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#it's more or less the same prompts as last year but moved around I couldn't be bothered to think up a bunch of completely new prompts lol
kreftropod · 7 months
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It's been another year, time to bring the October lists out. As is more or less tradition by now, I'll be doing the Goretober challenge again. Like last year I've decided to make my own, shorter list to give myself and anyone else who'd like to follow it more days for each prompt. Feel free to share and use however you like!
I'll be tagging all my Goretober related stuff with "goretober". Block that tag if you don't want any of that on your dash. I'll try to tag everything properly with more specific tags as well. Stay safe! <3
ID in alt text, and here's a text-version of the list below the cut:
Goretober 2023
A shorter Goretober list for myself and anyone else who want to participate, but want fewer prompts and more time for each prompt. Feel free to shorten the list even more by only doing the prompts on the left or on the right! (or every other day, if following the text-version)
There are 8 Prompts in total, and below each prompt there are three extra words. The extra words are there as inspiration, but are Not necessary to include if you don’t want to.
Day 1-4
Prompt: Infection
insects, illness, rot
Day 5-8
Prompt: Burned
melting, charred, blistered
Day 9-12
Prompt: Open wounds
blood, cuts, torn
Day 13-16
Prompt: Insides
bones, brains, viscera
Day 17-20
Prompt: Face Trauma
eyes, mouth, teeth
Day 21-24
Prompt: Broken
bruises, dislocation, amputation
Day 25-28
Prompt: Hands (or paws)
nails (claws), deformed, tools
Day 29-31
Prompt: Plants
invasive, suffocating, poison
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v3nusxsky · 11 months
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Hiiiiiiiii !!! First hello glad your reading this, wanted to say, you write absolutely amazing! Love it.
This is a request, hope your interested.
Can you write Chubby Reader x Larissa. Where Reader and Larissa are married and by Larissa efforts ( unprotected shape-shifted sex ) reader gets pregnant. While there’s a parents meeting in the school, (students knows that pregnant Reader & Larissa are married with a baby on there way, parents don’t know.) a single student’s father begins to flirt and try to seduce a 6 month pregnant Reader thinking she’s single. Larissa turns passive aggressive and manages to run the single father away, and showing everyone who Reader belongs too by wrapping a hand around Reader’s swollen middle and resting a hand on Reader beautiful baby bump. In the night in the privacy of their bedroom, Larissa shape-shifted cock pounds Reader’s needy wet cunt, to show her who she belongs to, while gently grasping Reader’s baby bump on her hands and moaning about how gorgeous reader is by being pregnant with her child and how she will keep reader always pregnant. (Can you put Heavy breeding kink, mommy kink, doggy position, cock warming.)
Bump 18+
*Authors note~ i couldn’t seem to fit cock warming in their im sorry! This is one of my favourite tropes though I had a blas writting it*
Trigger warnings~ heavy breeding kink, mommy kink dom l sub r pregnant r shifted dick praise kink worship? Oc jake mentioned
Prompt~see ask^^^^
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿
Marrying Larissa Weems is nothing short of a dream come true, but carrying her child? Out of this world. By the gift Larissa was bestowed with you were blessed with a beautiful baby girl that you we're currently six months pregnant with. Your little Arwen Saige would be here soon, the students of Nevermore were all buzzing at the prospect of a new arrival, they even went as far to throw a little baby shower last weekend. It was adorable and such a surprise for you and Larissa. You'd have to remember to thank Enid for that day.
This weekend was parent's weekend so you made sure to adorn a lose fitting dress to conceal your beautiful bump just enough to make it slightly less noticeable to the parents. It went smoothly at the start, parents weren't really taking much notice of the potions teacher, Larissa did her speech before settling down at the table with you and some students who's parents didn't come to see them. It was sad but some of the students had been at this very same table since their first year and had got use to the disappointment but some were new and fresh faced, and struggling to understand what was happening now. The look of abandonment fresh in their eyes alongside poorly hidden tears.
When it came to mingling you were immediately caught in a conversation with Jakes dad about how his grades were poor. Truly he should be doing better than he was but he was a very complicated young man and you knew his mental health was struggling. He mentioned the recent death of his late wife and how Jake needed a mother figure. Jake did nothing but rave about you and apparently that made you a prime candidate.
Larissa couldn't help herself, she noted the way he looked at you. Her wife. Like you were free and claimable, you were not. You are hers. She immediately came to stand behind you and place her hands on your baby bump, moving the clothing to show the bump more defined. A simple kiss to your cheek, and a gentle rub to the bump as Arwen kicked her other mothers hand. With a sickly sweet smile, Larissa managed to tear you away from his preying eyes, guiding you away with her hands on your bump showing everyone who's you both were.
The rest of the day went smoothly, you sticking with Larissa as she placed her hand on your stomach whenever she could, a soothing measure. As soon as you both retired to your bedroom Larissa was on you instantly, her lips making home on your neck and leaving purple blemishes in their wake. "Ris" you whined tilting your head back to give her more skin to work on. You're pregnancy hormones had been wild recently, alongside cravings. But this, the need to be taken by her over and over again. An insatiable desire for her to help you. "Ris please please I need you" you whimpered with need as you moved her hand off the bump and to your needy core as best as as you could do. "Okay darling, I know love. Mommy's gonna fix it baby, gonna stuff your needy cunt with cum until it can't hold anymore" she purred while shifting her anatomy.
"Mommy" you mewled feeling it pressing into your body as she tore through the clothing creating a barrier between both of you. That was how you found yourself on your back Larissa mercilessly pounding into your absolutely soaked cunt walls. One hand on the mattress to hold herself up while the other hand caressed where Arwen laid. Her mouth working on showering your swelling breasts with love and attention, taking extra care as you were feeling sensitive these days. "Mommy! God mommy I god fuck" you whimpered as the head of her dick bumped against your cervix repeatedly.
"God, the way you're gripping me darling, can't wait to fill you up with my cum. You're so beautiful like this. All round and full of our child. Gonna stuff you full with my cum. You're always gonna feel me inside you baby. Gonna keep you pregnant with my children forever. God these breasts, the way they got bigger as you prep for our Awren" she panted and moaned with the labour of her thrusts. With your heightened sensations due to your hormones, it wouldn't take much more to having the coil snapping and throwing you into pools of ecstasy. The same process happened time and time again in different positions, Larissa’s favourite was you on your hands and knees as she supported your bump.
You came with her hand caressing your stomach as your fluttering walls clamped down around her shaft which triggered her own climax. Larissa's warm white spurts of cum painting your walls white. One thing pregnancy had done for you meant your orgasms were that much more overwhelming now but also you became sensitive quicker. "Mommy, no more please no more" you whined causing Larissa to hush you as she worked you both down and cleaned you both up. Truthfully she could've gone round after round with you but not wanting to hurt you or Arwen she happily settled between your legs to place sweet little kisses on your bump. "Hi baby girl, mommy loves you wen wen, so so much. You're gonna be the most beautiful baby every darling, gonna take after your momma."
Arwen choose that moment to kick you stomach, where Larissa's lips had just pressed. "Oh you cheeky little monkey. "We love you so much Wen now you be a good girl and not keep momma up tonight my darling" she murmured before she gave your daughter one more kiss goodnight. "Ris?" You whimpered, "I uh um I'm craving orange sorbet." Larissa chuckled and moved to grab a cover, "right away my queen, we must give our princess what she requires."
Word count~ 1205
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onyourowndaisymae · 11 months
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fifteen with mammon! maybe breakup angst with mc breaking things off :))
"please don't go."
please don't do this. please stop saying the things you're saying. mammon can't handle you leaving him. not now. not after everything you'd been through.
same old argument. same sentiment you'd repeated over the years. you'd aged by his side, your youth slipping away from you with each year while he remained untouched by the passage of time. you'd always been verbal about your lifespan, a gain of sand in comparison to the vast desert of his own, and yet he'd always pushed the conversation away as it started.
he was scared. scared to lose you, scared to face the idea that there could be a day when he'd look into the crook of his arm where he held you to find the space empty. maybe this was the fear that lilith felt when facing her own lover's mortality. maybe this was the feeling that started the celestial war. fear. fear of loss. all over a human.
please.
"i can't watch you do this to yourself." your voice cracks as tears begin to take hold. mammon can't bring himself to move to your side.
"we can make it work. i don't-- i don't care about that future stuff. i want to be here, now, with you. nobody else."
"i can't even live to see all of our plans through. that's not fair to you. and i think you know that." you sniffle and dig your fingers into your tearducts to stop yourself from crying. "you deserve better."
"I don't want better," mammon insists. "i want you, damnit! we can-- we can find a way to make ya immortal like solomon, or-- or--"
"we've been over this. mammon, i don't want to be immortal."
silence echoed through his bedroom. your words felt like a knife to the chest, each added argument twisting the knife further until he felt weak. his chest was caving in on him with each panicked breath. he can do nothing but listen while you continue, silent tears blurring his vision until you're nothing but a familiar blob of colors.
"i have a family. friends. other humans i love. and humans aren't supposed to live forever. i can't... i can't handle that. i can't handle watching every human i care about die. i... i want normal."
you wipe your cheeks with the sleeves of your sweatshirt and step toward him. you gather the demon in your arms and he lets you. mammon is weak. he knows this kindness from you will do nothing but paralyze him in this moment-- one of the most painful moments of his life-- but he can't help it. he wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face in your chest.
"i love you." you whisper. "i love you more than anything. but i can't put you through that sort of heartbreak. you deserve a love that will last your whole life. not just something that disappears in the blink of an eye."
mammon had never before cursed the circumstances of his creation. he resented angelhood for a lot of things-- the loss of his sister, mainly-- and demonhood a few less. but never did he think that he would be cursing his very existence in either realm. maybe if he had been born human, he could be with you. maybe if he had been born human, he could have found you somehow, started a life with you, grown old by your side. he couldn't imagine it now, but if he could, in this moment, he'd throw away his whole life for a chance to be what you wanted.
but he can't. so instead, mammon holds you in his arms, and he prays. prays that maybe somehow, someway, you'll find your way back to his side.
until then, all mammon can do is to silently hope you change your mind.
