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trulymadlysydney · 3 years

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Somewhere In Time: Eight

“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this.”

-Henry David Thoreau

Previous Chapters HERE

***Please Do Not Repost Without Permission***

1:38pm, January 6th, 1925

Roni finds herself much more confident as she wanders the streets today. She’s got the wad of Harry’s cash in her pocket that he’d left on the dining room table for her-- along with a note that told her to spend it on something delicious for dinner. She isn’t exactly sure where the supermarket is, but somehow she doesn’t have any sort of problem asking for directions now.

The tension between her and Harry had subsided by the morning. Something about the rest of the night following their confessions of how they felt for one another felt too intimate-- too fragile to be spoiled with any other words. And that had been fine by Roni; she had already been feeling vulnerable and was worried that even the smallest thing would send her rocketing into the moon with embarrassment. Harry had seemed to be on the same page as her, and the only communication between the two for the next few minutes had been soft kisses-- expressing everything they’d wanted to say without words.

They’d fallen asleep holding one another, and Harry had woken Roni with a soft kiss this morning before slipping off to work. The dynamic between them feels different now in the best kind of way, but somehow Roni can’t seem to shake the vulnerability she feels.

The afternoon air feels colder than usual, and looking back Roni realizes she should have snagged one of Harry’s coats from his bedroom closet before she’d left. She settles instead for wrapping her soft coverup a bit tighter around her shoulders and shoving her icy hands into the pockets, putting a bit more pep into her step as she walks against the wind.

The supermarket isn’t very difficult to find, and Roni is delighted in herself after only having to ask one woman for directions. The building is much bigger than she’d anticipated and she feels only slightly overwhelmed upon entering. She picks up a small basket and scans the aisles for a place to start.

Harry had only requested “something delicious” for dinner, but he hadn’t specified what he enjoyed-- which, up until now, Roni hadn’t seen as a problem. Admittedly, she hadn’t given much thought to the situation, and now that she’s faced with seemingly endless aisles, she’s hit with the realization that she can’t just microwave something and call it a day.

She doesn’t have too much trouble getting a few things into her basket, and she begins to form a general idea of something delicious she can make for the two of them to share. She wants to make sure the evening is romantic, so she splurges a bit and buys a few new candles to light and place in the middle of their table.

It’s when Roni finds herself debating between two different brands of milk that she suddenly gets the unshakeable feeling of being watched.

She grows instantly nervous, praying to God that it isn’t Howard again (or someone else who’s decided to be equally creepy). She halts her movements, hoping that the feeling will pass. When it doesn’t, however, she turns slowly on her heel to find where the feeling is coming from.

Roni is instantly relieved when she’s greeted by a small girl-- seemingly no older than about six. The little girl looks nervously up at Roni, as if she wants to say something but is too afraid, and Roni smiles warmly at her.

“Hi there,” she greets in the voice reserved mostly for children.

The little girl takes her bottom lip between her teeth as if contemplating if she fully wants to commit to talking to this stranger. Roni offers her a gentle smile, trying to express to her that she isn’t going to hurt her, and the little girl softens a bit. She points shyly at Roni’s hand.

“I like your ring, ma’am,” she says quietly.

“My ring?” Roni glances down at her mood ring, and tries to hide the sudden jolt of panic down her spine when she realizes that mood rings haven’t yet been invented. She smiles sweetly back at the child and decides that the best course of action would be to explain it to her. “Thank you!! It’s called a mood ring.”

“A mood ring?” The child speaks at a more normal volume now, and she takes a hesitant but curious step in Roni’s direction. “What’s that?”

“Well,” Roni says slowly. “You put it on, and it changes colors according to what you’re feeling.”

The little girl’s eyes stayed glued to the jewel on Roni’s finger, and she lets out a soft but astonished little gasp. “Really?”

“M-hm! Would you like to try it?”

Now the child’s eyes shoot up to meet Roni’s, and her smile deepens. “May I, please?”

“Of course!” Roni twists the ring off of her finger and hands it to the child, placing it in the center of her palm. “It might be a little bit big for you, love. Close your hand around it,” she closes her own hand and the child follows, “and now hold it to your chest. Like this.” Roni demonstrates her words and the little girl mirrors her eagerly. “There you go!” Roni beams. “Now we just wait for a couple of seconds.”

“How do you know what the colors mean?”

“I used to have a guide,” Roni explains. “But then I memorized it and I didn’t need it anymore.”

“Wow,” the little girl breathes, looking down at her tiny first as if it contains all the secrets of the universe. “Is this magic?”

Roni chuckles softly under her breath. Because sure, it’s just a cheap stone that changes colors due to some type of reaction to temperatures or something of the sort. (She’s never actually looked into it really.) But she remembers being this little girl’s age. She remembers the magic she thought was inside of the mood ring every time her mother wore it; the magic she believed her mother possessed. She remembers how absolutely mind blowing this concept was to her, and thinks how incredible it must be to a child in 1925.

So she nods. “It is,” she says quietly. “But it only works if you believe in it with all of your heart.”

The little girl wastes no time in squeezing her eyes shut tight and Roni works to suppress the giggle threatening to bubble out as she watches her. She takes this time to really look at the child, trying to identify the strange but familiar feeling in the pit of her stomach. There’s something about this little girl, maybe she’s famous or she’s a child in one of the yellowing photographs on the book shop wall. She’s got dirty blonde hair and a tiny nose, and Roni is almost certain she’s seen this child before, but she cannot put her finger on where.

Roni is completely lost in her thoughts when the little girl peeks one brown eye open and looks back at her. “Is it done yet?”

Roni laughs, taking the child’s fist in her hand and tapping her fingers to signal her to open them up. “I think you should be all set, let’s see what you got!”

Both the child and Roni peek at the stone in the little girl’s hand, trying to decipher if the color they see is purple or pink. “I think it’s pink!” The little girl says excitedly. “What does that mean?”

“Pink means you’re happy!” Roni beams. “Are you happy?”

When the child nods, her blond curls bounce. “M-hm! I want one of those rings for myself so I can show Linda at school! Wouldn’t she be surprised?”

For a split second Roni considers offering the ring to the child. As quickly as the thought comes, however, it is replaced with a mental slap to the face. On what planet would she feel comfortable enough to give her mother’s ring to a stranger? And anyway, if she were to give it to her, what would happen to her timeline? Mood rings aren’t invented yet and won't be invented for another fifty years or so. So Roni laughs, albeit a bit uncomfortably, and nods. “Oh I’m sure she would be, love! But you might have to wait until you’re a bit older.”

The little girl frowns. “Why?”

And truthfully, Roni doesn’t have an answer. Not any answer that would make any type of logical sense, anway.

“Well, it’s--”

“There you are!” The sound of heels quickly approaching saves Roni from her current predicament, and Roni rises to her feet when she hears them.

A well dressed woman comes scurrying down the long aisle, dressed in a coat and heels and also looking strangely familiar. She doesn’t even seem to notice Roni at all, her eyes are glued to the little girl and she seems both relieved and annoyed.

“How many times have I told you not to wander away from me?” she says as she approaches. She takes the little girl’s hand in her own. “You scared me half to death!”

The child nods up at Roni. “But this nice lady was--”

The woman sighs, obviously frustrated, and cuts her off. “You can’t go around talking to strangers like that. I’m sure this nice lady is very busy, so you apologize for bothering her right now.”

“Oh it’s no problem!” Roni speaks up. “Honestly. We had a lovely conversation.”

The little girl beams. “M-hm! And she showed me her magic ring!” She holds the ring up to her mother and Roni holds her breath, praying that this woman thinks nothing of the ring that has yet to be invented.

Luckily, the woman seems quite disinterested. “Judy, darling, you give this nice lady her ring back at once.”

Roni’s blood instantly runs cold at the woman’s words.

Surely it can’t be…

The little girl, Judy, sighs defeatedly. She doesn’t look up at Roni again, but she holds the ring out for Roni to take. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

Roni moves as if in slow motion, taking her ring back and placing it numbly back on her finger. She swallows thickly, looking from the little girl to her mother. The girl’s mother makes eye contact with Roni for the first time in this entire interaction, and suddenly a strange look crosses her face as well.

Roni recalls a story that her grandmother had told her when she’d first started showing interest in time travel.

“To answer your first question,” she says, “I don’t know what I believe.” ��She gives Roni’s hand a squeeze before adding pointedly, “But, I know I met someone when I was a little girl. She was… this beautiful woman with the kindest heart. And she had a mood ring, similar to the one your mother wore. Those hadn’t been invented yet, which hadn’t occurred to me until I was several years older. And she seemed…” Judy trails off again, smiling to herself. “Otherworldly. I don’t know how to explain what I saw in her. I don’t think I ever will.”

“Was it mom?” Roni’s voice is hardly above a whisper, and Judy shakes her head.

“It definitely wasn’t your mother. I don’t know who she was. Just a stranger, I think. But I could just tell that she knew something I didn’t. I’ve always wondered what happened to her. Where she came from. Where she went.”

The way Judy’s mother looks at Roni is all the confirmation Roni needs.

She’s meeting her grandmother and her great grandmother, and they have no idea.

“I’m--” the mother stammers, “I’m so sorry, darling, what is your name? You look awfully familiar.”

Roni clears her throat, trying to cover how nervous she is. “Veronica,” she says. “Veronica…. Styles.”

It’s the first name she can think of, and she fears (most likely irrationally) that if she reveals her true last name, something in her timeline will shift. So she sticks to her guns, hoping that she doesn’t seem suspicious.

The older woman blinks a few times, obviously trying to make sense of what she’s seeing. There’s a long pause that feels like hours, and Roni’s face grows uncomfortably hot. She doesn’t even realize she’s holding her breath until the woman speaks.

“Forgive me for staring,” she says, “it’s just that…” She trails off, shaking her head.

Roni blinks, forcing a stiff smile. She wants to say something-- literally anything at all, but nothing is coming out. The woman laughs in spite of herself.

“It can’t be,” she says, as if to herself.

Roni can’t help herself. “What can’t be?”

“Oh, I apologize. It’s just that… well, you look an awful lot like my sister Hazel.”

In spite of the tension, Roni can’t help but to laugh softly in disbelief. Her entire life, her grandma Judy had told her that she looked like “Aunt Hazel.” Hazel had died a few years before Roni was born, but even from the pictures Roni was shown, she knew the resemblance was uncanny. Which is why this is all the proof she needs.

“Oh really?” Roni smiles, trying to keep the conversation light and casual. “Oh how very interesting. Did you know that it was proven that there are roughly seven people in the entire world who look exactly like you?”

The woman blinks back at Roni, then laughs hesitantly. “No, I’m afraid I hadn’t heard that.”

“Oh.” There’s a brief pause, and then Roni laughs awkwardly. “Well in any case, maybe I’m miss Hazel’s doppelganger!”

“Yes,” the woman says, still eyeing Roni with a nervous smile, as if completely unsure about her still. “Well in any case, I’m so sorry that my Judy bothered you.”

“It was no trouble,” Roni says. She turns down to Judy. “It was very lovely chatting with you Judy!”

Judy smiles shyly up at Roni, and her mother nudges her. “What do you say, dear?”

“It was nice to meet you, ma’am,” Judy mumbles.

The older woman finishes up the conversation and guides Judy away from Roni, not without glancing back over her shoulder a few times back at this bizarre girl with the bizarre ring who looks bizarrely like her sister.

Roni has to resist the urge to glance back as well, trying desperately not to make the situation any weirder than it is. She can feel herself growing dizzy, and the moment that Judy and her mother are out of her sight, Roni grasps onto the shelf to balance herself.

This situation may just take the cake as far as surreal experiences over the past few days goes. Roni had pictured this very story in her head many times, wondering what the “beautiful woman” her grandmother had described looked like. The thought, however, was never actively at the front of her brain-- rather, it was tucked away in the corners of her mind. And now to find out that it was, in fact, her this entire time, she feels faint. She laughs in disbelief, shaking her head as she tries to process what just occurred.

Roni is brought from her thoughts when she hears somebody clear their throat. She looks up to see a stern looking woman glancing expectantly at her, and realizes at the same time that she is blocking the canned soup.

Roni straightens up immediately, straightening out her dress. “My apologies,” she mutters, scooping up her basket and making her way hurriedly out of the aisle.

----

It takes Roni about twenty more minutes to finish up her shopping, and as she heads out into the cold day she dreads the walk home; even though it isn’t far at all, she has tons of bags that are already leaving marks on her arm. She takes a deep breath and blows it out in a puff of air that is visible in front of her before beginning her journey.

“Roni!”

Roni freezes in her tracks just as quickly as she began when she hears her name being called from behind her, and she prays that it isn’t another member of her family. She turns slowly as she hears footsteps approaching her, and is relieved to find Daisy Hartford scurrying towards her.

Daisy seems out of breath when she reaches Roni “Hello, dear! So nice to see you!”

She envelops Roni in a hug, and kisses her cheek, taking Roni by surprise. Roni smiles warmly, strangely comforted by Daisy’s presence. “Daisy! How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine, just fine!” Daisy speaks quickly and excitedly. “Larry has taken over the shop today, so I was finally able to get out and complete some errands. You know your Harry is such a quick learner, we basically cut his training short! And he’s in good hands with my Larry. I stopped in for a bit this morning and the two were chatting like old pals! Isn’t that funny? Harry and Larry?”

Roni giggles, her head practically whirling from how quickly Daisy is speaking and her heart full because of course Daisy and her husband have fallen under Harry’s spell. She nods. “Harry is quite the hard worker,” she agrees. “I’m awfully proud of him.”

“As you should be, honey! And Larry and I just adore him. We’ve been talking about having you both over for dinner sometime soon, in fact!”

Daisy’s words are a bitter reminder of how short Roni’s time here remains, and she has to swallow down the lump that begins to rise in her throat. She laughs, brushing it off. “Yes,” she says, “That would be lovely.” Immediately an idea pops into her head that helps her both change the subject and calm some of her anxieties.

“Hey, speaking of dinner…”

“Yes, dear?”

Roni doesn’t know why this makes her so nervous to ask, but she knows she’ll be glad she did. “Well, I’m fixing a chicken for dinner this evening, and--”

“Ooh!” Daisy squeals, clapping her hands together. “I love a good chicken dinner!”

Roni smiles. “So do I! But the trouble is, I’m not a very good cook.” It isn’t exactly the truth, but for the life of her Roni cannot seem to figure out a better way to explain to Daisy that she doesn’t know how on earth to work many of the gadgets in these old fashioned kitchens. She continues her speech. “I’m not terrible, it’s just that… well, cooking these rather large meals for two has proved more difficult than I’d imagined.”

Daisy giggles. “I know what you mean. Before I married Larry, I had no earthly idea how to cook. I had to buy dozens of cookbooks, and even then I would still ruin the meals sometimes! It just takes a bit of practice, my love. I’ll let you borrow some books if you’d like!”

Roni shakes her head. “No, no. You keep your books. I was just wondering if maybe you’d have any advice for me? I never really get to do this sort of thing for Harry, so I’m trying to surprise him and make it special, you know?”

Daisy squeals again. “Well darling, why didn’t you say so? I just love surprises. Of course I’d be willing to help you!

Roni lets out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Daisy. You’re an angel.”

“Oh it’s nothing, honey! Why don’t you come with me to my place? I’ll write down one of my favorite recipes.”

“That would be lovely! I want to impress him, you know?”

Daisy nods enthusiastically. “I know!” she giggles. “What are you going to wear?”

Blood rushes to Roni’s cheeks at Daisy’s words. She only has two dresses, both of which Harry not only has seen her in but bought for her, and she suddenly feels self conscious. “I… I was just thinking of wearing this.”

Daisy gasps dramatically, as if Roni has just told her something completely awful. “Oh, honey, no! I mean, not that you don’t look beautiful of course, but this sounds like a special occasion. Haven’t you got anything more… I don’t know, vibrant?”

Roni knows that Daisy means no harm, but she can’t help but feel a little bit hurt. Still, she giggles. “I’m afraid not,” she says. “When I moved in with Harry I…” she trails off, trying to come up with the perfect way to describe this. “I had to leave a lot of my clothes at home. So, this is really all I’ve got.”

“Oh you poor dear.” Daisy frowns, but it is quickly replaced by her bright smile before Roni can even take offense. “Say, I’ve got an idea! We seem to be about the same size, and have I got the perfect dress for you! The color will go so beautifully with your complexion. I bought it for one of my first dates with Larry but I haven’t worn it since. Oh honey, you’ll look like an angel in it! It was made for you, I’m sure. Say yes?”

Roni smiles at Daisy’s generosity, but she does feel bad. “Oh, I don’t want to put you out--”

“It’s no trouble!” Daisy reaches for Roni’s hand, tugging a bit. “Oh, you’ll look divine. Like a dream! And I can do your hair for you if you’d like! Harry will die when he sees you. Simply die!”

Roni giggles to herself. Truth be told, she does want to get all dressed up for Harry. She knows he would be so surprised and pleased to see her dressed head to toe in an authentic dress that isn’t one that he bought for her. Plus, her inner child is begging her to play dress up, just to see what she’s going to look like in the end. It sounds fun, and Daisy seems far too enthusiastic for Roni to turn her down.

So she nods. “Okay. If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t, doll! But we’d better hurry, Harry gets off at 7!”

----

It doesn’t take long to get to Daisy’s house, and the interior of the small bungalow looks exactly how Roni would picture Daisy’s home to look. It’s well decorated, with everything in its place-- and it smells floral. The window sills are littered with plants, and the shelves with books. One book lays open in the middle of the coffee table, which Daisy apologizes for. “I always tell Larry to clean up after himself but… well, you know men.”

Daisy tells Roni to make herself at home while she puts her groceries away, and Roni marvels at the tiny kitchen. She observes all the plates and dishes that would be considered antique in her day, and the cookbooks with recipes that she can hardly even read. She stops when she notices the camera from the book shop sitting on a ledge, with a few black and white photographs scattered around it. Beside the mess, a large black pen sits— which Roni figures Daisy was using to date the photos.

Some of the photographs are of Daisy and Larry, smiling together and doing various things around the house. Some are pictures of patrons at the book shop. And then, a picture that makes Roni’s heart instantly skip a beat.

There’s the picture of Harry, standing in his little cap beside the pile of books, taken yesterday at the shop. The picture that Roni had looked at countless times in the future. Now her favorite picture to ever exist.

She squints to see the date that Daisy had written on the bottom, and it makes her giggle.

“You got it wrong,” Roni says.

“Hm?” Daisy turns, only halfway listening as she busies herself with the groceries.

“The date. On this picture of Harry. You wrote 1924. It’s 1925.”

“Oh!” Daisy smacks her forehead, wincing at herself. “Silly me. I keep doing that! Can’t seem to remember that it’s the new year!” She drops the loaf of bread she’s currently holding onto the counter and makes her way over to Roni. “I’ll scratch it out and correct it now.”

“Wait!” Roni doesn’t mean to speak with such a sense of urgency, but when she does it takes both her and Daisy by surprise. Roni scrambles to think of an explanation— a way to put into words the fact that she’s always seen this photograph dated 1924, even in 1999. If something as simple as that changes now, she’s afraid of the domino effect that could potentially change other things as well.

So Roni laughs, almost uncomfortably, trying to brush off her sense of urgency. “I just… feel like that would ruin the whole… aesthetic?... of the picture. You know?”

Daisy’s face scrunches up. “The what?”

Roni tries again. ‘Well I mean, it’s just such a cute picture. I think if you were to scratch out the date and rewrite it, it’ll make it look… well, sloppy. Do you know what I mean? I say just leave it. No ones going to really notice. If anything it just makes it look like Harry’s worked for you longer, you know? Which isn’t a bad thing. I feel like that’s actually a great thing. For you and the company.”

She’s rambling. She knows she’s rambling, but god she’s so nervous the more she thinks about this. As little of a deal as it may seem, she really doesn’t feel like messing with the fabric of her future like this. If the photograph is dated 1924 in 1999, then that must mean it was never corrected. And that means--

Daisy giggles, taking Roni from her thoughts. “My goodness,” she says. “You’ve got it so bad for this boy, haven’t you?”

This takes Roni by surprise, but it’s a welcome change of subject. “Is it that obvious?” She shrugs.

“Oh, darling. I see the way you look at him. And look at you now! You see one picture of him and you’ve gone all silly!”

Roni isn’t sure if she should take offense or not, and Daisy laughs again. “It’s a good thing! Means you’re with the right man. I get the same way around my honey.”

The heat radiating off of Roni’s cheeks is almost uncomfortable, and she giggles awkwardly. Because Daisy does have a point. Daisy beams. “See? Look at you, just the mention of his name and you get as giggly as a school girl. It’s adorable.”

“Yeah,” Roni says. “I guess so.”

“But you are right, I suppose.” Daisy nods her head. “It would look sort of sloppy wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” Roni says, and Daisy nods again.

“Right. Well, then, I suppose I’ll just have to leave it then, won’t I? Sort of like a fun little secret for just us! Although it isn’t a very funny secret.”

“No,” Roni agrees, “it’s not. But it’s like a hidden easter egg that only we know about!”

Daisy claps her hands together. “Oh, Roni, I just love the way you think!”

