penetrated you to a new angle.

Your folds engulfed him easily till half of his length, the lack of something bigger than your fingers making itself known to you as Oleg gently pressed his fingers down your clit to make you relax around him.

In a way he was gentle, completely contrasting with the vulgar position he was having you in.

But Gosh, as the pain and your tightness passed, you couldn’t help but love the way he pounded onto you, almost threatening to make you fall onto your back, as his touched yours and his hipbones, slapped your base ass, definitely red marks would be blooming on it, the following day.

You tried your best to hold yourself off on your own hands, but not only supporting your weight was tough with all the pleasure coursing through your body, but Oleg’s relentless rhythm made you dizzy, and you almost fell face first in the pillow.

The pillow almost suffocated you, till Oleg just caught you by your hair and pushed you to sit right onto his cock, his beard brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck, as another hand sneaked on your waist to keep you steady as his thrusts became slower but not less brutal.

But the angle he found hit your ‘special’ spot perfectly.

“Look at you, zaika” he mumbled darkly in your ear, as his grip tightened onto your waist, his fingers dug in the flesh “… not even able to keep your pretty body straight… I wonder what you are good for”.

“… you are fucking me, aren’t you” you were simply able to utter, as a particular thrust made you moan out loud.

“Just a little nice fucktoy, aren’t you zaika?” he repeated, his smirk kissing your ear, as he speeded up his rhythm “… something to fill with my seed and my cock all night, if I want to”.

The sole thought of it made you ooze pure wetness onto his cock, as you tightened your grip around it.

“Not even able to answer me now, shluha”.

The reply seemed definitely less nice than all the petnames but it didn’t fail to arouse you any less.

“… I wonder how much it will take you to come…” he smirked softly, against you, cooing teasingly in your ear “… definitely not much with the way you are squee… Gosh… squeezing me”.

And it didn’t take you long indeed, the angle, the feeling of Oleg’s hands on you and the desperation in your entire body, making it impossible for you to stop the magical release that washed over you as you sank down onto him, completely, stilling as you rode the wave of the crashing emotion going through your body.

You were shaking so terribly that you weren’t sure whether an earthquake was going through your body or if it was your body creating it.

Oleg guided you through it softly, slower thrusts as he pushed himself in and out of you, almost completely, making you feel each inch of his manhood, in a way that overstimulated you, as you tried to grip him to keep him in you, in a desperate attempt to have more of him.

But he exited you and pushed you to roll onto your back, completely splayed against him, meanwhile he looked as composed as ever, his cock simply out of his boxers and pants, in a way that made you feel vulnerable and exposed.

It made you wet again for him.

Once he was out of you, he chased his own high with his hand, eventually coming onto your stomach as it slowly dropped onto your small Venus mount with a slow movement that made you clench your stomach under the different temperatures of his warm seed and your cold stomach, sweaty and suddenly exposed to the coldness of the room.

Oleg fell next to you ungracefully, but he sneaked a quick hand onto your stomach, playing with his cum, before he propped himself onto one elbow to look at you, a sweaty mess you were sure, but you weren’t able to deny him as he pushed his messy fingers past your mouth, looking at you as you tasted him.

Salty and warm it coated your mouth in a way that rendered your lips sticky and filled you as his cock had done with your cunt.

You wanted to taste him.

But you also needed a breather, as Oleg sank back down the bed, and you just tried to look out towards the opposite side, knowing that if you had taken a look at him right now, everything would have come crashing down.

You almost expected him to kick you out.

Maybe ask for another round, as he gently shifted away from the bed leaving you cold and unattended.

Gosh you should have definitely gone away.

And you were collecting your dress and your bra when he came back a soft towel in his hand and he had changed his sweatpants.

Probably because his previous ones were stained with your wetness.

You were unable to stare at him as he appeared in your vision.

“… already leaving, zaika?” he seemed almost… disappointed.

“I don’t think that I can immediately go another around” you replied, trying to avoid his gaze as he quickly settled onto the bed, the warm towel being moved onto your stomach to collect his sticky seed, for which you were grateful.