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ow :')
funny enough, i got another request for prompt fifteen at almost the EXACT same time as this, so i figured i might as well honor both
[500 follower event masterlist] // [obey me masterlist]
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occasionallyprosie · 2 months
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"Hiding Behind Plaster and Ceremics"
Chapter 2
Twilight wasn't completely sure how to handle the situation, Legend was pretty delirious last time he was awake--to the point of revealing something Twilight was certain was meant to be a secret--but it seemed like his fever was going down at least, so maybe he would wake up soon and they could actually talk.
Febuwhump 2024 | Alt Prompt 2: "I love you"
<<Previous
Event Masterlist
Read On AO3 Warnings: none
This one won the poll! So here ya go.
----
Legend actually woke up the next time light, though it was dim moonlight, flowed into the little underground river and cavern.
Twilight spotted him begin to rouse while he was trying to figure a way up and out of the cavern, he was almost certain a clawshot should get him up, but he'd have to wait until Legend was better because there was no way both of them would fit at the same time.
"Hnnn..." Legend grimaced, clearly uncomfortable. Twilight quickly moved over to him.
"Hey--How are you feeling?"
Legend shoved at him as he tried to sit up. Twilight backed off a bit, Legend slowly managing to sit up. He rubbed his face. "What... Where are we?"
"A cave, there's a river right behind you so don't move too much. There's a way out but only one of us can fit at a time, and only if you've got clawshots of your own since I'm not sure how well either of us can toss it back from where it is."
Legend nodded, and Twilight was near certain he wasn't completely back yet. The snappiness and aggression he expected from the collector wasn't yet there, but he was definitely on the defensive...
Was the aggression coming from a point of defense? Twilight wondered, he used to akin Legend to a territorial animal, like a mountain lion or something. If anyone dared to approach, he would snap and attack, always on the aggressive side of things. But with the knowledge... but knowing that Legend used to be Apple, a bright little kid who was unendingly kind, Twilight couldn't help but wonder where that aggression came from? Because that wasn't the kid he remembered.
"I've got hookshots, which I'm guessing is the same thing," Legend hummed, still scrubbing his face and adjusting the blanket around him. "Where's m' clothes?"
Maybe he was more coherent than Twilight thought if he wasn't on the attack due to not having most his clothes on, he must've been aware enough to understand why.
"Over here, I tried to get them dry but--they're still a bit damp. I didn't want to make a fire."
Legend nodded. "Give."
He did, and silence fell between them as the collector hero pulled his clothes back on.
Twilight decided to try again. See what would happen with him actually coherent and not borderline delirious. "Apple--"
Legend full-body flinched, jerking away from him, then as an afterthought he glared... he glared in Twilight's direction and snarled.
"Don’t you call me that."
He wasn't looking at Twilight, just... in his direction. Twilight suddenly noticed how his longer than average ears were flicking and swiveling, eyes shifting side to side as if... as if he couldn't see anything.
Twilight knew it was dim, but the current moonlight should've been enough to outline silhouettes.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Twilight asked, tabling that thought so he could focus on the one he was far more interested in.
Legend winced, then he seemed to pull that aggression back to the front. "Why does it even matter?" He bit out. "It doesn't change shit."
Twilight was suddenly certain that Legend had extremely limited vision in the dark or his own enhanced vision was more enhanced than he thought, because just then, Legend wiped his face in a way that could've only been wiping away a tear, right before he snapped again.
"Anything you think you know about me, forget it," he said. "That was years ago, and I honestly could care less for that fever dream, hallucination of a quest."
He spat the last word as if he hated it or something, and if Twilight couldn't see him, he'd believe him.
Except Twilight could see him, he could see the heavy inhales even if they were silent, he could see the swiping of tears, the shaking hands--
"I don’t believe that," he said, surprising himself.
"Well you can go fuck yourself," Legend spat and Twilight saw the shakiness increase.
Twilight moved carefully, Legend jumped as he caught his hand and brushed a tear away.
"You have awful night vision don’t you?"
Legend tensed up, he jerked back but didn't go far as Twilight pulled him back before he could fall into the river behind him.
"Fucking--let me--"
"You’re gonna fall," Twilight cut him off.
"I'd rather do that than deal with your--touchy-feely bullshit!"
"Stop lying, Collector."
"I'm not lying! Get away from me--"
"Apple stop!"
He did. He froze up and Twilight could see whatever facade he'd been trying to pull back on since he woke up crack.
"I'm sorry," Twilight breathed. "I'm so, so sorry."
Legend still didn't quite stare at him, but he was staring and clearly unsteady. Twilight swore he saw tears in his eyes.
"I don't know what happened to you and I don't need to know, but please don't lie to me and say that you’re completely unaffected."
His mouth opened and closed, a choked noise escaping him.
"I know you’re not the same kid, okay? It's obvious, alright? But you are still my brother. That's what we promised, remember? Before we left, I said that even if we'd never meet again, you'd always be my little brother and even if you actually are the total asshole you've been acting like, you’re still my little brother. Got it? So don’t you dare keep pushing me away, it's a waste of energy."
Legend stared 'at' him with wide eyes, something broken was in them that Twilight never noticed before, but to be fair, he'd never looked.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for everything. You didn't deserve what's happened to you, but I swear, I promise that it'll get better. It'll be alright."
That was the breaking point, Legend made a painful noise as he curled into himself.
"Shut up. Shut up--I can't--Don't do this to me, please," he begged. "I can't do it again, Forest. I can't."
"Do what again?"
"Lose you! I can't--" He choked on a sob and Twilight felt his heart break for the hero in front of him. "I can't do it again. Not--you two, Cadence, Raven, Ravio, Marin--I can't, please don’t make me do it again."
Twilight reached out again. "Kid--"
"Don’t. Please," he begged. "Just let me be the asshole, it's easier. It's so much easier. Please. I can't... I can't do it again."
Let him...
Twilight caught his face in his hands, startling him again. "If I do, can you promise me--Can you swear that you'll be better for it? That it won't make things much worse--Me pretending we don’t know each other? If I, now that I actually know, treat you like I have been and not like the brother we both know you are to me... Would you be able to promise me it won't make things worse?"
Things being Legend's clear instability, how he definitely wasn't okay, how he had tried to be aggressive but everything he did whenever Twilight caught him off guard was defensive.
Things being the fact that he acted like a hurt animal, only just learning to snap back at threats, but still not yet sure of what all constitutes as a threat so it just snaps at everything.
And as Legend just seemed to break more, eyes fluttering as he pressed his too-warm face into Twilight's hands, and a hurt noise escaping him, Twilight knew that Legend couldn't promise that, and he knew that too.
"I... I can't do it again," Legend insisted weakly. "Everyone leaves, I can't--I can't take it, Forest, please. Everyone either dies or leaves. I can't keep doing this."
Twilight wanted to wrap him up in the blankets again, he wanted to wrap him up and hold him tight, to protect him from anything and everything that would ever harm him.
"I know, I know," Twilight promised softly. "Look, you can't just live to try and hide from pain."
"Watch me."
"But has it actually protected you from getting hurt?"
Legend faltered, then he whined painfully as he tried to hide himself.
Twilight didn't let him. "Kid, people die, we know that. People die, people move on, they leave even if they don’t want to."
"I can't. I can't--I don't want to hurt again. I-I--I just can't. This is bad enough! I can't--why does everyone leave?"
Legend's voice broke, a cry out to the world, a plea for an answer, a wish to just have someone.
And didn't Twilight understand that? Sure he had the villagers in Ordon to an extent, but between Midna and his family from before Ordon, Ilia, her memories, all of it, it sure felt like everyone he loved left.
But he had people, Ilia got her memories back, Uli and Rusl, Zelda, Colin, all of them. He had them...
Did Legend have anyone?
Before Twilight had the chance to ask or to even continue the conversation, the sobbing hero in his arms quieted and when he looked down, his chest constricted and he lowered his hand into unnaturally soft (no really, how, he was soaked with sweat from being sick and it was still so soft) hair.
Legend had cried himself to sleep, clearly his sickness had really drained his energy and the breakdown had sapped whatever else he had left.
"I'll stay," Twilight promised quietly. "I don’t care what the goddesses want, I won't leave you again, kid."
It was daylight next time Legend woke and Twilight gave him some mercy in that he didn't bring up his breakdown from before.
However he very clearly told Legend not to pretend to be what he isn't.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," the collector insisted stubbornly.
Twilight gave him a deadpan look before remembering how bad Legend's night vision apparently was. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You’re a lot of things but dumb isn't one of them, Apple."
"Don’t call me that," he bit out and it sounded more strained than snarled. "I mean it. Don’t."
"Promise me you'll stop being a prickly jerk and I will," Twilight bargained.
Legend was silent for a long minute. "I'll promise not to play it up on purpose."
"How about you promise to just be yourself?"
"And you won't call me that or bring... bring that up?"
Twilight sighed. "Yeah, I won't say a word about it and I won't call you Apple anymore."
Legend nodded slowly, eyeing him warily. "Deal. I'll... I'll try to cut it out."
That's all he could ask.
Legend used his hookshot to get out first and Twilight followed close behind.
Thankfully, the storms had apparently stopped but that didn't stop Twilight from draping his pelt over Legend's shoulders.
"What the--no."
"You’re still a bit sick, kid," Twilight smirked and Legend visibly fumed, "keep that on."
"And you call me the jerk," Legend huffed, but Twilight didn't miss how he burrowed into the pelt a bit.
Twilight smirked and he ruffled his hair. "It's my job."
Legend squawked and shoved him, Twilight laughed. He saw the way his face and ears turned red and it only proved to make him laugh a bit harder.
"Hey I think... I see them! They're okay! HEY! RANCHER! COLLECTOR!"
Finally, they found the rest of the heroes who had apparently been searching for a second entrance to the cave the whole time, three days.
Warriors turned on Legend with a clear annoyance once they were assured neither were hurt from the cave-in.