Roni laughs, taking Daisy’s hand in hers and giving it a squeeze. As Daisy lets her residual giggles die down, she speaks. “Now, don’t you think we ought to get started? Not that we have a lot of work to do, what with your natural beauty and all. But there is so much to teach you, in such little time!”

“Yes, I reckon we’d better get on with it.”

Daisy needs no other encouragement, she’s already squealing and dragging Roni back into the kitchen, rambling on and on a mile a minute about everything they’re going to be doing. “First we’ll get the recipe squared away. Then I can do your hair, while you copy down the recipe with a pen. Then we’ll dress you. Oh I just can’t wait to see what you’ll look like! And then--”

Half of Roni wonders what exactly she’s gotten herself into with this plan. But Daisy seems so excited, and she knows that Harry will be, too. So she allows herself to relax into the moment, still relieved that the fate of the universe (and the inaccurate date on the photograph) is safe for one more day.

---

It’s about 7:30pm when Roni finally hears Harry’s keys in the door, and the nervous feeling in the pit of Roni’s belly only intensifies. After leaving Daisy’s, she’d spent the better half of her day cooking, setting up the apartment, and overthinking everything. Daisy had given her all the tools she needed for success tonight, but something in her is causing her anxiety to completely spike. The long candles on the table flicker vigorously, and the soft music of the victrola in the corner of the room echoes softly. In the five seconds that it takes Harry to get his door unlocked, Roni’s thoughts run a mile a minute.

What if Harry thinks her outfit looks silly? What if the meal tastes like garbage? What if the house doesn’t smell good enough? What if--

Roni doesn’t have time to continue worrying when she sees the door open, and when Harry walks in, her heart rate increases.

He looks cold, his nose red and shiny and his curls extra curly under his little cap. He doesn’t seem to notice anything different at first, and he seems a bit winded as he locks the door behind him. He begins removing his coat, turning on his heels and then stopping dead in his tracks when he sees Roni.

Roni smiles nervously back at him, looking like an absolute vision. She’s in a pink silk dress that fits her perfectly, hugging her every curve in the exact right places. The fabric shimmers in the dim light of the apartment, and the soft frills along the trim of the skirt make Harry’s heart skip a beat. While Roni had hand copied Daisy’s favorite chicken recipe, Daisy had insisted on styling Roni’s hair (which Roni had happily agreed to), and now it looks so perfectly gelled and in place. In perfect 1920s fashion, it’s wavy at the top and curled at the bottom-- just ghosting against the top of her bare shoulders (both of which are just begging to be kissed). Harry can tell she’s nervous and feels a bit out of place, but that makes her look all the more adorably beautiful, and he practically runs to her the moment he gets his coat off.

Harry goes to hurriedly drape his coat on the coat rack, but he misses and it falls to the floor with a thud. Roni giggles, and in a blink Harry has closed the space between them, kissing her smile and pulling her in by her hips.

Roni’s bubbly giggles die down as she kisses him back, but neither of them can contain their smiles. Harry pulls away but doesn’t once remove his hands from her waist. “Veronica,” he breathes. “Bunny, what is this?”

“Do you like it?” Roni steps back, taking the skirt of her dress in her hands and giving it a little swish. “Do I look alright?”

“Baby,” Harry breathes, eyeing her up and down and taking his time with it. “You’re a vision.”

Roni’s cheeks grow hot, and she giggles nervously. “Never had my hair done this way before,” she admits. “I thought it might look silly, but I actually kind of like it.”

“It suits you,” Harry says, nodding. He’s beaming at her like she hung the moon, and it makes her giggle.

After a long beat of silence, Roni squirms under Harry’s gaze. “Why are you staring at me?” she pouts.

“Is that not what you want?” he replies, matter-of-factly. His dimple pops, looking extra kissable, and Roni wants nothing more than to reach up and poke at it.

“Well--”

Harry steps forward, raising his hand to lightly trail his fingertips along the skin of her exposed arm. He scratches lightly at the strap of the dress against her shoulder, smiling when he notices the goosebumps prickling her skin. “Can’t believe you did all this for me.” He leans forward, ghosting his lips along her neck. “Why?”

“I just… wanted to do something special,” Roni says quietly, fidgeting softly with her ring and barely glancing up at Harry beneath her lashes. “I don’t want to focus on like, the bad stuff. I want to be happy right now while I’ve still got you. Is that okay?”

Harry doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry so he settles on gripping Roni’s hips and pulling her impossibly closer for a long kiss. She’s so lovely, and she looks and smells like an absolute dream. When he pulls away, Harry buries his nose in the crook of her neck just to get a whiff of what smells so deliciously like Roni and some expensive perfume he’s never learned the name of.

“That sounds lovely, honey.”

She smiles at nothing in particular. “Yeah?”

When he pulls away, he’s got a soft-eyed expression mixed with an overwhelmed smile on his face. “Yeah.”

Roni frowns. “Now don’t go all misty on me. I’m serious. The whole point of this was to not do that! To just pretend for like, one night that everything is okay.”

Harry chuckles, slipping a hand around Roni’s waist and pulling her closer again. He presses a velvety kiss to the wrinkles on her forehead, and smiles when he feels them soften. “I haven’t gone misty,” he says. “Just… just lucky. That’s all.”

Roni sighs, enjoying the feeling of his lips against her skin. Something about all of this feels so strangely right; the clothes that she never thought would look good on her, the way her hair is done up with multiple pins practically stabbing her scalp, the gentle music from this era playing softly through the apartment. She refuses to think about what’s coming in the next few days, and fully immerses herself in the daydream that she is, in fact, Harry’s wife.

She clears her throat, busying herself instead with the food in the kitchen. “I made us some chicken for tonight with some roasted vegetables! Although now that I think about it, I suppose I should’ve asked if you even liked chicken. Which, if you don’t, that’s completely fine. We can have something else. But the veggies should be good!”

Harry laughs. “Slow down, my sweet girl. Why are you so nervous?” He takes a step towards her. “It’s just me.”

“I know,” she says softly. “I just… want this to be perfect, you know?”

“Well,” he says, “if it’s even half as good as it smells, then I’d say it’s more than perfect.” He grins. “Even if it’s not. You’ve outdone yourself.”

Roni smiles, obviously proud of herself. “And!” she says, turning to flip the stove off. “Daisy taught me how to work the victrola. It’s not as hard as it looks, but it did take me a minute to figure out. It’s kind of intimidating.”

Harry doesn’t respond, he just watches her with the biggest, cheesiest smile on his face as she continues to ramble about her day. He really doesn’t know why she seems so anxious about all of this, and he’s hardly listening to her as he admires how beautiful she looks. The mere sight of her-- dressed like this, cooking for him, going out of her way to ensure that this is the perfect evening-- is enough to call tears to his eyes, and he has to refrain from thinking too hard about the situation lest they spill down his cheeks.

With oven mitts that are far too big for her hands, Roni removes the chicken from Harry’s humble stove, and Harry’s mouth waters at the sight of it. “How did you--”

“Daisy,” she answers. “She gave me the recipe.” Roni looks at him with eyes the size of saucers. “I hope it’s good.”

“Please,” Harry says, closing the space between them. “Stop worrying.” He leans in, kissing her nose softly before speaking again, just above a whisper. “I love you.”

His words make Roni’s heart skip a beat. She’d nearly forgotten their love confessions from the previous night, and now hearing Harry say these words to her again makes her just as giddy as before.

“I love you, too,” she says, and Harry hums-- leaning in to kiss at her neck.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, too.” Roni giggles.

“One more time? Didn’t quite catch that.” He presses a kiss to the shell of her ear and she laughs loudly.

“I love you, you lunatic!” She squeals when Harry squeezes at her hips, pinning her to his body. “No!”

Harry laughs, freeing her finally but only enough to take her hand in his. He twirls her under his arm, admiring the way her skirt swishes in the light. “God,” he says, “this dress makes you look like a princess.”

“You mean I didn’t before?” She teases.

“No, no, you did, but this-- wow.”

It’s all so amusing to Roni. He hadn’t thought much of the skimpy, futuristic dress she’d arrived in. But this dress, one that exposes only her bare shoulders and nothing more, has him utterly gobsmacked, and she’s so endeared by it.

“I made sure to get one that showed a bit of skin.” She pokes at his tummy. “Know you’re into that sort of thing.”

Harry snorts. “Please. You could wear a burlap sack and I’d be into it.”

“Oh yeah?” Roni wiggles her eyebrows. “Kinky thing, aren’t you?”

This time, Harry’s face does twist up in confusion. “Kinky?”

“You’ve never heard that word before?”

“No I have, I just… feel like I haven’t heard it… in the context that you just said it? What does it mean?”

Roni grows a little bit self conscious, but she laughs in spite of herself. “It means like… you’re into some crazy stuff in bed. Like, you’re turned on by something other than just… vanilla stuff? I guess?” Harry stares blankly back at her, and her cheeks grow hot. “You knnoooow,” she tries again. “Kinky!”

“Are you kinky?” Harry asks, lips curling up into his signature dimpled smirk.

And shit, this is not the conversation she’d been expecting to have with Harry tonight.

Not that she’s complaining, of course.

“I mean…” She involuntarily swallows the lump in her throat, and it makes an almost choking noise. Harry beams. “Yeah. Kinda. Yeah.”

“Really?” Harry leans casually against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “What sort of things do you enjoy?”

Roni averts her gaze, focusing on the cooling chicken on top of the stove. She has an answer for him, of course, but she’s realizing that it’s much harder to put into words than she’d been anticipating. At home with Oliver, they’d been together for so long that they sort of grew into their kinks together. They learned what the other liked without ever having to really articulate it much. But now, having to explain it, to have to put it into words for Harry while he’s grinning at her-- and looking like that-- makes Roni’s skin itch.

“Veronica.” Harry softens a bit, but his dimple never leaves his cheek. “You don’t have to tell me, bunny.”

And now she frowns. “No, no! I want to. I just… I don’t know, it’s weird. I’ve never had to like, communicate it before.”

“I see.”

Harry doesn’t say anything else, but he watches her with a look that is both simultaneously daunting and comforting. Roni licks her lips and takes a deep breath.

“I’m into like… fairly normal kinky stuff, I guess. Like nothing too wild. But I like being--” her voice goes significantly quieter, “-teased… and… sometimes choked….”

Harry visibly tenses, but he remains as cool as possible-- his smirk only deepening. “Choked, huh? Never thought anyone could enjoy that.”

“It’s pretty common,” Roni explains quickly. “Like, I swear people like it. I’m not weird.”

“Never said you were weird.” Harry’s eyes twinkle, and Roni becomes painfully aware of the heat that is radiating off of her cheeks.

“Um…” she continues again, still hesitant. “So yeah. I like that. And sometimes I like being… uh….” She practically whispers the last word. “Spanked.”

Now, Harry does physically react. He raises his eyebrows, and his bottom lip juts out as if impressed. “Y’like being spanked huh? Never knew anyone who enjoyed that either.”

“I mean, if you think it’s weird--”

“It’s not weird,” Harry insists, shaking his head. “Believe me. It’s probably the least weird thing I could imagine. Will you relax?” He closes the space between them once again, taking her hand in his and bringing her knuckles up to his lipps. “It’s probably one of the sexiest things I’ve ever heard in my life, if I’m honest. And I don’t even understand why.”

Roni chuckles. “That’s kind of the point, I think. No one really gets why. But it’s like, taboo, you know? And that’s the fun of it.”

“Mm.” Harry grins. “Anything else I should know about?”

Roni’s stomach twists at his words. “Um…” She gulps. “I mean…” Her voice is so quiet that Harry has to lean in closer to hear her. “I like being tied up.”

“Tied up? Like… restrained while you’re being fucked?”

Roni turns her head to hide her embarrassment. “I mean when you say it out loud it sounds kinda funky but--”

“No no!” Harry assures her. “My god, bunny, no. Are you joking? M’getting hard just thinking about seeing you all tied up for me.”

“A boner before dinner?” Roni teases, trying to lighten the situation to cover up her obvious nerves. “After I worked so hard?”

“That might be part of it actually,” Harry chuckles. “A delicious meal made by a delicious girl who likes to be… what was the word? Kinky?”

Roni giggles. “Kinky. Yeah.”

Harry grins. “Yeah. Fucking love it.”

There’s a charged silence that lingers between the two of them, and Roni grows increasingly anxious (in the best sort of way). She clears her throat. “Anyway! Dinner is going to get cold, so we should probably--”

Harry cuts her off with a heated kiss directly to her still open mouth. He’s smiling, and it makes Roni giggle, especially when he reaches up to cup her cheek. When he pulls away, it's with a strained effort, and it makes him smile even more to realize Roni doesn’t want the kiss to end either.

“It smells delicious, bunny.”

“I hope it is.”

“It will be.” Harry grins. “Shall I set the table?”

Roni beams. “I already did, my love. All you have to do is get comfortable and come join me.”

“Get comfortable?” Harry smirks. “Y’mean I can come back naked?”

Roni squirms as she lets out a scoff to cover her embarrassment. “What-EVER. No! That’s not what I meant. Go put on some comfy clothes.”

“Well, you don’t look very comfy.”

“I am!”

“Are you? Sure you wouldn’t be comfier naked?”

“Harry.”

Harry giggles like a little boy and dodges the towel that Roni snaps at his behind. “Alright alright. I’ll be right back.”

“You better be, little shit.”

Harry scurries out of the room while Roni rolls her eyes and turns to the chicken on the stove. She works her hardest to prepare it, trying not to allow her thoughts to linger on the way he looked in his work clothes-- his cute little cap hanging sideways on his head, parallel with the smirk on his cheeks.

Roni serves up their plates, lighting a few more candles around the room and setting everything on the table perfectly. She tries to contain her joy when Harry re-enters the room. He licks his lips the moment he sees his plate on the table, and he beams at her. “Looks delicious, Veronica. You and the meal.”

Roni smiles as she sets her drink down beside her own plate. “Yeah?”

Harry grins, pulling her seat out. “Yeah.”

Roni giggles, wasting no time in settling herself into the seat. “You’re so cute, Harry. Fuck.”

This makes Harry snort as he helps Roni push her seat into the table. “That’s all you, princess.”

Roni grows visibly embarrassed, which only causes Harry’s smirk to deepen and his dimple to pop even harder. “Like that, don’t you? ‘Princess.’”

“It’s just cute, is all. Never been called that before.”

“Well,” Harry says, taking his own seat, “It suits you.”

Roni squirms in her seat, and Harry jokingly fluffs out his napkin. He juts out his bottom lip in a smug grin, tucking the napkin into his shirt collar and causing Roni to laugh.

“So formal,” she comments.

“Seems fitting. Would you like me to tuck yours in for you as well?”

The connotations behind his words do not go unnoticed by Roni, and he beams, causing her to roll her eyes.

“Anyway,” she says, embarrassment prickling her ears, “Bon appetit.”

Harry moans the moment he shovels the first fork-full of chicken into his mouth, despite Roni’s warnings that it’s going to be hot and he needs to blow on it. He’s making obscene noises as he chews, and whether it’s for dramatic affect or not, Roni isn’t sure. In any case, though, it does wonders for her ego the way he’s rolling his eyes and licking his lips.

“Veronica.” Harry speaks before swallowing. “Baby. You’ve outdone yourself.”

Roni grins, realizing that she still hasn’t even taken a bite because she’s been too busy blowing on the chicken and eyeing Harry anxiously. “Yeah?”

Harry swallows. “My god,” he says, not a trace of over exaggeration on his pretty face. “I couldn’t tell you the last time I had a meal this delicious.”

“I’m so glad!” It touches Roni’s heart and also kind of makes her sad. This meal really isn’t anything out of the ordinary, and she realizes that he’s so happy because she made it. He’s lived alone for years, and she knows he’s hardly (if at all) been loved like this. He’s only had to take care of himself, and she wonders if he’s ever had someone in his life to care for him like this.

“I mean it,” Harry says. “I could cry. Never tasted anything this good in my life.’

Now Roni giggles. “It’s just chicken, my love.”

“No, you must’ve put something special in it. Extra love or something, I don’t know. I don’t know what you did, but it’s the best thing I’ve ever had.”

Roni’s curiosity gets the best of her. “Harry?”

“Mm?” He hums around another mouthful.

“Have you never had… a woman in your life?”

Harry snorts at her question, but he slows his chewing for a brief moment, considering her words. He doesn’t seem to take offense, which is a relief. He thinks about his answer as he chews, waiting to speak once he’s swallowed. “I have. Sort of.”

“Yeah?”

“Had a girlfriend a few years back. She was older. We didn’t date for very long. She would’ve never done anything like what you’ve done for me tonight.”

Roni grins. “What, make you dinner?”

“Well, that, but also…” Harry gestures vaguely towards Roni. “This. What you’ve done with your hair. And the dress. You’re so thoughtful. She never was.”

Roni reaches forward, placing her hand lightly on Harry’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright!” Any trace of sadness on Harry’s face is immediately wiped clean and replaced with a smile. “Worked out anyway. She cheated on me. Twice. So. Obviously she wasn’t very happy either.” He chuckles, preparing his next bite already.

Roni only frowns. “That’s awful, Harry.”

“Was pretty awful, yeah. But I’m glad now. Taught me a lot, you know?” He smiles at her. “Just glad I have you now.”

“Yeah,” Roni says quietly. “Me too.”

The rest of the dinner is just as lovely as the start, and Roni does have to admit that she did a pretty damn good job with the food. Harry talks about his day at work while continuously complimenting Roni’s cooking, and he also listens-- completely intrigued-- when she mentions the little girl at the grocery store.

“No kidding,” Harry says. “You really think it was your grandma?”

Roni nods. “I do. I know it was her, because I grew up hearing the story of the lady in the grocery store.”

Harry grins. “Sick!”

His words make Roni giggle. “You’re starting to sound like me.”

Harry’s cheeks go the lightest shade of crimson at her words, but he takes it in stride. “Can’t help it,” he admits. Your futuristic verbiage inspires me.”

After dinner, Harry refuses to allow Roni to touch a single dish. He washes them in the kitchen sink, jokingly shoving Roni out of the way every time she tries to help.

“You worked so hard on dinner,” he insists. “If you so much as look at these dishes one more time, I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” Roni challenges, with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “You won’t do anything. You looooove me too much.”

Her teases are childish but they make both of them giggle. Harry doesn’t say anything, instead just dipping his hand into the soapy water and flicking some suds onto her. Roni shrieks, and Harry grins. “I do love you,” he says, before she can get a word in. “Too much.”

Roni busies herself with picking another record to play while Harry finishes up the dishes, and she tries to keep her questions to a minimum. She’d had no issues with this earlier, why is she struggling with it now?

Although, to be fair, it had been fresh in her mind earlier. Now all of her thoughts are clouded with Harry and how absolutely delicious he looks right now.

Harry, of course, sees her struggling. But he knows how stubborn she is, and he knows that if she wanted help she would ask for it. So he just chuckles quietly to himself as she tries to figure it out, and he grins when he hears her let out a triumphant “A-HA!”

After a few more seconds, the song whirs to life. Harry recognizes it almost instantly, and he lets out a cackle. “Veronica--”

Roni is swaying her hips, bopping around the living room while I’m Just Wild About Harry fills the silence. Harry watches her dance with an amused expression, and she laughs, singing along to a few of the words. “It’s a good song, huh?” she asks. “Never heard it until today. Daisy showed me. She actually lent it to me so I could do this. Neat, huh? How like, accurate to our situation it is and stuff.”

Harry shuts off the water in the sink, drying his hands before making his way slowly into the living room. He takes Roni’s wiggling hips in his hands, and laughs when she doesn’t stop dancing. “This is my song to you,” she states. “I’m just wild about you, lover boy.”

Harry giggles, swaying a bit with her as well. “Well,” he says, “The feeling is mutual.”

Roni continues to bop around the living room, with Harry only half heartedly dancing with her. He watches her intently the entire time, and his stare makes her almost nervous. She tries to stay as playful as possible, but the way he’s smirking at her makes her giggly and excited. Finally, she groans. “Whaaaaaat?”

Harry throws back his head and laughs, taking her hips in his hands once again. “Just love you,” he admits, kissing her forehead. “Can’t believe how lucky I am.”

“You’re staring at me like a weirdo,” Roni points out, and the smile on her face lets him know that she isn’t upset about it in the least.

“Can’t help it,” he says. “Have you seen yourself?”

“You’re one to talk!” Roni hip checks him and he snorts. “Anyway, you’re being very rude not participating in this dance with me.”

“I’m dancing!” Harry insists.

“Yeah, but not enough! You know, if there was a song that was like I’m Just Wild About Roni or something, I’d be shaking my little ass all over this house.”

Harry chokes on a laugh, and Roni immediately kisses against his open mouth. “Come onnnn,” she giggles, “You’ve gotta get into it!”

Harry watches her, an amused smirk on his face, and she turns it into a game. She wiggles her hips tauntingly, moving closer to him and then backing away when he reaches for her. It makes him chuckle, but he holds on to his facade as long as possible. “If you keep moving like that, I’ll cum untouched,” he teases.