“… then we can cuddle, malishka” he replied as if it was obvious and he helped you settle down the covers, almost as a small child, a bit uneasy on your still-trembling legs, to which he shot a smug smirk.

“… don’t flatter yourself, I just haven’t had dick in a pretty long time” you told him, as you slapped his chest, just for him to grab tightly your hand and bring it to his lips.

“Then I do think that you might need more convincing”.

---

Please don’t judge my bad attempt with the Russian language!

Here are, by the way the meaning of each word:

Malishka=Babygirl.

Krasotka=Gorgeous.

Printsessa=Princess.

Dorogaya=Dear.

Zaika=Bunny.

Kroshka=Little One.

Kiska/KIsa=Kitten.

Сволочь=Asshole.

Мудак=Prick.

Shluha=BItch/Whore.

@ rainycloudstarlight @alyssa23145678910 @ squids-for-knees @youbloodymadgenius @queenboosha @barnzbucky @ itsleeshanotlouise @ confusedgirlyy @the--insignificant--one @roury12 @justsomestuffiguessman

#Oleg The Prophet #Oleg Reader #Oleg The Prophet Reader #Oleg x Reader #Oleg Imagine #Oleg Smut #Smut #Oleg Fic #Oleg The Prophet Fic #Challenge #Vikings #Vikings Imagine #Vikings Smut #vikings reader #Modern au

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poedjarin · 4 years

Text

a christmas cliche.

here is my Thank God It’s Christmas gift for the lovely @justasupersonicwoman! i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it. it was lovely to get to know you a bit. major thanks to @dtfrogertaylor for another successful gifting event. we all adore you.

gwilym lee x reader;; 2,012 words;; no warnings

It didn’t feel like Christmas. For someone who always had their tree up and fully decorated by the first of December at the latest, you were certainly lacking the Christmas spirit this year. Everyone was well aware as to how much you loved Christmas. However, your mood as the big day came closer rivaled that of the Grinch. You were trying your very best to put up a front, but it was clear that you were having difficulty navigating your favorite holiday season on your own.

Your boyfriend was currently away filming a movie, and it wouldn’t wrap until just before Christmas Eve. This wasn’t anything new for you; you’d been together for quite a while now and Gwilym had been absent for extended periods times over the course of your relationship - just never during the holidays. You were very supportive of his career, and understood why he couldn’t be there, but it didn’t make it any easier.

You’d spent Thanksgiving with your family, which in theory, was enjoyable. You hated having to answer questions as was to where Gwilym was, and what he was filming, and how cool it must be to be dating an actor. You’d navigated all of those questions with the best of ease until your Aunt Lucille piped up with a degrading statement.

“Maybe if you’re lucky, he’ll marry you.”

For your family’s sake, you made light of it. if you were good at doing anything, it was masking your feelings. You were beginning to think that you should get into the acting business yourself. After the guests had vacated your parents’ house, the comment hung over your head like a dark cloud. You were curious as to what your loved ones thought after having spent three Christmases with Gwil, without any certainty of the future. You loved him, and you know that he loved you, but did he love you enough to want to spend the rest of his life with you?

As the days slowly passed by in December, the more bitter you became. You were thankful to have small conversations with Gwilym when he had a moment free, but they were becoming few and far between as December arrived He blamed it on the production working hard to get the movie wrapped so that they could get everyone home in time for the holidays. He swore he’d make it up to you, but the poor bastard had no idea how hard he’d have to work to do so.

A distraction was needed, so you did your best to throw yourself into work, but that even proved to be tricky. You had to go out of just to get there and back, as you were doing your best to avoid the town centre. The square stood smack dab between your metro stop and your office building, and it was filled with market stalls, a gigantic tree lit with thousands upon thousands of lights, and a skating rink. People from near and far gathered to explore the shoppes for small trinkets, pose with their loved ones for photos under the tree, and hold each other for dear life while they pretended they knew how to ice skate. Does anyone even really know how to ice skate? Your girlfriends had invited you on a ladies’ only adventure to take part in the area’s festivities, but it made you feel pitiful, so you declined their invitation. On the bright side, walking out of the way every day only contributed to your daily workout.

