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blingblong55 · 6 months

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The Great War -141, Vladimir Makarov

Based on a request:

with the new mw3, lets do angst, something along the lines of "Somewhere in the haze, got a sense i've been betrayed" coming from us because 141 betrayed us horribly, which ended up in us getting tortured and then we pretennd its fine when it isnt. forget and forgive we lie and when we meet with Makarov, we tell them, 'oops sorry, forgot i was also a enemy at some point, guess its time to betray like real enemies do' and as we set Makarov free, we show that we have been working as his spy ever since they betrayed us. also can this be with a female reader and we also marry makarov behind their backs so thats why we betray so hard? i love u!

A/N: anon knew what they were doing with that ask…anyway, here you go my love…betrayal as a meal <3

--- F!Reader, soldier!reader, enemy!reader, betrayal, mentions of torture and violence

A/N: also, not much of an angst since I don't want to kill Soap in this one...but I hope you like it

[Present day]

File #21712

Name: [Readers Last, First name]

Alias: Grim

Callsign: Bravo 0-5

Gender: F

DOB: [Redacted]

Rank: 2nd Lt.

Affiliations:

-TF 141 (Former)

-Kasper Team (dissolved)

-Konni Group (Current)

Status: Alive. Threat.

Summary:

Deadly, fast and a killing machine. Soldier was trained as a recon sniper and has been trained by allied forces as an insertion specialist. SAS has recognised this soldier as a necessity for most of its joint operations. Decorated with high awards and recognition by all military forces. TF 141 acquired soldier after a mission in Al Mazrah. Capable of killing all those that come between her and the goal, will not hesitate to harm enemies.

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

The file was there, Laswell and all of the men in the team stared at it. What have they done, was all that played in their minds. To betray a soldier that has been wanted by all allied forces, by all teams and now losing you so quickly to a Russian group. To think your hands will be responsible for their demise. One torture room, where you begged as they did vile acts against you. Truth yelled by your gravelly throat, only to have Price ask for more of your blood. "How did he get to her so quickly?" Gaz asked, baffled to have lost you to the man you hated when this all began. "He had her all along," Kate spoke. Nikolai shook his head. "But how? We were her family," a betrayed Ghost said. "We betrayed her first," Price recalls.

[Eight years ago]

There had been suspicion someone within the base was working with KorTac, a double agent. All fake puzzles led to an unsuspecting, then officer cadet, you. Ghost and Soap made sure to tie you nicely to a chair. The same one that watched you bleed the truth as they cut looking for lies. You were always the hunter, never the prey. "Tell us, R/N, why the fuck were you talking to KorTac!" Price made sure to have the young Lieutenant punch you each time you stayed silent. Your blood on the walls of the torture-...interrogation room. "I told you Price, it isn't me!" Your eyes poured the truth they never saw.

"Fucking answer us!" Soap, more than ever hurt, slapped you. You play tough, but this hurts, the people you trusted with your life are now wanting to end it. An oath you hold close to you, now far away, or so they believed. The patch you wore with pride, is now ripped from your uniform. No longer friendly but an enemy. You knew what this meant. Ghost took his knife out, began to approach your neck with the sharp blade and before he took your life, Gaz walked in. A small-figured soldier is being pushed into the room. "Tell them what you told me!" Garrick barked. "I-it's me! I'm the one who is talking to KorTac," voice filled with fear, rightfully so. Ghost let go of the fisted uniform in his hand, and watched as your body fell forward. Soap, look of regret, held you in his arms.

On the way to the medic centre, Ghost was by your side as you kept whispering it wasn't you. The scar he made, is forever to be kept. Days of healing, hours of apologies. Nights when you didn't hear it, but the cold lieutenant apologised with a stream of tears on his face. A blade he cared for, neared your death.

A/N: Makarov's information has been updated for the reboot, so I'm basing myself on that

[Seven years ago]

[Saint Petersburg, Russia]

You visited the country as a civilian and bumped into a man on your way to your hotel. "Sorry, mate," you kept walking and then days later, the same man appeared in the hotel's lobby. Bumped into you and then as an apology for spilling your wine, he offers dinner. 36-year-old Vladimir was still not illustrated, not to any of his future enemies or hunters at least. You learned many things with him that evening, from his young years in the military and how his night had gotten better since meeting you. "It's wonderful, to have such a beauty like you visit such a dull country." He had you blushing and knew how to mess with your young heart.

"You're just saying that, Vlad," a smile on your lips. It was bizarre how he went from Vladimir to Vlad, a short name that meant too much to a man like him. "Well, it's true, my dear," his smile winning you over. He didn't know your real job and you didn't know his. That night, you made a friend, someone you hold dear. That night, he made a lover, a puppet to his future.

[Six years ago]

[middle of nowhere]

"Where are you taking me?" a blindfold on you as your boyfriend, Vlad, took you to yet another date. "You'll see my dearest," he whispers against your soft skin. Warm breeze hit your skin. The ocean, as free as you and him yearned to be. "Suprise my love," his thick accent melting your heart. The blindfold off you, you smile and hug him. This day, all truth was told, no arguments, just two lovers understanding each other's lives. "No no, my love, I would never hurt you," a promise he knows to keep. "And you wouldn't betray me, right love?" His hands cupped your delicate face as you nod. "I would never," you whisper as you feel his lips fall on yours.

From then on, no one knew who he was to you. But to his comrades, friends and family you were the girl who held his heart. The task force all thought you were just like them, stuck to the mission and not to civilian love. Dancing with the devil, making love to him and promising your all. An engagement ring that hangs with your dog tags. Secret love to never be told.

[Five years ago]

"Who is this?" Soap and Gaz looked at the photograph. "Vladimir Makarov, a Russian nationalist, born during the USSR," Laswell responded. "He's the target," her lips said. A knot at your throat, this can't be, you have to warn him. "Y'alright love?" Ghost's hand on your back. You nod. "Yeah, I'm just thinking," you turn to him. He nods, "Right, well, what do you think we should do?" He encouraged you, the new lieutenant of the team, no longer a cadet officer. It was something he pushed you to, to be the best. Proud smile on him when you ran up to him with the news. "I say we start with intel," you look at the photograph once more. It was your Vlad, no doubt. "Right, sergeants with me, Ghost and Grim stay behind for Laswell's next intel ask," Price nodded and left.

Days passed and Operation Golf was established. Ghost taught you how to perfect your ghillie suit. He just liked how you tried to make yours better than his, which always turned into, 'which Lt. wore it better'.

By midnight, as Ghost went to sleep, you left base to meet with Vladimir. Price and the two other men in a different country, looking for him. "What is it, my love?" His gloved hands held your face. "They are now gathering intel on you. They believe you are still in Russia," you spoke in Russian. He chuckles, "Shame that I'm here, isn't it," his lips meet yours. Your nose is cold and now warmed by his kiss. "Don't trust no one, not even Ivan," you warn him. "I only trust my beautiful love," he kisses you again. "Now, let me hold my precious darling before she plays pretend." And that night, was the first of many rendezvous's he took for you whilst you play ally to the task force.

[Four years ago]

You were on an operation with some old teammates from a past squad when Price got a hold of you. "Grim, it's that Captain Price guy!" A teammate calls out. You answer the call. "Prisoner 627 is now in Russia," Price proudly spoke. 627, a number unique to the case the military had opened for Makarov alone. Your wedding ring is hung with the dog tags. "Copy, out." You say over the call. That night, your bedroom was not filled with the call of your dearest lover. It's strange, to play pretend with the family you made as a soldier and to play feign with the man you call home as a wife. All in the name of love and war.

Months pass and you play calmly. No husband, just an enemy in some Russian prison. "Y'okay bonnie?" Soap sat beside you during mess hall. "Yeah, just a bit tired from that training," you lie. The sleepless nights you have thought about your husband. You look around the table, no one knowing you knew what would come next from Konni. In the end, it wouldn't be you who got betrayed again. Not tortured, especially not by the men in your husband's team that guarded your life with theirs.

Mission after mission, you would go to a country near Russia. Have meetings with people on your husband's side, and hear how he would escape prison. Asked you to stay away from his people when the day arrived. Play good, he would remind you. You know the date, time, how and when it would happen. The plan is all memorised in your head. You knew the people that would break him free, you knew it all and yet no one in 141 was aware.

[Three years ago]

On yet another mission, you got news of Vladimir. He isolated himself, prepared for when he would see you again. Sent letters to you occasionally. Details of love no one would see from a man like him. A love for all movie lovers to never witness. You roamed the home he set out to be his and yours, no one, not even his best soldier knew that home existed. It was days like these that you wished to have stayed in bed and kissed his body, all details to be taken in for when you waited to once more kiss him.

The picture of the secret wedding was held between your fingers. A smile he dreams to see as he awaits the prison break. The man who was set to believe evil held your hand and promised an entire lifetime of love. "I'm sorry," you whisper as your gaze focuses on the 141 emblem.

"Never be sorry, never, what they did to you is cruel, you never do that to a woman who was oathed in," fury escaped his lips. It was the night he finally told you all about him. He kissed the scars that the torture room left. In that moment, all else who dared question you, especially the rats of 141 would pay for what they did to his darling. Maybe he did corrupt you, but those scars, the lies they believed and the truths they never heard from you, were way before he met you. He believed in loyalty, good or evil, opposing or not. And the way you told him how you held the oath of being a soldier dear to you, he admired it. He believes that loyalty is essential, and if you are loyal to who you are, he applauds it.

[Two years ago]

A mission gone wrong, a phone call from within the prison. All he sacrificed to just hear you say, "I'm fine, honey." With that oh-so-soft voice of yours. A sigh of relief came from his lips. This was a reminder he would always be around even from within a guarder tower of hell. His men would always guard you, even if they fought 141, you were never the target. KorTac had a target on their backs when Vladimir found out they were the ones responsible for the bullet on your shoulder. "What is it?" He asked the guard. "The girl has been injured, gunfight at some mission." He had people that worked for him within the guards, and when the news arrived to him, that's when for the first time in his life, he feared life and a gun. Vladimir Makarov is a villain in everyone's eyes. In your eyes that hold paradise, he is peace. He is Vlad, your husband.

Whilst waiting for Soap to get cleared from the medics, you played with the ring on your necklace. "Oh, R/N, has some lover?" Gaz was the first to notice. Ghost's stare went to you, eyes wide as he heard the words he never needed to hear. Your blush told the words his heart never wanted to hear.