“What, like this?” Roni wiggles ungracefully, and Harry laughs. He can’t stop himself from launching forward now. He takes her hips in his hands, squeezing and yanking her towards him-- causing her to squeal.

“Harry!” she giggles, stumbling into his arms. “Fuck!”

He laughs heartily as he steadies her, wrapping his arms around her and successfully trapping her against his body. She squirms in a half-hearted attempt to escape, but he holds her steadfast, kissing her temple a few times until both of their giggles settle down.

When the aftershocks of Roni’s giggles have subsided into soft hums of contentment, she lifts her head to smile at Harry. The way he’s looking down at her causes him to get the most adorable double chin, and she noses at it softly. He squeezes her tighter, pulling her in to button their lips together.

The kiss grows more intense with each second that passes, and Harry’s thoughts begin to run wild. With a gentle touch, he trails his fingertips slowly up Roni’s back, testing the waters by gripping the back of her neck firmly. He feels her stiffen only slightly, her breath hitching softly in her throat before she relaxes into his grasp. She lets out a barely-there groan when he squeezes, and he knows he’s got her.

“Can I tell you something?” Harry breathes, using his other hand to squeeze teasingly at her ass.

“Hm?”

“I couldn’t want you any more than I do tonight.”

He can feel the heat radiating off of her cheeks, but he doesn’t even give her a chance to respond before he’s gripping her neck tighter, gently guiding her backwards a bit. They stumble awkwardly through the living room together, never once breaking the kiss.

Roni giggles, and even Harry can’t help but to smile, when their teeth knock together-- making a noise that echoes somewhat uncomfortably. It’s then that Harry notices the song has come to an end, and he gets an idea.

He pulls away slowly, heart melting when he sees Roni lean in for another kiss before realizing he’s stopped. She looks up at him with doe eyes, and he almost forgets what he was even going to say.

“Got an idea,” he says. “Going to set the mood.”

“The mood is already set, baby,” Roni insists, but Harry is already moving. He’s hurrying over to his records, thumbing through them haphazardly until he lets out a quiet-- but triumphant-- “Ah! There it is.”

Roni, growing impatient and almost uncomfortably wet, tries to catch a glimpse of the music he holds in his hands, but it’s no use. So she lets out an indignant huff that causes Harry to smirk.

“Patience, pretty baby,” he coos. “You’ll get yours soon enough.”

Something about the tone with which he presents these words to her causes Roni to shiver, and she doesn’t even mean to moan the way she does-- light and airy and almost pornographic sounding (but in a sweet way). The moan doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, because of course it doesn’t, and he chuckles to himself just out of her earshot.

“Can’t make love to my girl without a good song playing.”

“Can’t you, though?” Roni teases, and Harry shoots her a cheeky glance over his shoulder before busying to work switching out the records.

“Well, I mean, I could,” he says, “but what’s the fun in that? Besides…” He drops the needle in place, turning around with a smirk as the slow, sexy song begins. “...Gonna need something to drown out her screams from how good m’making her feel.”

Roni giggles nervously— not because what he said was funny, but because she knows he’s right, and the anticipation mixed with the thick tension charging the air is making her tummy twist.

Harry turns slowly on his heel, a mischievous grin on his face as if he’s about to pounce on her. Roni takes a cautious step backwards and Harry confirms her suspicions, bounding for her and immediately devouring her in kisses.

It starts out playful, but the kisses soon grow hungrier and hungrier— and then suddenly they’re groping at one another like two horny teenagers left unsupervised for the first time. Roni haphazardly tugs at the buttons of Harry’s shirt while he uses his hands to guide them both awkwardly towards the sofa without opening his eyes or removing his lips from hers.

There is a gentle bump when the back of Roni’s legs hit the sofa, and Harry gently turns them both around. He plops ungracefully onto the couch, large ringed fingers on either side of Roni’s hips as he tugs her onto his lap. She complies with little persuasion needed, straddling his waist and cupping the back of his neck with her hands. Her thumbs brush against the untamable curls at the base, and he shivers ever so softly when she purposely scratches. All the while their lips never separate, and as Harry licks his way into her mouth, Roni leans impossibly closer to him.

His fingers squeeze the fleshier part of her hips before ducking lower to the curve of her ass, cupping it gently beneath his palms. He pulls away only slightly when he speaks. “Jesus, Veronica.”

“Is this okay?” Roni bumps her nose playfully against Harry’s and he chuckles.

“‘Course it is. Just never seen anyone so perfect. Think you were made for me.”

“Think so, too,” Roni mumbles against the base of his throat, dragging her lips up the sensitive skin and nibbling gently at his ear.

Harry hums low in his throat, squeezing Roni’s ass through the thick fabric of her skirt. “This fucking dress,” he mumbles, and Roni can hear feel the vibration of his voice as she kisses against his neck.

It makes Roni smile to herself at how easy it is to turn him on-- especially wearing something as simple as this. This dress, of course, is incredibly beautiful but in her time it would be considered far too modest and less than sexy. Harry, however, is transfixed on the sight before him, and he seems completely head over heels in love with Roni as he trails his fingertips along the frills on the skirt.

Roni allows Harry a few moments of wonder before she gets right back to work, leaning in and sucking the spot below his ear. “You’re one to talk,” she mumbles, trailing her lips up to the shell of his ear. She takes his earlobe between her teeth and nibbles gently, and Harry involuntarily squeezes at her hips, causing her to roll them against him.

Harry tilts his head, taking Roni’s bottom lip between his own and sucking. Just as his tongue begins to gently trace its way into her mouth, his big hands slide up her back tenderly-- causing her to shiver. She gulps, opening her mouth further and allowing him to lick his way in, greeting his tongue with a graceful swirl of her own. He hums again, and she can feel a faint whisper of a grin tugging on his mouth.

As Roni rolls her center along his ever growing bulge, he chuckles almost darkly against her lips. “Christ,” he mutters, “What are you doing to me?”

“Feel good?” she asks, lips ghosting his.

“Going to make me finish before I’m ready,” he admits. “You’re a devil.”

Roni hums. “Kiss me again.”

Harry doesn’t need to be told twice, and he leans in to button their lips together once more. He allows his hands to gather up all the ruffles along the trim of her skirt, bunching them up in one hand so he can lift it effortlessly. Roni’s’ backside feels instantly colder, and she glances down to the spot where her core meets his. He gulps, realizing that she’s wearing stockings and no underwear, and Roni instantly grows embarrassed.

“Gonna make a mess on your pants if we keep going like this,” she admits breathlessly.

“S’okay,” Harry says, eyes glued to her pussy. “It’s fuckin’ sexy.”

With his words, Roni gives another harsh roll of her hips, and Harry’s head falls back onto the couch. He closes his eyes for a split second, trying to make a mental image of the sight of her juices slick against his trousers, and then licks his lips before speaking.

“Wanna--” he gulps, “--wanna try something. Can we?”

“Anything,” Roni whispers.

Harry doesn’t speak again, launching right into whatever it is he wants to try. He takes Roni’s hips in his hands again and shifts her, ever so slightly, until she’s straddling only one of his knees. She takes care not to accidentally knee him in the balls, which proves hard with his ever growing bulge getting bigger and bigger. She already feels soaked, and she grows embarrassed at the slightly sticky stain already forming on his trousers.

“Harry, what--”

“I want to watch you,” he breathes, looking up at her from under his lashes. “Want to watch you try and get yourself off on my thigh.”

Roni lets out a breath. “I don’t want to make a mess.”

“But I want you to.” His stare is so intense, she has to avert her eyes, and he leans forward to gently bump her nose with his own. “Please,” he says. “Just try for me.”

Roni eyes him hesitantly, before positioning herself better and beginning the rocking of her hips. Her breath comes out shaky, and it’s Harry who lets out a low groan. His eyes flicker continuously between her face and her pussy, and the mere sight of him makes her all the more wet.

“Feel good, princess?”

Roni shivers at her new nickname. On any other occasion, she feels she would’ve found it cringey, but now, coming from his lips, it makes her fucking melt. Roni nods, taking her bottom lip between her teeth and focusing as much as she can on getting the friction she’s craving. It does feel good, but truth be told it’s nowhere near enough, and she doesn’t think she’s actually going to be able to get herself off by this alone.

“I--” she breathes, already feeling winded, “I need more.”

Harry raises his knee slightly, and Roni rolls her hips a bit harsher, inhaling sharply at the slight increase of friction.

“Like that?” Harry asks quietly.

Roni nods. “M-hm. Just like that.”

“You’re a vision, Veronica,” Harry breathes. “Look at you.”

She gives an extra hard rock of her hips. It still feels good, but all she wants right now is him. She reaches forward to take one of his hands from her hip and gently guides it down to her clit.

Harry grins. “Needy,” he tuts.

“Please,” she whimpers. “Feels good but… it’s not enough.”

There is something different in Harry’s eyes tonight, and it excites Roni more than she’s willing to admit. He gently rolls his fingers along her clit, and she arches her back. She gulps.

“Why don’t we see how far we can take this,” Harry says slowly, “Until you can’t possibly take it anymore.”

Roni whines when Harry pulls his fingers away, laying her head down to bury her face in his neck. “You tease.”

She can hear him chuckle softly, reaching to grip her hips and guide her along his thigh. “And you thought I was bad the other night.”

“Gonna ruin your pants.”

“Don’t care about my trousers,” Harry states. “Already said that. Want you all over them.”

Roni wiggles a bit uncomfortably, searching for that friction against her clit again. She bites lightly at the spot on Harry’s neck that she knows makes him whimper, and she tries to refrain from leaving a mark.

“Can’t believe how wet you are,” Harry breathes. “Can feel you through the fabric.”

“Harry--”

“Keep going,” he says. “Please, honey.”

It almost seems that Harry is getting more pleasure from this than Roni herself is, and she bites at the spot where his neck meets his shoulder. She knows this is driving him crazy, and she realizes that, despite all the sex they’ve been having the past few days, this might just be the kinkiest he’s ever gotten with her, which somehow turns her on even more.

Roni throws her head back, giving a particularly hard roll of her hips and letting a long moan drip from her lips when she hits her clit from a good angle. “God, baby,” she whines.

Harry licks his lips and squeezes her that much tighter. “Tell me, princess.”

“Please…” She’s wiggling ungracefully now, trying so hard to get some friction. She reaches once again for his hand, completely unashamed of how desperate she must be coming across. But Harry gives the back of her hand a little slap before pulling it away.

He shakes his head. “Nuh-uh,” he says. “What did I just say?”

It makes Roni shiver, the tone he’s using and the darkness in his eyes. Obviously he’d been paying attention to what she said she liked earlier because he’s brought out the big guns now. It fuels Roni even harder-- lights a fire under her ass that makes her want to disobey him more just so he can put her in her place.

“Please,” she whines. “It’s not enough.”

She goes to reach for his hand a third time, and this time he’s quicker than her. He takes her wrist in his hand-- wrapping his fingers fully around the width of it, and bends her arm at the elbow so that he’s got it pinned behind her back. He does the same with her opposite hand before she even has time to process it, and effortlessly holds them both in one of his large fists.

Harry tuts at her, shaking his head. “Why is my girl suddenly being so bad?” he asks. “Hm? Not doing what she’s told. Surely she’s not asking for a spanking… is she?”

Roni groans, her hips growing tired from the constant movement, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder. “Harry… please baby--”

He gives her wrists a tug, securing her even tighter. He bumps her nose with his own, teasing her. Roni chases his lips with her own, begging for a kiss, but he keeps his face just out of reach. He chuckles darkly, sending a shiver down Roni’s spine, but then he speaks so tenderly it melts her heart.

“Is this still okay, honey?”

“Of course it is,” Roni whispers. “Wish I could touch you, but--”

“But you like being restrained, don’t you princess?”

He speaks so formally, which somehow adds to the eroticism of the moment. Roni has never experienced anything like this. She moans, uninhibited. “I do, Harry. I really do.”

“Of course you do,” he chuckles darkly. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

He is looking at her intensely but there’s a hint of curiosity behind his eyes that makes this all the better. He’s testing the waters, and it’s working for Roni in a way that nothing has ever worked before. “I’m your good girl,” she pants. “Please touch me.”

“Ohh,” Harry tuts. “Now, bunny, you can take a little more teasing can’t you?”

“I can’t,” Roni whines.

“You can,” Harry says, bumping her nose with his own. “Know you can.”

Roni lets out a cry that makes even her feel pitiful. She’s never like this-- truly-- but Harry makes her feel something unlike anything she’s ever experienced. “Fuck, fuck fuck,” she whimpers in frustration, her hips growing tired from their movement. She struggles against Harry’s fists, but he’s got a firm hold on her, and he grins sadistically.

“Getting tired?”

“I’m close,” she pants, “But it isn’t enough. Harry-- please--”

“Hm.” Harry narrows his eyes, blinking slowly at her as he watches her struggle. “You have been good, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Roni cries.

“Wasn’t actually asking you, sweetheart.” Without warning, Harry uses his free hand to smack lightly at the side of Roni’s bum, causing her to gasp. There isn’t enough force to actually hurt her, and the layers of her skirt sort of soften the blow, but it leaves behind a little sting that causes an involuntary moan to escape Roni’s lips.

Harry looks up at her from under his lashes, a devilish smirk on his face but a hint of innocence in his eyes. “Was that okay?”

Roni nods, gulping harder than she intends. “Yes,” she moans, “it was perfect. Do it again.”

Harry smiles, his dominant side vanishing for just a moment as he leans in to press a kiss to Roni’s lips. “I like this kinky side of you.” He denies her request, kissing the corner of her lips as she squirms against his lap. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Roni can’t help the moan that bubbles up from her throat when he reaches down to rub at the spot he’s just slapped. How could someone be so sexy, yet so incredibly sweet at the same time? Her clit is practically throbbing, and the spot on Harry’s trousers that is consistently being rubbed by her core grows hotter and wetter by the second. She’s relieved when Harry lets go of her wrists-- using one hand to take her hip and the other to rub against her clit.

The whimper that leaves her lips is filthy and pathetic, and Harry uses the hand that rests on her hip to guide her movements while he rubs against her clit. He watches her face intently, with his lips parted ever so slightly. His cock is plumping up nicely in his trousers, and Roni squirms a bit more in an attempt to place some friction on it for him. She fights to keep her eyes open as Harry rubs circles on her clit, and her eyes roll back in her head when he gives a particularly fast rub.

His own breathing picks up intensity, and he subconsciously licks his lips as he watches her. Roni starts babbling, voice on the verge of tears as she grinds against Harry’s fingers, and he silences her with another harsh slap to her bottom. She yelps, and he moans low in his throat.

“Go on, princess,” he says, voice thick and dark. “Use my thigh. Use my fingers. Cum all over me, baby, know you can.”

It’s only a few more seconds before Roni’s thighs are quivering, and she has to hold onto Harry’s shoulders to keep her balance while her orgasm washes over her. Her head lulls dully to the side, and her vision goes white hot. She doesn’t even try to quiet her moans, she lets them pour out long and full while she grinds her pussy against Harry, riding out a most delicious orgasm.

And not once does Harry remove his eyes from her face.

When the orgasm has finished, she collapses, spent, onto Harry’s shoulders. He removes his fingers from her clit (not ignoring the way she twitches as he moves) and notices his hand is sort of cramping. Using his free hand, he scratches tenderly at her back, giving her a few moments to catch her breath. He trails his hand down gently to the spot on her ass that he’s smacked, and he gives it a gentle squeeze, soothing over the stinging as best he can.

They both seem to realize that the song has long since ended, but neither seems to care. After a few more moments, Roni hardly makes any effort to move. But Harry can tell she’s still needy for him by the way she begins suckling at his neck. He allows her to trail a few wet kisses along his skin there, before leaning back gently. “Veronica? Hey, baby, can you sit up for me please?”

Roni lifts her head slowly, and the dazed out, blissful look in her eyes is almost too much for Harry to handle. He smiles, kissing at her eyelids and loving the way her lashes flutter closed. When he pulls back, he scans her face again. “All this from one orgasm?”

Roni nods sleepily. “Want more,” she says. “Please.”

“Ohhh,” Harry says with a grin. “My needy girl. Look so pretty right now, you know that?”

“Felt good,” Roni mumbles, already fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. She stops when she looks down at his trousers, frowning when she sees just how soaked she’s gotten them.

“What?” As soon as Harry’s asked, his eyes are looking at the same thing hers are, only he’s grinning and she’s not.

“Messy,” Roni observes quietly.

“Mm.” Harry hums low in his throat. “But I asked you to, didn’t I? Told you I wanted it.”

“Yeah but--”

“And it felt good, didn’t it, baby?”

“Oh my god, yes,” Roni says, a shiver running down her spine as if the mere thought of it is causing aftershocks. “I don’t understand.”

Harry reaches up, trailing his fingertips delicately along her shoulders, tickling at her back lightly, and scratching tenderly at the back of her neck. “What? What don’t you understand?”

“How every time is just… so fucking good. I don’t know how you do that. It’s never been so intense, or.. Or…” She runs out of words, lost in thought and melting at the way he’s touching her skin.

Harry smiles patiently. “Or what, baby? Say it.”

“Just…” Roni shakes her head, still at a loss for words, and she giggles at herself. “I don’t know, Harry. You’re just so good. I love it. I love you. That was incredible. I mean, seriously, that was so intense yet so simple. It literally was--”

“Foreplay,” Harry says, cutting her off. His fingers wrap gently around her throat, giving it a slight squeeze that makes her jaw drop. “That was just foreplay, baby.”

In an instant he’s moving, never once removing his hand from her throat. He’s squirming to get his pants undone with one hand, but given the somewhat awkward position he’s in, he can’t. Roni wastes no time, reaching down to do the job herself, and Harry beams. “That’s right,” Harry says, his voice low in the back of his throat. “Get me undone, will you?.”

Roni fumbles with the zipper and the button, but she seems in a daze with the way Harry’s hand feels around her neck. He’s almost worried that he’s doing too much, maybe squeezing a bit too hard or whatever, when he hears it.

“Harder,” she whispers. “Harry… Can you choke me harder? Please?”

Harry can’t even attempt to hide his surprise. “H-harder?” he stutters.

“Please,” she whines. They seem to remember at the same time that her hands are on the buttons of his pants, and she hurries to finish the job she started.

As soon as his pants are unfastened he removes his hand from her neck and scrambles, somewhat awkwardly, to get them off. Roni has to shuffle off of him briefly as he kicks the pants off, and before she can even do anything, Harry is yanking her by her hips back on top of him. She shrieks as she falls onto him, minding his now bare cock tickling between her legs, and she reaches behind her to undo the buttons of her dress.

“Now me,” she breathes. “Let’s get this off so I can—“

Harry reaches up, taking her hand in his. “No,” he says quietly. “Leave it. Wanna fuck you in it.”

Roni shivers, licking at her lips before gulping and smiling faintly. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Harry nods, lowering her hands. “May I?”

The fact that he’s even asking melts Roni’s heart, and all she can manage is a soft nod. Then Harry’s off, gripping her hips and shuffling both of them so that she’s hovering over him.

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, brushing their noses together before Roni shifts slightly, sinking down onto him.

He instantly lets out a moan as she sinks lower, and her breath hitches as she tries to adjust to the size of him. She grips his shoulders, and Harry doesn’t dare move-- giving her a moment to get used to the feeling. She licks her lips, and Harry bumps her nose with his own, coaxing her as gently as he can.

“Doin’ so good,” he says softly. “Feel good?”

“Mhm.” Roni sighs, “Feels so good.”

“Can you move, bunny? Need a minute?”

“It’s good,” Roni breathes, kissing at his jaw. “I’m good. Fuck.”

She starts rocking her hips gently, which takes Harry by surprise. He inhales sharply through his teeth. “Fuck, baby,” he whines, practically choking on his own pleasure. “Keep going.”

Roni rolls her hips again, shuddering when she manages to sink just a fraction of a bit deeper on him. She glances down at where their bodies are connected-- although it’s mostly covered by the thick fabric of her skirt.

Harry seems to read her mind, because he removes a hand from her hip and presses it gently to her lower abdomen. “Feel me here?” he asks. “In your tummy?”

Roni nods, obviously overly-sensitive, as tears brim her eyes. “Feels so fucking good,” she whimpers.

Harry is almost shocked at how filthy they’re being. Sure they’ve talked dirty before, many times, but tonight feels different. Especially now that Harry knows what Roni is really into.

Which reminds him…

Harry reaches up under Roni’s thick skirt, gripping at the skin of her ass and digging his nails in, only slightly-- before giving her bare skin a nice smack.

Roni gasps, clearly taken aback, and Harry grins against her mouth. “Y’like that?”

He isn’t only asking because it’s part of talking dirty-- he’s also asking because he’s genuinely curious that he’s doing alright. Although, if the moans dripping from Roni’s pretty lips are any sort of indication as to how she’s feeling right now, Harry assumes he’s doing a pretty decent job.

Roni nods, head lulling back as she rides him. “Fuck—fuck!”

Harry rubs over the spot he’s just smacked before striking another blow. Roni hisses through her teeth, whimpering a soft, “oh god, Harry” through choking moans.