"Why the hell didn't you move?! You could've gotten both you and the Rancher killed!" Legend, with his mask still broken and not yet remade due to his promise to Twilight, flinched.
He knew that. He hadn't even known there was a cave-in, he had been so out of it that he did almost get them both killed and he knew that was his fault. He should've sucked up his pride and admitted to needing to rest, he knew that objectively but not a single part of him would've actually done it.
Not to this group.
"I know you hate us and don’t want to be here but--"
"Back off, Captain." Twilight inserted himself between Warriors and Legend, startling the entire group. "You've no right to lecture him right now."
"He ignored--"
"He was sick and he still is."
Legend winced as shocked and worried expressions were immediately directed to him. He avoided eye contact, suddenly very interested with the fur of the pelt on his shoulders.
"He didn't react because he was so damned out of it that he didn't notice. How much you want to bet that when he fell behind the other day and fell down that he was sick then too? That we failed to make this group an environment that even the most distant of us didn't feel safe expressing that weakness?"
Legend found himself trying to hide behind Twilight from all the gazes. The worst part was that he wasn't wrong, Twilight hadn't even assumed that it was from a point of pride, he correctly claimed his actions came from a point of fear of displaying weakness, of making himself vulnerable in front of them. Sure, Twilight probably thought that the cause of that fear was not feeling safe when it was actually a fear of letting them come close, but he still had gone that route instead of the obvious assumption of pride.
"So back off," Twilight snarled and he sounded dangerous, protective, and Legend wasn't sure if he should be running from that or hiding behind it.
"You're sick?" Hyrule weaved around Twilight, and as per usual, stubbornly tried to get close to Legend despite all his past attempts to snap and make the other teenager leave him alone.
Legend tried not to recoil and snap to get him to just go away, he bit his tongue and glanced at Twilight. Twilight, though staring down Warriors, shot him a glance.
"I was," Legend said carefully. "'M mostly alright now."
Twilight's unsure glance turned proud and everyone else looked a bit surprised.
A pit grew in Legend's stomach as Hyrule's eyes lit up a bit and he began to ask questions about how he felt and how he could help, that he wasn't too familiar with illnesses but surely he could do something, right?
The olive branch had been extended by no choice of his own... and he was surrounded by heroes who were going to snatch it.
He stood no chance, didn't he? What kind of mask could he hide behind now? What kind of plaster could he slap over it? What ceramic was strong enough to protect him?
Why did he have to care so easily? Why did he let people in so quickly?
Why did he always lose the ones he did?
At camp that night, Legend had been... harassed--he honestly couldn't think of a better word--into sitting by the warm fire and eating a bowl of really good soup. All of it was courtesy of Hyrule, Sky, Wild, and Wind who had taken his blunted retorts and softened demeanor and ran with it.
He hated it, but the only reason he didn't snap was because Twilight was watching him and...
And goddesses, he looked proud, he looked happy that he was letting it happen and somehow that was the worst part of it. Something warm flickered in his chest as he hugged his legs by the fire and he hated it.
He didn't lay down though, as everyone moved to sleep, Twilight bargained with Four for first watch and Legend knew immediately why.
He felt exhausted, he really did, but something was curling in his chest and wrapping around his mind, his whole body tingled and he swore he had goosebumps. He couldn't sleep yet, not with the pressure behind his eyes and the weight in his throat.
"Hey," Twilight said softly, he sat beside Legend, facing opposite of him and their shoulders were almost touching. "Are you okay?"
The pressure turned into actual tears. Legend glanced at him and silently, barely, shaking his head.
Twilight tilted his head to the side questioningly, seemingly agreeing to the tacit form of communication.
Legend just shook his head again, then he glanced to a distant corner of their camp and nodded to it.
Twilight glanced around and he must've come to some kind of conclusion before he nodded. He got up first, offering Legend a hand that he stubbornly didn't take it.
He wasn't sure he could, but he did accept the help in moving over to the corner with his bedroll. He sat back down, now healthily distanced and not so surrounded, and Twilight knelt back in front of him.
"Better?" He asked, voice low.
Legend nodded. "Thanks," he muttered, accepting the distance as enough to be unheard.
"Are you alright?" Twilight asked again.
He hesitated, then sighed softly. "I hate you," he muttered. Twilight startled. "This would've been a lot easier if you just minded your own business."
Twilight stared at him and the hurt that had appeared turned into mirth and worry. "Sorry, kid," he chuckled, "you're stuck with me now."
If only, he thought bitterly, looking away and glaring at the ground. He tensed as another weight was set on his shoulders and then a hood was tugged over his head and blinded him.
"I mean it," Twilight said softly, Legend pushed the hood up to meet earnest green eyes. "I let you go once, it ain't happenin' again, Link. Not with how it hurt you."
Legend couldn't even feel sad at that, he just felt... tired.
"Good luck," he said honestly. "It won't work though."
"Why not?"
"I'm not allowed to keep the people I love."
And I love you, went unsaid but implied.
Twilight made a quiet noise, then he reached up and tugged the hood back over Legend's eyes, as if his night vision wasn't bad enough.
Legend huffed and pushed it back again. "Would you stop that?"
"I'm so sorry," Twilight said and it startled Legend into freezing. "I'll prove it though. I'll figure out a way to prove it, I swear kid."
"I didn't agree to this stupid deal just so you could call me kid," he grumbled, not acknowledging the promise he knew was made to be broken. "I'm not a kid."
"How old are you? How long has it been?"
He scowled and avoided eye contact.
"Collector."
He hated that voice. He hated that tone. He hated how he felt guilty for staying silent. He hated everything about this.
"Seventeen," he whispered.
"Seven years?" Twilight breathed. "How... How many more?"
"...five."
"Five--That's... seven quests?"
Legend nodded hiding beneath the pelt hood now. "Seventeen, and seeing as most of you barely got two quests, my seven makes me a real veteran of this whole hero business thing."
"Don’t call yourself that," Twilight whispered, more of a croak really. Legend dared to peek up at him, having to push the hood back again to see just how pale and worried Twilight looked.
He sighed softly. "Why not? It's true."
"But--It makes it sound like that's all you have going for you. All you are is a hero, is your quests."
He shrugged. "Like Scholar and Collector is any different? Where do you think I got my information and items from? And we both know Hoarder is meant to be an insult."
Twilight winced but he didn't argue. Silence settled again and Legend let the pelt block out his vision.
He felt and heard Twilight move to his side and press their shoulders together briefly. He sighed and dropped his head against his shoulder, humming softly as the pressure somehow helped the headache that continued to pulse.
The thick pelt hid the tears that slipped free, but even then he was falling asleep again. Finally, he knew full well that he needed to rest if he wanted to stop being fretted over.
"I love you too," Twilight muttered quietly and Legend felt the hold of sleep disappear as he tensed. "You said earlier you always lose the people you love, an' you counted me and Ocean as one'a them... I love you too, and I don' break m' promises to my little brothers."
Legend really hated it when his mask broke, especially when he couldn't fix it. He felt himself shake as tears soaked into the soft pelt around his shoulders.
"Damn you," he croaked. "You don’t get to say that."
He couldn't say that, he couldn't promise that. Nayru was strict with her domain, even if that was possible, Nayru wouldn't allow them to return to an era not their own. Twilight couldn't promise that but he did because he actually thought he could do that.
Somehow that made it all that much worse.
"I love you," Twilight repeated as he held Legend tighter. "And you can't stop me from saying that or doing anything."
That broke him.
He wished he could say the same, he wanted to say the same, but the fact was that his heart was reaching and clinging it to everyone they met while his mind begged it to just stop getting them hurt.
"Honestly?" Legend forced out, his voice shaking and hitching with every breath. "The fact that you think that makes it just so much worse."
Because, goddesses, Legend loved him. He loved Forest, and Ocean, if he let himself he knew he would fall victim to Wild's chaotic charm, to Hyrule's inescapable orbit of simultaneous sass and warmth, to Sky's unending patience and kindness, he knew he would.
But he also knew there was no way they could stay together when it was over, and by the three, he just wanted to complete one quest without his heart torn to shreds by the end of it.
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harlowhockeystick · 1 year
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hiiiiiiiiiiii babes!!!!!!!!!! hope you’re doing well! missed your blurb weekends 🥹 could i ask for prompt call it what you want with well,,, bae <333333333333 lmao. mwah love you and i hope you have a great new year xx
meet me at midnight | contains: fem!reader, implied famous!reader
just wanna say that this is my favorite taylor song. and it fits him so well. would i write a full fic on this? maybe, one day...........maybe.....
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it was spread around and speculated that only you and william would last just a few months or so. that you would do that you had done with your past relationships, according to everyone else that is, and it wouldn't go further than a four to five months. but william was different. he made everything better.
though job wise, personality wise, you couldn't be more different. but the famous saying of opposites attract came to be true, you found out. he was the calm when everything turned upside down, he was the sound voice when everything was dialed to eleven. william was there when you thought others would be and they weren't.
"will?" you approached him as he sat on the couch. it was late at night, he had just gotten home not only an hour ago and he was already rewatching the game he just gotten home from. his shoulders were pretty tense; william came home and only muttered a few words to you. he didn't want to talk about the game, and you knew why. it wasn't a pretty game to watch so you can only imagine what it would have been like to play in it.
you sat down on the couch next to him on the couch and he only moved just a little, but didn't take his eyes off the screen. he watched with a tight jaw and a frozen stare, analyzing every single move he and his teammates did on the ice each shift. "honey, you gotta come to bed." you whispered, laying your arm across his shoulders, your hand playing with his hair lightly.
he didn't respond, like he didn't hear you at all. you had only seen him like this a few times, and each time you liked it less than before. but you didn't want to leave him alone, because you too have had nights like these and the last thing you wanted was to be left alone.
it was only during the commercial break that he turned to look at you. you gave him a soft expression, he tried his best to return the same. william studied your face, as if he was trying to figure out how in the world he got so lucky with you.
his eyes traveled down to a necklace he hadn't seen before. it was a light, small gold pendant with his initial engraved in the middle of it. "when did you get that?" he asked, his voice low and quiet. he picked it up off your chest to get a better look at it.