[One year ago]

[Las Almas, Mexico]

"Are you threatening us?" Ghost asked and in that moment, he made you back away. Guarding you with his body. Betrayal, the first of many he would see with you. That became the night you escaped the shadows of Commander Graves. Soap was somewhere in the city, Ghost and you escaped every chance the shadows had at catching you. Imprisonment is something you got Colonel Vargas out of. Ironic. By the end, you killed him, the man who used his shadows, in some explosion. "You alright, love?" Ghost asked as you went to the aircraft quietly. "Yeah, Mexico just tired me," your head hung as you played with the dog tags. "Who's the lover?" He finally acknowledged the ring. "No one, it's just a silly joke," you lie, something he knew well. "Hmm, yeah...a silly joke," he turned away from you.

[Present day, 21 November 2023 ]

[London, England]

The last time you saw them all as a team, well, now that you were sure you'd be a newfound enemy. With Makarov now out of prison, prisoner 627, your love called for him. As Ghost looked through the CCTV cameras, one of the men in Konni gave you the signal. And as you approached, you caught a glimpse of him. Your heart flutters and then you look at Ghost. He nodded and you pretended to try and fight against Makarov. Czar-9-0 Actual. The callsign of your husband and the name of the man you betrayed them for. Guns blazing, bullets directed at them, not you. Gaz and Ghost, a team, Soap and Price, a team, 141, one unit. You, the wife of the enemy. Two bullets and then, the head hit the ground. Young soldier down. "What are you doing?!" Soap asked as you turned on them. A 20-year-old soldier died within seconds, you knew him from when he joined at 18. James, the man whose blood ran on your gun.

Makarov fired, one of his men held your hand and brought you to your husband. The 141 patch off your uniform as now, you were given the Konni patch. "Welcome back, comrade," a man spoke with an evil grin. Ghost, the eyes that saw the betrayal again. 23 soldiers died, from both sides. 141 on the ground, trying to recover.

"C'mon, Grim, you have to trust me on this, yeah?" the young lieutenant that made Ghost told you. "What if we fall?" you asked. "If you trust me, we won't and if I trust you, we will go home and get a pint or two," He smiles at you. From this day on, you and he became close, a bond no gun could break.

Ghost swore you were taken hostage. And as Makarov was about to kill Captain Price, one of his men tapped him out. "No time, we will get him later!" Ghost's glare never left yours. He shook his head. This can't be, not his R/N. You looked at him, no remorse behind your eyes. It wasn't R/N, it was Grim that stared at him. The soldier he respected the most. You pointed your gun at one of the other soldiers with them.

It turned into something bigger

Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed

He jumped at you, to not kill you but to bring you back and let Makarov run with Grim. You pushed him, what turned into a fight for his teammate to be back, became a fight against the enemy. You pushed him to the ground. "Ghost!" Gaz yelled as he saw your gun pointed at him. It was never Makarov that would be his demise. It wasn't an enemy. It was you. It was the one he held dear to his civilian self. The woman he would drink poison for. The one he jumped a bullet for when they were young cadets. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His eyes never left yours and for a second, he saw past Grim and noticed the scared R/N that obeyed her husband.

Soldier down on that icy ground

Looked up at me with honor and truth

Broken and blue, so I called off the troops

That was the night I nearly lost you

You put your gun down and turn away, running to Vladimir. His open arms, ready to embrace his darling. Now, all of 141's secrets are with Makarov. It clicked in that instant. How four years ago Makarov knew who Ghost was. How well he knew all their names. It wasn't some file he saw when his hacker got in, no, it was you, the best of all pawns. The train cleaned your tracks. Price and the others stood in fear, all this time, you were part of Konni. Ghost stood in silence.

In every war he was in, you were there. His favourite of all soldiers. From his early days as just Simon to his latest days as Ghost, all witnessed by you. He was the one who asked for you anywhere he went. His life came in a flash, all the Christmas events, the dinners and drinks he had with his friend...no...enemy. The one person who knew Simon liked the palm of her hand, now holding the man Ghost called an enemy.

"How did he get to her so quickly?" Gaz asked, baffled to have lost you to the man you hated when this all began. "He had her all along," Kate spoke. Nikolai shook his head. "But how? We were her family," a betrayed Ghost said. "We betrayed her first," Price recalls. "But that was years ago," Soap comments. "It started years ago," Gaz mentions. "We weren't meant to win this one gentlemen," Kate informs.

"Fuck!" Ghost's blood boiled. He scared them, he knew that well. So when he slammed his fist on the table, he even made the best of soldiers flinch. "Lt," Soap tried to calm him down. "No, Johnny! You don't get it, you don't know her as I do," he approached the sergeant. "She didn't kill you, why?" Kate walks to the betrayed soldier. "What?" His voice is hoarse. "She had the chance to kill you, headshot even, yet she didn't, she ran to him and then when she did, all fire ceased." Kate is after all a mastermind. "She didn't betray Simon, she betrayed Ghost, she betrayed Soap, not Johnny, Gaz, not Kyle and Bravo six, not John." She states.

"She betrayed soldiers, not family," Price came to realisation. Grim did that, Grim killed all that came between the goal. 'Capable of killing all those that come between her and the goal, will not hesitate to harm enemies.' The goal wasn't to kill Task Force 141, it was to get revenge for the betrayal, for torturing you in a room, letting your blood drip. You married a man, something all fools do. But even though Makarov wanted you to pull the trigger on Ghost, you didn't. You ran away and the fire ceased.

There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair

A/N: see what I did there?...mastermind me y'know

Tags:

@tf141glory @liyanahelena @quaritchscupquake @dilfgestivo @thefragmented @scarletdfox @arialikestea @unicorngirly1 @alhaizen @willowaftxn83-87 @koniglovesme @bbyfimmie @mothcelestial @kit-kats06 @palomesa @dheet @dontfearthereaperazura

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hannahssimblr · 3 months

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Chapter Fifteen

I sit on a kitchen chair sulkily drinking my burned cappuccino, crafted with minimum love and far too much bubbly froth, as Jude rifles around downstairs doing something that I didn’t bother to ask about. I only hear the occasional thump, or opening door, while his Americano gets cold on the table across from me.

I stare out the window at the blue, sparkling sea under the afternoon sun and resent the fact that I’m finally back by the water, my favourite place to be, and it’s far too cold to swim in it. If I stare long enough and let my vision blur I can almost see myself out there like a ghost, seventeen in a little bikini, paddling out as far as my waist and then gliding forward with my face towards the horizon, early morning, an empty beach when everything was so much easier than it is these days. I thought life was complicated then. I thought that I had it hard, but I didn’t. I didn’t know a thing.

I don’t know what Jude is doing downstairs. He stopped making sounds a while ago now, and I half expected him to come back up to the kitchen. My cappuccino is down to its final dregs, and his coffee sits full, black and so still that the light from the kitchen window reflects perfectly on the surface. When I reach out and touch the cup it’s still relatively warm, so I take it off the table to bring it to him.

He’s sitting on the couch with one foot up on the coffee table. His profile is facing me, tilted down to look at the book he has balanced on his lap. One hand is on the page, the other rests on a little pile of rumpled orange neoprene on the cushion. He hardly glances at me as I make my way to him and place his coffee on the table next to his ankle, and holds out the fabric to me.

“Your bikini.”

“You found it?”

“Yeah I had a look. It was in my sister’s room.”

“Someone must have thought it was hers.”

“Yeah.”

I take it from him, and he looks back at the book in his lap, which, now that I’m nearer to him I see is full of pretty pencil drawings. There’s a drawing of fishermen climbing aboard a little boat. A man teeing up a golf ball. A woman having a cigarette, leaning over wooden railings with a distant look on her face. I sit down next to him and look too.

“Is this your work?”

“Yeah, this was my sketchbook from a few years ago. I found it when I was looking around, actually, I forgot that I even did some of these.”

“You never showed this to me before.”

“Didn’t I?”

“No, even though you promised.”

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad I didn’t see these, they would have shattered my confidence.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true, evidently you were twice the artist at eighteen than I ever was.”

“Your work was beautiful. And it isn’t a contest anyway, you can’t compare one style with another.”

He clearly underestimates my ability to compare anything and everything in my life in order to make me feel as awful as possible about my own abilities at all times. “Yeah I suppose.” I say benignly.

He flips a few more pages in silence, and I wonder perhaps if he’s remembering where he was when he drew these things. I wonder where I was at those moments too. When he drew the couple playing tennis, was I lying on the beach with Claire? What about that drawing of Kasper playing Xbox, his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth in concentration? Maybe I was destroying Kelly in a ruthless game of ping pong in the caravan park community hall. We were doing all of the things that normal teenagers do when left to ourselves, but I do know that I never really did anything back then without thinking about him, where he was and what he was doing. Not from the moment I clapped eyes on him.

He turns over to a new page close to the back of the sketchbook and we both tense up. I’ve seen these drawings before. Five heads arranged on a page. One on each corner, and one in the middle. Me. My face. My expressions. Jude says nothing, he doesn’t move. I wondered two years ago, when I found these drawings in the depths of his Instagram page, just as I wonder now; what was he thinking about when he drew these?

“It’s me.” I say, pretending to be surprised.

“Yes, it’s you.”

“I like the way that you drew me.”

“Thank you.” He’s frowning now. “I liked drawing you.”

“That one in the middle.” I say. “I don’t know what that expression is. You know, I’ve never seen myself look like that.”

“You make that face all the time.”

I try to mimic it a bit, the quirk at the corner of my mouth, the cheeky tilt of the head. “I do?”

“Yeah it’s how you look when you’ve said something that you think is going to make me laugh.”

“Ah, that explains it. I try to make you laugh all of the time with my shit jokes.” And I laugh then, hoping that I’ll set him off too, as I usually can. Just a smile usually has him grinning right back, but not now. He stays perfectly still with that flat, stoic expression on his face, and I let my grin slowly slide away and we lapse into a long silence.

“I don’t want to be your friend.” He says.

“What?”

He looks at me and his hands fall limp by his sides. There is a tremble in his voice. “I don’t want to be your friend. I’ve thought about it, and I can’t do it.”

My heart kicks up and I start to feel sick. “What do you mean?”

“You told me, outside the hospital, that you don’t want to ruin our friendship with any other complicated feelings, that it’s all too important to you. Well I’ve thought about it now and I don’t think I know how to be your friend without my feelings for you getting in the way. It’s not fair on me. Or on you. I can’t do it.”

“Are you saying that you don’t want to be in each other’s lives anymore?”

“I’m saying the same thing to you now as you said to me that night in Jen’s flat. I’m not sure that friendship – like, real friendship with no other feelings involved is possible for you and me. I thought that maybe you were wrong at the time, but you weren’t. If we’re not going to be together then this just isn’t fair. So, yeah, I want to be in your life, but apparently it’s not in the same way that you want to be in mine anymore. I can’t put myself through it.”