Harry gulps, clearly losing his composure but trying with all his might to keep up the dominance act. “Love the way you squeeze me when I do that,” he groans. “Could get used to that.”

Roni lets out a pitiful grunt, dropping her head to rest her forehead against Harry’s shoulder. “Please,” she cries. “Feels so good.”

Harry grips onto her hips so tightly it makes her yelp, and he’s certain there’s going to be bruises left behind tomorrow. He guides her hips gently as she rides him, and he trembles with each roll of her hips.

Roni tilts her head to sponge wet, lazy kisses along his neck and the underside of his ear, and the sound of her labored breathing turns Harry on more than he’s ever thought possible. She takes his earlobe lightly between her teeth, and he can’t help the little moan that escapes between his grunts as he relishes in the feeling of both pleasure and pain.

It’s what Roni says next that practically tips him over the edge.

“Harry?”

“Mm?” Harry closes his eyes, focusing on the feeling of her walls clenched tightly around him.

“Choke me.”

It takes Harry a moment to blink back the fog in his eyes and actually comprehend what she’s asking, but once he’s processed it it’s a request he is all too happy to comply with. He trails his hand up her arm before clasping his fingers on either side of her neck. The way her breath hitches in her throat at his actions is enough to make him want to scream.

“Of course, baby.”.

As smoothly as he can manage, he gently guides her off of him by her hips, lazily kissing against her mouth as he lays her down on her back. His prick immediately misses her warmth as they awkwardly get situated on the couch.

Harry reaches down to take her legs in his hands, draping them over his own shoulders and leaving her entirely exposed up to him. He licks his lips when he sees exactly how wet she is, and she squirms a bit— realizing what a vulnerable position she’s in. Harry smiles reassuringly down at her, muttering a quick “fuck, you’re beautiful,” and delighting when she visibly relaxes.

Roni wiggles a bit more, using her elbows to position herself correctly against the throw pillow on his couch, and Harry holds his throbbing cock in his hand, ready to reinsert it as soon as possible. As soon as he thinks she’s ready, he positions himself as best as he can, but Roni holds up a hand to stop him.

“Wait, careful!”

Harry raises a confused eyebrow at her, and she gestures down to the skirt of her dress that’s now pooling, unladylike, around her hips. “It was your idea to keep this on,” she points out. “But it’s not my dress. So don’t get it dirty.”

Harry chuckles. “I’ll try,” he says, feeling a bit of the intensity between them melt (in the softest way). “No promises though.” He moves to insert himself between her thighs again, but she stops him again.

“You break it, you buy it.”

Harry grins, amused, down at her. “What?”

Roni, realizing Harry has probably never heard that phrase before in his life, giggles and shakes her head. “Nevermind. Just fuck me. But like, you know, carefully.”

Harry’s grin turns into a deep smirk that makes Roni’s thighs twitch. “Like I said,” he says, teasing at her entrance with his tip, “no promises.”

He enters her quickly, causing them both to gasp at how sensitive they’re feeling— especially with this new position leaving her far more open to him than before. The sound of her gasp, however, reminds Harry that he’s got a job to do. So he reaches down, wrapping his large hand gently around Roni’s throat, and squeezing the sides.

It’s uncharted territory for him, of course, but the look in Roni’s eyes is enough to make him realize that maybe he has a thing for choking as well. Her hair is disheveled and her mascara is a bit smudged around her eyes, although that seems to be the least of her worries. She doesn’t look scared; if anything her face looks almost challenging. She blinks up at him and mutters a single word.

“Harder.”

A curl falls into Harry’s face and he stares dumbly back down at her, processing her request. “Harder, baby?”

Roni reaches up, grasping at his wrist and squeezing. “Harder.”

Harry gulps, tightening his grip around her throat. He is careful not to fully block her airway of course, focusing the pressure instead on the sides of her neck. She shivers letting out a garbled moan.

“Fuck,” she rasps. “That’s it. Fuck me, please.”

And who is Harry to deny her?

He keeps his grip on her neck tight, leaning forward into her so his torso is almost against hers, and she squirms from her spot beneath him. Harry can feel her heels kicking into his shoulder blades but the dull ache they leave behind feels good and only fuels him to move faster.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “fucking hell.”

He allows his weary head to drop, burying his face in her neck and suckling at the spot beneath her ear. His grip loosens, but he has to grab onto the throw pillow beneath her head with his other hand for support.

“Gonna cum,” he groans. “Veronica, I’m--”

“Cum for me,” Roni chokes out in a whining little cry. “C’mon baby.”

Harry lets out a grunt far louder than intended, and he knows he’s only got a few seconds left. He slows his thrusts, despite everything in him screaming at him to speed it up. “Where do you want me?” He pants out.

Roni opens her mouth, sticking her tongue out flatly and blinking innocently up at him. The sight beneath him is so fucking filthy that the act of pulling out of her is almost enough to finish him off.

She twitches at the feeling of his absence before he scrambles to get himself positioned just right— lowering her legs and straddling her awkwardly while she sits up, and positioning his hand at the base of his cock.

It only takes a few pumps before he’s coming, thick hot ropes right into her tongue. He tries to aim as best as he can, but a few drops inevitably land on her cheeks and in her hair. She waits patiently for him to finish, moaning filthily at the taste. Harry’s nearly blinded by his own pleasure when he feels Roni wiggle beneath him, and he remembers she has yet to have an orgasm of her own.

Harry removes his hand from her throat as his orgasm comes to a stop, pausing briefly to catch his breath before reaching down to rub at her clit. She jolts at the contact, then immediately lets her head drop back.

“You going to cum for me now, honey? Hm?”

Roni wiggles her hips against the vibrations of his fingers, paying no mind to the way she knocks the throw pillows off of the couch. “Feels good,” she gasps, “feels so good.”

Harry thinks maybe he should choke her again, and he moves to do so. However, no sooner is his hand raised than Roni is coming, hard and quick and loud. Her toes curl and her back arches, and she lets out a wet moan that has Harry’s own tummy clenching. Her thighs quiver deliciously, and Harry notes the beautiful little goosebumps that prickle at her skin.

Desperately, Roni reaches for his free hand, clumsily interlacing her fingers with his. Harry takes her hand willingly, giving it a strong squeeze to hold her steady. Her orgasm is powerful, washing over her like a violent storm, and Harry gives her hand another squeeze in order to ground her.

Harry knows she’s finished when she collapses against the cushions, and he allows his fingertips to linger against her clit a few moments longer-- if only for purely selfish reasons. He wants to make her moan like that again. He wants her to feel good.

Harry doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until his chest starts aching, and he allows himself a few gulping breaths-- hardly daring to move until Roni has come back down to earth. He watches her intently, giving her as much time as she needs to recover (and delighting in the way her thighs quiver with aftershocks). After a few moments of heavy breathing, Roni opens her eyes and gives Harry the sweetest smile he thinks he’s ever seen.

“Hi,” she rasps out.

Harry chuckles, giving her hand another steady squeeze. “Hi-ya, Princess.”

Roni swallows, cheeks growing hot, and Harry can tell that she’s a little embarrassed suddenly. He smiles, pulling the skirt of the dress down to cover her exposed bits and perhaps make her feel slightly less vulnerable.

“I do like that, you know,” she says softly. “‘Princess,’ I mean.”

Harry nods. “Yeah? Well I’ll have to keep that in mind then, won’t I?”

His words are a gentle blow to the stomach as Roni remembers once again that her time left here with him is short. Harry seems to remember this at the same time, because he lets out a soft, nasally sigh and allows his eyes to close for just a moment.

“Anyway,” he says, his cock flopping triumphantly against his thigh and making Roni giggle. “We should get cleaned up. Think the tub is callin’ our names, don’t you?”

Roni smiles, sitting up a bit. “A bath sounds heavenly,” she sighs. “Thank you.”

Harry nods, moving like he’s going to get off of her but stopping himself. He wants to savor this moment-- really take it all in. Remember the way she looks beneath him, fucked out and messy but as pretty as ever. Hair perfectly styled to fit the times but lovingly tousled by the intense lovemaking they’ve just shared. Roni squirms a bit under his gaze, then laughs softly.

“What?”

“Can I say something without you getting annoyed?”

Roni’s smile drops, and she narrows her eyes. “Uh… probably not,” she teases.

Harry laughs. “Just… gonna miss you. That’s all.”

Roni frowns, sitting up on her elbows. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that tonight.”

“We weren’t,” Harry says. “We aren’t. I just… you know, I had to say it.”

“Did you have to, though?” There's a hint of playfulness in Roni’s toni, and it makes Harry laugh again.

“Just wanted to make sure you knew,” he says. “That’s all.”

“Well for the record,” Roni sighs, “I’m really going to miss you too. But we’re not talking about that.”

“No, we’re not.”

There’s a moment of charged silence, in which the two lovers smile playfully at one another-- their eyes doing all of their communicating for them. Roni tucks her lip between her teeth mischievously, as if there’s something more she wants to say, and Harry simply cannot take it anymore. He’s so overwhelmed by how much he loves her, and so giddy at how easy it is to be comfortable and silly around her. (And the fact that he’s going to miss her so much only pushes him to want to do everything he can for her.)

In one swift movement, he’s up, picking her up by the hips and clumsily yanking her up off the sofa. She squeals, stumbling as she’s swept off her feet and into his arms. “Harry!”

It’s almost silly how awkwardly he stands, his prick hanging limp and proud while he holds her. She squirms in his arms when he begins walking, trying her best to get comfortable— which proves to be very hard with the heavy skirt weighing her down.

“What are you doing?!” She giggles.

“Carrying the princess to her royal bath, of course.”

Roni rolls her eyes. “Oh my god. You’re so embarrassing.”

In retaliation, Harry moves like he’s going to drop her, causing her to screech and hold on to him tighter. “Harry!”

“Careful,” Harry giggles, kicking the bathroom door open with his foot. “Or I’ll drop ya!”

Contrary to his words, Harry sets Roni gently down on the counter, pressing a soft kiss to her nose before moving to turn on the faucet.

“Now then,” he asks. “We haven’t got many options as far as soap goes. What would you like?”

“What are my options?” Roni swings her legs daintily.

“Lavender,” Harry says, matter-of-factly.

Roni waits for him to continue, but when he doesn’t, she snorts. “Hmm… not sure I like that. Got any vanilla?”

Harry grins right back at her, testing the water from the faucet with his fingertips. “Lavender it is.”

They spend the rest of their night like this, laughing together while sharing lazy, wet kisses and washing one another. Roni comments on a particularly nice bruise she’s left on Harry’s shoulder and Harry admires how red Roni’s behind is.

“Got you pretty good then, didn’t I?”

After the bath they take turns rubbing lotion into one another’s skin— which of course leads to another session of lovemaking, much gentler and softer than before. It doesn’t take Harry long to fall asleep on Roni’s chest, breathing in sync with her and relishing in the way that she scratches gently at his scalp.

Roni takes a long whiff in through her nose for what feels like the fiftieth time this evening— taking in the delicious scent of the beautiful sleeping boy on her chest and trying to ignore the thought that keeps lingering in her mind.

She loves him. And she is really, really going to miss him.

#Harry Styles #Harry #One Direction #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry fanfiction #One Direction fanfiction #fanfiction #Harry Styles AU #Harry AU #One Direction AU #AU #Harry Styles fluff #Harry fluff #One Direction fluff #fluff #Harry Styles smut #Harry smut #One Direction smut #smut

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theoriginalladya · 3 years

Text

A Constant Wish

Summary: An anniversary, but not of the enjoyable kind. Nine years on, and Commander Shepard is still dealing with the fallout from Akuze. It's up to Kaidan Alenko to guide him through it.

Tags: Sole Survivor, survivor’s guilt, death, grief, Akuze, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, mshenko

Characters: Caleb Shepard, Kaidan Alenko

NOTE: Four years ago today, my mother lost her battle with cancer. Today, even though I knew the date in my head, it didn't connect until my youngest brother mentioned something in our family text chat. It hit me like a ton of bricks, just as it did then. I've learned to move on, to keep going, to keep living, but this day each year is always the hardest fucking day to get through. And so I wrote this with her in mind for my Caleb Shepard who has his own ghosts to deal with.

Love you, Mom.

A daily thought, a silent tear, A constant wish that you were here

~~~~

Kaidan wakes suddenly, inexplicably, to darkness and the sense that something isn’t quite right. Not a nightmare, not someone waking him with a touch or a sound, but that unerring feeling that something is just… off. It isn’t panic so much as a general unease, but he’s used to listening to his gut these days; it’s saved his life or that of a squadmate or even Shepard himself more than once.

Shepard.

Rolling over, he discovers the bed is empty but for him. That sends his heart racing faster than he expects and he nearly falls face first to the floor as he scrambles out from beneath the covers. The time it takes to yank on his sweats and a t-shirt seems an eternity, but he is fully aware thanks to the cold flooring beneath bare feet.

A thorough search of the upper part of the apartment finds nothing out of the ordinary. The side note to that is he also fails to locate Shepard. Granted, he still has half the apartment to investigate, but the fact he cannot find a recent trace of his presence is a bit disconcerting.

He descends to the lower level and begins by checking the back room. Empty. Next, the living room and the bar. Also, empty. The lights in the kitchen are dim, just the way they left them when they headed upstairs after dinner. Still no sign of the man.

Kaidan tacks his way across to the opposite set of stairs to head back up – maybe he missed him in passing? As he walks past the hall branching off to his right into the den, habit has him glancing that direction. In front of the faint flickering fire light, he catches a silhouette; a familiar shape seated at the poker table, hunched over, glass in hand. Unease morphs to concern and curiosity, and he pads down the hallway, calling out softly as he reaches the doorway, “Shepard? You okay?”

The silhouette jerks suddenly as if startled, then relaxes with an exhale of breath. “I’m fine, mo ghrá.”

Kaidan takes the response as an invitation to join him, and he slides into a seat at the table. “Drinking alone? In the dark? Gonna have to do a better job of convincing me you’re fine,” he challenges, albeit gently.

Shepard huffs; a soft sound and one nearly drowned out by the pop and crackle of the fire. He sets the glass on the table, rises to his feet, and walks over to the small bar in the corner. Within moments, he returns with a bottle and a second glass. This he fills and pushes towards Kaidan, then tops off his own before reclaiming his seat. “Not alone now, am I?” he asks, setting the bottle down with a heavy thud next to what look to be four playing cards.

From his position and in the dimly lit room, Kaidan can’t tell which ones they are. However, knowing Shepard as he does, he can guess their purpose. Why are you down here drinking and doing card readings in the darkest hours of the night?

Taking the glass in both hands, he pulls it close but does not drink just yet. Before anything else, he wants, needs, some answers. “What are we drinking to?”

“Not what,” Shepard declares, blue eyes piercing through the dark to meet Kaidan’s as he lifts his head, “who.”

Kaidan acquiesces with a slight cant of his head. “All right. Who?”

Shepard lifts his glass in salute. “Sergeant Angela Nevarra.”

Kaidan frowns. The name sounds hazily familiar; he’s heard it before but cannot place it.

“Sergeants Carter, Evans and Decatur,” Shepard continues, clearly not expecting a response. “Corporals Harris, Simmons, Grassini, Aoki, and Meijer. Malik, Masterson, Owens, Jenson, Weston, Alvarez…”

Kaidan listens in silence but keeps his eyes on Shepard’s face as he continues to list them off. As the list gets longer, comprehension dawns. Shepard stops reciting names at forty-eight and the quiet surrounds them again. Cautiously, Kaidan asks quietly about one name that was not mentioned. “What about Toombs?”

“Toombs.”

There is a hint of brutality in the way Shepard says the name which Kaidan doesn’t quite understand. For everyone else associated with Akuze, there is a fondness, a reverence almost in the way their former commander speaks of them, but with Toombs, it’s different. “That’s his name, isn’t it? The one we ran into on Ontarom? Back –”

Shepard tosses back the last of his whiskey, swallows it in a large gulp, and shakes his head sharply once. “Aye, I remember.” He slams the glass onto the table with enough force the platform quakes for a moment. “Heard from him last year, did I ever tell you?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but Kaidan shakes his head anyway. The time they’ve spent together since his recovery, since the war began, they’ve avoided the more… controversial topics. Not that Kaidan blames him for not bringing it up; it’s probably just as well.

With a soft snort, Shepard grabs the bottle and pours another two-fingers worth of whiskey. This is the third drink Kaidan is aware of, and he can’t help but wonder how many Shepard drank when he was alone, before Kaidan found him.

Their eyes meet again, and the look in them… Well, Kaidan understands now just why the man’s name in Irish is sealgaire, the hunter. It’s all Kaidan can do to hold his ground. And, that is knowing that the look isn’t directed at him.

Shepard’s scowl is dark and foreboding as he tosses back this drink, and there is a vehemence in his voice Kaidan has only heard maybe twice since he’s known him. “Threaten me without knowing what happened?” the commander bites out. “Briseadh agus brú ar do chnámha! Go hifreann leat!”**

Kaidan reacts immediately, reaching forward and prying the glass from Shepard’s long fingers. “Okay, Shepard, that’s enough. I’m calling time for the night.”

Shepard struggles momentarily, apparently not satisfied, but a moment later releases his hold. Sighing heavily, he covers his face with his hands. “Tá brón orm,”**

Kaidan pushes the glasses and bottle across the table and out of easy reach and moves to crouch beside him. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Shepard’s hands drop away, and when the blue eyes meet his again, Kaidan recognizes the truth. His mother once told him that if an Irish man or woman expressed true sorrow for something, there would be matching sadness in their eyes. The sheer magnitude of the sorrow he sees in Shepard’s gaze just now is enough to level the Reapers and end the war three weeks ago, he thinks. He reaches over and runs a hand along Shepard’s cheek in a gentle caress of understanding. “Hey.”

Shepard leans into the touch, eyes closing. When they open again the sorrow still lingers, but not with the same intensity. Without the glass before him to toy with, he reaches for the playing cards lying face up. “D’you see these?”

Kaidan spares them a glance, tilting his head to get a better look. “Did you do another reading?”

“Aye,” Shepard agrees, “but not tonight. These… This was my reading that night. On Akuze, before the attack.”

Past – Two of Spades.

Present – Ten of Spades.

Future – King of Clubs.

Crossing Present – Ten of Diamonds.

None of it makes much sense to Kaidan – it never has – so he looks expectantly at Shepard. When he remains silent, Kaidan asks, “What did they tell you?”

Shepard pauses for a moment, turning his head to look straight at Kaidan. “That my world was going to go all to hell once again, but that this time, on the other side, I would find a path to my future…”

Kaidan looks at the cards again. He recognizes the King of Clubs – it comes up often in Shepard’s readings, though Kaidan isn’t aware of any special attachment to it. The rest he can’t tell of he’s seen in readings before or not. Shepard’s hand flops onto Kaidan’s shoulder, his fingers toying with his hair near his collar. When Kaidan smiles back, Shepard’s eyes flare with an intensity that might be unsettling under other circumstances, but thanks to recent events in their lives, he has a much better idea of how to deal with.

Rising to his feet, he sighs. Any further explanation on the cards can wait until the man is sober again. “Come on, we need to get you back to bed, I think.”

Shepard follows without comment or question, and, surprisingly, without stumbling. When they reach the stairs, Shepard surprises Kaidan by sliding his arms around his waist and hugging close to his back, resting his head on his shoulder. “You understand, aye?”

Already a step above the man, Kaidan stops and half turns to face him. The question is very open-ended and he cannot miss the obvious pain. It isn’t difficult to guess what he is referencing. “About Cerberus?” Shepard nods. Sighing softly, Kaidan wraps one arm over Shepard’s at his waist, and tilts his head close enough to ghost a quick kiss across his lips. “Do you honestly think I would be here now if I didn’t?”

Shepard’s face screws up in confusion for a moment, an endearing look Kaidan doubts the commander would ever agree with if he is made aware of it, so Kaidan keeps the observation to himself. Running his free hand over Shepard’s cheek again, he clarifies quietly, “Yes, mo shearc,** I understand. You are not them; you never were.”

Hope wars with uncertainty behind those blue eyes; it’s strange to see Shepard this vulnerable, and a little disconcerting. How much is the drink and how much just… is?

“You really believe that?”

Kaidan nods. “Aye, I do,” he replies, echoing Shepard’s usual response and leaning in for another kiss. “Now, come on. You need to sleep this off. We can talk more about it later if you like.” Though, as they ascend the stairs together, he is pretty certain it won’t ever come up again anytime soon. Perhaps this time next year, but not before. At least now, Kaidan is prepared.

~~~~

** mo ghrá = my love

** Briseadh agus brú ar do chnámha! = A breaking and crushing on your bones!

**Go hifreann leat! = To hell with you!

** Tá brón orm = I’m sorry

** mo shearc = my love

#A Constant Wish #Ladya writes #Caleb Shepard #mShenko #Kaidan Alenko #tw: grief #tw: death #Sole Survivor #survivor's guilt #emotional hurt/comfort #Akuze #angst #mass effect fanfiction

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hurricanery · 3 years

Text

What’s a Soulmate? Pt. 2

Hi! This is part two of my previous fic. Amelink AU- ‘What if Amelia and Link had met at a different time in their lives?’ This part is basically the same timeline, from a different point of view. Thanks so much for reading the last part and for sending feedback! ALSO THIS IS LONGGG. sorry

tw: drug use

-------

Amelia Shepherd is 5 years old when she discovers that nothing is ever promised to you. By definition, she learns uncertainty. That your world can be ripped from right underneath you. The feeling is always there.