"uh, a couple weeks ago. you were in anaheim. i wanted to see how long it'd take you to notice, apparently it took longer than i thought." you giggled, and he smiled as he studied the pendant.
lightly, he pressed his lips against it with a smile. dropping it against your chest he cupped your cheek with his hand, then pressing his lips against yours. "it looks really good on you, baby."
william then wraps his arms around you and lays his head on your chest. comfortably you lean back against the arm of the couch and wrap yours around him too. sure, he knew how to comfort you and be there for you too when you need him, but you knew how to to the exact thing for him too.
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mixes-archive · 1 year
Note
You know what i need?
I NEED könig with an s/o who also got bullied in childhood, maybe not as much as the big guy but still preaty severe bullying
I don't care if it's headcanons or a scenario i just need this concept in my life
I. Am. Begging. Please
"In der Vergangenheit"
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It is my responsibility and job to meet my visitors needs, so please, enjoy! I'm also really sorry if I moved away from the prompt a little, so feel free to request this again if you aren't happy or just want more :)
Also huge warning for self doubt and all the things that come with bullying
VERY ANGSTY, BUT ALSO COMFORT
You and König were alike in a lot of ways. Socially awkward, working for the military and severely bullied as children.
But, there was also something...
He talked about his trauma.
You didn't.
Years of dismissal had led you to just bottle it up until you were seconds away from exploding, letting it all out on whoever was unfortunate enough to be nearest to you.
You two were different in that sense.
.
.
.
He's only mentioned his bullying once, but from what you've heard, it was bad. How hadn't his parents noticed the bruises and scars? Or were they just not bothered to care? No, from what he's described, they do care about him. Then again, he tended to romanticize things...
But who would you be to call him a liar?
One time, when he asked about your childhood, you'd claimed it was good, great even. Many friends, loving family, supportive teachers, you name it.
But there was always just one part you left out. König didn't need to know, it didn't concern him, he had enough going on already. Your pain was nothing compared to his.
And so, the bottling continued.
.
.
.
Heavy footsteps crunched against the snow coating the pavement. Luckily, some neighbor had salted the sidewalks a few days ago, just before the snow fell down hard.
Your heavy and erratic breaths painted the air with white clouds. König had told you that as a child, he pretended to smoke a cigarette whenever the temperatures dropped so low, it was a nice moment you shared. God, you couldn't wait to be back in his arms.
Today had just been too much. Too loud, too busy, to fast and too slow at the same time. You just wanted to go home.
Wrapping your coat tighter around your body, you sped up, finally seeing the only house on the street with the lights still on at this ungodly hour. Hopefully, he wasn't still awake and just left the light on as a courtesy.
You searched your bag for the key, quickly growing frustrated at your inability to find it, letting out a loud groan just in time for the door to open to reveal your lover.
His bright smiled dropped at the sight of you, tear stained cheeks, puffy eyes and a less than pleased look. König wrapped you in his arms and pulled you inside.
Your eyes were fixed on the ground, but you could feel him gently removing your coat and untying your shoes. His voice seemed almost distant as he asked if you could just slightly stand up on one foot so he could take them off, patting your quads as a thanks for doing so.
He could tell you weren't quite there.
That terrified you. The thought of someone seeing you at your weakest again...
The tears fell before you could think about it.
You found yourself carried to the couch, thick blanket wrapped around you, a cup of tea in your hand, the steam warming your cheeks still frozen from being outside so long. He sat next to you, gently running his hands up and down your arms. A pleasant silence overtook you both as you slowly started to calm down, but still on edge.
.
.
.
"Are you okay?"
God, how you hated that question. You couldn't keep count of how many times you'd been asked that. They didn't care, just asking to seem like they did. A polite question really, but useless and hurtful in the long run.
Earnest answers were never appreciated in this situation, you'd gotten used to coming up with excuses for watery eyes or a sour face.
But today was the last straw.
"What do you fucking think, Einstein? Do I look okay, do you honestly think that I'm just the slightest bit okay?? Honestly, what the fuck is wrong with you?"
His face dropped even further, frown very visible. Yet, he didn't look angry. He never did.
"Look I- I don't know what's going on, but do not take this out on me. I love you, you know that, but screaming will get you nowhere. I'd know."
The words didn't quite register in your mind, you tried your best to wiggle out of his grasp, but the more you struggled, the tighter he held on. His volume rose the more he spoke.
"Running away won't fix this, Schatz. We need to talk this out this time."
"Let go of me."
"No, this happened before and I gave up then, but not now."
"Please."
Uncontrollable sobs left you as he sank you further into a hug, ignoring your punches and clawing.
It reminded you, no- it sent you back to the moment that started it all. Started your suffering. The katalyst, and you were trapped in that memories grasp.
"Please! I- I promise I didn't tell them anything! I c- couldn't do that please leave me alone please!"
"Oh." Königs voice audibly trembled, his grip loosening as you stopped struggling and let your body sink into him. He slowly raised his arms to rub soothing circles intk your back.
"You should've told me, Dirndl." you clung to his shirt as your sobbing slowly stopped.
"I know, it's just that- God I don't know actually... I'm sorry"
"Nein, shhh... Du musst dich für nichts entschuldigen, du hattest bestimmt deine Gründe."¹
He stood up with you, carrying the sad heap you were to the bedroom, gently laying you down on the bed. "Do you want to talk about it? Oh, you're still really cold, maybe over a bath?"
"That sounds... Nice, thank you, König..."
"Kein Problem, Maus.² Now, what are their names?"
Translation
¹"No, shhhh... You don't have to apologize, you must've had your reasons."
²"No problem, mouse"
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donnerpartyofone · 10 months
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Sometimes life takes on the thematic consistency of a movie, and this is always thrilling even if you know intellectually that all of your impulses and machinations have to come from the same subconscious place.
At the beginning of the week I saw an interesting horoscope prompt to write an obituary for your past self and bury it in the ground. I decided to do this, perhaps because I have been burning for change for several years now on a level that has been making me much more insane than I already am. I thought it would feel forced and pretentious to write the obit, but it was really easy, particularly easy to see what the "past self" consists of when I notice all the things I do now that I couldn't before. It was a good feeling, that it was so obvious to me what to write. I buried it where we spread our lizard's ashes, a place where there is a view of the Statue of Liberty. Sometimes I hang around there and analyze what "liberty" means to me in a culture where we often take it for granted as a foundational principle, even though this isn't very true in practice.
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It happened to be the summer solstice. On midsummer's eve I had been strangely full of energy. Someone posted a section of coptic midnight praise music, so I got out of bed and listened to that on repeat for about an hour before getting two or three hours of sleep. I woke up around dawn feeling refreshed and experienced no fatigue for the rest of the day. Then I did the writing, and the burial. Oddly (or not), I would spend the next two days finally-finalizing my married name change on every outstanding account. Becoming a different person.
In the night I'd found myself looking at pictures of snakes, my favorite animal since childhood. In the morning I vaguely remembered something having to do with snakes and midsummer; in fact there is a Lithuanian grass snake entity that is supposed to protect the home and bring good fortune, and it is connected with a sun goddess who is naturally celebrated on the solstice. I even remembered that I had some Zaltys-themed perfume in my collection, so I dug that out and enjoyed it, a sunny and snakey smell. My seemingly random snake meditation was well-timed, not only calendrically but because my husband and I have been desperately searching for a new home. We got one the next day.
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In less than 24 hours, we viewed an apartment in our (really MY let's be honest) favorite neighborhood, applied to lease it, and were accepted. Of course nothing with me is ever as cut and dried as that, and in reality it took several hours to get my application materials together and do banking bullshit and just stop fucking everything up. I started a post yesterday detailing all this, but now I'm too exhausted to fix it up and post it. Suffice it to say that almost every adult activity is almost Too Hard for me, I wish I understood the world better and I really do try but it's beyond my intellectual functioning, but every time I have to take care of some administrative nonsense I'm like a goldfish passing the same plastic castle like it's brand new. Sometimes it feels like everything I do is the hardest thing I've ever done, and my only source of pride is the willingness to keep doing it.
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The apartment is only slightly too expensive, which we will trade for slightly more space in a much nicer neighborhood. We've been sitting on each other's heads in a hilariously small place surrounded by toxic waste (literally) for ten years, and in the last few years it began to feel like something that was holding us back, as people, in life. Like I needed so many things to change about my health, my job situation, my daily routines, my worldly possessions, and it just didn't feel possible for anything to shift in this little place that seemed to be shrinking every day. I became convinced that moving house would trigger all of the other changes, no matter how unrelated they might appear, and I still think this may prove true.
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It may not be surprising that I started going to church during this time of constriction, when I could only expand my mind. I find it easy to love the intense fetishism of Catholicism, and its enormous pantheon of different guys with different attributes. It's got more guys than GI Joe, all with cool little backstories. Somewhere I read that you can bother St. Joseph for domestic needs. He is a guy who we know very little about, which is curious because the holy family is such a big deal; it seems that he died sometime before Jesus turned water into wine, but no one knows how. There is an incredible statue of him in Star of the Sea that is epically sad and exhausted-looking, I need to get a picture of him. I actually said a novena to Joseph for the new apartment...so now I guess I'm on the hook! Good thing I confused things by also asking my favor of the Lithuanian snake entity, so I don't have to just become a fanatical Catholic. I'll have to make a little joint altar in the new place for Joseph and the serpent.
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While I was changing my name on the last bank account down in the financial district, my husband texted me to say we got the apartment. It was about an hour after we submitted our application. When I stepped outside, I realized I was around the corner from St. Paul's Chapel on Broadway, an ancient-feeling place surrounded by modern steel and concrete and glass. The cemetery that wraps around the building has a view of the Oculus, which presents an extremely strange view that I couldn't get a representative photo of, so all these exteriors are stolen and you'll have to try to imagine what I mean. I did go in, though. The atmosphere is very powerful, a center of oldness and spirit and allegorical thought in the center of this futuristic business orgy. I think that I'd like to be wealthy because of course that's what everyone wants, but also because it would increase my ability to be helpful and contribute to changes I want to see around me. I thought about this while I put some money in the offering slot and lit a candle.