“Put yourself through-”

“Having to be around you and not ever getting to have more than just friendship. Like, to potentially be around when you decide that you want those things with another guy. That’s too hard, and I just don’t want to do that to myself. This isn’t an ultimatum or anything like that, I’m just stating a fact. You can feel, or not feel, whatever you want, but I need to take care of myself here, and I’d rather if my heart didn’t break every time I look at you.”

I start to feel flustered. “But that’s not what I want.”

“Well, sorry but I-”

“No, I don’t want that.” My voice shakes. “Where is this coming from all of a sudden?”

“This is not all of a sudden. This is what I wanted to say to you at breakfast before our plans got derailed. I’m sorry I put it off, I just find it hard to face things.”

“Jude, no, I want-”

“Yeah, what do you want?” He looks straight into my eyes with an intensity that makes me want to shrink away. It’s the simplest question in the world, and yet so weighted and complex that it hangs heavy in the air. I can’t speak.

“What do you want, Evie?”

“You.” I manage.

“As a friend, or as more?”

I try to derail. “You’re being different around me. You’re all distant and withdrawn, I don’t like you when you’re like this.”

His mouth is a grim line. “You’re so confusing. I have no idea what you’re thinking, or what you want from me. You really mess with my head.”

“I’m not! You’re the one who’s confusing! You’ve always been confusing and unclear and non-communicative, so I don’t know why-”

“No, don’t do that.”

“Huh?”

“You’re trying to turn this around and throw it back at me. Just face it. Am I being unclear right now? Was I unclear with you in Berlin? The way I remember it I looked you right in the face and I told you what I felt, I broke up with my girlfriend for you. I made moves and I took action, so don’t try and say that to me. Unclear. Please, Evie. You have some nerve.”

I’m stunned. I fully expected him to back down straight away, to sit there and take it, but I realise immediately that I was a fool. He sees right through me, and my stomach starts churning.

“Yeah.” He goes on. “You’re right that I couldn’t talk to you about my feelings four years ago- two years ago, and I had reasons for that, but yeah, I’ll freely admit that I was a bad communicator and I confused you, but to be honest, all of that stuff pales in comparison to the way that you are. You are so much worse at it than I ever was. I don’t know what to do, or what to say to you, because it seems like no matter what I do or say it’s the wrong thing, or it upsets you or freaks you out. Am I allowed to want you or not? Like, which is the right thing? If I tell you I do, you’re frightened, and if I keep my distance and pretend like I don’t you’re devastated, Evie, I’m in limbo here. What do you want?”

Tears spring to my eyes. “I… I don’t know.”

He stops, takes a slow breath, and says more gently. “I thought that you’d want me to kiss you. That’s why I did it. I thought I was sure about it, the things you said to me before about having never gotten over me, the way you acted around me that night I got kicked out of the bar, you looked at me like… like you wanted me. I thought it was a sure shot, I’ve never been that wrong before. I really thought you’d be all in.”

I did too.

“And you kissed me back. You did. You grabbed my face, bit my lip and you, you kissed me back. I was there.” His exhale is a shaky whoosh. “And I don’t understand why you were so enthusiastic about me when you thought I still had a girlfriend, but the minute you found out that I didn’t you were so put off.”

“I… wasn’t.”

“Yeah you were, as though there was something more exciting about having me sneak around with you than having everything out in the open. Why is that?”

“Maybe I’m just awful, then.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like a victim, that’s not you. I don’t think you’re awful, I just want to understand.”

“Maybe the things I feel and do don’t make logical sense.”

“No, come on. Stop that.”

I feel trapped like a mouse. All I can do is sit blinking, and wonder what the repercussions of getting up and running away from this might be. Surely I could just hide in the bathroom or something. I feel unsettled in my seat, uncomfortable in my skin, too overwhelmed to meet his eyes.

“Stop buying into this image of yourself of being somehow defective, irreparable or too complicated to understand. You do things for a reason, I just wish you’d help me understand what those reasons are instead of deflecting and trying to wriggle your way out of talking about things in a normal way.”

“I don’t.”

He whips the book off his lap and drops it onto the coffee table. I look at it. Stare at the yellowed pages and the crease along the damaged corner of the cover because it’s easier than looking at him. “My God, yes you do. Yes you do, and you have to stop doing it, because it’s boring. I don’t know why you do it, but you lean so much on this victim mentality and tell yourself stories about how badly you’ve been hurt, and how nobody wants you or loves you or could ever possibly do so, when it’s all a big lie. Look in the mirror, Evie. You’re a pretty girl, and you know it, you act like you don’t, but you do. Believe me, I’ve heard the way men talk about you, I’ve seen the way they watch you walk across the room, and I know you’ve seen it too. You just prefer to act like the world has cursed you with averageness because it better fits your narrative, just like this insane, teenaged idea about who’s in and out of your league.”

The hierarchical structure of the dating pool.

“Do you like living by the idea that I’m somehow too good for you but I want you anyway? Is it an ego thing? You know, I was pretty flattered by it when we were younger, but now I think it’s ridiculous. I’ve told you, I’m sitting here telling you that I like you, I’ve been obsessed with you, I lose sleep over you and you’re ignoring it in favour of your own, comfortable delusions, and your whole ‘poor me’ mentality. What the hell is that?”

“Well you are too good for me.” I manage, with words shrill and wobbly, and I’m not even buying it anymore.

“Let me decide those things for myself. It’s always been obvious to me that I’d love you, you’re everything that I love. You’re so funny and goofy, ambitious and talented and so beautiful that you make me weak from looking at you sometimes, but sometimes I really wish that I didn’t, you know? I think my life would be easier if I felt nothing for you at all.”

“Well, fine, I feel the same.” I say as stinging tears pour over my cheeks. “Because being around you only reminds me of all the things I don’t like about myself, and you’re the reason I feel like shit.”

His spine stiffens and he shuts his eyes for a beat, like he’s trying to bear the full weight of my ridiculousness upon his shoulders. “That just isn’t true. If I wasn’t around there’d only be some other person to pile this onto. This mentality, this inherent dislike you have for yourself has nothing to do with me, and the way you’re blaming me for all this… You know that it isn’t fair on me, it makes it near impossible for me to communicate with you about how I’m feeling. When I call you out on something that’s hurtful to me and you turn it around and immediately internalise what I’m saying as some confirmation that you’re a bad person it kills any chances we have of talking this out rationally. It means that we can’t work through it together.”

Nobody has ever said things like this to me before. Something inside my head is misfiring, and I realise that everything I want to say is some variation of an expression of my victimhood. But even as I sift through a catalogue of defensive words I could use, things that shift the blame away from me, make me look innocent, but I know it will be useless to say them. They would only push him further away from me and be the final blow in this relationship that I’ve already made gallant inroads in destroying. I can’t, not when he looks at me like that, with this painful mixture of upset and confusion, frustration and vulnerability. But mostly because deep down I know that he’s right. I feel my brain trying to chew on that new thought, almost, almost taking it on before deciding it can’t digest it. It ejects it right out the top of my head. “You’re wrong.” I say with wild eyes that can’t focus on anything in front of me. “You’re just plain wrong.” But he knows he isn’t. He doesn’t look pleased about it, in fact he looks completely drained, but he knows.

“Evie, I’m not. You have to think about the way that you are, the way that you treat yourself and speak to yourself. You are more horrible to yourself than anybody else could possibly put the time into being.”

“The way that you’re speaking to me is horrible.” I manage, in one last half-hearted attempt at combat in a war that I’ve already lost and he shrugs. “There isn’t anything wrong with conflict. You and I have needed to talk about this for a long time.”

I just give him a jerky shrug and sniffle. “Oh.” I say, thickly into the wrist that’s wiping tears and snot from my lip.

“I want you to see it from my perspective, I’ve hurt you, really badly, and I know that and I’ll never stop being sorry for it, but you’ve hurt me too. I know you don’t mean it, and it’s because of the way that you feel about yourself, but I’m just asking you to step out of your own head for a minute and think about you’re affecting the people around you instead.”

“I really don’t know how to be different, Jude. This is just how I am.”

He takes both of my hands in his, linking our fingers together and looking into my eyes with his steady, unflinching gaze, and if he cares about the snot, he doesn’t show it. “Look, I’m telling you, I, Jude Turner, am in love with you. I have felt like this since I was eighteen, and it’s not some big joke, or a big, elaborate trick on you. I do not have a psychiatric disease. Do you feel the same?”

He waits, eyebrows raised for what must be a full, agonising minute for me to say something, and then, more gently than anything he’s said in the last ten minutes he says “Evie, do you have feelings for me?”

“Oh of course I do.” I whimper, and new tears pour freely down my face. “How obvious is it? Everyone knows about me and my affliction. I can’t hide it. I’ve hardly ever thought about another guy since I met you.”

“So talk to me.” His eyes are pleading, and his thumbs stroke the soft underside of my wrists. “What is going on in your head?”

“God, I’m just so afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Of change. Of being hurt. Of what people might think. Of you and what you’ll want from me.”

“What do you think I’m going to want from you?”

I pull one hand out of his grip to swipe my face again and my lip quivers. I’m sobbing now, and Jude is patient, even as I let the silence stretch on and whimper and cough until I feel ready to speak again. “God, I’m so insane.”

“You aren’t.”

“It’s going to sound stupid, but I’m afraid that you’ll want me.”

He hesitates. “Well…”

“Me. My body. Sex. Things I won’t be good at. And that I’ll show you new ways to be disappointed in someone that you couldn’t even conceive of before.”

“I’m honestly not sure what to say to that.”

“It’s so stupid, I knew it, I shouldn’t have admitted that, God, never-”

“No, I just don’t know what to say that won’t make you feel worse. Do you want me to say that I don’t want that or that I do?”

“Tell me the truth.”

“Well I do. Of course I do. Don’t you?”

I recall my heady, vivid dreams of my hands on his body. “I’ve thought about it.”

“You wouldn’t disappoint me. Never. I’d never expect anything, any kind of wild performance out of you, or whatever you believe I might want. I’ll worship you, you won’t ever regret it.”

“It scares me.” I say, very quietly. “I’ve done it before, plenty of times, but, I don’t know. It’s just that it never… I never…”

“I hated it at first too.” He confesses, tucking my hair behind my ear. “It can be terrible if it’s the wrong thing at the wrong time.”

I blink. I was sure that Jude, who in my head is the master of his own sexuality, would have had nothing but a rich history of total satisfaction. I never imagined a reality where things didn’t always come easy for him in that regard. He reads my questioning expression and shrugs lightly. “I was fourteen the first time.” He explains. “It was in a playground with this girl I used to know. I don’t remember whose idea it was, but I remember all the other details about it, like how I could hear my friends talking and laughing somewhere off in the distance, and the way my mouth tasted too sweet, like the cider we’d stolen from someone’s dad. I hated it so much I really thought I was going to get sick, and then in school, every time someone brought it up again I thought I’d be sick then too.”