Age 5 is a blur for Amelia. She remembers everyone doting on her. Her mom and her sisters and her brother. But, that might not be the right word. She’d learn later that the feeling she was experiencing was suffocating. That’s the word she’d been looking for. The people in her life that were once so blissfully unaware, suddenly so overcareful around her.

By age 7 the suffocating feeling had slowed. Maybe her family had moved on from their need to keep tabs on her. Or maybe they’d genuinely grown tired of her. Either way, the feeling was replaced with a new one. She’d love to fantasize. Especially at night. She’d lay in bed and pretend she wasn’t herself. Staring up above her, she’d imagine the ceiling opening up. And then the roof would be flying off. And she would go with it. Not as a person, but a part of the wind and the clouds. She’d float up to the sky and be with her Dad.

Sometimes, she’d think so hard about this, that there would no longer be feeling associated with it. It would just be reality. And it was numb. When this happened, Amelia would tiptoe out of bed and down the hall toward Derek’s room. Derek was always really good at making her realize that the roof was still there. She was made to realize a lot of things at such a young age. She’d look at her older sister, Nancy, who carried herself in such a stoic way, and realize that pain was better when it was hidden. She’d look at Derek, who flinched at almost every loud noise and sudden movement, and realize that she never wanted to look vulnerable. She’d watch discreetly as her mother sat alone at the kitchen table, spacing out as she sipped her coffee, completely jaded by everything she’d been through in the last couple years. Her parents were soulmates. High school sweethearts. Completely each others’ person. She’d look at her mother now and realize that there was no such thing as soulmates.

_______

Amelia is 9 years old when she starts to feel again.

The moving trucks roll slowly down the street and the Shepherd children watch from their front lawn as they disappear. The front door of what used to be their home swings open and their mother comes barreling out, juggling two more boxes.

“Derek!” She beckons. “Come and grab one of these.”

Derek quickly runs to help his mother.

“And the rest of you- don’t just stand there! There’s a few more things inside!”

They load up the minivan and suddenly there’s not much left to do but to say their goodbyes to an empty house. Say their goodbyes to a home and all the memories associated with it. It was time to start new.

_______

The car ride to their new neighborhood is long and boring and Amelia sits all the way in the back, crammed alongside the last of the moving boxes like she’s an object being moved herself. That’s how she’s starting to feel, at least. Like an inanimate object being transported against her will. Her 3 older sisters occupy the seats in front of her, sharing headphones and giggling amongst themselves every few minutes. Derek, who’s seated passenger side next to their mother, turns around with searching eyes. He catches Amelia's gaze through the cracks between headrests and smiles at her in an assuring manner. He doesn’t turn away until Amelia reluctantly smiles back.

The minivan finally pulls into a quiet suburban neighborhood and stops in the driveway of their new home. Before the car is even put into park, Derek and Nancy are jumping out and running toward the house. Lizzie and Kathleen follow quickly after them while Amelia remains trapped in the backseat. She sighs. All she has to do is climb over the middle seat but she can’t seem to bring herself to do it.

“Come on, Amy,” she hears her mother’s impatient voice from outside of the car. The tone forces her out of her frozen position and she finally starts climbing over the seat. When her feet hit the pavement, she looks up at the house. She shifts her gaze to her mother incredulously and before Amelia can even say anything, her mother is grabbing her wrist and pulling her forward.

Out of the corner of her eye, Amelia sees movement across the street. As her mother pulls her toward the house, Amelia turns her head fully to meet the movement. She watches as a boy, about her age, drops his baseball mitt onto the grass and chases after his father. He’s laughing as his dad teases him about wanting macaroni and cheese again for dinner. The boy follows his dad inside and the whole time Amelia is listening to the sound of his voice as he argues playfully. Amelia finds herself smiling at the interaction. She doesn’t know why, but something about the boy’s playful energy sparks something in her. She feels excited, she thinks, at the idea of this boy being her friend.

_______

A couple of hours later, and the idea is becoming closer to reality for Amelia. When 9 year-old Atticus Lincoln stumbles through an awkward introduction on the sidewalk in front of her new home, Amelia cannot refrain from laughing. At first, his presence had startled her. The sidewalk chalk had slipped out of her palm and she’d almost fallen backwards from her crouched position. But, something about his energy had instantly made her feel calm and at ease. Amelia is grinning from ear to ear after watching this boy struggle with his words. After a little back and forth and a lot more laughter, Amelia decides she doesn’t want him to leave. She definitely likes his company. She wants him to stay.

“Anyway, Atticus, do you wanna play a game?”

_______

Amelia is 16 years old when she discovers that high school is her worst nightmare.

She walks up late today. Like really late. More so than usual. She must have missed her alarm. Or, forgotten to set it in the first place. That was highly likely.

Amelia curses herself as she jumps out of bed. All she has time for this morning is a quick teeth brushing. She glances in the mirror briefly, throwing a sweatshirt over what she’d worn to bed and grabbing her converse sneakers from the corner of her room. She slips on her backpack before running down the stairs and out the front door.

No sign of Link. She frowns. She must really be testing his patience. They usually walk to school together every morning. And he’d usually wait for her, even if she was running late. This morning is different though.

Amelia turns the corner, prepared to be alone with her own thoughts for the entire duration of the walk to school. But then she sees him, about a block ahead of her.

“Link!” She yells, desperate. “Wait for me, asshole!”

She sees him slow to a halt. He turns around up ahead of her. Amelia quickens her pace until she’s approaching him.

“Sorry, hi,” she greets him, kind of breathless. He looks her up and down, taking in the sweatshirt and sweatpants combo. Amelia tries not to get nervous under his gaze. But then he smiles.

“Is it pajama day?”

She rolls her eyes at him and shoves his shoulder gently.

“I had literally 3 minutes to get ready this morning.”

“Clearly,” he laughs again. He focuses on her face again, looking into her eyes, and Amelia feels his gaze burning into her. “You look-”

“Tired?” she interrupts him. “Don’t say it.”

“I was going to say hungover.”

Amelia looks away from him, ahead of them as they walk. She tries desperately to not have any sort of reaction to his words.

“Amelia, it’s a weekday,” Link speaks again, concerned.

She stays silent, subconsciously raising her hand to bite at the corner of her thumb nail. He finally looks away from her face and Amelia sighs internally, wishing they could talk about anything else.

“Did you study for the physics test?” Link speaks up again.

“Is that today?” Amelia mumbles.

“Yes…”

“I’ll study at lunch. I’ll be fine.” And she’s not even worried. She knows she’ll do fine. She always does. She feels an awkwardness between them and she hates it. Link usually makes her feel completely at ease. This morning, Amelia can tell she’s made him upset. She nudges his side with her elbow. When he finally makes eye contact, she smirks at him.

“Link, I’m fine,” she whines playfully. “Don’t worry.”

He breaks into a smile. Something that happens naturally whenever Amelia smirks like that. Her heart warms at the sight, watching as his eyes crinkle slightly from the expression. Link has the best smile.

“I know you’re fine. I just think you’ll be less fine when I crush you in this physics test.” He jokes.

“In your dreams!” Amelia laughs, feeling completely relaxed by their banter.

_______

Amelia doesn’t study at lunchtime. Jake, who’s a senior, and someone Amelia always feels the need to impress, invites her to the parking lot and she instantly agrees. Being invited to the parking lot is basically a right of passage and everyone knows it. It’s not just a parking lot. It’s a hang out spot. The place you escape to for a smoke sesh or to find out where all the parties are that weekend. She knows being invited to the parking lot basically means Jake and all his senior friends will smoke her out. So, Amelia isn’t studying at lunch. She’s currently sitting on the open trunk of one of Jake’s friend’s trucks, being passed a joint.

She takes it, placing it to her lips, closing her eyes and inhaling as deeply as she can. She keeps it in for as long as she can before exhaling slowly. She opens her eyes again when she hears Jake laughing next to her.

“Damnnn, Shepherd. Not even a cough? Impressive.”

“She’s not like other girls,” one of Jake’s friends, Eric, adds, laughing with him.

Amelia rolls her eyes, and instead of passing the joint, she takes another hit. She’s impressing them and she likes the feeling. She reluctantly passes it off after that.

“Shep, you coming out tonight?”

Amelia just stares, it’s a Friday night but she’s not sure of what’s going on.

“Big party at Tyler’s place, everyone’s going.”

“Oh, right.” Amelia plays along. “Yeah I’m thinkin about it.”

_______

When the lunch bell rings, signaling class is about to start back up, Amelia only panics slightly. Not only is she late for the physics test, but she’s also completely in the wrong mindset. She feels it as she walks to the science lab, the paranoia sets in as she approaches the door. She hates walking in late. And she hates that she’s too high right now.

She tries to not spark any suspicion as she enters the room, but the dead quiet of the room only makes her more anxious. Everyone has already started taking their tests. She eyes her open seat at the back of the class, and moves as swiftly as possible. She feels a set of eyes on her the entire time and once she’s taken her seat, she reluctantly meets Link’s gaze from across the room.

Amelia flinches at the disappointment on his face.

Link turns back to his test and Amelia glues her eyes to her empty desk before another face interrupts her panic. She looks up just as Mr. Thompson, their physics teacher, places a test down in front of her. Amelia only meets his suspicious stare for a second before glancing down at the paper anxiously. She pulls a pencil out of her bag and quickly writes her name in the top right corner of the page.

She gives herself only a minute to breathe before she reads the first question. Once she does start reading, panic swells in her chest again. She can’t do this right now. She can’t be here taking this test. She doesn’t know what comes over her, but the sudden need to get out of this classroom completely consumes her. She’s not subtle when she stands up, pushing away from the desk hastily. The chair makes a harsh noise as it slides back against the floor and Amelia quickly grabs her backpack, leaving the test unfinished on her desk. Heads turn in her direction as she makes her way to the door. She faintly hears Mr. Thompson calling after her but chooses to ignore it.

She doesn’t stop walking until she’s all the way outside. The cool September air instantly calms her as she walks. And she keeps walking. Physics is her last class of the day and there’s nothing stopping her from just walking all the way home at this point.

_______

She hides out in her bedroom until her Mother calls her down for dinner a couple of hours later. It’s officially the weekend and that means some of the older Shepherd siblings are home from college. Amelia sits at the table and tries to avoid Nancy and Kathleen’s stares. Their mother, Carolyn, clears her throat.

“Girls stop glaring and pass Amelia the salad,” she says sternly.

Kathleen smirks as she starts passing food across the table. “Well, aren’t you going to say something, Mom?”

“Kathleen, not now.”

Amelia’s plate remains empty. The energy is off in the dining room and she doesn’t really feel like eating.

“You can’t keep letting her get away with this,” Kathleen speaks up again, laughing sarcastically and looking pointedly at her youngest sister.

“What’s your deal?” Amelia finally bites back. “I’ve seen you all of three minutes and you’re already mad at me for-?”

“Girls!” Carolyn chimes in. She glances harshly at each of them. She looks back at Amelia before she speaks again. “Amelia...the school called just before you came down-”

“I answered!” Kathleen interrupts with a snicker, Nancy smirking along with her. Carolyn shakes her head at them in warning before she continues.

“Amelia, apparently your science teacher reported you walked out on your test today…?” It ends up sounding like a question.

Amelia stares down at her empty plate.

“She’s probably on pills again. Did you ever get a lock for the medicine cabinet?” Nancy’s harsh words cause Amelia’s head to snap up. She glares at her oldest sister. And for the second time today, she feels the need to escape. She can’t be here right now. In a familiar movement, she pushes harshly away from the table and moves toward the front door.

She doesn’t stop walking until she’s all the way across the street. Suddenly she’s pounding on wood until a front door is swinging open and Link’s worried eyes meet hers. She doesn’t realize she’s crying until she registers the haggard breathing sound is coming from her.

“Amelia?! What’s wrong, what happened?”

“I can’t-” her panicked breathing cuts the sentence short but suddenly strong arms are around her, pulling her inside the house.

Link shifts his grips to her shoulders and guides her toward the stairs, up to his bedroom. The door clicks shut behind them and Link is guiding her again toward the bed, sitting down next to her.

Amelia curses herself, embarrassed by her total lack of control right now. She doesn’t remember letting herself begin to cry. But now that it’s started, she can’t make it stop.

“Amelia,” Link’s steady voice pulls her slightly from her thoughts. He looks at her assuringly. “Breathe. You need to breathe.”

In a gesture, Link makes his own breathing pattern more obvious, in his attempt to get Amelia to match him. She tries. She really tries. She looks into his eyes and lets him hold her gaze, anchoring her, like he’s tossing her a rope and trying to pull her back in.

She needs more though, something more forceful, and then she’s reaching for him. In the most platonic way, she grabs under his elbows, forcing his arms to engulf her small body. Desperate for the pressure of his strong hold.

She waits for him to catch on, and she sighs in relief when he squeezes her tight. The sensation of it is almost like a thunder jacket for a dog.

Amelia is just beginning to calm down when Link’s grip loosens slightly. She looks up at him bewildered. But he just looks calm. He pulls away even more but grabs her hand, standing up from the bed.

“Here, Amelia. Lay down on the floor, this will help,” he soothes, pulling her up from the bed.

She still hasn’t gained any control over her crying, but she listens to his instructions, laying flat on her back on the plush carpeting of his bedroom. She glances up at him and he smiles softly at her, eyes crinkling. Then he’s lowering himself over her.

“Let me know if I’m hurting you,” his voice is soothing. He even chuckles a bit at his actions. How crazy this must look. “My body weight will be like a weighted blanket…”

He’s twice her size but he lays fully on top of her, mimicking her positioning. He relaxes, and Amelia feels the weight of it completely. And to her surprise, it’s extremely calming. The pressure envelopes her nerves and the effects are almost instant. Her breathing begins to slow as they lay in complete silence, both staring up at the ceiling.

“Like a….gravity blanket,” Amelia’s voice finally breaks the silence.

Link chuckles. And now Amelia is smiling wide.

They lay like that for a few more minutes. Amelia is so relaxed and the room is comfortably quiet.

“Did you fall asleep on me?” Amelia whispers, laughing under her breath.

Link rolls off of her, laying next to her instead. He smiles at her, reaching between them and squeezing her hand. Amelia’s chest tightens at the gesture. And then he lets go.

“You okay?” Link asks.

“I am.”

They both resume the position of staring up at the ceiling. Link speaks again.

“You going to that party tonight?”

Amelia turns her head, looking at him in shock.

“Absolutely not,” she answers. Then she laughs again, adding “I’m staying here with you.”

_______

Amelia is 18 years old when she realizes that soulmates can be found in friendships.

She loves college right away. She loves being away from home and away from her family. She finds a good friend group and gets along well with the people she lives with. The only thing missing from her close to perfect equation, is her best friend, Link.

Her new college friends tease her relentlessly for her dependency on her best friend from home. The way she facetimes Link almost on a nightly basis, or the way she drops everything she’s doing the moment he texts her.

“That your boyfriend from home?” Amelia’s roommate jokes as her phone chimes with a text message.

“More like her soulmate,” her other roommate adds.

Amelia rolls her eyes. “He’s not my soulmate,” she laughs. “But...yes.”

The suspicious glances from her roommates don’t go unnoticed by Amelia. “I’m actually hanging out with Stephen tonight,” Amelia announces proudly.

“Ugh, he’s no good for you.”

“Yeah, definitely not soulmate vibes from Stephen.”

Amelia rolls her eyes again, standing up to get ready to see Stephen.

_______

Amelia likes Stephen. He’s tall and charming with dark hair and bright green eyes. He makes her laugh and provides the sense of calmness that Amelia seems to seek in those she surrounds herself with.

He’s not a distraction. That’s for sure. Amelia is even starting to think she loves him by the end of the first semester. She feels something every time she looks at him. His wide smile and the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. Stephen feels familiar. And makes Amelia feel nostalgic.

And Amelia crushes any thought she has of Stephen compared to Link. To her best friend.

She doesn’t question what it means that every time she arrives back at her dorm after a night spent with Stephen, the first thing she wants to do is call Link.

She smiles to herself as she crosses the threshold to her room, instantly pulling her phone out and relaxing onto her bed. She swells with excitement as she glances at her calendar. It’s almost holiday break and for some reason she misses home.

_______

Amelia is 22 years old when she discovers what it feels like to finally open up.

She hasn’t seen Link in almost a full year, although she still considers him to be her best friend.

It’s finally thanksgiving and both Amelia and Link have returned home from their separate colleges for the weekend. She’s completely shocked when she first sees him. Link looks the same but also different. His hair is longer than Amelia remembers. And he seems taller...and more muscular, too. Like he’d suddenly started working out a bunch.

Link clears his throat, drawing her attention to his face. “Hi, Amelia,” he smiles. And the eye contact almost makes her breath catch in her throat. Had his eyes always been that color?

Link pulls her into a hug suddenly, pulling her away from her thoughts, and Amelia instantly relaxes into the familiar embrace.

_______

That night they end up at the local bar. Thanksgiving eve being the busiest bar night of the year, and basically a premature high school reunion for the entire town. Amelia really didn’t want to go. But, Link was interested in seeing a few buddies from school, and Amelia wanted to go wherever Link wanted to go.

They attempt to stay together for the entirety of the night, but it’s a little hard when there’s constant interruptions by vaguely familiar high school acquaintances.

Amelia sits at the bar and watches Link from across the room as he chats enthusiastically with his high school friends. She didn’t have a huge friend group in high school. She always had friends a couple grades above her, the ones she’d ditch school with. The ones she’d hang out in the parking lot with during lunch. And there was always Link. But that was it.

She catches his eye from where he’s standing across the crowded room and he smiles at her briefly. A moment later he motions toward the door. She frowns slightly before pushing through the crowd to join him.

“You’re leaving without me? What kind of date are you?” She smirks at him as she shrugs on her jacket.

“I wasn’t aware this was a date, Amelia.” Link responds, playing along. “But yes, I am leaving. Early morning and all that.”

“Well let me walk you home.” She continues, voice laced with irony.

“Let’s go home,” he agrees.

_______

They end up back at Link’s house, sitting at the kitchen table. There’s a lot of catching up, and reminiscing. And conversation about the future. Amelia feels a sense of warmness she can’t quite place. Link makes her feel warm. And she can’t stop smiling.

They talk about everything. Learn everything new about each other.

Amelia learns everything about Link’s college experiences. She tries to stay neutral as Link talks about the girls he has dated. She smiles through his drunken hookup stories. She learns that Link wants to pursue medical school, and that news brings her more excitement than she’d anticipated.

Amelia tells Link she wants to follow in her older siblings’ footsteps. She wants to become a surgeon. And when Link promises that he’d always known she’d make way for herself in the medical field, she feels warm again.

Amelia tells him about the relationships she’s been through. And the one she’s currently in.

“You’ll get to meet him this weekend, Link. He’s driving in tomorrow. For dinner.”

Amelia isn’t certain, but she thinks Link’s face falls at that.

“How long have you two been together?” He asks her.

“We met my freshman year. We’ve been dating on and off since then.” Amelia mutters, suddenly the warmth is gone. This conversation feels cold

“On and off?” Link questions.

Amelia clears her throat, feeling vulnerable. “Well, yeah.” She sighs. “We’ve broken up more than once. And gotten back together a couple of times…It’s um…” She pauses, collecting her thoughts. “It’s been, um, I mean I wouldn’t say a roller coaster, but…”

Amelia panics as she watches Link study her face. The analytical features remind Amelia of plenty of past conversations. Plenty of situations she’d gotten herself into and then called on Link.

“Amelia, are you happy?”

The question makes her heart sink and she can’t place why. Maybe it’s denial. Maybe she’s been dishonest with herself. She zones out as she stares ahead of herself, eyes glued to the space between them. Eyes glued to the table. She doesn’t like cold and vulnerable. She wants some of the warmth back. It feels like her body is on autopilot when she stands up on wobbly feet and walks around to Link’s side of the table. She can’t bring herself to answer him, or his daunting question. She doesn’t know why she does it, but suddenly she finds herself crawling her way into Link’s lap, legs dangling off the side of the chair and arms wrapping around his neck.

And then her own words surprise her, too.

“I had the biggest crush on you in high school. Probably since I was 9, if I’m being honest.” And she laughs at her own vulnerability.

She lays her head on his chest, hiding her face away from him. And she can feel Link wrap his arms around her waist. She feels him place a comforting kiss to the top of her head.

“And I, of course, was head over heels for you, but you already knew that. Everyone did.” He whispers, and Amelia is surprised at this response. She didn’t know that.

She laughs into him, and then she finally lifts her head, looking up at him.

“Let’s crash on the couch, yeah?” He offers. “Like old times?”

_______

It’s weird for Amelia the next night at dinner. To be snuggled into the embrace of another man. Not even 24 hours after she’d fallen asleep in Link’s arms.