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In esoteric thought there is something called an egregore, which is sort of like a large-scale tulpa, an entity that arises from people's collective mental and emotional investment in it; Wall Street has an egregore, and the NFL, and Broadway, and Disney, and so on. St. Paul's Chapel does a great job of announcing itself as the seat of the egregore of New York City. I regret that I couldn't get a picture of this painting without the glare in the middle, although that does add a certain amount of drama. But anyway here we are, back to the concept of Liberty. Here's hoping the new apartment brings lots and lots of growth and change.
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sroloc--elbisivni · 4 months
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bunnyguard reflection
in the spirit of 'fuckit it's my own blog i can be sappy if i want to' as well as 'this took a year and 78k and i get to keep talking about it for at least one more day' now and here is the time and place for personal yap that did not go in the last author's note.
preliminarily speaking, i had this concept in mind before I'd finished either the usagi yojimbo comics OR watching Rise. i spent so much of both of those series fishing out little moments and choices by leo and usagi that made me go 'oh my god i NEED these guys to meet, i need to watch them bounce off each other.' I kept collecting snips of ideas, and dialogue, and encounters that never quite all panned out or fit together because this was just so much fun for me to play in. I had a lot of wanting to turn this into a real story but no concrete frame to build it on, and then in january i saw the year of the otp prompts go by. and went 'oh haha that looks fun.' it was even the year of the rabbit. and then i went 'oh!! what if i did VIGNETTES for these!!' and then less than three days later the Battle Nexus as political element of the Hidden City, complete with connections to the very different other iteration of it that we'd seen, fell into place and suddenly this silly little whim was an actual big project staring me down with an ambitious goal in mind, and I had no idea if I could pull it off.
structuring it as a month by month thing was something i'd never done before. it forced me to wait to find out what would happen, to keep building to something that didn't exist yet, to lay down the track while I was driving the train. and at the same time, it gave me space to grow, to practice putting together a beginning, middle, and end every month. and it gave me something to look forward to, and the excitement of dropping in threads that wouldn't pay off for months, and watching as it went to see what the audience reaction would be. were people getting out of it the things i wanted to give them? was i hitting the notes i wanted? i had the sketch of the year, but i was still learning what was going to happen until the moment the last word hit the page. plot and character choices, but also big thematic stuff! i described November's fic as 'the ten of swords' to Space and then went 'wait a fucking second' and realized that I could draw a connection, in order, between each fic and a numerical card of tarot's suit of swords. (mostly one-to-one --october straddles 9-10, and December loops us back around to the Ace of swords, for new beginnings.) i couldn't have done that on purpose. if i'd had that thought in january i would have gone 'no that's too pretentious and too hard' and avoided it.
also!! this has been a year of my life!! over the course of this series, i've had four different living situations (that lasted longer than a week), two different jobs, and gone back to school. i had to change meds, which was an anxious ordeal in 'am i even going to be able to focus on anything now?' the cat that was purring on my lap while i worked on the first few months has now passed away. this fic kept me company on the flight for my move to a different continent. it kept me sane in the middle of a very stressful summer. it's helped me meet and get closer to some really cool people. i can FEEL how it's made me a stronger writer.
and on top of all that: i am deeply, genuinely, truly proud of this series. i'm glad i wrote it. i'm amazed at how it's turned out. i can see things i would change if i did it over, but i'm glad i won't be. i'm glad this is the way it exists. and i am utterly blown away that there are people who told me they were looking forward to it every month, that they've been following it since the beginning, that they like what i've done with this place. this is the longest-term project i've ever done. it's the most words i've ever put into a single narrative. i can't believe it's never going on my wip rotation again. whadda hell.
i have no idea if i'll ever do anything like this again. i hope it won't be anytime soon--there are other things i want to do in the meantime. but god, am i glad i did it.
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musing-and-music · 8 months
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You mentioned we could send more asks, so... 😬
3, 4, 5 and 8
For the kissing prompt 😘
Thanks for the ask! It should take a little less time than the previous one 😁
Since there's four of them, I'll put them under a break!
3. “Why’d you stop?” “Because you weren’t responding.” (Post PD)
Roy's lips were cold against her, and Riza wondered if it was the effect of his nightmare, before she realized he wasn't moving, wasn't kissing her back.
Dread flowed in her and she pulled back, ready to leave his hospital bed to reach her own.
Roy's hand suddenly caught hers, strong despite the bandages around it.
"Why did you stop?" he asked softly.
For a second, words got stuck in her throat. "Because you weren't responding," she replied, wincing. "I'm sorry if I went too far, sir."
She shouldn't have taken advantage of his weakened state, of his vulnerability after this nightmare that involved their shared trauma from the Promised Day.
"Riza." His voice stopped the flow of her thoughts as his hand loosened its grip around hers, simply holding it gently. "You didn't cross the lines. Well not mine, at least," he chuckled lightly, referencing the frat laws. "I was simply surprised, but it wasn't unwelcome."
"So... if I do it again..."
"Will I kiss you back? Gladly, Riza." His smile shone in the darkness of the room.
Riza leaned forward as her free hand cupped his cheek and kissed him again.
Roy replied immediately, his lips pliant and warmer than before under hers.
They finished the night cuddling each other on his narrow bed, their legs entangled and her head on his shoulder, peaceful.
4. “I should have done this so much earlier…” (Post canon)
Roy adjusted his cuffs and his sash, checking one last time his uniform was perfect. That was an important day, and everything had to be right.
He sighed at the sight of his greying temples. Time was beginning to reach him, even though he was still considered as one of the most dignified men in the military.
"General, are you ready?"
Roy turned to face Riza. She was wearing her ceremony uniform as the day imposed her, and she looked beautiful in it, light make-up hiding the bags under her eyes from the last few nights spent working on his introduction speech, but still showing the crow's feet in the corner of them.
"I am, Colonel," he replied, grinning softly.
She smiled back, and suddenly all the years spent yearning, hoping life would offer them the opportunity to be free were blown away.
His hand trembled lightly as he raised it to her chin, and her eyes widened at his contact, although she didn't push him away.
On the contrary, she stepped forward, a longing look on her face.
Just before their lips touched, she sighed, and her arms closed around his midsection.
Riza tasted sweet, and her tongue soon darted to tease his lips, that he opened to welcome her.
The kiss quickly turned heated, their hands wandering on each other's body as their tongues danced and their lips played. They were panting when they parted, and stayed a moment silent, their foreheads touching.
"I should have done this so much earlier..." Roy whispered.
"There were laws, and work," Riza replied, as practical as ever.
"I know, love. But now, who will stop me from being with the woman I have wanted for so many years?"
"Not me." Riza winked at him.
Roy laughed. And kissed her again.
They would have to adjust their uniforms again after that, but it was worth it.
5. “Quick, kiss me again, they’re coming back—” (during canon)
They were both breathless when they parted, and Riza couldn't tell if it was because of their run to escape the enemy or the kiss exchanged to divert that enemy's attention.
Roy's cheeks were flushed, and his eyes filled with wonder and desire. Riza didn't doubt she looked the same. She couldn't tear her gaze from the darkness of his eyes forgetting for a moment they were chased.
"Well, that was..." Roy began, a smirk blooming on his face.
Riza frowned and suddenly pushed him back against the wall, stepping between his legs. "Quick, kiss me again, they're coming back."
She tugged on his tie and their lips met again for a burning kiss, that made her knees weaken and her heart swell. Roy's hands clung to her hips, burrowing in the fabric of her dress as his tongue passed her lips to play with hers.
Five minutes later, their positions were exchanged, and Riza had a leg around Roy's waist, her hands lost in his hair.
They parted once more, panting.
"They didn't come back," Roy remarked in a casual tone.
"Didn't they?" Riza replied innocently, a smile on her swollen lips.
"Well, we're never too prudent," Roy said, before he dived on her neck to lavish it with kisses.
8. “Let me teach you what a real kiss is.” (Young Royai)
"Hey, Riza, did you get a boyfriend while I was at the academy?"
Roy grinned when Riza's head snapped up from the process of cutting vegetables, her lovely brown eyes wide.
"What?" Her eyes suddenly narrowed, distrustful. "Why are you asking me this? What's gotten in your head again, Mr. Mustang?"
He laughed. Riza never called him Mr. Mustang, unless she was angry or annoyed at him.
"I'm just curious, that's all."
Maybe curious was an understatement. Roy had found himself liking his master's daughter more than he'd expected. More than he should, he thought bitterly, thinking again about his master's last words a few days ago.
Riza put down her knife and sighed. "No, I never got a boyfriend. Only one hopeless crush," she finally said in a wistful voice. She took the knife again and resumed cutting the onions and carrots for the stew.
Oh.
"I'm sorry, Riza. I've been uncaring, and I ignored your feelings..."
"Don't be! You couldn't know anyway. Maybe I'd have talked to you about my crush, if it weren't for the fact..." she shut her mouth, looking suddenly very red.
Roy raised an eyebrow and approached her, a faint hope growing inside his chest. "If it weren't for the fact?"
They were now face to face, one or two feet apart, eyes locked in each other's. Roy barely looked down when Riza's knife fell on the table with a clatter, his attention more caught by her other hand on his chest, warm and surprising.
She caught his collar and pulled him until their lips touched, softly, shyly, a gentle peck from a inexperienced girl. She pulled back immediately, her eyes down, her posture closed off again.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have."
"Riza." He took her hand. "I care for you, a lot, but I don't think it's the right moment for us to begin something. You're still young, you can find someone right for you."
"I wanted to do that, though," Riza replied. "But I have no experience, and I thought... even if nothing ever happens between us, at least I would have had this taste."
Warm spread in Roy's chest. "A no commitment kiss?" She nodded. "Then, I could teach you what a real kiss is."
Riza raised wide eyes to him, but before she could say anything, Roy captured her lips, one hand cradling her face while the other caught her waist, pulling her closer to him. They fumbled a little at first, and a light chuckle escaped him, until Riza replied to his kiss with an ardor that suddenly made him wish this kiss was for real.