“Oh, Jude…”

“We were really big on trying to be adults at the time, but I didn’t want any of it. I wanted to ride my bike around and climb trees, but that kind of thing was too embarrassing to admit, so…” A shrug. “It’s how it was. You can’t really go backwards from there, you know, like, have sex one day and then cycle race down a big hill the next day, you’re just like an adult and you have to live with it.”

“I never would have thought that about you.”

“Well, it’s pretty much the only topic that you and I never seem to be able to talk about, isn’t it? Sex, I mean.”

“I suppose so.”

“It gets better.” He tells me. “I swear, and like, I’m not saying this so that you’ll leap into bed with me, but if you ever wanted to try it out with me then I promise I’ll show you it can be good. It’s meant to be fun, and nice, and yeah, obviously it’s a bit vulnerable but it’s gone from being the worst thing I’ve ever done to the best thing, so I think it can be the same for you.”

“And if I’m really shit at it?”

“You couldn’t be.”

“I think you might be shocked at how shit I can be at things.”

“I just don’t believe that. You’ve never been bad at a thing in your life, and I’m a good teacher.” He splits into a grin, but there’s new heat in his eyes as they trace a slow triangle from my eyes to my lips and back. He’s thinking about it now.

I start thinking about it too, and heat instantly flares in my face, and the sun hits the angle of his cheek, warming his apricot coloured skin. Nobody has ever looked quite as pretty as he does at this moment. I look away quickly. “Those things you said in Berlin, about wanting me to be your girlfriend. That was too much.”

“Okay.”

“That feels too intense too soon, that’s why I was afraid. It felt like you’d done all of this thinking about what you wanted and you’d broken up with Astrid and you’d put all of these things in place and you expected me to just go along with it all without warning me.”

He hesitates. “Yeah, you’re right. I kind of did.”

“I really don’t know how to deal with things like that, when people just come at me head on and expect me to react, I can’t. I panic, and I don’t know what to say, and that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be with you, it’s just that the idea of going all in like that feels like too much change all at once.”

“We can go as slowly as you want. I don’t mean to pressure you.”

“You’re just used to asking for things directly, I get it, but it doesn’t work like that with me.”

“I understand that, I’m sorry.” He looks like he might cry.

“I’m sorry.” We reach for each other and I slot my head under his chin while he wraps his arms around me, and immediately I notice that I’ve blinked wet mascara onto his shirt. Oops. “I’m sorry that I’ve confused you and hurt you like this. I was so wrapped up with my own stuff that I didn’t think about you. Or maybe I did, maybe I just assumed that you could handle it.”

“I’m just a human man,”

“I know.”

“It’s only painful because of how much I care about you.”

“I’ll try to be better with the whole… victim thing. I didn’t even know I was like that.”

“It’s best to talk to someone about that stuff.”

“Like in therapy?”

“It mightn’t be a bad idea.”

“I don’t think I’m bad enough for something like that. It feels a bit extreme.”

I feel him sigh. “Alright. It’s up to you.”

I shut my eyes for a few moments and listen to the sound of his heartbeat beneath his ribs. I’m so tired, my body is weak and drained from the conflict and the emotion of this whole conversation, but I’m finally peaceful, like the worst is over. It doesn’t feel like the times I fought with Dean, I don’t feel beaten down and stripped of dignity and made a fool of, I feel a distinct calm, as though something has been repaired. Yet there is still one thing eating me.

“Can we be something between friends and a couple?” I say, and I tilt my head up to watch what my question does to him.

His eyes do a tour of my face. “What does that entail?”

“It means give me time to get comfortable with you.”

“Okay, I promise I won’t try to coax you into bed with me before you’re ready.”

“You might find that hard.” I tease, he smiles. “I’ll keep my hands to myself at all times.”

“Not at all times.”

“Okay sometimes. I might need some sort of guidebook for this. I’ve only had girlfriends and friends before, not grey areas.”

“Have you ever considered being more like a normal boy?”

He laughs for the first time all day and it feels like he’s filling my body with sweet honey. What have I been doing? I’m crazy about him. He doesn’t scare me, not when we’re sitting like this, wrapped up in eachother, basking in the warm spring sun that comes through the windows, and maybe we are meant to be together, because he makes me feel this indescribable way that nobody else ever has before him, and maybe nobody ever will again.

“Okay, so just to confirm, you want me?”

“Yes, Jude, I do.”

“Then the rest is just noise. We can figure it out.”

We smile at each other, and I say “I bet no other girl has ever made things so hard for you before.”

“You haven’t made it hard.”

“That’s a lie – I’m sure you’re used to women just flinging themselves right at you.”

He looks at me like I’ve said something really weird. “I feel a little concerned about the things you believe about me at times.”

“Please.” I grab his americano from the coffee table and put it into his hands. “Finish this, I spent good money on it.”

“This really is a horrible coffee, isn’t it?”

“Yeah it’s rank.”

He takes a perfunctory sip and pulls a sour face. “Thanks a lot, Liam.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky girl part 3 #tw: sex mention #tw: mental health

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apersonwholikeslotus · 6 months

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for: @hetalia-advent-calender

day four, the Christmas tree wars.

Notes: I call Finland Kasper, and Estonia Kalev just bc I don't like their canon names.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“1441” Kalev stated it very clearly.

“You’re lying, I was first, and it was 1510” Raivis countered, just as serious about the matter.

Everyone groaned knowing not a single decoration would go up until this had been solved. Every year they all agreed ‘decorating one of our houses together will be fun! Let’s all get together and do it!” and every year this happens. Every year Natalya claimed if it happened again she would leave and not come the next year, and every year she came back anyway. Every year Gilbert and Feliks got a snack and started whispering bets on who would storm off first. Every year Erzsébet would “gently” suggest they stop, while holding Kasper back from jumping in on Kalev’s side. deciding it wasn’t worth it. Adéla and Evžen were really the only two who would leave after hearing enough of it, usually Adéla being the one to drag him off.

Tolys however, counted himself stuck with it. Part of him wanted to walk away and let them burn down the house if they wanted to; part of him wanted to just join Raivis’ side on account of them being brothers.

He couldn’t let them burn the house down though, they were at his house anyway, and he liked his house not burnt to a crisp. He couldn’t just join Raivis’ side hoping to tip the scale either, because he was sure then Erzsí would let Kasper join Kalev’s side. Not many people scared Tolys, but Kasper certainly did.

“I think you’re the one lying” Kalev turned back to the box of decorations, as if he had just ended the argument by accusing the other.

It wasn’t often Raivis looked angry, but now he was seething. “If I was lying, why would I make up a date later than yours?” He went back to the ornament carrier, Tolys almost turned to get a broom just then; better prepared for shattered ornaments.

“To make it more believable of course.”

“Exactl-” Kasper spoke up, Erzsébet dragging him back into his seat, saying something about how Kalev can fight his own battles; the Finn grumbling back about how he didn’t think he could.

Raivis now had an ornament in his hand, a heavy one too. While he was headed for the tree, no one questioned his ability to change his mind at the last minute and throw it at Kalev. Tolys was honestly preparing for it.

“It wouldn’t make sense for me to do that” he hesitated putting it on the tree, everyone held their breath-

“What if we just google it?” Feliks asked, even for once seeming annoyed at the night's entertainment. “And we can just say whatever that says as the truth for tonight”

Tolys let out said breath, “That sounds like a good idea, you can argue about it any night but we would all like to decorate tonight”

Both huffed and puffed, but agreed to the very temporary probably-wouldn’t-even-do-anything solution. Feliks pulled out his phone typing it in, reading out loud; “Who had the first christmas tree”

Gilbert leaned over his shoulder watching as he hit search, and the screen loaded the answer. Feliks rolled his eyes, knowing the other had seen what it said, Gilbert smiled a shit eating grin; “‘Germany is credited with starting the christmas tree tradition as we now know it’ suck on that losers!”

Tolys registered what had been read, oh this wouldn’t do at all.

“What was your argument again, Raivis?"

#apersonwhowrites #hetaliadvent2023 #hws lithuania #hws latvia #hws estonia #hws prussia #hws poland #hws hungary #hws finland

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somedaytakethetime · 6 months

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He's literally obsessed with kicking the ball at this kid in this fashion lately... show off..

Bonus of my favourite, precious dansk rotte:

#the way i learn words just to be able to use them when referring to this man..#also if that's not correct? i don't care 😤 come speak my language and find out it's not so fun either #anyway in totally unrelated news today i have that song from Barbie stuck in my head #you know that one that Billie wrote for it? the really depressing one?#yeah that one.. you don't understand the melancholy i'm living with besties..#meanwhile Kasper is posting about the beach on his stories while i'm out here rotting away #and it's sick and twisted because i KNOW he's about to hit that sauna again.. my man *is* obsessed with it.. and he'll never post about it #he'll never drop a little selfie like he did.. totally shirtless... i miss that...#enough sorrow let me get back to work #Kasper Schmeichel #king thicccness #danish captain america #actually now that i think about it..#i could have written min yndlings dansk rotte.. but i don't know how to say precious yet #i'm poor on complimentary vocabulary.. or vocabulary in general 😅#edit to add: learning that that is not correct is hilarious #so if i want to say it that way then I'd have to attach possibly dansk rotte to it too?#because apparently yndling is a noun so you have to add the s and make it into a compound word?#there's also favorit and that's an adjective which makes it simpler because i can just write 'min favorit dansk rotte' but #favorit doesn't necessarily mean it's my personal favourite from what I'm reading and Kaspy is definitely my personal favourite so..#min yndlingsdanskrotte? min yndlingsrotte would likely be more correct? HOW BIG CAN THESE DAMN COMPOUND WORDS GET??#learning is hard and I'm too old and dumb 😔😔😔#i genuinely don't understand this language and it makes me want to cry but anyway 😂

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moregraceful · 1 year

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I don't think that like...knowing I can write thousands of words in one night has ever really set me up for academic success, but having that skill does. help.

also just want to say, if you had asked me three months ago, hey Kasper how will you respond to being given full details of a final project rolled out over the course of a month with the final piece of information necessary to complete the project given 3 weeks before the deadline? I would simply say, no problem I would not begin the project until then anyway. NO. I WOULDN'T. WHY? BECAUSE I NEED TO HAVE A FINAL PROJECT GESTATION PERIOD. THE DETAILS OF THE FINAL PROJECT NEED TO GESTATE. IN THE BACK OF MY BRAIN FOR SEVERAL WEEKS. I wouldn't start writing until three weeks or less before the deadline, but I would have been forming loose concepts and thinking about connective tissue for weeks before starting research or even sitting down and committing any of those thoughts to paper. No I would not have been writing but I would have been gestating a little final project baby in my brain for several weeks prior! Now I've had to gestate the final project and birth it in three weeks and friends, I am an elephant who needs two years.