His words replay in her head on a loop. The way he’d whispered ‘I’ve always loved you, Ames. Always will’ before they drifted off.

And the way that she’d responded. ‘I love you too, Link. You’re my best friend.’

Amelia is confused, and feels vulnerable, again.

_______

Amelia is 25 years old when she discovers that she's probably not destined to be a mother.

When she tells her fiancé of a year, James, that she’s pregnant, she doesn’t know how to feel. It’s overwhelming, that’s for sure. And she feels extremely anxious. She hopes it’s anxious in an excited way, and not for any other reason.

She ignores the uncertainty. She’d always wanted to be a mother, right? This is how everything was supposed to be. Anxiety and all.

_______

Amelia feels numb, three months later, when she has a miscarriage. She can’t quite process what she is feeling.

And it takes a toll on their relationship.

James is shocked. And grows more and more depressed over it.

Amelia takes her anger out on James, and he does the same with her.

They decide to take a break, and James moves out of their apartment. Amelia needs some time for herself. And she can’t quite place if what she’s feeling is relief. But she feels something. Because she knows that this is probably how it was meant to be. Everything happens for a reason.

_______

Amelia is 28 years old when Seattle becomes her true home.

She’s graduated medical school and landed her dream internship at one of the country’s top hospitals.

It’s her first day of work and she hops on the subway train downtown. The train is kind of crowded, and she automatically makes her way to a less dense standing spot. She settles in her spot, mentally preparing herself for a busy day.

Amelia counts down as the train makes it’s stops. Knowing that the next stop is hers, she moves her way closer to the door. It opens and she steps out onto the platform, glancing at her watch, deciding whether or not she has time to stop for coffee.

Her thoughts are suddenly interrupted by another body bumping right into her.

“Oh, sorry,” she mumbles, but she cuts herself off when she recognizes who has just run into her.

“Long time no see, Shepherd.” Link is standing in front of her, smiling widely.

And she can’t help how her face instantly lights up. She laughs, bewildered. Not quite believing what she’s seeing. She finds herself pulling him into the tightest of hugs, laughing breathlessly into his ear.

“What the hell, Link? What the hell are you doing here?” She lets go of him and they’re making eye contact, smiles wide across both their faces. They both seem to need to catch their breath.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He jokes.

Amelia shakes from her daze. “I..I live here now. I start a new job today. Like now, actually.”

Her shock and bewilderment doesn’t seem to die down whatsoever when she learns that Link has landed the same internship as her.

_______

Amelia is 29 years old when she discovers that her 7-year-old self was wrong. Soulmates do exist, and she knows by definition.

She knows what a soulmate is when Link takes her out on their first real date and he doesn’t even make a move, because there’s no need to rush things.

She knows what a soulmate is when she watches Link become the version of himself that is a brilliant, confident, orthopedic surgeon fellow.

She knows what a soulmate is when they finally sleep together for the first time. And it feels like it has been building up over a lifetime. The way they take it slow, reveling in each moment with each other because it didn’t quite feel real.

After their first successful surgery together, they’d gone out with some fellow surgeons, and Amelia knew what she was doing when she asked him back to her place for the night.

Amelia knows what a soulmate is that night. When she looks him in the eye and reaches for the hem of his shirt in question. She feels completely confident in his presence and especially in his arms. Like she was always meant to be there. This is her best friend, and her soulmate. And she’s completely awestruck by how good this moment is. How it can’t compare to anyone or anything else.

Amelia knows what a soulmate is the next morning. When she stirs from her slumber slightly, as familiar fingers dance slowly across her bare back.

She rolls over in bed and is met with her favorite pair of eyes. She mumbles to Link ‘let’s make pancakes,’ and she knows what a soulmate is as she watches him move about her kitchen, covered in pancake mix from the brief food fight that had broken out between them.

Amelia knows what a soulmate is when they move in together. In a tiny studio apartment in Seattle. And Link lets her decorate it exactly how she wants.

And despite their first fight, Amelia knows what a soulmate is. When Link meets her nieces and nephews, and nonchalantly makes a comment about kids one day, Amelia freezes in panic. And then completely avoids him for three whole days.

Amelia knows what a soulmate is when she learns to compromise. Because the two of them cope in different ways. So, when Link has a bad day, she gives him space to bum out, instead of bombarding him to talk through it. Even though she’d want the opposite for herself on her own bad days.

And he’s still her soulmate when they turn 30 and they move into a bigger house in the suburbs. Amelia is excited about each of them having their own office space. Link jokes about ‘room to grow’ and ‘future nurseries.’ Amelia doesn’t say it then, but she warms up at the idea.

When they’re 32, and they’re dancing at their co-worker’s wedding, Amelia knows what a soulmate is. After a particularly hard week at work, Amelia had been taking her frustrations out on Link. And he’d been letting her. He was always so patient. And now as they danced together slowly, Amelia can’t help but rest her head against his chest gratefully. She feels him squeeze her waist gently. She can’t help it when she mumbles ‘Maybe I’ll marry you, someday.’

_______

Amelia is 34 years old when everything falls into place for the rest of her life.

After she’d told Link she was pregnant, they’d both been completely overjoyed. And since then, Amelia couldn’t fight the realization that everything was meant to be this way. Everything had happened for a reason.

She doesn’t hear Link come into the bathroom as she stands brushing her teeth, eyes closed in happy exhaustion as she rests against the sink.

She feels his arms snake around her stomach and her eyes snap open to playfully meet his in the bathroom mirror.

Link squeezes her small bump and Amelia lays her head back into his chest blissfully.

“Let’s go to bed,” he whispers, “before you fall asleep right here brushing your teeth.”

_______

They lay down in bed and assume their favorite position as of recently. Amelia loves it when Link lays behind her, spooning her, arms instinctively and protectively wrapping around her stomach. She settles into his arms and almost immediately begins dozing off.

She feels Link��s breath tickling her neck before she registers his voice.

“Amelia, you’re going to make the best mom to Scout. I can’t wait.” He mumbles, and Amelia smiles sleepily.

“I love you, Ames.” he continues, gently squeezing her bump again. “Always have, always will.”

Amelia is awake just enough to respond “I love you too, Link. You’re my best friend,” before sleep takes her.

Feedback please/let me know if you want me to write more amelink/send prompts!!

#amelink #amelink fanfic #amelinkfic #amelia shepherd #atticus lincoln #amelia x link #amelinkfanfiction #my writing

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zodiyack · 4 years

Text

Every King Needs An Heir (Part I): The Beginning

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Fem!Original(Vampire)!Reader

Warnings: Changing the story line of The Originals, i think/somewhat torture?, fluff, swearing, angst, sad stuff, sexual references / implied smut, not proofreading

Note: So a) I’m posting this before i finish the requests because it was sitting in my drafts for a lil’ bit oops, b) I’m posting a masterlist with it because I plan on posting loads more of The Originals heh

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace

Masterlist | The Originals Masterlist

Part I / Part II / Part III

Cami stepped back, eyes watery, “Oh my God-” As she hesitated, Klaus flinched, but she stepped forward again, to his relief. The past made Klaus feel vulnerable, as it was a time he felt the weakest, soft in public and private, yet treated like a beast. “No one should have to experience things like that...”

“Exactly what I think, darling.” A new voice, someone she’d never met before, stepped out, standing next to Klaus with the same teary eyes as the two of them shared. Her voice quivered as she spoke. “Exactly. What I think.”

“I- uh- Excuse me,” voice crack, “but just who are you?”

Klaus stepped forward, grabbing Cami again to bring her diving into another part of his memories, this time, showing a bit more than him chained up. More than him begging for Elijah’s help.

“Help me.” He looked into his brother’s eyes, pleading with every bit of hope he had left. However. All four Mikaelsons’ attention was drawn elsewhere. To someone Klaus knew all too well, to someone who had been turned with the rest of his family due to the fact that they were sweethearts and she was someone his mother, as impossible as it seemed at the moment, adored.

Y/n was screaming in agony, begging for his father to let him go. She ran up to the Mikaelsons that were present, eyes red and nose snotty. Niklaus could see the hurt miles away, as her voice flooded his mind. The hybrid took in her state of sorrow, slowly processing her presence.

Klaus did not ignore this. After Elijah refused to help him, he began shouting a different request, “Stop her! Don’t let her see this! Don’t let her get hurt! Brother, please! Please!”

Just as his father was about to smack Y/n away, Elijah obliged to his younger brother’s desperate wishes and grabbed her by her waist, pulling her back and gripping her tightly. She hit at him, over and over again, but it was no good. Esther was preventing her as well, with magic, but not for Klaus. It was so Niklaus couldn’t be helped from what they were going to do.

He looked to his beloved in pain, not just his own, but hers. Seeing her, merciless, fighting just to return to his arms and help free him. His heart broke a thousand times while he was forced by his chains and his, currently breaking, heart to watch as she flailed in Elijah’s arms, reaching out to her lover with one hand, while grabbing at Elijah to let her go with the other. His heart was in worse pain than his body was. The hybrid cried for her, for his father, for anyone, begging for help.

She cried for Klaus. Her voice was becoming hoarse after all of her screaming, yet she did not have the intention of giving up. Elijah continued to stand behind her, holding her back with regret and sympathy on his features. He was wounded enough that he ignored his brother’s cries, and to have Y/n involved would be too much. For Klaus, and for Elijah.

Y/n managed to escape, running to Mikael and jumping. She wrapped her arms around his neck from behind. He moved his shoulders roughly, causing her to thrash every which was he turned, then threw her off of him. Her head hit a rock and black filled her vision.

Camille was shown a new memory.

Y/n lied there, underwater, cursed by her future mother-in-law to remain unconscious until someone were to lift her out. Luckily, Klaus was allowed to, now that the deed had been done.

He crouched by the small hole in the ground, reaching and lifting her with one of his arms under her neck and the other wrapped around her soaked, however still clothed, body. He pulled her with him as he scooted from the water. Niklaus gazed at her face, eyes closed and looking peaceful...somewhat...angelic. He sobbed softly, pressing a kiss to her lips.

‘Please wake up, please wake up’.

The words were racing through his head. Maybe his mother didn’t actually put a temporary spell on her like she said she did. He was going to pull away, bury her wherever he thought appropriate until he could figure out a way to undo the spell, but he stopped. Somewhat by his own doing- but also somehow maybe not all his own.

A hand came to the back of his head, another clung onto his shirt, pushing him deeper into the kiss, the lips his met dancing with his.

They finally pulled away, and Y/n clung to Klaus. “You- you were being hurt-” she finally looked him in his face. His full face. She studied the look in his eyes as her expression softened, “Oh Nik... what did they do to you?”

He couldn’t bring himself to speak. She had been knocked out before they started the ritual, so she didn’t have to suffer seeing those parts, but he had to suffer living through them. Y/n’s eyes widened. Klaus knew by the look on her face that he had shared the memories with her without meaning...or rather, without conscious meaning.

His eyes met hers one more time before he roughly kissed her again, and rolled sideways, hovering over her. She tightened her hold in his shirt, fighting his tongue with her own. Y/n was still wet, covered in water droplets, from the hole that held her, but both originals could care less. The couple eagerly returned to the largely missed embraces of one another. Their need was not controlled by lust, rather, by love.

Y/n had been stashed underwater for an amount of time she had no knowledge of, as well as watched the love of her life plead for help, and Klaus had been through various ways of pain and torture while his mother and father put a block on the beast inside of him, not to mention struggling just as much as she did watching him as he watched her through a very similar view. They were in no mood for foreplay, nor quick and rough. They missed each other, needed each other, needed comfort, needed love.

When Camille's conscious returned to the present time, she let out a small sigh of relief, obviously from the thankfulness of not having to witness a sex scene from her friend’s memories with this mysterious woman she now guessed to be his lover.

“Oh... Oh my... Both of you...both of you experienced such horrible things... I can’t imagine how- how- how horrible, that was... No one should ever have to experience things like what Klaus had to, or what you had to.”

A small silence, accompanied by the never ceasing tension filled the room. The sadness was lingering, dancing to the water droplets splashing from one person’s face onto their skin, then leaping to the next face, listening to the same melancholy melody repeat form person to person.

“Ahem,” Klaus wiped away his tears, wiped the smile off his face, and returned to his point, “Unfortunately, it’s time for us to be taking our leave.” He nodded to his wife.

“Indeed. Alas, Camille, it’s time for us to say our goodbyes. It was a pleasure meeting you. Take care, alright?” Y/n smiled softly at the confused woman. She turned back to Klaus and kissed him lightly, before nodding and walking out of the room.

“What was that about?” Camille’s voice could be heard from the other side of the door. Obvious hurt and confusion intertwined with the feminine voice, her argument about wanting to help both Klaus and his wife filled Y/n’s ears as she waited by the door. The familiar masculine voice that joined in shortly was much more hushed, bringing comfort to Y/n while she rubbed her stomach softly, and was filled with similar emotions.

“Knowing what you do about this world will only get you killed.” He thought about Y/n and how joyful she was to meet Cami, about Kieran and his love and wishes for his niece and her safety, about the friendship he had grew over time with this mortal woman. It had been a bit since he had considered someone a friend. “And I cannot allow that.”

He cupped her cheek, forcing her to look into his eyes, “Leave New Orleans. Forget everything you’ve learned here today... Forget Y/n, and forget me.”

She cuddled into his warmth, and closed her eyes.

“Love?”

“Yes, Nik?”

His arm came to hers and rubbed it up and down lazily, his nails were what touched her skin, so soothing that goosebumps made home on Y/n’s skin.

“When the little one comes, do you think I’d do what Elijah seems to believe I might?”

“I believe,” she opened her eyes and lifted herself, shifting over her husband and straddling him. She trailed kisses up his torso and stopped at his lips, not fully kissing him, but touching them as she spoke, “that you will do what is necessary. Even if that means killing off all vampires, or witches, so on. As long as you,” She moved to the right side of his face, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “me,” his left cheek, “and the baby,” finally, his lips. She whispered the final part before connecting their lips again and staying, giving him the control he waited ever so patiently for, “are safe.”

“I still can’t believe you’re pregnant-” He chuckled, his breath hitting her soft lips. They rolled over. Y/n wrapped her arms around Klaus’ neck.

“Magic gave me the opportunity and my heart told me to take it. Plus,” Y/n’s hand came to Klaus’ head, shoving his mouth back to hers for the-whatever-th-time that evening. She smiled against her husband’s lips, “you’re a good fuck.”

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jojomugi · 3 years

Text

A Shred of Altruism for a ‘friend’

Context

This piece was something I had written for myself as part of a fanfiction series with my OC. Since I don't particularly feel too sure about posting it given my OC isn't crazy popular or anything, I figured I could just edit pronouns, names, ect so that maybe someone other than just me and three of my closest friends can enjoy it This takes place way before the events of part three, and before Dio's encounter with Enya AND Pucci. Basically, Reader is the first one Dio has encountered and is learning vauge amount of info on stands from. Spoilers/Content warnings ♡ Minor Stardust Crusaders/Stone Ocean spoilers ♡ Over Heaven book spoilers (would recommend reading before hand) ♡ CW:Dio not being an asshole lmao

♡ Technically not a warning, but their may be misplacements with POV's and pronoun usage. Translating this into an xReader wa difficult. «

Reader is 18+, a stand user (S/N=Stand Name), very SFW, gender neautrual pronouns used

The battle between you and the other user finally came to an end when you used all of your remaining energy to defeat him. S/N ability managed to bring them into retirement. All the while this happened, Dio could see just what was happening, how the two stands fought one another. He could only really feel the energy. However he was all around useless in that particular situation, seeing was one thing, but Dio did not yet have the stand—At least not yet. Dio had two options now that his companion was left unconscious. Leave you and be done with having to keep extra weight, or bring you back to the small hotel you had the both of you staying at. Dio obviously chose the latter. It was not out of altruism, or at least not in his mind, it was all simply done out of respect for all your efforts, sacrificing your chance of a ‘normal’ future to run off with him. Besides, in his weaker state you were his best bet to survive and learn about this new world quickly. Dio reached for your exhausted form, there was still a pulse, good. However, you were still out cold from the overexertion. When he finally was able to sneak into the hotel, he gently placed your body onto the bed. Technically speaking, his work here was done but his subconscious—The few times what shred of humanity he had—decided to take over. You were more than just a mere fling, or some kind of phase, your soul was what drew him to you like a moth to the flames. You had become his over your guy’s short time together, whether Dio was self aware of that or not was a different question. Dio manipulated your form around until he was able to get you under the covers. Thankfully he didn’t manage to disturb your rest. The blonde hastily scanned around the room. Water! You would probably need water whenever you’d awaken. He yanked a small rinse cup from the bathroom and set in onto the night stand beside you. Food. What did you have for food? Apparently not much given all he could find was an apple and banana. Not even an assortment of fruit in a bedroom for an upscale hotel? What a mockery. The vampire bit the side of his lip back and let out an exasperated huff. It had been years since the last time he worried about human nourishment like this. For him nourishment was far more simpler. This mere mortal of a human. How dare y/n make an omnipotent being like him do such humbling things for you. Who were you? However, none of that truly mattered when it came to his inconspicuous admiration for you. Even if he didn’t quite understand what it was, your power drew him to you. Y/n was angelic, beautifully devine in his eyes. The grace that radiated from you when you used that strange, raw power. It was something beyond what he even imagined being in the realm of possibility. It was very close to what he dreamt about during his time in his century long torpor state. But even with all y/n’s physical features, you were still knowledgeable and fascinating nonetheless—y/n was not one to boast about their knowledge demeaningly—but like a friend. However, even if this ‘feeling’, this ‘attraction’ was something of love or romance, Dio surely never felt such a thing in his life, at least not in a long time. The audacity of this human—A being below him—Having such an impact to make him so emotionally vulnerable just made his stomach turn. What nerve you had. And yet...He strangely didn’t mind this, this exotic feeling and emotion for him was somewhat of an indulgence. It was more or less as if y/n was the worthiest of his affections in the few times he did allow himself these moments. Y/n was holy, and he was obligated to give you that kind of credit. Dio took in a deep breath and sighed, glancing back down at your tired form. He scanned around, thinking of what else may help. He spotted your messy hair draped over your face and leaned forward, trying his best to wipe them from your eyes without awakening your. Just because he occasionally enjoyed being sweetly intimate, doesn’t mean he was good at it. Typically he lured in his prey sensuality, but tenderness and endearment were not things he often brushed up his skills on. ༺༻ Even if it was only a couple of hours, the silence was tedious. He really was missing having another person to speak to. He’d just spent far too long in silence, the thought of it drove him mad. He didn’t even notice himself tapping his foot in the air as he flipped through the glossy magazine pages. He knew that this power of theirs often resulted in a physical consequence, and the severity of that physical result was dependent on how much power you exerted. Dio could feel this power, but alas he could not see it. Not yet. Even though this was a setback in their plans, it was minor really. The battle brought them one step closer towards Dio finding the one who held the ability to grant these powers to the ones who weren’t naturally gifted like y/n was. Fortunately, Dio was able to force information out of the opposing user before he met his demise. Y/n’s e/c eyes softly fluttered open with a tired groan to follow. You tiredly threw a hand over your eyes with a deep breath. Dio perked up before you even had a chance to collect where you were and set down the cup of wine. “Y/n.” He said, an ounce of enthusiasm lacing his tone. It was almost as if he had completely just set aside his inner turmoil about his feelings in favor of your company again. You paused and turned your head. All Dio was met with was a disgruntled expression, as if they had been woken up out of nowhere during a deep sleeping session. “Dio…? Are we back at the hotel?” The wild blonde nodded. “Despite your unfavorable condition, you were victorious. It was quite a thrill to watch really.” Quickly you sat up and rubbed one of your eyes, almost a bit surprised. Y/n never really went up against another user per-say. You were fortunate enough to have grown up sheltered enough to not have many encounters with another due to an altercation, even with how un-glamours your youth with your parents was. It was also a fascinating discovery for someone like you who was curious about the functionality of stands. They really were an enigma; a shame however that other users were more or less aggressive. Y/n’s smile lasted for a moment until the realization hit them that they may have missed out important information for Dio. A long groan escaped you. Y/n pinched the bridge of their nose. “My apologies Dio...I got ahead of myself...we could’ve tried getting a lead and instead I-“ The corner of his lip lifted, the vampire dismissively waved an arm. “Do not worry about that. I was able to pry details from him before the final blow.” Y/n blinked and let out a sigh of relief, throwing their legs to the edge of the bed. “I must’ve blacked out because I don’t even remember that. Hm, but that doesn’t matter really.” They shrugged. Dio assumed a spot beside them, crossing his arms and throwing a leg over the other. “You got what we needed to know, that's what’s important.” You knowingly smiled up at him. Dio nodded in agreement. “You’re correct.” Dio lifted a finger up. “Anyways, you’re going to need to make preparations for us to embark to egypt as soon as you’re back to complete health.” “Egypt?” You tilted your head. “Yes. That is apparently where I will find the one who can grant others these ‘stands’. He said that she is an old witch of some sorts named Enya.” Y/n raised their brows in surprise. How in the world was he able to get so much precise information without fighting. Then again, this man was supernatural, perhaps he had his own ways of making one talk. Then again, if he did what point was there in making you do all the dirty work. Unless perhaps he wanted to just seize the opportunity to see what he could do and use your opponent as fodder. “Huh...Well. I suppose I was starting to get tired of this country anyways.” Y/n yawned, stretching their shoulder up to their cheek. “Luckily you have me around. Stand users tend to attract other stand users from my knowledge, so finding this woman shouldn’t take too long once we arrive.” “Perhaps. In any case, it may be best to be negotiable once we find this woman.” “Certainly, of course. And if she is an old woman, surely her power may be weaker. Despite today, I don’t particularly care for using my strength against someone weaker. Unless of course they instigate it.” They nodded. “Hm.” Dio glanced down at you for a moment, thinking about what you just said. “Part of me hopes we run into other users. As you know I cannot exactly see what is happening, I am still fascinated by what you can do.” Subconsciously your smile grew a little. You were a sucker for any kind of praise, but they had to keep their contentment dampered. “Thank you...I’m glad I can share my gift with you. When you have a stand as well, I can’t wait for you to fully experience what S/N can do. To be able to see it like I can see it.” Dio re-adjusted himself to a more comfortable position, sitting sideways to put more attention towards their conversation, leg still crossed over the other. “Oh yes, of course. I would be honored to further understand this power of yours more. If it wasn’t for you, I certainly would not be used to this body enough to even function without continued rest.” You shuddered a little internally, it was still a little strange that body was someone else's, even though you were used to this fact, you certainly did not need to be reminded. Y/n forced a smile and chuckled. “Thank you. I’m glad we’re friends as well.” ༺༻ ‘Friends’ that phrase echoed in Dio’s mind. Maybe he was their friend, but Dio did not have friends. Dio always had subjects. Pawns. Harems. Followers. Not that he couldn’t make friends but such relationships were beyond him. And with a human? He could just scoff at the thought. Most humans really weren’t nothing more than pawns, food, or a source of pleasure. Your relationship was not sexual, nor would he use someone who was doing such a big favor for him as food. But if you weren’t either of those, then what were you exactly? A guard dog? No. That was just insulting. Your relationship felt deeper than simply a subject or a pawn. Whatever. ‘Friends’ would suffice for now. The vampire cleared his throat between the silence. “Ahem. Yes. Friends.” Dio glanced at the food he left for them on the nightstand. “You should eat, dear, as I said, I wish to start our journey to Egypt as soon as you are feeling better.” Y/n peered back and took the banana. they opened their mouth to offer him the apple but remember he did not need that. “Right.” They nodded, peeling the banana. “By the way, I’d like to thank you. You could’ve just left me, but instead you tended to me when I was vulnerable.” They paused and continued to quickly eat their banana. “This may be a bit strange, being you’re a vampire, and above me on the food chain but…” Y/n paused and collected their thoughts, thinking how to word this without completely disinteresting him with their sentimentality. “I feel safe when I’m around you. I’m the one who is helping you but honestly? I suppose emotionally I feel secure around you. You’re the only person who seems to understand me and appreciate me.” Dio thought for a moment and scoffed. Not at you, but the fact that someone as smart, clever, and beautiful as you could go unappreciated. His legs uncrossed quickly. “Those who don’t appreciate you are simply putz.” He huffed and shook his head. “Fools. Utter fools.” Y/n froze, watching him place his hand over her head and pat it. “You are possibly the most useful person I’ve come across since my time out. I am uh…” Dio admittedly had faltered. “Grateful...For you as well.” “Really?” They smiled a bit, their gaze drifting up to his hand. “Here I was worried I’d gross you with all this sentimentality.” “No. I suppose even the most superior of beings need to express a bit of tenderness.” He nodded, continuing to gently pat your hair;It was quite soft really. “And if I am to express these sorts of emotions, it should be to one who is worthy of it. Someone I can trust not to use this as a weapon against me.” “Certainly. I know I would expect the same from you as well, Dio.” Your smile became a bit softer. The pair of you fell silent for a moment. The male hadn’t realized it but his hand had drifted down to feel your smooth locks. Y/n blinked and their eyes averted to the side. “Dio? What are you doing?” He quickly caught just what he was doing and pulled away, trying to play it off. Dio cleared his throat and got up from bed,, completely ignoring the subject. “In any case. Go rest. I’ll find some way of entertaining myself, don’t worry.”