They parted, and the sight of Riza's swollen lips, shining eyes, and ruffled hair almost made him kiss her again.
"How was it?" he asked instead.
Riza nodded. "Good. Thank you." She turned and took her knife again, resuming her cooking. "Can you put water in the pot and heat it, please?"
Prompts after they kiss
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engie-ivy · 2 years
Note
wolfstar prompt with the song little freak by harry styles?
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(@jessiefleming First of all, thank you for introducing me to these songs! I didn't know them, but absolutely loved them and have listened to them so much afterwards. Which is also why this took me sooo long, I just couldn't come up with a fic good enough to do one of the songs justice😅 Still don't think this one does, but I hope it's okay! Sorry for the wait!)
Trigger warning: child abuse
Inspired by the song Mathilda by Harry Styles
Though Sirius Black was James' best friend and Remus’ first love, apparently he didn't think he owed them more than a phone call from the airport before leaving for good. Just a phone call, never an explanation.
Years pass with Remus thinking about Sirius Black less and less. Until Orion Black gets involved in a great scandal, and the fall-out reveals some shocking truths about the Black family, which put everything in a new perspective.
Leaving And Growing Up
Remus was sixteen when he last saw Sirius Black.
They were high school, and it was summer. Remus remembers how full of anticipation he had been. Something had been brewing between Remus and Sirius, and it had felt like there was some sort of unspoken agreement that that summer was going to be their summer.
And it all started so wonderful. Picnics at the park where they were sitting so close their legs were brushing, swimming in the lake with looks that lingered too long, Sirius riding his bike with Remus sitting at the back holding on slightly too tight.
But then there was the phone call.
“Hi. It’s me.”
“Sirius! What’s up? I’ve hardly spoken to you this week.”
“N- nothing much. I- I’m just…”
“Sirius? Are you alright?”
“Yeah, it’s all alright. I’m... at the airport right now.”
“The airport? Are… are you going somewhere?”
“I’m leaving, Remus.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“...why didn’t you mention before that you were leaving for the summer?”
“I’m not.”
“But you just said…”
“I’m leaving for good, Remus.”
“How… how do you mean?”
“I’m sorry, Remus.”
“But why?”
“I can’t… I’m not… I just have to.”
“Sirius, I don’t understand.”
“I’m sorry, Remus. I’m sorry.”
Remus had been a right mess after that. Sobbing when he saw a happy couple, curling up in bed with a stash of chocolate, listening to sad music or watching romantic movies that only made him more sad. In short, he had been a teenager who just suffered his first heartbreak.
Remus had crying and talking to his friends a lot. Mostly Lily. Whenever he mentioned Sirius’ name around James, he would completely shut down. He had, after all, been hurt in not quite the same, but a similar way. He and Sirius had been practically inseparable, and then Sirius had gone and left without an explanation or even saying goodbye in person.
But Remus was the one who had let himself believe there had been something more than friendship. After Sirius left, Remus had spent weeks trying to convince himself that he had misread the situation, that it had been all in his head, that Sirius simply hadn’t cared that much.
Now, the days when Remus thought about Sirius every day, when he could burst into tears simply because the sky had the exact same shade of grey as Sirius’ eyes that day, were far behind him. That’s just how those things go, you grow up and move on.
Which doesn’t mean there won’t always be something special about Sirius Black. You just never love the way you love when you’re in love for the first time, when you go in without any restraints and give yourself completely. After your first heartbreak, there’s always a sense of caution, always something you hold back.
Remus must admit, lately, he’s been thinking about Sirius Black more often. Though that isn’t strange, with how the name Black has been circulating in the news lately.
Orion Black and Lucran Lestrange, both well-known, successful business men, had always been business partners, and old friends on top of that. However, when Antonin Dolohov was arrested for fraud, both Black and Lestrange wanted to take over his company, and it lead to a massive fall-out between the two men. They became embroiled in a very public dispute, that was mostly fought out through the media, with both sides engaging in dirty smear campaigns against the other.
And people can’t get enough of it.
They can’t get enough of seeing the men, who always seemed so poised, so dignified, had such an air of being far above everyone else over them, sink so low as to publicly trash each other and air each other’s dirty laundry.
Remus doesn’t care much for it. To him, it’s all a bunch of rich people drama. He knows that it involves Sirius’ father, but he’s never met the man. Maybe that should’ve been his first hint that Sirius just wasn’t that serious about him; he never introduced Remus to his family.
Remus hears the door open.
“Rem, you home?” James calls out from the living room.
“In the study,” Remus replies.
He doesn’t look up from his thesis as James walks in. “Have you heard?” James asks.
“Heard what?” Remus replies absentmindedly. “Did some team I’ve never heard about beat some other team I’ve never heard about in some game I don’t know the rules of?”
“No,” James says, and the tone of his voice makes Remus look up. James looks solemn and his jaw is tight. “I mean the latest development in the whole Black/Lestrange situation.”
Remus makes a face. “Since when do we care about rich people drama?”
“No, I mean...” James shakes his head. “Never mind, you clearly haven’t heard, or you would know what I’m talking about.” James pulls out his phone, searches for something, and slides the phone over to Remus.
Curiosity peaked, Remus picks up the phone and starts to read the article on James has pulled up.
Respectable Family Man or Aggressive Abuser: The Dark Side of Orion Black
The public feud between Orion Black and Lucran Lestrange has just reached a new low. Yesterday, a document containing damaging revelations about Orion Black’s private life, now knows as The Black Pages, was delivered at several major media outlets.
The Black Pages contain documentation from Child Protection Services, classified police reports, and several medical files the oldest dating back approximately eight years. And to say that they that they place Orion Black in a negative light would be an understatement.
So, what do these pages tell us?
Overall, they paint a picture of ongoing violent behaviour from Orion Black towards his two sons, and especially his eldest son, Sirius Black, eventually escalating on July 27th six years ago to the point where the children, then aged 14 and 16, were removed from the house on police orders.
A look at the documentation from Child Protection Services tells us that two years prior to the escalation, the bureau had already received multiple alerts indicating potential mistreatment of the children. A teacher of Sirius Black, Ms M. McGonagall, alerted the authorities that she had noticed something was off regarding the boy’s homelife, a cousin, A. Black, went so far as to warn the authorities that her uncle was abusing his children, and also a nurse at St. Mungo’s Hospital blew the whistle after she had treated Sirius Black for suspicious injuries several times and did not trust the situation.
“Sometimes these warning signals are missed,” Bathilda Bagshot, forensic psychologist who holds a PhD in child protection and regularly advices the authorities on how to deal with difficult situations involving minors, tells us. “In a bureaucratic system, when different alerts come in from different sources and are processed by different people, in some cases they are not put together, and a potential harmful situation can be overlooked.”
However, according to the reports, no action was taken. Only when, on that July 27th, a violent altercation between Sirius Black and his father escalated to the point where the boy ended up in the hospital, the police was called.
According to the police report, Orion Black agreed to have his sons removed from his custody and placed in the care of their uncle and godfather, Alphard Black, who lives in France, but was visiting at the time, and offered to take the children. In return, besides having to pay a fine, no further charges were pressed against Orion Black.
“It could be that getting the children out of that situation was their first priority,” Bathilda Bagshot comments. “And once that goal was achieved, they decided there was no need for further action. Though the evidence of misconduct from Orion Black’s side seems so strong, that it certainly is strange he was not prosecuted and faced no further consequences. Though, the amount of money Orion Black paid the police force as his so-called ‘fine’ may have had something to do with that.” A spokesperson of the police informed us that they are looking into the matter and are not available for comment until more is clear about this specific situation.
While no one from Flucran Lestrange’s side has been willing to comment, it is widely assumed that The Black Papers come from their team, most likely collected by private investigators and bribery of corrupt employees with access to classified information, and spread in an attempt to further smear Orion Black’s name. “A successful attempt,” Bathilda Bagshot admits. “Though I’d say it’s a shame this public feud is being fought over the backs of these children, young adults by now.”
Editor’s note: At this moment, the authenticity of the files in The Black Pages is still being investigated
Remus looks up at James with wide eyes, all the colour drained from his face. “Is this... Is this true?”
“Like the article says,” James says. “They’re still checking the files on their realness, but... Well, it makes sense now, doesn’t it, Remus?”
“You’re telling me now? Like this?”
“I wish I could’ve...”
“You could’ve! You could’ve told me sooner! You could’ve said goodbye in person! Not like this, not a call from the bloody airport!”
“I didn’t mean for it to be like this, Remus.”
“Then why?”
“I didn’t want you to... I thought seeing you would be too... I’m sorry, Remus. There’s nothing else I can do.”
“It does make sense,” Remus whispers. “God, but it does.”
“Could we have known?” James asks. “Were there signs that we missed? Should we have known?”
Remus closes his eyes and allows himself to think back at that time like he hasn’t allowed himself in a long time.
Remus and Sirius riding their bikes side by side, their bikes shaking when they ride onto bumpy terrain.
Sirius grimacing and pressing a hand to his ribs.
Remus glancing over at him, “You okay?”
Sirius telling him “Yeah, just a little sore from football practice. No big deal.”
Sirius lifting his arms to tie up his hair, his shirt riding up revealing a bruise on his abdomen.
Remus asking “What’s that?”
Sirius smiling like it’s no big deal, “Just a little scuffle with Reg.”
The smile never reaching his eyes.
Remus opens his eyes and presses his palms against his legs to stop his hands from trembling. Like puzzle pieces falling into damn place.
Remus is still trying to process everything as he and James sit in his living room together.
“There were signs,” James concludes. “So how come none of it seemed especially alarming till now?”
“We were children,” Remus replies. “Moreover, we were children from safe, loving families who couldn’t even comprehend something like that even being possible. It just... would’ve never occurred to us.”
James doesn’t look satisfied with that answer, and to be honest, neither is Remus.
James shakes his head. “We were the closest people to him back then. Good god, he was like my brother! And I just allowed him to be on that situation.”