You were beginning to notice that people were willing to profess their love during the holiday season more than any other time of the year. Logging into social media to see another friend posting an engagement photo or their pregnancy announcement seemed to be a daily occurrence. Suddenly, elf on the shelf shenanigans were no longer funny to you and if you saw another cute pet dressed in a Christmas outfit, you were going to snap your phone in half. A social media hiatus, it was.

What you loved most about the holidays were the movies that seemed to play on a loop across several television channels and the songs that flooded the airways starting the week of Thanksgiving. After a while, you had to monitor what you did and didn’t watch or listen to. Your favorite movie, Love Actually? Completely off the table, as it made you long for Gwil even more than usual. You had to switch back to your usual playlist for a few days after The Eagles “Please Come Home for Christmas” brought upon a weeping episode. You found contentment with comedies such as Home Alone and Christmas Vacation, with an occasional viewing of the cartoon version of The Grinch thrown in. And as long as the Christmas song didn’t have to do with love, you were happy to listen to it.

Gwilym still wasn’t sure as to whether or not he’d make it home in time for Christmas. To say that it broke your spirit was an understatement. You were debating booking a last-minute ticket to spend the holiday with your parents, but they discouraged it. Why couldn’t they realize that you didn’t want to be alone?

You sat at your desk on the day before Christmas Eve, staring out the window when one of the secretaries brought you a package. You began to tear it open, but before you finished, your phone began to ring. You nearly dropped the package when you saw Gwilym’s number on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hello, darling. Did you get what I sent you?” Gwilym asked.

“I’m actually in the middle of opening something now.” You held the phone between your shoulder and ear and pulled out a boarding pass. “A plane ticket... to Zurich?”

“That’s right. How’d you fancy spending the holiday with me in Switzerland?”

A few of your coworkers lingered outside of your office, looking in and eavesdropping.

“Gwilym Lee... What are you up to?”

“Come to Zurich and find out.”

The line went dead and you hung up the phone. Your work friends cautiously entered your office and took the rest of your work for the day, seemingly a part of whatever grand scheme that Gwilym had cooked up. You were met downstairs by a driver who was there to provide you with a ride to the airport, equipped with a packed bag, courtesy of one of your best friends. When you texted your group chat to find out who was the culprit, they all just wished you a good trip. You made a quick call to your parents on the way to the airport to say that you’d be in Switzerland for Christmas, but they already knew. Was everyone in on this Christmas surprise?

When you got to the airport and finished making you way through security, you had only 45 minutes before your plane would board. You were directed to the airline’s lounge - equipped with plushy chairs, champagne, televisions, and snacks. Everyone addressed you as “Mrs. Lee” but you were quick to correct them, more amused than bitter about it. You were too nervous to eat or drink anything but you enjoyed the privacy as you worked through your nerves. The feeling hadn’t subsided even after you were seated in first class, being offered champagne again by a stewardess who addressed you again as Mrs. Lee. You wound up working yourself up so much that you feel asleep from stressing yourself out and sleeping nearly the whole way there.

When you arrived at the airport on Christmas Eve, there was a driver waiting with a sign that said, “Mrs. Lee”. You corrected the man too, but you were beginning to think that Gwilym did this on purpose. Did he think you’d be treated better if people thought you were his wife? You tried not to dwell, as you were so close to being reunited with your man. Nothing could ruin that.

The driver took you to a secluded cabin, surrounded by the most beautiful landscape. It had just turned to dusk, and was cold enough for a few snowflakes to fall. You hadn’t seen snow yet this year, and it seemed to be the perfect time for the first coating. As you approached the cabin, you saw a beautifully Christmas tree lit with bright white bulbs in the window. You could even smell the pleasant aroma of the wood burning fireplace. You had to roll your eyes, because it was a true Christmas cliche. It was everything you’d been fighting the entire season long.