#jjba x reader #dio x reader #jjba AU writing #jjba fanfic #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Dio Brando

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innenofutari · 4 years

Text

On Goro Akechi’s morals and forgiveness (character analysis, but also just a very rambly post)

Akechi is… a very interesting character, I have no doubt about this. Also my favorite of course, if you hadn’t figured that out yet by this giant text you’re about to read (sorry). I have a lot I want to talk about in regards to him since he is so intriguing and we actually don’t have that much info about how his thought process works so it leaves a lot of room for speculation.

In any case, in this meta in specific I’m going to be talking about Akechi’s...morality(?), forgiveness and his relationship with regret. I’m not sure if that’s the best word to define this but I’ll roll with it for now. I’ll try to be fair and talk about things as I personally see them, it’s totally fine if you don’t share my views! Now, onto the actual meta.

Starting off, as people are obviously aware, Akechi is a morally gray character, a darker shade of, but he’s a sympathetic and tragic character nonetheless. That much is undeniable, he was written to be sympathetic, even if I’d argue Atlus did a pretty poor job of it in Vanilla (he was still my favorite ever since then though lol) but he’s reached his true potential in Royal, which makes me immensely happy to see. I get so unbelievably happy whenever I see people saying Royal changed their perception of him and started to like him more! But even then, there are a lot of people who just can’t forgive him for what he did, and that’s only natural. I personally think that, if you don’t try to sympathize with Akechi and truly, truly try to understand his mind and history, you’re doing him a huge disservice. But, forgiveness is something that everyone is free to think and decide if he deserves it or not. In Akechi’s case, I feel like forgiveness is something much more personal to the player, and this shows between the Phantom Thieves too.

There is a visual novel I hold very close to my heart called Umineko no Naku Koro Ni (which I’ll be quoting relentlessly throughout this entire post) that illustrates what I think better than I could put into words, so I’ll be quoting that scene with a few tweaks for better context:

“You said you understood the culprit’s motive.”

“...Yes.”

“Is that motive… a satisfying explanation for why they’d [commit murder]?!”

“Who knows. That’s for you to decide. Even if I say it’s satisfying, that doesn’t mean it will satisfy you. …You have to decide that for yourself.”

I really like this. It reminds me a lot of Akechi’s situation. I firmly believe that this has no “objective”, “most correct” answer to, just your personal feelings, which are the most important. I, as a player, do forgive Akechi, I want him to have a happy ending, another chance at life, manage to live happily with Akira and have some fun for once. That’s what “forgiveness” means to me in this situation, but while some people may empathize with Akechi, they still can’t forgive him. They think he should stay forever in jail or die since he cannot be redeemed in any way in their eyes. Where do I wanna go with this endless blabbering you ask, and I respond, I just want to try and see Akechi’s actions through two different lenses.

Well, I personally don’t like downplaying the crimes he committed and dumbing it down to “he was being manipulated” because, even if this is not false, it is not entirely correct either. Akechi is so fun to speculate about because he’s a character who is always clashing against himself in various ways as if he was in a constant state of internal turmoil, and this is not very different.

Akechi himself made the choice to go to Shido. It is extremely unlikely that he didn’t know he was going to be using his new powers for murder. He may have been very young, but despite the fact that he was a child forced to mature prematurely, he knew exactly which type of person Shido was. When he walked into that deal he was aware of the consequences and had fully made peace with the fact that he’d be taking another person’s life. Now, I’m not saying that Shido never manipulated him because he did, but not with that particular choice.

This alone tells plenty about Akechi’s morals. I believe that Akechi indeed has some level of empathy for other people, but I sincerely doubt he feels especially bad about the Okumura-like people he had to kill. He might feel bad for the family of the victims or just feel nauseated with himself, however, he doesn’t regret a thing. As if he had grown numb to it. ...Until a certain point, that is, but I’ll talk about that later.

I would also like to elaborate further on Akechi’s continuous conflict with himself, and this particular piece of Maruki’s confidant immediately reminded me of this:

He’s talking about Akira here, but isn’t it interesting to note that Akechi’s internalized and externalized realities are, in contrast to Akira’s, the farthest they could possibly be from each other? His sense of justice, childlike desire to be loved and seen as a hero, in contrast to the cold-blooded murderer he had become? It’s like there are two people fighting it out inside of Akechi’s brain (lol) which must cause him a lot of distress. I don’t believe that Robin Hood is a ruse or that his Detective Prince façade is entirely fake. The way I see it, they are his ideal, which he strayed so far away from he lost grasp of who he himself is.

In my opinion, Akechi has never cared about fame the slightest bit, he used all of that as an opportunity to act out the person he wished he was, just and virtuous, while still being the feral murderer and bloodstained person he is today. These are two integral parts of him that he has never known how to reconcile. It’s interesting to note that in the third semester he was the one who since the beginning advocated firmly to return to the harsh reality but he had spent the entire game living in the comforting “detective prince” dream he made for himself until the engine room scene happened.

With the third semester context, the engine room becomes so interesting because that scene is akin to Sumire finding out she’s not Kasumi. It’s a cold bucket of water thrown straight to Akechi’s face and telling him to wake up from this lie he made to comfort himself and face reality: he is no hero. Despite the fact that he is, too, a victim, he is simultaneously a murderer who perpetuated with the cycle of his father’s aggressions and he cannot escape that fact. Worse, he was being manipulated all along and his revenge plan and arguably his only reason to live AND justification for his actions was completely crushed.

Once again, this Umineko scene illustrates what I think Akechi’s situation up until that point was like:

Akechi rationalized every awful, inexcusable thing he did as, “It’s for my revenge’s sake” and ran with it. He was incredibly blinded by his hate and ignored the weight of the consequences of his actions up until that point where everything came crashing down right in front of his eyes. There is no excuse and no justification for that.

However, Akechi was also abused himself. There is no excuse for what he did, but is getting back at the person who took everything from him so reprehensible a thought? Is wanting justice against someone who essentially ruined your life not understandable? Many people like to say “cool motive still murder” or things of the like, but I’m asking you again to put yourself in his shoes.

Yet AGAIN with a Umineko screencap:

I played this the other day and one of the first things I thought of was Akechi. A lot of people draw parallels between Akechi and Adachi, but that’s just so damn wrong and make me lose my hair so much and become completely bald because that couldn’t be farther from the truth and I’m gently asking you to reconsider. In the pic above, Adachi would fit the “homicidal maniac” mentioned to a T, and while Akechi is by absolutely no means free of guilt and much less a stellar person, his crimes were moved completely by his heart.

For the people who use his choice to become Shido’s hitman to say Akechi does not deserve any kind of forgiveness and that he’s a murderous maniac, I ask you to at least think of what state of mind he was at that moment. Think very hard about it, imagine how completely bleak life must have looked like then, to the point that he risked everything on murder.

This is nothing more than my speculation, but I believe Akechi’s thought process at that moment was something along the lines of, “I have nothing to lose since my (current) life is completely meaningless". It was as if he had reached such a numb state he chose to forgo all his morals and humanity in pursuit of at least one thing that would give his life meaning, that being his hate for Shido, which I also think was the only emotion he ever truly understood well ever since his mom passed.

Since Akechi is all about conflicting emotions though, I would also like to remind you how vulnerable Akechi really is to any kind of affection. His “childlikeness” that Robin Hood represents was, by all accounts, still there. Akechi has a desperate need to be loved while simultaneously putting up walls and wearing masks, making it extremely difficult to have any kind of meaningful relationship. This is something that Shido thoroughly takes advantage of, too.

That’s also why one of his lines to Akira hit so much harder for me, following this reasoning. “If only we had met a few years earlier,” expresses many emotions at once. If Akechi had known something other than misery and hatred during that period of his life he would not have latched so thoroughly to that revenge plan. Akechi simply had nothing to lose, since he had nothing at all.

I mentioned earlier that Akechi doesn’t regret a thing, which I still think it’s true. Before he had met Akira, he truly did not regret a thing, but meeting Akira caused him a lot of strife because not only Akira is a person whose whole existence flaunts everything Akechi could have had if he hadn’t fallen into fate’s trap, but Akechi also experiences happiness through his connection with Akira. Hanging out and talking to him truly makes him happy, and it’s something more genuine than he’s ever known. Yet, it’s too late, because his choices were already set in stone and he had already pulled the trigger with no way to take any of the bullets back.

That’s why Akechi is so confusing, so controversial and sometimes uncomfortable to think about. There is no clear line between good or bad, he just is something in the middle. Akechi is both a person who ruined a lot of people’s lives with no regard whatsoever to the consequences but also a victim rebelling and retaliating against the person who took everything from him and made his life a living hell. That’s why it’s so hard for not only some players to form opinions about him but also downright uncomfortable for the Phantom Thieves to think about. There is no objectively best answer for what he deserves. It just doesn’t exist. Should he spend the rest of his life in jail, or dead, because his crimes were inexcusable? Or should he be given another chance at life to learn to be happy? It’s entirely subjective, and that’s why he’s so great to think or discuss about.

Aaand that’s it, I’m grateful you read so far, hope I didn’t piss anyone off, also not gonna pretend this wasn’t very self indulgent because of the amount of times I quoted Umineko in it. Anyways, thank you!

SIDE NOTE: I didn’t write this recently, it had been sitting on my drafts for some months now and I found it again today and decided to just release it into the wild because why not? I think this was meant to be much longer than it is and to elaborate more eloquently on a lot of points I brought up (like the PT with Akechi) but alas, I lost the train of thought and so it Perished.

#goro akechi #meta #p5r spoilers #persona 5 #p5 #persona 5 royal #character analysis #long post

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cassandraramos · 3 years

Text

HUMILIATING → HEADCANON

who: cassandra ramos, lauren zizes (@the-lauren-zizes)

when: february 20th 2021

where: lauren’s room

warnings: unfinished, HCed in the end!

Lauren Zizes

To say that Lauren was excited for her scene with Cassandra was an understatement. The Switch was bristly but that just meant she was a challenge that the Domme would enjoy facing up to. And something told her a humiliation scene was the exact thing to knock her into place. “Kneel,” She instructed when the girl arrived, “Go over your limits, safeword and which boundaries we cannot cross today for me.”

Cass Ramos

This was bullshit. She'd taken the classes she had to learn more about the topics since she apparently had to learn something, not to be on the receiving end of it all. So to say her expression was icy when she arrived at Lauren's was putting it lightly. At her order, she raised an eyebrow, seconds ticking by. A very, very big part of her wanted to refuse -- but an equally big part of her didn't want to prolong this any further than needed be. So with an eye-roll and a huff, she finally settled onto her knees, crossing her arms anyway just because. "Safeword is cinnamon, I'm not here for the body fluids shit or feet. Or anything that takes longer than an hour and expects me to be nice, honestly."23. Februar 2021

Lauren Zizes

Lauren watched with a blank expression as Cass almost seemed to refuse orders before they even began the scene, smirking when the other girl finally caved, getting onto her knees. "Cinnamon, got it. I'm not surprised you're not into that shit, especially seems like someone pissed in your cheerios this morning. Off putting for anyone, really," She decided, "Look, this is just a homework assignment. It won't take longer than an hour and I promise you, if you hate it. If this is the worst thing to have ever fucking happened to you, you safeword. I check in with you mentally, and we can stop." The Domme promised her. She wanted Cassandra to know that she was taking her feelings about this seriously, because she didn't want the Switch to feel forced into it, not outside the context of the humiliation scene anwyay. "But you're going to have to give it an honest try, okay? You wouldn't have initially agreed if there wasn't a part of you, no matter how small, that wanted to try it, right?"

Cass Ramos

Cass just made a non-commital noise in the back of her throat in response to Lauren. In theory, she didn't even have a real problem with the kneeling and the whatever else may or may not be involved. And in theory, Lauren's reassurances that her feelings would be honoured should comfort her. But in reality, it was exactly this -- the talk of feelings and things of that sort that put her on edge. It was the vulnerability of it all that had her generally hesitant to engage in scenes either way but especially in her apparently newfound submissive facet. She didn't like it. It made her want to crawl out of her own skin. "I want to try not to get kicked out of this school," she settled on, tone slightly exasperated. "Which is probably easier if I do some of my homework and nobody goes complaining to the teachers about lack of participation or whatever."26. Februar 2021

Lauren Zizes

Lauren stood patiently as Cassandra seemed to have an inward battle with herself, fully preparing to have the scene cancelled, and work on an alternative to get the assignment done. But the Switch's answered surprised her, especially the reasoning behind it. The Domme wasn't one to judge people on their appearances, or first impressions, but the idea that the girl before her even cared a little about school work seemed too good to be true. "Well, if that's the thing going to get you through it, hold onto it," Lauren encouraged, "I have an outfit for you to wear today, inspired by our first ever conversation." She then added, with a smirk, "Straighten your back, kneel properly, and stay perfectly quiet and still as I go get it."5. März 2021

Cass Ramos

Cass's eyes narrowed at Lauren immediately, suspicion painted all over her face. Images of vampire merch flashed before her eyes and she wasn't sure whether that was just ridiculous to even think of. Surely, this had to be something better. The glare stayed in place at the further orders, dropping her crossed arms with a roll of her eye. Still, she didn't make much of an attempt at getting into perfect position as her hands flopped into her lap. She had to hold onto some defiance, after all.

Lauren Zizes

Whilst Lauren did toy with the idea of making Cass dress in full Twilight getup for her own amusement, she decided to start with something much more simple in terms of humilation. A classic Dunce cap. It did the job of being something embarassing for the Switch to wear, even in the privacy of Lauren's room, as well as imply Cassandra was not as smart as she was, and though they didn't know each other that well, Lauren knew her intelligence was something Cassandra didn't want mocked. "Don't you look just pretty as a peach?" Lauren mused when she returned, placing it on her head after showing the girl what she'd be wearing. "Now, this is only the start of your outfit, I can make it much worse for you if you don't follow the rules."6. März 2021

Cass Ramos

If looks could kill, Lauren might very well have dropped dead with the daggers Cass was glaring at her. She hadn't decided yet whether was offended or whether this was just ridiculous -- maybe both. Somewhere in her mind, the fact that this being ridiculous might be part of the point registered but that didn't mean she liked it any more. Or at all, really. It was only with the appliance of her entire self control that she didn't reach up and take the stupid thing off again. Instead, she rolled her eyes, staring back at the other girl with a deadpan expression. "What is this? 1900?"17. März 2021

Lauren Zizes

The daggers Cass shot at Lauren made the Domme smirk, because clearly, this was working. “Sarcasm gets you nowhere,” She said with a click of her tongue, motioning for the Switch to stand. “Now I think I might quiz you, since you’re a good little know it all for me. If you get all the answers right, I’ll let you take the hat off. If not, I have a whole closet of items you’d look adorable in, which I’ll put on you with every wrong answer.”21. März 2021

Cass Ramos

Cass didn't waste much time to get to her feet once allowed, even if the movement was accompanied with an exasperated huff. "Fun," she commented drily once she stood, arms crossing over her chest again mostly out of habit at this point. "I've clearly always been a huge fan of playing school."4. April 2021

Lauren Zizes

"Did you often have trouble in school?" Lauren asked, curiously, tilting her head slightly, "It's not part of my quiz, I'm just curious, because you always seem so against it. Maybe it's...insecurity about your grades? Intelligence?" She let out a hum. "Anyway, question one; who plays Bella Swan in the film version of Twilight?"5. April 2021

Cass Ramos

Cass snorted, eyes narrowing slightly. Admittedly, Lauren hat hit a sore spot there, although maybe not for the reason she expected. She wasn't necessarily ashamed about her lack of High School degree -- but she did hate when people assumed it was because she'd been lazy or stupid and she could feel that anger bubble under her skin now. It was only barely that she managed to bite her tongue on the cuss that almost slipped past her lips. If she just held her tongue long enough, she'd be out here on no time. "Kristen Stewart," she bit out, more venom in her voice than the simple answer might have warranted. "She's hot, at least she got that going for her."

HEADCANON (SUMMARY)

Lauren continued to ask Cass questions, occasionally making quips on her attitude. For every right question, she would praise her within her comfort level, and for every wrong question, she would add another piece of embarassing clothing, such as Twilight T-Shirts, fanmade necklaces, etc. Cass did end up rather decorated due to her need for witty comebacks but they did manage to get through the scene well enough. Lauren provided aftercare, trying to remain as neutral as possible in that (as Cass didn’t seem to be very into the softer approach) while still taking care of her overall mental health.

#hc #lauren

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namjoonchronicles · 5 years

Text

may it please you | nj

↳ pairing namjoon, you

↳ genre drama, fluff, angst, fantasy

↳ words 1.7k

She knows it. When he’s hurt. And it pains him even more when he knows that she’s upset because of it.

And it makes you hold onto him tighter. And it makes you cling harder onto the brims of his sleeves. And it makes you stare at him longer, wondering what it is that you can do to make him feel better.