#but trying to rephrase that for end of semester feedback is like.....#''i'm very stupid and need time to Ponder. pls give us full written instructions on the entire project prior to last month of the semester'#kasper are you or are you not a frilled shark whose gestation period is 3.5 years #anyway here's my hot tip of the night: don't go back to school #one degree is more than enough. you don't need two. you certainly don't need two and a half (i'm in a nondegree program)#imagine being me and thinking about going for a full third. hoe don't do it #fresno oilers.txt

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diaryofabeautyfiend · 2 years

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Tragic Kingdom

(I know the above gif is from OUAT. Don't come for me. I like Josh Dallas more than Zachary Levi)

I have been writing this for a while and was afraid to post it because it is a bit self indulgent. But, that's why we write this stuff right? Anyway. Here it is. WARNINGS: 18+ please.

I have been writing this story for months and I have no idea where I'm going but here it is.

The day you were born there was a terrible storm. The palace midwives had to deliver you under flickering lamplight through fierce winds. They say when you let out your first cry, there was a clap of thunder so loud the walls shook. Your mother swore it was your seiðr passing through the heavens into your tiny body. The magic was the very same practiced by her and all her mothers before her.

In another room entirely at the breast of his nurse was Loki. When the thunder boomed he smiled and clapped as though he was waiting for you. And perhaps, if midwives and nurses were to be believed, the little Prince was doing just that. Waiting for his partner in crime.

And what a fright the two of you were. As babbling toddlers you terrorized any young nurse who dared to manage you. If Loki wasn’t cloning himself you were vanishing into thin air. By the end of their shift some of the poor dears left shaking. It got to a point that Frigga herself had to bind your powers until you were mature enough to wield them.

Even without powers you managed to create all sorts of chaos. Loki truly earned his moniker as the god of mischief. You happily followed along with every prank he came up with. Torturing Thor was among your favorite games. You meant no harm really. And, your little self couldn’t do much damage to him anyway. Of course the older boy took it in stride and doled out just as much torture as you. You supposed this is what it felt like to have siblings.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

You were the only child Kasper and Astrid bore. Kasper was Odin’s top general for millennia and his most trusted adviser. It was only natural for Astrid and Frigga to be just as close. Both women hailed from magical backgrounds and spent hours toiling until their husbands arrived home from battle. Astrid was a formidable healer and managed the entire fleet. There wasn’t a healer in the realm who didn’t learn at her hand.

The time had come for you to begin your apprenticeship with your mother and Frigga and Loki would begin taking on the duties of a Prince. You spent hours learning about herbs and spells while Loki learned military strategy and swordsmanship. At the end of the day, you would meet in the library to debrief.

“I trained with a broadsword today. Too short. I’d like one with at least three fullers and a lighter steel. Better for thrusting and slashing. What did you do today?” He was genuinely interested to learn what you learned. While knives and swords were infinitely more entertaining than lying about all day, he missed his mother. He missed you.

You couldn’t hide your jealousy from Loki. You begged your father mercilessly to allow you to train. He dismissed your requests and sent you back to your mother. No place for a lady is all he said. Loki tried to hide his smile when he saw the anger build in your face, “Oh it was fascinating. I learned all about wolfsbane and it’s proper care and handling.” You rolled your eyes, “Not all of us can have as joyous a day as you, my prince.”

“Don’t be a brat. Be grateful that you have a purpose more important than simply marrying and bearing children. Though, I suppose that is expected of you as well.” He rested his chin on your shoulder pulling you in tight against his body.

Your whole face flushed at the gesture. You’ve always carried feelings for Loki though you’d never admit to them. It never occurred to you that you wanted more until he began dating. And the term “dating” is used rather loosely. Loki would bed anyone and anything warm blooded. To the outward observer, Loki is a cold and cunning miscreant who left a trail of broken hearts. There wasn’t a chambermaid in the palace who hadn’t warmed his bed. Loki developed quite the reputation. With you, he was always gentle and, in private, he cherished you. You knew Loki would likely never marry outside of the realm. Thor was the heir to the throne so his future bride would need to be someone of great political stature to strengthen the realms. Loki could marry whomever he chose. It was always in the back of your mother’s mind that you would marry Loki uniting your two families for a lifetime. However, as Loki’s trysts became public knowledge, your father shut down those thoughts. He never wanted you to be disrespected and Loki was nothing if not a scoundrel. In your heart of hearts you held out hope that maybe an arrangement could be made. Loki wouldn’t hear of it. The whole institution of marriage was abhorrent to him. Loki has a long life ahead of him and he intends to live it to the fullest.

“You could ask for my hand. That way we don’t have to worry about all the trappings of marriage.” He kissed your temple and squeezed you tighter.

“But don’t you want to marry for love, kjære?”

That stung. You and Loki adored each other, sure. But he clearly had no romantic thoughts for you. “Don’t we love each other?” you asked to test the waters. “I love you.”

With a deep sigh he nuzzled your hair, “I do love you. Have since you were born. But not the way your husband would. Not the way you deserve to be loved.”

Before you died of embarrassment you pulled away from him and went back to your book. “What I deserve is to choose the way I live my life. Lady Sif has started to train with the rest of the soldiers. Why can’t I?”

“Lady Sif is a brute. Her talents are with a sword. While you are brilliant with a blade you’re far more effective with your magic.”

“Sif’s more effective with what’s between her legs. Perhaps I should put myself to use in the same way to get what I want.” For a split second you thought you saw Loki blush. Anger bubbled in your chest at his physical admission to their relationship. “Point proven.” You poked at his cheek and he batted your hand away.

“Speaking of poor decisions, I’m off to the feast. Don’t stay up too late, pet.” He kissed your forehead and got up from the table.

“Can I come? Please, Loki. I never get to go to the feasts.”

His eyes widened, “Your father would have my head. Drunken debauchery is absolutely no place for you. Good girls who want husbands don’t attend parties.”

You rolled your eyes as he bounced excitedly from the room. “Lady Sif gets to go!” You yelled after him.

“Exactly my point.” he bellowed from the hall.

You were sick and tired of being treated like a child. If it were up to Loki, you’d be locked in a tower nose buried in a book until it was time for you to court. You wondered if Loki ever gave any real thought that you would marry. Not that your endless studying would do you any good. Most men didn’t appreciate women who were smarter than them. Men didn’t want rousing debates with their wives. Even Loki didn’t seem to find that attractive. If he had, you’d be together.

You stayed up for several more hours. When your eyes couldn’t keep open any longer you went back to your room. On the way you heard giggling and stumbling feet. You hid behind a column only to see Loki and your chambermaid carrying on together. You stilled yourself trying to be invisible as you watched her drop to her knees.

You wished he wanted you that way. Longed to be the one making him throw his head back and moan your name. You forgot yourself for a moment and slowly crept out of your hiding space to get a better look. Loki caught sight of you and froze in his movements. He quickly concealed his erection still panting with lust blown pupils. His cheeks were flushed and his hair wild. “My lady, you shouldn’t be out at this hour. Go to bed.” he commanded. He had the gall to order you back to your room as if he had any such authority to do so. You were mortified. With a clenched throat and tears in your eyes you stumbled over an apology.

“I…I’m sorry, my Prince.” You ran to your room not daring to look back at them. Tears streamed hot down your cheeks as you sobbed into your pillow. He spoke to you in the same manner as a parent would speak to their child.

Moments later you heard him tapping on your door. You hid under your covers pretending to be asleep. What could he have possibly wanted? He absolutely wouldn’t apologize. Likely he was coming to scold you for interrupting. You planned to avoid him the next day.

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When your chambermaid entered the next morning you were already dressed and out of bed. You barely acknowledged her when she said good morning. She set your tea and breakfast on the table and picked up the tools she needed to style your hair. “That’ll be all Hanna.” You had never been so short with her before. She thought it best to apologize for last night.

“My lady, I want to say I’m sorry for my behavior. It was not appropriate. It will not happen again.” She looked genuinely sorry but you were still fuming.

“Hanna, how you spend your free time is not of my concern. However, I do expect a certain level of decorum. Anyone else would have relieved you of your duties. If you prefer to….handle Prince Loki, I’ll allow it. If you wish to continue your time with me I will never know of your escapades again. Am I clear?”

Her lip quivered, “Yes, ma’am.” She lowered her head and made haste out of your room. Hanna passed Fandral walking through the hallway. “My lord.” Her voice shook.

He chuckled to himself recalling Loki’s story at the stables this morning of how he was discovered. When you came striding out nose high in the air, Fandral couldn’t help but laugh hysterically. “Did you make poor Hanna cry, my lady?”

“I’m sure I do not know what you mean, my lord. Good day.” Your pace quickened towards the library.

He grabbed your arm, turning you on your heels. “As vicious as she is beautiful. Come now. You mustn’t blame poor Hanna when the one you’re really angry with is Loki.”

“I’m not angry with anyone. Why would I have any reason to be angry? I don’t own Loki. We’re not betrothed. He does as he wishes.”

His eyes softened, “Because you’re in love with him. Everyone sees it. The way you moon over him is adorable.”

You square your shoulders and step out of his grasp, “My feelings, sir, are my business. I am sure you have far more important things to attend to this morning. Now if I may take my leave.”

He held his hands up in surrender as you stomped away. “For what it’s worth I think he is mad to ignore a fine creature such as yourself. Any man would be blessed by the gods to be yours.”

“And I suppose you know such a man?” You were speaking in jest but genuinely wished he would make a move. All of Thor and Loki’s friends were nice enough to you but Fandral relentlessly flirted with you. It always drove Loki crazy that the blonde was so brazen which amused Fandral endlessly. At first the flirting was just to get under Loki’s skin but, as you blossomed a little more, he found himself getting a little flustered in your presence. You enjoyed the attention especially from him.

“Dare I dream that man could be me?”

“There’s no harm in dreaming.” You winked at him and hurried away to the library leaving behind a very hopeful gentleman.

Surely everyone doesn’t know how you feel. To think you were that obvious. The library was mercifully empty at this time of morning. The words blurred on the page through the angry tears that were trying to escape. It was impossible to focus.

If Fandral knew about this incident then they must talk about you often. Norns! Did they laugh about you? You must seem so puerile that it is hard to take you seriously as their peer, much less a woman with whom any man would want a romance.