The door to the cabin creaked open when you entered, setting your luggage right by the door. You took off your coat and hung it on the hook, settling yourself with a deep breath. You were stunned to see Gwilym when you turned around, adorned in maroon sweater and tan slacks.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Gwilym’s grin caused the skin around his eyes to crinkle slightly, and you felt your heart swell at the sight.

You ran to him, practically tackling him as you wrapped your arms around him tightly. Gwilym’s hand rested on the back of your head, cradling it when you finally looked up at him. He kissed you deeply, and you thought you couldn’t miss a feeling as much as you missed your lips against his.

“Gwil....” You voice wavered and eye filled with tears. Gwilym quietly shushed you, his free hand caressing your cheek.

“Come.” Gwilym advised, taking your hand in his. “There’s fresh hot chocolate and I believe the cookies I baked are still warm.

“Is it swiss hot chocolate?” You playfully raised your eyebrows, earning you an airy laugh.

“Of course it is!” Gwilym guided you into the kitchen, unveiling an incredible spread of Christmas treats.

You beamed, playfully nudging Gwilym’s side. “You’ve outdone yourself, Mr. Lee.”

“Only the best for you, Mrs. Lee...”

You giggled, leaving Gwilym’s side to go and fix yourself a mug of hot cocoa.

“What was that about?” you mused, pouring the hot liquid into a clear mug. You began to add marshmallows and peppermint to your drink before grabbing the whipped cream.

“Everyone was calling me that. Did you tell them to do that or something?” You took a little sip to not burn your tongue, coating your top lip in whipped cream.

“I think it has a nice ring to it.” Gwilym rebutted, voice strong and smooth.

“Okay, but I’m not your wife.” You reminded him, licking your lip clean.

When you finally turned your attention back to Gwilym, your eyes darted down the mid level, where Gwilym was down on one knee. He had a velvet box in his hands, showcasing a sparkling diamond.

“It never occurred to me how much I could long for you while being apart during the holidays. From what I’ve heard, these past few weeks haven’t been easy on you either. I can’t promise my career won’t take me away again during these months but what I can promise is that I’ll be working hard to build a life for us and the family I hope that we’ll have. If you’d do me the honor of being my wife.”

Gwilym’s blue eyes seemed to pierce through your entire body as he waited for an answer. You certainly didn’t expect for your wretched holiday to end like this. You’d harbored such an anger for this man while he was away and let the monster known as loneliness consume you. it was the reassurance that Gwilym was yours that changed the terms of the situation.

“Please say something...” Gwilym nervously mumbled.

“Of course I’ll be your wife.” You beamed, setting your hot cocoa down so that Gwilym could place the ring on your finger.

This time, you did tackle him to the ground. You kissed him, letting go of the pent up aggression and emotion that you’d been harboring since Gwilym was gone as your lips moved against his. When you finally did pull away, you pressed your forehead against his and smiled.

“Mrs. Lee does have a nice ring to it.”

#tgic #thank god it's christmas #my fic #gwilym lee x reader #merry christmas #happy new years

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mypearchive · 3 years

Photo

(Above: Ettinger and Ruffalo after a performance of Awake and Sing! in 2006).

Mark Ruffalo and Philip Ettinger on Playing Four Versions of the Same Two Characters in I Know This Much Is True

By Mark Ruffalo for “Interview” magazine

May 19, 2020

What do we want from entertainment when the outside world feels so bleak? Are we in search of a balm, or more salt to pour on our wounds? For Mark Ruffalo and Philip Ettinger, the answer leans toward the latter, which makes their new HBO miniseries I Know This Much Is True perfectly tuned to the moment. Ruffalo stars in the writer and director Derek Cianfrance’s six-part adaptation of Wally Lamb’s 1998 novel, playing Dominick and Thomas Birdsey, identical twin brothers who couldn’t be more different. In the show’s first episode, Thomas, a paranoid schizophrenic, severs his own hand in a public library as a sacrifice to god, and the story refuses to let up from there, skipping back and forth in time as it digs into the traumas that have left these brothers so broken. Ettinger, a 34-year-old actor who mined similarly grim territory as a radical environmentalist in 2017’s First Reformed, plays college-age versions of the Birdsey twins, which meant he not only had two play two characters, but also sync his performances to match Ruffalo’s, an actor he grew up idolizing. Here, Ruffalo and Ettinger connected a day after the show’s premiere to discuss why challenging art is better suited to challenging times, and the cathartic experience of bringing this dark story to light. —BEN BARNA

———

PHILIP ETTINGER: How are you doing?