This morning, he woke up with your limb draped over his torso. He ran his palm down your bare thigh with his eyes closed and significantly remembered that you’ve slept with your pants on. Where is it gone? You stirred closer to him, letting out a small moan. One thing about Namjoon is that he sleeps like a log. Straight and stays immobile the whole night. You must have had fun using his whole body while he sleeps since he snoozed on quite easily. Poking his lips. Tracing his jaws. Counting his eyelashes. Pretty normal couple stuff.

Namjoon fishes for his phone, laying face down on the bedside table. And there, he props his head up to the headboard, letting your limb stay where it was even as he was scrolling down his congested emails. When your phone blasted its alarm, you woke up to see your husband’s face shone from the lights of his iPad screen. Hit snooze and doze back to sleep. Namjoon was fully invested in his replies that he didn’t really pay attention to your snoozing habits that seemed to be abundant this particular dawn.

“You hit snooze five time in a row,” his voice is groggy in the morning and no matter how many times you hear them, it never fails to melt you. He can be scolding you, nagging or courting you, and it all sounds pretty much like poetry. There are times where you simply smiled at him, not listening to anything he had been complaining about—and he realises it; but there’s nothing he can do because everytime he speak, you have this lovesick grin on your face that makes him weak in the knees.

“What time are you planning to wake up,” he nags, “What time did you sleep last night, I told you not to stay up too late.”

You mashed your face on the side of his torso, “Late,” voice muffled. Your hands sneaks underneath his loose tanks, your favourite tank—the one without sleeves and ridiculously gaping arm hole showing both side of his ribs— to thumb his tummy and stuck your nose on his skin.

“What were you even doing? What was so important than sleep?” His eyes drops to the keyboard and then the screen. His glasses drooping down the tip of his nose. He, who was vigorously typing, halted immediately when you started to palm his thigh and trace the outline of his manhood. That’s when he called your full maiden name in a warning tone.

You giggled and straddled him at once.

“I thought you were sleepy... I was going to make you coffee...” he types a few more words and set his iPad aside, bracketing your hips with his hands.

“Wake me up, the only way you know how...” you bit your smile, and closed the distance between his lips and yours.

“Coffee?” He asked when you pulled away, but you shook your head playfully.

“Americano? Double shot espresso? Triple shot espresso...” he listed and while he pretends not to know what you want, you took his glasses off and he slid down flat on the bed to begin love making session.

“Burnt toast?”

Heavy-lidded eyes, spent and shirtless. Namjoon watches you apply mascara and smack your lips together to blend the mattifying lipstick evenly. With nail marks on his chest, his disheveled hair, and swollen lips, he was definitely prettier than you.

“What time are you coming home today?” He asks, voice a little coarse, and frankly, took you by surprise because you thought he was sleeping.

“I’m not sure,” you brushed your middle finger on your cheekbones to apply blusher that matches your lipstick, head tilt backward, chin-up, closer to the mirror. You threw a glance at Namjoon who lays on the right side of the bed with his feet peeking out the duvet, and the blanket pooling around his waist. The back of his head propped on the headboard like you found him this morning.

He snatches his glasses from the side, after several attempts. Puts them on and tilt his head on your choice of attire today. Black blouse on striped slacks. Hair in a bun and speckless neck on display. The look made his bottom lip get caught between his teeth. And eyebrow arched.

“What’s that look for?” You gave him a dark chuckle.

“The reason why you should be coming home early today,” he passes.

You turned to face him, stride slowly towards him, and he sets his feet on the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed and you whispered, “Okay.” Running your fingers through his luscious long locks. Upon threading his scalp, you realised his hair was getting longer.

“Haircut was not long ago, I remember... your hair grows so fast,” you said and he tipped his head back, looking at you with doe eyes, arms around your thighs, possessively. His forearm moved above the curve of your bum and you feel his palm moving down your elbows then to your ring finger where your wedding band is.

"You remember how it almost didn't happen?" he looks up, and with that one look, you understood what he meant.

May it please you. Was what he said. When he met your maternal grandmother.

She was born blind and reads palms. Her eyes were grey and when she held your palm, reads them, she visibly stiffens.

"I see deep romance, soulmate-like connection to a man in the room. But this man," she pauses, "Is not of noble descend, he is a product of a long lineage of bastards."

You were taken aback by her tactless words and tried to pry your hand away from her, but to no avail. She seems possessed, she seemed resentful and she looked furious. She held on too tight, the tip of your fingers turning blue from her merciless grasp. Namjoon's expression was unreadable. The reading was halted.

"I cannot let you call him names!" you crossed your arms, staring out the window. The sky is littered with stars but none of it caught your attentions because you have brought the man you wanted to marry finally, to your maternal village; but your grandmother wasn't supportive.

She calmly sets her tea cup down, as if she expected this conversation.

"You sensed it too," she spat dryly.

Ever since you set your eyes on Namjoon, ever since he introduced himself and said his name, you have been getting a series of lucid dreams of a time you never lived. His ancestors, his entire family tree, his lineage and descendants. There were war. There was stealing and things that are stolen. Namjoon's family name, Kim, came from an exiled royal family who regains Royal position by seducing the ruling king at the time-- she made love to the married king and threatens him when she got pregnant. When she was brought to the palace, she poisoned the Queen and was hailed the position. The child she bore carries the Kim name.

So it was true. What your grandmother said.

"You don't play with the matters of the heart. If you've seen his past, then you know his feelings are real," you furrowed your brows at the view of the river.

"No children of this home shall bore the tainted Kim name," your grandmother knocks the lion figurine made of porcelain down to the wooden floor and it shattered. The sound was enough to make your head turn and your mother storm into the room. Behind her, staggering in his stance was the love of your life, Namjoon, gripping tight on the straps of his bag, ready to leave.

He lunges out, and that was when you felt torn between your family and your love. Your mother was on her knees, collecting the pieces while your grandmother turns away, stubbornly.

"Go," your mother mouthed from across her shoulder at you.

Your feet responded faster than your lips. There's nothing else to be said. Namjoon is already halfway through the field of your village home, heading straight to the paddy field.

"Namjoon!" you called repeatedly.

"She's right, you're better off with someone else. Who cares if we had soulmate connection. Nothing is more important than lineage. I hope you're happy with the men you'll find that will please her. And I'm sorry that I'm from a family that doesn't faze her," his steps were wide, and he didn't bother to look behind as he said all those things. Nothing you say seems to make him slow down one bit.

"I'm sure there is a way to cleanse the lineage, I'll look into all the books--" you jogged behind him, trying to catch up.

"--great, now the girl I love thinks I'm a bastard too," Namjoon mutters under his breath.

"That's not what I meant. Will you please stop walking so fast, I have short legs!" You stomped and he walks backwards, hands laced behind his baseball cap as you finally see his eyes for what it is, underneath this moonlight. Glassy. Misty. His lips mashed together, as he tries not to cry. His bag drops on the tiny tar road, only big enough to fit one car at a time. He looks to the side, took his cap off, run his finger through his hair, then put them back on.

He opens his mouth, but no words comes out.

You never knew such pain before. You've never seen him so utterly speechless when he was the most inspirational person you know. You've never seen him stagger in his stance, in his most vulnerable state that your feet marched directly towards him, tiptoeing to throw your arms around his neck and felt him wraps his arm around your ribs, bury his face in your nape. Shaking in your embrace, helpless and hoping that your love remains unwavered.

Conveying everything in a hug was something only soulmates could do. How could fate be so cruel?

continue →

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thefinalexperiment · 5 years

Text

The Final Experiment Chapter 28: James Buchanan Barnes

Peter Parker x OC

A/N: So I just wanted to preface by saying this chapter is fairly intense. Not necessarily violent, but just a bit more intense than an average chapter. The italics are flashbacks, any dialogue in the flashbacks is in Russian. It was way too much to run through Google translate lol. Hopefully you will enjoy getting some answers about Kait and Bucky's history together!

P.S.

This is the longest part I've ever written, at almost 3,000 words, so celebration time for a new record!

I will no longer be linking things on new part posts due to dumblr and the link censoring, and just to be safe from any potential image post censoring, I will also not be including covers on my stories. All previous parts can be found in my masterlist, in my bio!

Warnings: This part contains a brief description of a knife wound, imminent danger to a child, and generally more intense themes than previous parts

---

When we arrived back at the tower, the medical alarms on the transportable equipment they’d hooked Bucky up to began blaring and beeping like crazy. I jumped to my feet before we had fully touched down.

“What’s going on?” Natasha demanded as the exit ramp lowered.

“He’s lost too much blood,” one of the medics said, unfolding the wheeled legs of the gurney. “He’s gonna need a major transfusion, ASAP.”

“We’re the same blood type,” I said quickly. I reached to peel my gloves off, but Natasha stopped me with a gentle touch to my shoulder.

“Kaitlynn…” she said softly, “You can’t. You’d risk infecting him with the Ainterbach symbiote…”

My heart was pounding so hard I feared my chest was going to burst, Alien style.

“But…”

The medics clicked the gurney into place and began to wheel my father away.

“Don’t worry, Kait,” Steve said, unbuckling the top part of his Captain America suit as he moved to follow them. “Buck and I are the same type too, and the super soldier serum will help him heal. We have plenty of backup CCs on base for this exact occasion in case he needs more.”

With that, he was gone, headed off to the medbay.

What had just happened? It felt like the world was on fast-forward while my brain was in slow motion. Normally, my mind was ten steps ahead of everyone, but right now, I was dumbfounded and frozen.

“Hey, Kait,” someone said, trying to get my attention. I couldn’t tell who. There was a gentle tug on my arm, guiding me inside, sitting me down. “Kait, look at me…”

I was so lost in my own head, I wasn’t even aware of who was talking to me, much less where to look at them.

“Kaitlynn, you’re making it snow…”

I snapped out of my stupor at that, suddenly glancing around. Sure enough, flurries of snowflakes fluttered around my head. Natasha’s hand cupped my chin, obviously trying to get me to focus. Wait, what?

“You’re touching me,” I whispered. “You’re touching me and you’re okay…”

She paused, as if just realizing it herself.

“I am…”

I laughed, and, for the first time in over a year and a half, I willingly and joyfully wrapped my arms around her in a hug. She held me close, and I wondered if this was what a motherly embrace was meant to feel like. Suddenly, I pulled back, thinking of something.

“But I don’t understand,” I said, “What’s changed?”

Natasha shrugged.

“I think you have,” she offered. “This is the most vulnerable and open you’ve ever been… these past few days, with all that’s happened and everything that’s come to light… It’d be a lot for anyone to handle. I’d say you’ve taken it all pretty well in stride. Maybe the more you learn to control your emotions - control, not suppress - the more you can control your powers.”

I nodded slowly. That made sense. I let out a deep breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding.

“It’s just… it’s all so crazy. Yesterday, I wanted to kill Bucky, and today, I--” I paused. “Oh m… I… I called him dad…”

Natasha laughed softly.

“Well I wasn’t gonna mention it, but yes, you did.”

“That… that was like, instinct…” I frowned. “It wasn’t just a slip… It was… familiar.”

“Maybe you should take a look at those video files,” Nat said. “It might have some of the answers you’re looking for.”

“Maybe… we should take a look at them…” I suggested softly. I looked up at her, and we held each other’s gaze for a moment.

Then, she nodded.

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

She nodded again, then stood.

“Alright then. Let’s see what’s on that flashdrive.”

---

I plugged the flash drive into the meeting room hub, and the hologram flickered to life. Natasha flicked through a few options until she found the files we were after.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“No,” I said honestly, “But it has to be done.”

Natasha nodded, then pressed play on the file. On the hologram screen, a scientist addressed the camera in Russian.

“Winter Soldier and Child, Entry Number One. Today, we will introduce the Asset to the Offspring, age nine. The Asset was recently wiped and reprogrammed, no orders given yet. The Offspring has been given the most basic and rudimentary conditioning. This test will determine the strength of the Asset’s paternal bond. We wish to see if he will behave differently around her of his own accord. If not, we will inform him that we created her from him, and that he is to train her so as to one day surpass his skill. Should either of these yield a reaction, the wipe and reprogram process will need further adjustment to remove emotional connection or weakness.”

The screen switched to security footage from the compound. I held my breath when I saw my younger self on the screen. She obediently sat on a chair, opposite the complacent Winter Soldier, who looked to be awaiting a command of some kind. Her hair was lighter than I ever remembered mine being when I was normal… it must have darkened with age. I know that happens sometimes.

“Soldier,” said one of the… the trainers, I suppose you could call them. “This is your new charge. Say hello.”

It was clear that the last bit was a joke. The Soldier glanced at the little girl, who stared right back. She looked him in the eye, unafraid. Or maybe it was her assassin genes showing, telling her not to back down, to never show fear or weakness… To always be the one to challenge. But, oddly enough, her gaze held no challenge. She was not passive either, however. More… expectant. She was watching the Soldier, as if waiting on him.

The Soldier watched her in return. For a while, it seemed he might simply continue to regard her passively, but, after a moment, his face twitched ever-so-slightly into a frown. His expression was dazed, as if he was registering something off. It wasn’t clear if his hesitation came from the fact that he’d just been told he, a lethal killer, was now in charge of a child… Or if, perhaps, because he sensed she was more than just a child.

The scientist off to the side wrote something on his clipboard, then asked, “Is something wrong, Soldier?”

The Soldier let his face relax back into neutral and shook his head, almost imperceptibly.

“Very good… Now, before you begin with training her, I want to ask you, how do you feel, knowing that this is your child, Soldier?”

The creak of the grinding plates in his arm echoed through the room. Now, the expression written on his face was unmistakable. No longer was he a blank slate. His eyes were alight with a simmering fire. This was James Buchanan Barnes breaking through, even if not fully. Still, the Soldier did not speak. His dark gaze fixed on the scientist, then the guards, then the child, who had never stopped watching him. It was as if he were trying to calculate whether or not he could take them all and get her out safely…

“Enough of this,” the scientist said, “Time for reconditioning.”

The first file clicked off. I hadn’t realized I was trembling, ever so slightly.

“We don’t have to watch these all today,” Natasha said.

“No,” I said almost instantly. “I have to know. I have to remember…”

Nat sighed, but switched it over to the next file. It was that scientist again.

“Winter Soldier and Child, Entry Number Two. The Asset shows particular weakness when it comes to the Offspring. The programming lasts longer with each new method, but upon training her, he begins to slip. The Offspring, however, is beginning to become inquisitive. Memory wipe may be needed in the future. Cryofreeze will be utilized when the Soldier needed for a mission or is put in storage with no other trainer available. Other methods may be needed to bring the Offspring to a more lethal level than the Asset. This month, we shall attempt to spur further progress by utilizing the Asset’s weakness.”

I knew my childhood had been wiped away, but hearing it suggested so casually was much more jarring than I had thought it would be.

The Soldier was training the girl to fight. Trying to, anyways. Nine year olds aren’t exactly known for outstanding motor skills. Though this girl was obviously smarter than any other her age, she was still having difficulties mastering the physical aspects of it. More than a few times, a hit from the Soldier sent her sprawling. He stood menacingly, waiting for her to get to her feet.

“Do not let her get up, Soldier!” a guard barked. “If she cannot defend herself, she must pay the price!”

The Soldier’s jaw clenched, but other than that, he didn’t react.

“Enough,” the scientist scoffed in disgust, “He is weak! Take her to the Foreman.”

For the first time, The little girl’s expression changed. Her eyes widened, and she reached out for the Soldier.

“No, Soldier, please, do not let them!” she cried.

The Soldier made a move to go to her, but a quick reprimand, and several guns pointed at him held him back as she was dragged away.

The Foreman… The sound of that name sent icy fear into me, even though I didn’t know why. In this next tape, the scientist had aged… It seemed a few years had passed since the last entry.

“Winter Soldier and Child, Entry Number Three. The Asset was placed on cryofreeze for three years until better programming could be developed. His connection to the Offspring is becoming a problem. The Offspring has been trained by the Foreman in the Asset’s absence. It is time to test her against the Asset once more, to see where improvements can be made.”

The fight between them was much more lethal than in the previous entries. Now three years older and with far more training, she lasted far longer in each bout against the Soldier. At least, until the trainers insisted on testing her weapons proficiency.

By the way she moved, the girl was no stranger to knives. But against the Soldier, she was like a kitten chasing a string. She managed to plunge her knife into his bicep, but he used this to his advantage and pulled her off balance. With this one false move, the Soldier sliced a wound from the outer side of her right collarbone, curving to the top of her sternum. She cried out and released the knife from her right hand, exactly as the Soldier had intended.

But then, the Soldier did something no one expected. He dropped his own knife and pressed his flesh hand over her deep cut.

The scientist was heard cursing in the background, and a guard growled, “Back away, Soldier, let the medics through to check.” He muttered under his breath to the scientist, “It’s probably not even bad enough to need to stop…”

Other guards with guns closed in, but the Soldier growled out, “No.”

The tension was electric.

“What?”

“I said no. I will take care of her. She should be shown how to care for herself should an emergency occur on a mission, yes?”

There was a heavy silence. Then…

“Very well. Take her to your quarters. Just get it over with quickly.”

I rubbed at that curved scar… My fake-parents had told me all my scars were from surgery, that I had been a very sickly baby… but that one, they said I had fallen from a playground set as a toddler. I suppose not everything could be explained away by surgery. There was only one video file left. This would hopefully hold the answer to how mine and Bucky’s story together ended… But undoubtedly, it would still leave me with many questions.

“Winter Soldier and Child, Entry Number Four, Final Entry. Winter Soldier and Child project has failed. The Asset recalled details of personal life, and disclosed his fathership to the Offspring. The science division has developed a dark parasite… Tests are very promising. The Offspring and the Asset with both be wiped and reset. The Offspring will be relocated to America for the new project. The Asset will be placed back into cryofreeze and shipped to the new leader of HYDRA in a separate region of America. The wipe of the Offspring will be observed for data purposes on both the Asset and the Offspring. While the Offspring has never been wiped before, she has seen the Asset wiped, and she will know what is coming. The results should be intriguing.”

The Soldier and the girl were both led into a room with a menacing looking chair. Evidently neither of them had known this was coming. The girl’s eyes widened, and she couldn’t disguise her concern, on behalf of what she apparently thought only the Soldier would be undergoing. The Soldier growled and struggled against his guards. It was evident how much of his programming had worn off. He was much more mouthy now.

“Not again! You can’t take me away again!”

“I’m afraid you don’t have any say in the matter,” said a technician. “But don’t worry, you’ll have enough time to prepare yourself… The girl is first.”

The Soldier seemed to have had all the air knocked from his lungs. The girl’s expression morphed from concern to fear.

“You won’t touch her!” the Soldier shouted. He managed to send two guards flying into the wall with a sickening CRACK, fighting to reach the girl.

“Dad!” she cried, struggling against the guards dragging her towards the chair. She elbowed one in the throat, and kicked the other in the groin, making a break for the Soldier. He reached for her, too, and managed to grasp her by the shoulders long enough to whisper something to her before the guards tore them apart once more, more than happy to use the blunt ends of their weapons.

The Soldier fell to his knees when the guards zapped him with what looked to be cattle prods. Not the two he had thrown, they looked pretty dead. Other guards forced the girl into the chair and restrained her, forcing the bite guard between her teeth.

“You can remember, sweetheart!” the Soldier shouted as the contraption lowered around her head, “I know you can! My name is James Buchanan Barnes! I’m your father!”

One of the guards around him slammed the butt of a gun into his jaw, then forced him to watch as the electricity turned on. The sound of the girl’s screams rang out across the room.

When the last file finished playing, I noticed a wetness on my cheeks. I don’t know when I started crying. I swiped at the tears.

“Are you okay?” Nat asked softly, rubbing my shoulder.

“Not really,” I said honestly. “That was… really intense.”

“Did… anything come back?” she asked tentatively.

“Sort of… but mostly no,” I said with a sigh. “But I have a feeling I can predict the greatest hits reel for tonight’s nightmare. At least I might recover some memories from that…”

The sympathetic look on her face didn’t irritate me, for once. Maybe because it wasn’t pity, but empathy.

“Well then you should try to rest now.” I went to protest, but she wouldn’t hear it. “If anything changes with Bucky, I promise, I will drag you out of bed myself to tell you.”

I sighed, but relented.

“Fine…” I headed for the door, but paused, glancing at Nat. “Is there something you wanted to ask? I mean, I know we’re gonna talk this whole thing with the videos out eventually, it just seems like there’s something you wanna know now.”

Natasha shrugged. “I know you said you don’t remember… But I was just wondering what Barnes whispered to you.”

I paused, thinking. I don’t know how I knew, but I did.

“He… he said… ‘No matter what happens… I love you’…”

Wrapping my arms around myself awkwardly, I inched towards the door again.

“I’ll see you later, Nat…”

She nodded. “Go rest up, kiddo… Heaven knows you need it.”

After everything I just saw? I definitely agreed.

---

A/N: Things are beginning to come to light... I think the next chapter will be fun to write. What did you think of this chapter? Let me know in the comments below!

Series Tags: @shamvictoria11 @mla02 @fanficcrapforme @goodbyefornow123 @thebookisbtr @what-inspirational-name

Everything Tags: @coconutknees @hollymac79 @jordan-ia @ace-marvel-chick

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