“It must’ve been so lonely,” Remus says softly. “Keeping all of that to himself.” Why? He thinks. Why didn’t he trust us?
Over the next weeks, it’s not only Orion Black’s name that’s been going around in the media, but also Regulus’ and, most of all, Sirius’. Remus learns what he never thought he would ever learn: details of Sirius Black’s life from after he left.
Sirius and his younger brother Regulus moved to Paris with their uncle Alphard, where they both finished high school without a problem, despite everything they had been through. Sirius studied Medicine, and afterwards, went to travel world, while Regulus actually came back to London to go to law school. Remus tries not to feel hurt by that, none of this is about him after all, but he can’t help the sting he feels at knowing that, while Regulus came back, Sirius never did.
“It has always been my wish to hold them accountable for what they did.” The young man is wearing a proper suit and his short, dark hair is neatly styled. He had a haughty air about him and seems calm and confident.
“But my brother wished to leave it in the past and keep it out of the media, and I have always respected his wishes. Well,” he says, calmly looking around at all the cameras and reporters around him. “It would seem that keeping it out of the media is no longer an option. As nothing is holding me back now, I am going to sue my parents for what they did to me and my brother.”
He now looks straight into the camera and a fierce shine appears in his eyes. “They will take responsibility and they will pay for what they did.”
Next to Remus on the couch, James shudders. “I would not want to face Regulus Black in a courtroom! Orion and Walburga Black should be very, very afraid.”
“Yeah,” Remus agrees. “I wouldn’t want to be them right now. I do hope he squeezes them for all they’re worth.”
The next time James walks into Remus’ apartment and asks “Have you heard?”, Remus has, in fact, heard.
Sirius has agreed to testify in his brother’s lawsuit, which means, that for the first time in six years, Sirius Black will be coming back to London.
“You want to what?”
“Talk to him,” James replies from where he’s pacing the room. “I have all these questions, Remus! Could we have known if we had paid better attention? Was there a reason he felt like he couldn’t tell us? Was there something we could’ve done differently? I can’t stop thinking about these things and I need to ask him.”
“I understand that, James. Really, I do, but he’s coming for this lawsuit, and to support his brother. He’ll need to prepare his statement and prepare for the confrontation with his parents, and there’ll be lots of reporters and lawyers demanding his attention. Do you really think that’s a right time to go and bother him with our questions?”
“It’s a horrible time,” James states. “But it’s also the only time we’ve got. The only time we’re going to know where he is at what exact moment.”
“And the rest of the country with us,” Remus points out. “With all the craze surrounding him, many people are going to want something from him. Do you really think they’ll just let anyone walk into the courthouse and knock on Sirius’ door?”
“They’ll let press in,” James states. “I am press.”
“You’re a sports reporter!” Remus argues.
“If I show the security my press card, they’ll let me in. They won’t ask if they can read some of my work first.”
“I don’t know, James.” Remus shakes his head. “An attempt like that sounds kinda stupid and most likely to get you in trouble.”
James grins. “Well, then it’s perfectly fitting for how it used to be with Sirius and me, innit?”
“Kinda stupid and most likely to get you in trouble?” Remus asks, and then blinks. “Well, yeah, I guess that does sum it up.”
Remus doesn’t fully comprehend James’ plan actually worked until James and he slip into the room and quickly close the door behind them.
Remus remembers Sirius was good-looking. Of course he does. As a smitten sixteen-year-old, he has spent quite some time thinking about just that. And if his memory wasn’t enough, the photos of a young Sirius the tabloids and television have been showing were a good reminder.
But even though he knows Sirius was handsome as a boy, Remus quickly realises he’s wholly unprepared for how absolutely gorgeous he is as a young man.
Sirius whirls around from where he was looking out the window, and Remus gapes.
Where Sirius used to be rather skinny (oh god, was that also a sign they missed?), he’s now lean and muscular. His hair is still long, and his grey eyes still have that same piercing gaze, but his features have gotten sharper, more elegant.
Another realisation Remus has when standing there, in a backroom of the courthouse, across from Sirius Black for the first time in six years, is that he has been so focused on getting here, not really expecting to succeed, that he hasn’t thought about what to actually say to Sirius. What if Sirius is actually mad? (You were supposed to be my best friends, but you never did anything to help me, to absorbed in your own lives to even notice.) Or, the worst possibility of all, what if he’s completely indifferent? (Okay, so we used to go to school together, so what? I’ve got more important things to think about right now.)
“Ehm, hi,” James says, and it’s clear he hasn’t thought this far either, though James is never one to think too far ahead. “I don’t know if you remember us-”
“Jamie! Rem!” Sirius seems to have shaken himself out of his stupor, and he flings himself at them, wrapping them both in a hug, one arm around each of their necks. “God, it’s good to see you! I was hoping to I would! I figured it’d be nice to have a reminder that there were good things here as well, y’know? I tried to look you up, actually. I found James is now a sports reporter, but no addresses. I thought about going by James’ workplace, but I was worried that’d be too much.” Sirius lets go of them and pulls back a little, looking at them uncertainly. “I was afraid you’d still hate me...”
“We could never hate you, Sirius,” Remus says, having finally found his voice. “But good lord, did we try! You suddenly left, and I was so hurt, and so, so angry. But then, all of the sudden, this whole story comes out, and now I don’t know what to feel anymore.”
“Yeah, mate,” James says. “I could’ve never imagined that when I would see you again, it would be in a courthouse after having sneaked in with an army of reporters.”
Sirius lets out a dry chuckle. “Why, James, you should’ve known I’d go for a dramatic reappearance!” Then he shakes his head. “But I guess this is all a bit much, yeah.”
“Mr Black!” A man in an expensive suit opens the door. He briefly frowns at Remus and James, before turning his attention back to Sirius. “Your brother requests your presence to go over your statement one more time.”
“Thank you, Bones. Tell him I’ll be right there.”
The man leaves again, and James shakes his head in wonder. “My, little Reggie Black has gained quite some confidence, hasn’t he?”
“He has,” Sirius says proudly. “But,” he adds with a frown. “Before it gets out of hand I will tell him that this was the first and the last time he has sent his attorney to fetch me. There are limits, after all.”
“You have a lot going on right now,” James says. “We should leave you to it.”
“What about coffee?” Sirius quickly asks. “Can we meet up for coffee tomorrow? Is The Three Broomsticks on Twelfth Street still open?”
“It is, that’s perfect!” James smiles. “We’ll see you there at eleven!”
He turns towards the door, and Remus moves to follow, throwing one last look at Sirius, but then he sees the way he’s wringing his hands, how his shoulders are set, and the tension in his jaw. He’s nervous, Remus thinks, and before he has given it any conscious thought, he moves forward on instinct and wraps Sirius in a tight hug wrapping his arms firmly around him.
After a moment of surprise, Sirius hugs him back, and Remus can feel his tension melt away. “Something bad was done to you,” Remus whispers. “Something that never should’ve happened, and you no longer have to pretend it’s alright. You can now tell the world your story.”
When Remus pulls back, Sirius looks at him with an expression Remus can’t quite define, but some of the anxiety in his eyes has made way for determination, and he gives Remus a grateful smile.
Remus ignores the look James gives him when he joins him at the door.
Sirius is perfect.
He comes across as likeable and charismatic during his testimony, and when he speaks, everything he says seems sincere and he gives clear and coherent answers.
The next morning, Remus is sitting with James at a table in The Three Broomsticks, waiting for Sirius.
Waiting for Sirius.
That still seems so surreal, Remus can barely believe it, can barely believe Sirius will actually walk through that door and join them.
But then he does.
Sirius steps into the cosy café, which is immediately followed by staring, pointing and whispering from the other guests. Sirius looks around searching, and when his eyes fall on James and Remus, his face lights up in a bright smile and he waves.
Remus feels something stir inside him. Convincing himself he has moved on and Sirius Black actually never cared that much anyway, is a whole lot harder with the man being right in front of him.
“Hiya!” Sirius says cheerfully. “I hope I’m not late?”
“Not at all,” Remus replies as Sirius sits down. “You’re just in time. We already ordered some tea and toast.”
Sirius beams at him and it strikes Remus how he is so much like he was before. Just more handsome.
“So...,” James begins, as everyone has a cup of tea. "I’ve been thinking a lot about before, when we were your friends. It’s probably none if my business, but it’s just been on my mind, and I keep having these questions. I guess the most important question is was there anything we could’ve done? Any signs that we missed? Was there something we did that made you feel like you couldn’t tell us?”
“Goodness, no!” Sirius exclaims. “If anything, you were too great.”
James and Remus look at him in confusion, and Sirius explains. “When I was with you, it was the first time I felt like I belonged. I could pretend like all that, father and mother, their rules and expectations, like all that didn’t exist. If only for a moment, I could pretend. I guess I just didn’t want to taint the one good thing I had in my life by bringing them into it.”
Remus supposes that makes sense. “It were two different worlds for you that you wanted to keep separate.”
Sirius nods. “I wasn’t lying or pretending when I was with you. I was genuinely happy during those times, I need you to know that. It was never an act.”
Remus hadn’t realized how much that had worried him until now, now that it feels like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. Their time together had been real.
With the tension out of the air, they naturally fall into comfortable conversation. Remus talks passionately about his PhD project, with Sirius looking at him with his head resting on his hand and a small smile on his face. James tells Sirius he got Lily to agree to go out with him before graduation, and Sirius hands him ten quid, and James tells him all his funny anecdotes from meeting and interviewing famous athletes. Sirius shares stories about living with his uncle, who was wholly unprepared to suddenly have two teenagers in his house, but did his best anyway, and he talks about his experiences while traveling the world, James and Remus listening with fascination.
It feels like how it was.
After some though weeks, Regulus wins his lawsuit. It’s a civil suit, not a criminal suit, so their parents won’t be facing any jail time, but they need to pay some very significant compensation to their children.
Remus knows Sirius doesn’t care about the money. What matters to him is that an impartial judge listened to his story and said ‘This was wrong, no one had the right to do this to you, and you didn’t deserve this’ for the whole world to hear.