MARK RUFFALO: I’m doing okay, man. I’m feeling really fucking raw today and vulnerable, like I went on a bender and peed on my girlfriend’s parents’ coffee table, thinking that I was having a great time. And then I’m waking up the next morning just saying to myself, “Oh, fuck. What have I done?”

ETTINGER: [Laughs] I re-watched the premiere last night, and it’s much easier to see it a second time. I couldn’t even process it the first time I watched it.

RUFFALO: How did you nail me as Dominick? It’s uncanny to see someone doing a version of me—and doing it so well.

ETTINGER: That means a lot coming from you. I told you this before, but I wrote you a letter when I was doing This Is Our Youth in acting school because you’ve always been an actor that I’ve looked up to [Ruffalo starred in the Kenneth Lonergan play when it premiered off-Broadway in 1996]. I connected to you more than any actor, the way that you led with vulnerability and an open heart. When this audition came up, to play a younger you, it felt like the universe was handing me something. I watched every interview you’ve ever done, and before every night of shooting, I watched your scenes from You Can Count On Me, because I tried to use that as a template for my version of Dominick.

RUFFALO: I think that Dominick is kind of the 52-year-old version of Terry [Ruffalo’s character in You Can Count On Me], in a weird way.

ETTINGER: That’s so interesting. You’ve gone on to have such an expansive career, and you’re just coming off of the Avengers movies. Does this feel like you’re coming back home in a way?

RUFFALO: Kind of, yeah, because it’s about family, it’s working class, it’s in a small town. It’s real people dealing with real problems in really human ways, and it’s a guy who’s very tough, but there’s something beautiful and sensitive about him. It’s the kind of material I was doing before I did Avengers. It’s probably what I relate to the most. Will it be as popular? Probably not. But as an actor, it’s very meaningful to me. You were shooting Thomas before I did, and you really showed me so much of that character. I don’t know if you could see it, but I was pulling directly from you. And then we had that amazing walk with each other when we met that night, and talked about these two guys and tried to integrate our performances. That was really special. Not many actors would be willing to do that, and I really appreciate you opening yourself up and being vulnerable and the give-and-take that we shared in that 40-block walk.

ETTINGER: I think it happened right before I was about to start shooting, and I was totally shitting-my-pants nervous. Like you said, I was playing Thomas first, and I wanted to make my own choices and follow my instinct. But I’m in support of you, and I wanted to be in service of your performance. That night you opened your heart to me, and it’s a thing I’ll never forget. We were just walking the city streets finding it together. And I didn’t even know this, but one day before I’d play Dominick, I’d do pushups. And then then I found out that you did pushups before—

RUFFALO: Every take.

ETTINGER: The energy was so special on that set. Derek [Cianfrance] sets up a playground where you feel like you’re one organism trying to tell a story. Things would happen that were way past intellectual choices. I’m not a good impressionist, I can’t try to copy you. I just trusted that the energy would work itself out.

RUFFALO: Did you prefer playing one character more than the other?

ETTINGER: With Dominick I would get so angry and frustrated, and then I’d go to my trailer and change into Thomas, and I got to be as present and open and empathetic as possible. So it felt freeing. There’s something about Thomas, he just tells the truth, and sees with a certain type of clarity that’s not fogged up by other things. How about you?