It occurred to you that you had never dared to ask about attending parties because Loki made you think your father would hang him for taking you. You knew better. You were an adult. It wasn’t as though your parents locked you away in a dark tower. Loki wanted to keep you tucked away for himself. You were his little treasure. It was about damn time you stepped out on your own and out of his shadow. Tonight you would feast and dance and drink like the lot of them. Loki be damned.

You went back toward the armory where Fandral would be. He set your thoughts in motion. He could at least help you prepare for this evening. Everyone would expect you to be awkward never once leaving Loki’s side. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. At least you knew you had an ally in Fandral.

He spotted you with an arrogant twinkle in his eye, “Have you come to put me in my place again?”

“No,” your fingers knotted together, “I am coming to the feast tonight and I don’t know how to dance. Will you teach me?” He would have laughed had you not been so embarrassed.

“I would be honored.” He held out his hand and bowed. You took it with great trepidation but you relaxed under his gaze. He was warm and tender and, most importantly, patient. There was no music so he hummed to keep time. Once you were confident enough you halted your practice.

“Am I horrible? Be honest.” Your forehead glistened with sweat that you dabbed away with your sleeve.

“You are a quick study. Very light on your feet. Should you feel nervous this evening, I shall be elated to sweep you around the dance floor.” You bowed to each other once more and did not immediately drop hands. For a fleeting second, you stared into each other’s eyes. His gentleness is what reeled you in to this moment. This moment where you no longer cared about Loki and hidden feelings. They no longer served you. Not when you were staring into the kind eyes of this golden boy.

His hand fell to the small of your back and just when your lips were about to touch, Loki and Thor bounded into the room. You giggled nervously and murmured something unintelligible as you ran from the room.

Fandral pretended as though nothing was amiss though the tension was palpable. The god circled him, sizing him up poised for action. “What exactly was lady Y/n doing here?”

Fandral squared his shoulders, “She asked me to teach her to dance. She didn’t want to embarrass herself at the feast this evening.”

A million things ran through Loki’s head all of which were ways to keep you away. He didn’t want you to see him with another woman. Before last night, you had never seen him with anyone else. He was so careful to keep you separated from the drunken embarrassment everyone painted him to be. With you he did not have to keep up appearances. He closed the space between himself and Fandral speaking in a low toneless voice, “If I ever catch you with your hands on her again, you will beg for death. Am I clear?”

Fandral inched closer so they were nearly touching. He felt compelled to defend your honor. “She doesn’t belong to you.” Loki seethed with anger. The thought of you with a man made him sick. “You are either blind or unbelievably cruel to ignore her feelings. I should think it’s the latter.��

It wasn’t as though he never thought of bedding you. You had blossomed into a beautiful woman right before his very eyes. He would be foolish not to think of you that way. Loki thought himself incapable of loving anyone. To think of treating you as he treated others made him sick. Furthermore, if he gave in to your feelings, he was scared you would want more from him. More than he was able to give. He always thought the Norns made you for him. The other half of his soul. His most treasured gift. You were his. And, because you love him so completely, you would remain a constant in his life. It seemed you grew tired of him keeping you for himself and now you were moving on. He could not bear the thought of you belonging to someone else. If physical intimacy was what you needed to keep you, he would give it to you.

He barged into your room only to find Hanna setting out your night clothes. “Prince Loki. My lady has gone for the evening.” She moved to touch him, looking at him through her lashes poised to pleasure him when he caught her wrist. Her face fell, “My apologies. I thought…”

“Do you know where she went?” His voice was deadly cold.

“The banquet hall.” She stuttered. He flew out of your chambers to the hall to find you. He fully expected you to be huddled in the corner but you were doing the exact opposite. In a blush colored frock split down to your navel, you laughed and drank with the rest of the crew. You did not even bother to look up when he cleared his throat to announce himself. Fandral straightened his spine making eye contact with him and flashed a debonair smile his way.

The musicians began playing a spirited tune perfect for showing off your new moves. “My lord?” You held out your hand to the blonde who accepted with a laugh. Loki glared at the two of you, fire snapping in his gaze. You were not nervous or timid but confident and, dare he think it, graceful.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, my lady.” As Fandral whisked you round the floor, the rest of the group was silent. If looks could kill, the two of you would be corpses. Just as practiced, the two of you bounced and swished through the song smiling and giggling the whole time. Before you could catch your breath the music slowed and, instead of sitting down, he pulled you close. “It’s just a simple box step. Follow my lead. 1..2..3….1..2..3…” You rested your head on his shoulder allowing him to touch you. The tension you felt earlier was mounting again, knotting in your belly. He felt it too. You gazed up at him, wet your lips and let your eyes flutter closed. If he kissed you in front of Loki, he would be dead before he knew what hit him. The song ended and he bowed. The look on your face made his heart lurch.

“Did I do something wrong?” Your voice was small and hurt. He knew nothing at this moment other than he never wanted to cause you pain again.

“No, my darling. You were wonderful. We cannot do this here. Too many judging eyes.” You followed his glances to see Loki seething at one table and Elanora (Fandral’a former lover) pouting at another. “I want nothing more than to kiss you until you are void of breath. We just have to be smart. We’ll stay for a little while longer then slip out when they’re all good and drunk.” You nodded and headed back to the table.

Waiting for the perfect moment was tricky. Loki didn’t seem to be drinking as heartily as usual and he had no women to entertain. He watched you share stolen glances and secret touches with Fandral the whole night. Everyone did. Even Volstagg who was usually blissfully unaware of anyone but himself. He leaned in to speak in his friend’s ear. “I hope you know what you are doing, my friend. You know Loki’s pet is off limits.”

Fandral tamped down his anger with another swallow of his drink, “Lady Y/N is no one’s pet. She does as she chooses and tonight, she has finally chosen me. Loki can find another plaything.”

With a hearty laugh Volstagg slapped his brother on the back, “You finally wore her down I see.” The entire table turned to look at him. Fandral coughed and shot you an apologetic look. If your plan was to make Loki die of jealousy it was working. He would have Fandral banished for this.

After several more rounds you grew tired of waiting and took your leave. You offered a quick and quiet good evening, careful to catch Fandral’s eye. He nodded as Thor helped you out of the crowd. Loki was nowhere to be seen

The plan was to go back to your room where Fandral would meet you. No sooner did you make it out of the door did you feel Loki’s hand wrapped around your wrist. You jumped at his touch but he didn’t relent.

“I’ll walk you back.”

“I am sure I can manage.”

“You’ve been avoiding me. Why?” You tried to look past him praying Fandral stayed put. “Kjære, answer me.”

“I am embarrassed. I have always known of your proclivities but to see you with another woman caused me more pain than I can stand.” Fandral slipped out of the door and to your room undetected. You let out the breath you were holding once he was out of view.

“Why haven’t you said anything? Why haven’t you told me how you feel?” His breath tickled your forehead. He kissed you so tenderly that you nearly forgot what you were doing. On any other night, you would play right into Loki’s hands. He would give you just enough to keep you hanging on. Not tonight. Tonight you would not have to wish for love. It was already waiting for you.

“What would have changed? You have no feelings for me. You said as much in the library. You don’t love me the way I deserve.”

“I do not wish to ruin us. You are far too precious to me. But, if fucking you into oblivion would make you happy, I will endeavor to do just that.” He kissed you on your cheek then hovered in front of your lips where you stopped him.

“Will you be any more in love with me afterwards?” He had no answer because he honestly did not know. With that, you gently removed his hands from your waist and walked away without looking back. For the first time in years, Loki went to bed alone lost in thought.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Fandral paced the length of your room until he heard your soft footfalls. This was madness. He was explicitly forbidden from touching you. Loki will see him hanged for this. Then again, when has he ever done anything someone told him to do? He genuinely enjoyed your company. And, if you’ll allow him, he will worship every inch of you.

Your cheeks were rosy and your breast heaved from running. “I thought he would never let me go.” Fandral’s hands were finally on you and you could barely catch your breath. He kissed his way up the column of your neck savoring the sweet sting of alcohol still lingering on your breath. You felt more aroused in this moment than you had in your entire life. You whimpered as he sucked at your pulse.

“What do you want? Tell me and I will make it so.” His breath was hot against your skin. You could not begin to answer the question. Your knowledge of sex was limited to say the least.

“I’ll follow your lead, my lord.” He removed his tunic and freed his swollen member. You reached out to touch it, making him hiss. Holding your hand he guided yours up and down his shaft making sure to gather as much of his leaking seed as lubricant.

“Yes, my darling. You are doing so well.” The more he moaned the faster you went relishing the power this held. He stopped you when it became too much. His hands made quick work of unclasping the back of your dress freeing your breasts where he buried his face. His hands roamed and explored your body touching every soft curve. You were panting with need

“Please…oh my…” Through your silken splendor his fingers worked up a rhythm that had you pleading for relief. He slipped off your dress the rest of the way and led you to your bed, never breaking contact. A low wail left your lips as the knot in your belly broke. You could have stopped right there but he was hardly finished.

“Is this your first time?” He asked in between kisses. You nodded. “Do you want me to stop?” You shook your head quickly “no”. He chuckled at your admission. “I am going to go slow. If it’s too much…”

“Fuck me.” You whispered in his ear. That’s all he needed. He eased into your soaked core feeling every velvety inch of you. You both groaned at the sensation. It wasn’t long before your pleasure built. His hand slotted between your bodies working your clit bringing you both to your end. He pulled out quickly keeping his pace on the tiny little button as he released in hot spurts over your tummy and breasts while you whined and mewled through your own release in his hand.

He collapsed onto the bed and kissed you so deeply that it truly felt as though he had stolen your breath. Fandral kept his promises.

Your limbs felt heavy and your eyelids started to droop. “It’s almost dawn. I wish I could lie in your arms forever but I should go before we’re caught.” He dressed enough to slip through the halls.

“Thank you for tonight.” You smiled lazily at him as you burrowed under your blankets.

“I assure you, my lady, the pleasure was all mine.” He kissed you once more, “Until we meet again.”

#loki x reader angst #loki of asgard #loki x reader #loki god of mischief #loki smut #mcu loki #marvel loki #loki series #frigga #warriors three #fandral #thor 2011 #brodinsons #geralt of rivia #witcher x reader #norse mythology #norse deities #norse paganism

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thevoiceofdesertbluffs · 2 years

Text

fun cool wtnv fact: kasper rhodes' favorite food is liquid mercury. he fucking loves liquid mercury

#wtnv #welcome to night vale #kasper rhodes #kasper rhodes wtnv #goosey rambles #back on my abnormal kasper facts shit #anyways. kasper would KILL for liquid mercury. he has actually killed for liquid mercury before #mmmmm liquid mercury #yummy

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blingblong55 · 3 months

Text

Nothing- König

Based on a request:

Hey kasper!! >__< i hope this request finds you in good health, i'm that anon who asked earlier if your reqs are open and dont worry! Im willing to wait <33 just take your time and no rush.. Anyways- May I request a fluff fic on konig (or ghost) where they come home from a very long mission to see that their darling is baking something delicious? (Can be any pastry dish you want WAAHH) Maybe a pastry chef reader and shes on her day off and used the time to bake something! The house smelled definitely like heaven and I bet that Konig (or ghost 😭) was immediately the taste tester for the day!! TEEEHEEEE >3< jus some domestic fluff cause i've been reading way too much angst lately BAAAHHHHAHSHAHAH -🍰 anon :3 ---- F!Reader, fluff, domestic, established!relationship, baker!reader ----

A/N: If you came for the Ghost version of this, click here

It was a tough mission. His body was sore, and scars and bruises adorned him. "Home," he whispers once his body is near to giving up. Home is you, he thinks. His pretty darling is home and all he can do is drive faster. How much can a man last when he isn't in the arms of their lover?

Once he steps wearily through the threshold of his home, his boots fall heavy by the entrance. The weight of the mission on his shoulders but as soon as he caught the aroma wafting through the air, his fatigue seemed to dissipate. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he followed the scent. The mask he dreads to wear home is tossed to the side.

There you are, his pretty girl, standing amidst a flurry of flour a sugar. You didn't notice him as you stook your tongue out and tried to clean the corners of the spoon. Flour from the past minutes is still on your blouse and cheek.

He clears his throat, your eyes light up with delight when you notice him. As you rushed to his side, he felt himself grow those everloving butterflies. "Welcome home," you whisper, your voice soothes his weary soul.

König returns the embrace, savouring the familiar scent of your hair. "It's good to be home, Liebling," he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

Home.

What a funny word, no? At least to him, it is. If you would've told him years ago he'd be calling you his wife or that he'd even have a person to go to, he'd laugh at your nonsense. A man like him isn't worthy of a home–

"I missed you Bär," you say as you cup his face. It's beautiful really, how he lets you love him this much. It's poetic how good he feels when he sees you even more when you hold him like this. Are you truly an angel?

As you both pull away, he can't help but admire the sight before him. Flour dust on that pretty face of yours and your hair pulled back into that clipped messy bun, yet you are still the most beautiful sight he has ever seen. The warmth of your smile is chased by shadows that linger in his mind, and he feels a surge of gratitude for your presence in his life.

I mean look at you, what good must he have done to have you here?

"What are you baking?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. Your eyes sparkle with mischief as you gesture to the countertop. "I'm experimenting with a new recipe. Chocolate chip cookies."

König's stomach rumbled in anticipation, and he couldn't resist stealing a taste of the dough. You laugh at his eagerness, swatting his hand away. "Patience, Bär," you smile. "They'll be ready soon enough."

Maybe all is well and he doesn't have to run or hide. He can just be here, with you.

As you two wait for the cookies to bake, he finds himself drawn to your side, appreciating the simple pleasure of being in your company. You two exchange stories of your week. Laugh and playful pushes followed along.

What if this is what he is meant for? Maybe life isn't so bad for a man like him. Not with you, at least.

Finally, the timer dinged, signalling the cookies were done. As you pull the tray out of the oven, he finds himself dreaming of more. Maybe next time around, when all is peaceful, there will be a kid, maybe two eagerly waiting for a taste of a new family recipe.

"These are incredible," König declares as he takes another bite and savours the sweetness with his tongue.

You beam with pride, your cheeks flush with pleasure from this compliment. "I'm glad you think so. There's plenty more where that came from," your voice softer now.

As you two indulge in this impromptu midnight snack, König can't shake the feeling of contentment that settles over him. In this moment, surrounded by warmth and love, he knows that there is nowhere else in the world he rather be.

And as he and you lean on the counters, he realises that sometimes, the greatest adventures were found not in the battlefield, but in the quiet moments of domestic blissed with the one he holds dear.

F!Reader, fluff, domestic, established!relationship, baker!reader

König returns the embrace, savouring the familiar scent of your hair. "It's good to be home, Liebling," he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

Home.

I mean look at you, what good must he have done to have you here?

"What are you baking?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. Your eyes sparkle with mischief as you gesture to the countertop. "I'm experimenting with a new recipe. Chocolate chip cookies."

Maybe all is well and he doesn't have to run or hide. He can just be here, with you.

What if this is what he is meant for? Maybe life isn't so bad for a man like him. Not with you, at least.

"These are incredible," König declares as he takes another bite and savours the sweetness with his tongue.

You beam with pride, your cheeks flush with pleasure from this compliment. "I'm glad you think so. There's plenty more where that came from," your voice softer now.

And as he and you lean on the counters, he realises that sometimes, the greatest adventures were found not in the battlefield, but in the quiet moments of domestic blissed with the one he holds dear.

A/N: I want to hold him.....

Tags:

@simpsallthetime1997 @tipsykeen @lonelybitchs-world @viawritesstuff @avaleigh16 @aprilplage @wtfwhydoesnooneknowthebooksilove @undercover-smutlover @riskyboi123 @madsdawson @rennroo @liyanahelena @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @frizzseaberries @spicypicklesoh @viomast @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @Juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @defnotlpuluvyou @enarien @luvecarson @nellsbobells @willowaftxn83-87 @saoirse06 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @Llelannie @Macnches2 @bbyfimmie @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @1234beeandpuppycat @sparky--bunny @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @pinkblossomsworld @kaoyamamegami @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @anonxasian @born4biriyani @thegreyjoyed @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @tuihiatus @iruzias @sleepyycatt

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sorrellegiance · 4 months

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3, 8, 9!!

hiya kasper! thank you for making the ask and then sending me an ask :DDD

under a readmore because it got LONG

3. Cher - Believe.mp3: unwritten by natasha bedingfield because release your INHIBITIONS feel the rain on YOUR SKIN no one else can feel it for YOU only you can let it IN. brebbs has already put his whirlwind romcom itinerary out in the world; webby just needs to say YES. yes to drenching himself in words unspoken, yes to living his life with his arms wide open!! YES TO GIVING THAT BOY A TOUR OF YOUR HOMETOWN (1).

8. Hall of Fame - BUMBUSTER!! they are actually going through a difficult period of separation right now because buster went in for that ownership stake, which could've been fine because plenty of sports team owners stay hands-off and prioritize their other investments, but he's buster, so he's GOTTA be IN there, even though he promised bum after they retired, he'd let him teach him how to ride and rope and they'd see if they were up to starting a herd out in north carolina. (phew, run-on sentence!) building a herd could literally refer to a herd of cattle or, euphemistically, maybe a friend of a family friend knows a girl who's in trouble and, well, it's something they've been talking about for almost their entire careers in baseball, but with their schedules, and then bum signing in arizona, it just wouldn't have been fair to let any kid essentially be 90% raised by a nanny. anyway so when buster flew off to pay court to shohei ohtani, bum left him a voice message: don't bother coming back, you BASTARD, unless you want to be met on the porch (that you and i built!) with a shotgun.

9. Hot Stove SZN - casey schmitt/jd davis/michael conforto...he is their young man!! jd's had a thing for michael since they were both on the mets, but then michael missed a season, and jd got traded, and then michael came and signed with the giants and jd thought...maybe. maybe. and then michael showed up for spring training, as beautiful and steady as he always was, and jd thought, fuck it who knows how long we've got before we're traded away, maybe we can try drinks. it's too easy to be around each other, but what's the point of fighting it? farhan will make his moves when he does, and they'll keep trying a different napa vintage with dinner every night.

casey comes up, and they definitely share a little chuckle as he pinballs around the clubhouse. he does solicit hitting tips from each of them, but is disheartened that they don't so much as blink when he pouts. casey definitely asks blake about them, and blake is like: casey, they live together. casey...doesn't know what that means. blake tries again: casey, they cook dinner together. casey: *suprised pikachu face* that...means he needs to COMPLETELY change up his approach! blake facepalms because that is NOT what he meant and decides he'd better go get a real vet to head this off at the pass.

but it's too late. casey has already finagled a dinner invite to the conforto-davis household, where, despite his best intentions, he gets wine-drunk way too fast and falls asleep in his dessert. michael and jd look at each other over the rims of their glasses and rock paper scissor for who washes the dishes and who puts him to bed in the guest bedroom. casey wakes up for breakfast, is embarrassed for exactly half a minute, remembers who he is, makes eye contact with jd, sits himself down in michael's lap and steals his waffle. jd, who is making more waffles, closes the waffle iron on the sleeve of his shirt. michael sloshes his coffee onto casey's pants and well, now he has to go lend casey a pair of pants. he very nearly loses his composure when casey shucks his pants in their bedroom, and then michael does lose his composure for real when jd follows them in and closes the door behind him. it definitely takes at least two sets of hands to handle casey's manic pixie dream girl-ness (2) (3).

#i had so many tabs of bbref and the athletic open for reference 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#sorreplies #baseball on the brain

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hannahssimblr · 6 months

Text

Chapter Sixteen

I wake up from a nap in the backseat somewhere along the winding roads of county Laois. I’m not usually one to fall asleep while upright in moving vehicles, but something about the gentle rise and fall of the hills and the sway of the roads has lulled me into a shallow sleep, my head resting against the window of Shane’s Fiat Punto. It’s peculiar to be in this car without Kelly, usually she’s perched up the front with her brother giving out to him about something, but now Claire is up there instead, her voice gentle and sweet as they chat to each other, and I never join in the conversation. He’s got some CD playing through the speakers in the back and as I listen to the melodies I picture a version of myself just hours from now, standing in the crowd listening to indie music like this.

When we pull up to the festival car park, Jude and the others are already there. They have their tents and bags on the dry grass at their feet and are huddled around their car talking excitedly about something. When I see them there I kind of wish I’d come with them instead, I bet theirs was the Fun Car.

“Hey, we got you all tickets for the shuttle bus.” Says Jen as we start to haul our gear bags and camping equipment out of the boot, and she comes over to help us. “Wow this is a lot of stuff.”

“I went overboard in the camping shop.” Claire admits. “I didn’t know what to bring so I just bought loads of random things.”

“It’s okay, we’ve got our four mules to carry everything.” She grins at the boys and Kasper rolls his eyes. “Give me those” He takes two heavy tents out of the boot, lifting them like they’re bags of feathers and tossing them over his shoulders. Shane takes the folding chairs and the cooler and some of Claire’s bags, and then Jude and Joe grab the rest.

“I can carry that too.” Jude says to me, nodding towards my bag as we head down towards the bus stop, but I shake my head. “No, you have enough stuff, I can manage it.”