RUFFALO: You had it much more difficult than me because you were doing both characters on the same day. How beautiful and delineated those two performances are is mindblowing. But I had a similar experience. Dominick, like you said, has this armor, he has to project strength, and he uses violence as the final way to resolve an issue, whether it’s emotional or physical. When I started to play Thomas, Derek was like, “Let your stomach go.” And I was like, “What?” And he’s like, “Let your stomach go, man. Stop holding in your stomach!” And I was like, “I’m not holding in my stomach!” And I realized I’ve been holding my stomach in my whole life as a show of masculinity, that I have this strong core, that if someone just came up and punched me in the stomach, I’d be able to take the punch. I’ve spent my whole life on-the-ready in that way. And Thomas is so soft in the stomach. He shows his belly, that softness, that vulnerability. He has a kind of freedom about who he is. I mean, the guy cuts his fucking hand off. We shot that scene on September 11, and when I came in and sat down in the coffee shop, we all took a moment of silence. In the moment of silence, I started praying, spontaneously, just like Thomas started talking, and he was praying for America. And I started to realize that if we had listened to Thomas, we wouldn’t be where we are today. The world would be a different place. The Iraq war would have never happened. We probably wouldn’t have had a second term of Bush. We wouldn’t have had the division in the country that has led to Trump. It’s just so funny that that character who we all write off as crazy, or who we’re afraid of, was so prescient to know what was right.

ETTINGER: What is normal? We’ve created a whole society of structure and time and these jobs we have to do, and that is what makes us important. Yes, there’s a part of Thomas that can flip into extreme paranoia, but I made the decision that it stems from an impulse of ultimate truth. Like you said, he’s right on his impulse. He might take it too far, but there’s a part of him that is way more truthful and way more knowing than almost everyone else around him.

RUFFALO: Did you read the book?

ETTINGER: I read half of the book while I was reading the scripts, and then I put it aside. I’ve saved the other half of the book until this all passes so I can have my own moment with it.

RUFFALO: I totally understand the impulse of wanting to find it on your own. What was working with Derek like?

ETTINGER: When I met with you in the diner, the one thing you said to me was, “Don’t worry, he doesn’t move on until he has what he’s looking for.” I love how Derek is constantly chasing lightning in a bottle, and the ultimate truth. And you think you have it one way, and then he just pushes you into a whole different thing so far beyond anything that I can intellectually think about. It’s the greatest.

RUFFALO: It’s so satisfying and so scary.

ETTINGER: He has such a fine-tuned impulse for watching actors and then pushing them in the right direction. You’ve just got to be game.

RUFFALO: Do you think the material is too heavy for this moment?

ETTINGER: I was wondering how people would take this story during the time that we’re in, but I’ve mostly been watching stuff that has a lot of heart and has a lot of pain and has people struggling to survive. I think everyone has felt pain on many different levels, and I’ve always felt a sense of comfort and a sense of being less alone when I watch truthful stories that deal with real-life shit. I’m at a point in my life where I’m trying to be honest with my own traumas and pain, and it’s interesting how the projects that I’ve done lately have been more of an internal dive into some difficult stuff.

RUFFALO: Everyone wants to be hysterical right now, to just laugh themselves off the fucking cliff, but what I see is a world that’s full of a lot of pain and suffering and loss. And to tell the truth about that in art is a cathartic act, a reminder of who we are as human beings in a moment when I feel like this world we’re living in now is post-human, where the technology is actually leaving mankind behind. The digital image is so packed full of information that our eyes can’t even see all of the information that it’s recording. We can’t keep up with it, and we’re living in our shallow social media selves that are only projected versions of ourselves, but not real or human in any way. So find something that really tells the truth about the human experience, about loss, about love, about connection, about responsibility to each other, about fighting for something—all those things are a good reminder of what it is to be a human being in a time that’s so dehumanizing.

ETTINGER: I feel like such an important part of the struggle of just living is to feel connected to each other, to understand that we aren’t alone.

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Archiving this interview in full, in case the link to the magazine that I posted earlier, expires sometime in the future.

#mark ruffalo #philip ettinger #i know this much is true #iktmit #derek cianfrance #first reformed #the evening hour

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