He reaches out and takes it from me anyway.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

It takes a while to set up our tents, mostly because nobody wants to do it. Joe immediately unfolds one of the camping chairs and parks himself into it and before anybody can call him on it he has opened up a can and is guzzling it down, hat on, mucky-runner-clad feet stretched out in front of him, and with the backdrop of the festival stages behind him in the distance he looks like a magazine ad for Glastonbury or something. It doesn’t take long for everyone else to get tired and confused by the various tent poles and tarps and remembering which part goes where, and eventually we give up and watch Shane do it. He assembles each one of the tents with military precision and efficiency, one after the other like he’s some sort of robot and then announces that he’s going to have one of the tents all to himself as a reward.

“Can I stay with you?” I say to Claire, even though it was sort of unspoken already that we’d be together, I can just tell by the look on her face that she’s thinking about what it might be like if she could stay with Shane instead.

“Yeah, of course.” She says, and we start carrying our bags into the tent next to Jen and Jude’s. I consider what it will be like to be so close to him at night time, only two thin walls of nylon dividing us, and for some reason it’s thrilling to me. We napped together only a couple of weeks ago, but that’s different. There’s an unpredictability in the air here, like something is so static and electric that the little hairs on my arms almost stand up. I think it’s the feeling that I’ve never felt less supervised in my entire life. It’s just me – us – among a swarm of strangers on these enormous grounds, and it feels like anything could happen and nobody would ever know about it.

The ground is vibrating with the sounds of deep bass music and in the distance the sounds of forlorn indie music floats up towards the clear summer sky. Jen starts smoothing the wrinkles out of the festival schedule she had in her pocket and announces that Fleet Foxes have just started. Everyone seems excited, so I pretend to be too even though I’ve only vaguely heard of them.

When we follow the music down towards the main stage I am intimidated by the size of the crowd. I’ve never been to a live concert before, and I don’t really know how to behave normally among all of these people, each one of whom seems infinitely cooler than me. I sort of stand awkwardly at the very back for a minute because I can’t see any clear path towards the front, and then I realise that everyone else is just elbowing their way through.

“Come on.” Claire holds her hand out to me, her fun festival bangles jingling on her wrist, and I take it as we follow the others. We use Jude’s head as a guide, because he’s so tall that it’s pretty easy to see him, and we bump and shuffle our way through all the people, not all of them too pleased about it, until I can reach out and touch the cool metal barrier. There are too many people blocking the very front though, clinging on to their spaces for dear life, and they keep shouldering me backwards whenever I try to break in. I’m stuck. I can’t see anything but backs, and somebody nearby smells really strongly of sweat. I’m feeling a sudden jolt of panic. Claustrophobia creeps in as I realise how difficult it would be for me to escape the heaving crowd if I wanted to. A girl in a leather jacket elbows me in the ribs and tells me to move out of her way. I can’t see Claire any more and I begin to frantically search through the mass of unfamiliar faces.

“Evie, up here.” It’s Jude. He’s wrangled a spot right at the front, and he grabs my hand to pull me closer to him. “Come on, you can stand here.” He makes space for me right in front of him, and it’s just enough so that I can squeeze between him and the barrier. “Are you alright?”

I nod. His hand rests on my shoulder, warm and steady, and I feel like it’s anchoring me. I’m slightly disappointed when he takes it away to hold his arms up and cheer for the band, but still, it’s as though his body is acting like a shield to protect me from the swirling crowd behind him and I take the tiniest of risks and lean back against his chest. He doesn’t stop me.

The five guys on stage are such hipsters, and their music is okay, but it’s kind of slow. I don’t even realise that Jen is beside us until she leans over to me and asks me if I’m enjoying the band. I tell her that I am, because I remember seeing one of their CDs in Jude’s bedroom, and I worry that he might think I’m out of touch if I don’t ‘get it.’ Which I’m not sure I do. Perhaps I am out of touch. My knowledge of the indie scene is sadly lacking, and I imagine how embarrassing it would be if either of them got a sneak peek of my sad CD collection at home. It’s all Rihanna, Kesha, JLS, all music I bought because Kelly said it was cool, but now I’m not sure how to define what cool is anymore.

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#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #writing #fiction #romance #sims 4 storytelling #sims4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 1

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msmargaretmurry · 11 months

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Happy Birthday my love, I miss you so much!!!! Here are some things I associate you with: diners on the east coast, cherry blossoms, Connor McDavid and his agonies, the Haunted Hersheypark arena (and Hershey in general), the sort of general concept of road trips as fostering personal growth in a liminal space, Pete Wentz's wordsmithing (you 🤝 Pete Wentz 🤝 your writing kicking my ass), the Washington Nationals, Snafu from the Pacific in both spirit and memory, inventive cocktails, Steel Train, Niall Horan doing his 😉👉 thing all the time on Instagram in the run-up to Heartbreak Weather (and Heartbreak Weather in general), the US-Canadian border patrol, horny twtfic on main in the mid-10s, Boston-area NCAA hockey (did you know that when I was thinking abt grad school part 2 I was looking at BU bc they have a hockey team and that was your influence 😭😭), the entire city of Washington DC, and the very old very fond memory when checking my email didn't meant horrible emails that cause me psychological damage, it meant delightful emails from you (that also sometimes caused psychological damage, but i LOVED it.)

Actually that was less a list of things that I associate with you and more a list of very fond memories involving you!! I hope you have the most wonderful day!! Don't work too hard!! Love you ♥️🌸♥️🌸♥️

kasper my love!!! i'm gonna cry. i'm so excited to hopefully watch some american league hockey with you this winter (tho tragically not in hershey) and then see OUR GOOD BOY NIALL next summer!!!! also i keep thinking that if i want to move on to doctoral work after i finish my masters that i might consider boston schools just because the college hockey up there is so fun. lmao. you 🤝 me 🤝 making education decisions for the right reasons.

i was talking recently about how i really miss the era of just writing fic directly into emails to friends...... my long deranged email threads with friends just sending increasingly unhinged fic back and forth....... and it's like, yeah i could just start emailing my friends again but email has just become. so much worse. i don't know if it's possible to reclaim it for good. 😔

anyway. ilysm. 💖💕💖💕💖

#ask #the us-canadian border partol can eat me tho. ive fought them before ill fight them again

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apersonwholikeslotus · 5 months

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Do you have Faroe Islands and Aaland islands OCs? 😊 Or other children of the Nordics. How do you view them? I would like to know

I do have Faroe and Åland oc's though they're both kinda work in progresses still 😅

for a total list you have

Denmark's kids

Kalmar Union - Henrik (deceased)

Kristiania - Benedikte

Sweden's kids

Åland - Kristiina

New Sweden - Johan (deceased)

Ladonia - Arvid

Norway's kids (not particularly in age order; my man got around during the viking age lmao)

Shetland - Liv

Orkney - Bodil

Faroe - Ida

Iceland - Ari

Isle of Man - Erik

Caithness - Ailsa

Sutherland - Solveig

Greenland - Sia

Helluland - Anders (deceased)

Markland - Aksel (deceased)

Vinland - Dagny (deceased)

how I view all of them would be a really long post so i'll just do what I have for Åland because out of the two you asked for I have more on her haha ( side note; I hc Finland as being trans and all three of Sweden's kids were mothered by Fin)

So anyway; Kristiina was born in the 1380s around the same time Kastelholm Castle was built. That makes her younger than all of Norway's kids by a good 300 years, but older than Denmark's oldest by about 10-15 years (aka her and Henrik were physically about the same age). Her childhood was interesting, cause not only was it a time when upper class/noble parents weren't all that involved in raising their children but also Björn wasn't around all that often, and Kasper really didn't get along all that well with Björn at the time and was distant not wanting to acknowledge they had a child together. All of her cousins were either far older, or had more responsibilities than her; because I do believe her and Henrik did a few years of their basic schooling together he reached about ten and suddenly was being taught things 'not appropriate for young ladies'. So she's alone again.

In August of 1521 when Harald and Björn got into their Last Big Fight, the Straw that would break the camels back; all she remembers about actually leaving are snippets where she woke up to her papa carrying her, and her parents whisper arguing about something (she couldn't tell you what). She was told she woke up at some point and asked where they were going but was just told not to worry about it, and to be quiet. There was a year or two where she was left in Lübeck in Germany with a couple different people to watch over her. She didn't really see either of her parents for those two years, they didn't even technically come back for her. A letter just came one day asking for her to brought to Stockholm. At the time she was just relieved to see her parents again, but now she sometimes look back at it in a bittersweet way, it took two years of being apart for them to be excited to see her.

I'm gonna jump forward to 1809; she's about fifteen physically when Finland and Åland are ceded to Russia. For the first time in her life she had no one to speak to except her mother, Kristiina had always gravitated towards Björn because he never well... he never seemed as if he regretted her existence, to be blunt. Even when he was gone on months long trips for some reason or another she would beg to go with him to avoid being stuck with just her mother. But her uncle was there at least, and Kasper turned into an entirely different person around Kalev; a happier person, even if comparatively the situation was worse.

It was still super odd for Kris, she had been around mostly her dads family her entire life and suddenly she's been moved from her home and is interacting far more with her mom's side of the family (her Finnish is iffy at best at this point). And her mother, a woman she had always known to be very quiet and fidgety was suddenly loud and always getting in dumb fights with her siblings. The big turning point in their relationship would be a fight they would get into where something along the lines of "Don't you want to go back to Stockholm? Don't you want to go home?" "Stockholm was never home." would be said.

jumping to modern day bc i'm bored

she's kind of distant by now, her relationship to both her parents became odd once she went to live by herself, and even a little more when Arvid was born because both of her parents were happy about him and it upsets her seeing them treat him differently.

It's not as if her relationship with them is absolute garbage, and she's bitter and isolates herself now. She's just an adult, and there's things from her childhood, and with her relationships to her parents she's had to reconcile. I think she's accidentally become very close to Kalev because he seemed like Kasper's opposite while still being family and someone she could see regularly. She did want to be apart of Sweden again for a little bit, but not in a 'would be upset if it didn't happen' way because she is also trying to be on better terms with Kasper.

I don't know... she just had a long and complicated childhood most nations do, and now she's just doing her best to hang on to the things she did like about it, while also trying to forget most of it? If that makes sense.

also kinda random side note: I think she prides herself on being more 'quiet and stoic' like Sweden but anyone who's been around her for more than five minutes knows she is neither of those things and is far more like Finland. Though no on is going to tell her that.

#hws åland #hws sweden #hws finland #sorry this took so long!!#hetalia #i know it's kinda rambly and long i'm bad at talking about oc's personalities without giving entire histories about them

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