After the judge gave his verdict, Sirius runs towards Remus and throws his arms around his neck. Remus doesn’t know for sure what he whispered as he hugged Sirius, but it must’ve been something like “you’re so strong, so brave, I’m so proud of you”.
It’s only later, when they left Sirius and Regulus to finalize some paperwork and he’s sitting in the passenger seat of James’ car, that he realises Sirius ran past Regulus, his uncle Al, his cousin Andy, James, his attorney, everyone, to fall into Remus’ arms.
It gives Remus a strange feeling in his chest.
Sirius throws Regulus a party that night to celebrate his big win.
At some point, Remus and Sirius are standing outside on the balcony, getting away from the crowd for a moment.
“You know, I really I thought I could let it go by just putting it in the past,” Sirius says, looking out over the city. “Move on and live my life without thinking about it, go and see the world, pretend it never happened. But this... Coming back here, telling my story, confronting them,-” he turns to look at Remus “-not giving them so much power that they can keep me away from also the good things that I left here, this is how I can truly let them go, truly know that they won’t hurt me anymore.”
“You are so strong,” Remus whispers before he can think about it. “You have shown me such power.”
Sirius chuckles. “I’d think it’s more thanks to Regulus’ power of persuasion than my strength.”
“Not just now,” Remus says, shaking his head. “Also back then. I didn’t know the situation back then, but maybe that’s why. You’ve always been such a great person. Things must’ve been so rough at times, so cruel and unfair, but you never let that stop you, let them stop you, from being good. You always made people laugh, you were always ready to help others, and you always had this smile, bright enough to bring light to the darkest of days.”
“It was easy,” Sirius immediately replies. “To smile. Whenever you were around, it was always easy.”
Remus has to look away from the intensity of Sirius’ gaze. “I wish we could’ve somehow... stayed in touch.”
“I thought it would only make it harder,” Sirius admits. “To watch from afar as you and James carried on with your lives, not being a part of it anymore. And I needed to carry on as well. I was always acting the way my parents wanted me to act, as not to anger them, or the exact opposite of that, just to aggravate them. Either way, I was always acting with them in mind. Never just for me. I had no idea what I wanted, who I was. And when I was with you and James, it was like getting a glimpse of who I could be. Leaving was my chance at a new start, and to really learn how to do things my way, I felt like I needed to do be doing it on my own. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” Remus says emphatically. “Not for leaving, not for doing it on your own. Not if that was what you needed.”
“I guess I don’t regret it,” Sirius says. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you terribly.” He lets out a laugh. “Good god, I was so in love with you back then!”
“You... you were?”
“Of course!” Sirius exclaims. “Surely, you must’ve known?”
“I...” Remus says hesitantly. “I’ve been convincing myself for the last six years that I had misread the situation, that it had all been in my head, so that how I felt afterwards changed the way I remember that time. Now, I guess it’s hard for me to see things the way they really were back then.”
“The way things really were,” Sirius says slowly. “Is that I missed you terribly back then,-” He reaches out and takes Remus’ hand. “-and have missed you every day since.”
Remus’ breath catches as he stares at Sirius. Slowly, he lifts a hand to lightly touch Sirius’ cheek, and Sirius immediately leans in to the touch.
It’s strange, Remus thinks, as he closes the distance and softly presses his lips against Sirius’. How it cost him months, years even, to accept that Sirius hadn’t really cared that much and to move on from him, but how it only costs a single moment to fall back in love with him.
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Find a Penny, Pick It Up
4. Sizeshifting
From this list of gt prompts.
AU: Unknown BAU, a continuation of A Tale of Two Sizes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Stan gave a frustrated huff. Despite how skinny the teen's arm was, he couldn't fit it behind the fridge to retrieve the dropped change that had rolled into the gap. It wasn't much money in the grand scheme of things, but in Stan's family every little bit counted.
A few months ago, Stan would have resigned himself to losing the change for the moment, and maybe wait for one of his big brothers to help him move the fridge. Now, though, he had another option.
Stan sat back, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. After a few moments, he began to slowly dwindle in size.
It had taken Stan a few weeks to figure out how to stop himself from shrinking accidentally. He still didn't fully understand how it worked; it was all so reflexive when it first came about. As erratic as a thirteen-year-old boy's changes in mood and hormone levels. There were still times when Stan was caught off guard, but he was lucky enough to have avoided too much trouble.
Only his brothers knew, and they were usually around to protect him before anyone could catch sight of Stan, or God forbid, take him away. In the safety of their own flat, the five boys could put their heads together to help Stan find control with this uncanny ability of his.
With their help, the sudden unexpected shrinking became less and less frequent, and they were able to figure out how Stan could shrink when he wanted to. It just took a bit of concentration and...
The sensation of slowly falling in place stopped, and Stan opened his eyes and got to his feet. Now the fridge towered high above like a skyscraper, and the gap behind it was wider than an alleyway and much darker.
Knowing he had a limited time before his brothers got home, Stan hurried into the shadows. Protective as they were, they didn't want Stan shrinking on his own. As he trudged into the dusty, dark abyss in search of lost change, he could see why. He knew he only stood around three inches tall at this scale, if not slightly smaller. They'd measured several times and it was always the same. So many things were bigger to him, and anything could be more dangerous than Stan was used to.
Stan's pace quickened, eager to be out of the dark before anything unsightly decided to say hello.
Thankfully, the light from the ceiling cast just enough light in that Stan could make out a few glints of metal not too far away. Within minutes, Stan had started a small pile on the floor just beside the fridge.
It was right when Stan emerged with the last coin that he heard the distant thunder of the front door downstairs slamming shut. Someone was home!
Stan scrambled toward the middle of the floor, brushing away any remaining dust bunnies from his clothes. Once he was sure he was clean and he had enough room, he concentrated again, this time on becoming larger.
For some reason, this process could give Stan a bit of trouble sometimes. It was too early to tell why, but luck shone down on him that day and allowed him to shoot up to his usual height just as his brother entered the flat.
Seamus, the bespectacled middle brother, strode toward the room he shared with the second oldest Baker. He greeted Stan almost mechanically as he passed by the kitchen.
"Hi, Stan."
"Hey, Seamus!" Stan blurted.
The anxious energy winding up Stan's tone gave Seamus enough pause to actually regard his youngest brother, and his eyes instantly narrowed. "You know we told you not to go shrinking when you're home alone."
How did he know??
Guilt tightened Stan's throat, but he swallowed past it and insisted, "I didn't, though."
Seamus raised an eyebrow skeptically. Stan was about to shrug and ask him what, when he suddenly became aware of a weight in his left hand.
Right. Anything he carried when he shrank or grew changed with him. He was still holding a penny.
So much for luck.
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liux14n · 1 year
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his first feat: part i.
cigarettes always tasted better on november mornings, and baek gunwoo would always try to convince his colleagues of that every year. and every year, it would spark a protest over the wild specificity of the date to which he would argue 'there's something refreshing in the chilled air. and it's not too cold that all your fingers want to fall off.' he held that opinion 20 years ago when he first made detective and it remained until now. baek gunwoo was not one to change, holding a stubborn personality, headstrong & willful, which helped in his pursuit of suspects, criminals and answers, but was less helpful in preserving his marriage.
like many middle aged divorced men, he pretended that alcohol & cigarattes made better company than a nagging wife. it was an obvious lie, clear in his tired eyes and the wrinkles that set around them, but she deserved more than a husband who was barely home, and when he was home, barely there. of course, he was unwilling to give up his job after climbing his way to detective, something he dedicated his life to, so he was left with divorce papers and the joint custody of his teenage daughter.
mornings at the police station were typically quiet. not that he minded, since he was often guilty in drinking too much the night before with fellow colleagues - but today was different. he hadn't even shook his coat off his shoulders when a woman entered in hysterics. even the uniformed officers were at a loss, with one attempting to console her enough to understand what she was saying, while one frantically looked back to baek and the rest of the senior officers. it wasn't her shrill wailing that made him curious (after being in the force for two decades, this had become a norm), but the familiarity & timing of it all.
and so, curious, baek gunwoo made his way through to intervene and was even more puzzled to find a familiar face to be the source of the noise. "ms kim?" she was a mother of one of his daughter's middle school classmates; though, he hadn't seen her since their graduation. "what seems to be the problem?"
the woman looked a mess; her eyes puffy, sore and red with tears streaming down her face. her wailing had turned into irregular breathing, sharp and erratic, which prompted him to walk past the barrier that separated visitors & officers so he could effectively calm her down. after a couple of minutes of slow breaths, he managed to get an answer to his previous inquiry.
"she... she's gone-"
"who's gone, ms kim?"
"my... my kim jieun."
a sudden shock hit him, like he wasn't at work, like he hadn't been a police officer for decades now. he should be used to this, but he never is. the woman's hand moved to cover her mouth, as if to contain her cries, and now with the severity of the situation known, all efforts were made to console her enough so she could provide a report with some degree of coherency.
settled at a desk with tea to hopefully soothe her, detective baek gunwoo began with the procedure of filing a missing person report, the first questions regarding basic information.
"her name is kim jieun. she just turned 16..." he couldn't help his grip on his pen tightening, the memory of his daughter and jieun posing for graduation photos with all of their classmates on the back of his mind. distractions are never good on the job, he thought, shaking his head to hopefully dispell the memory.
"and how long has she been missing?" he asked, his voice low, slow & calm.
the detective noticed how hard she tried to keep her hands from shaking, but all efforts seemed futile as they made the cup of tea in her hands ripple in waves.
"she... she didn't come home last night..." was all she said for a long while.
from his previous experience, it was always hard at the start for those close to the case to provide a statement. this occasion was just the same.
"usually she comes home after school to eat before she goes back out to tutor. when she didn't come home then, i thought maybe- maybe she was just spending longer at the track after her classes."
baek gunwoo's pen glided across his notepad as he noted down her statement, a quick question mark scribbled next to a possible conclusion drawn by her mother: 'possibly at track club longer than usual?'. it seemed unlikely, since sporting tournaments usually lasted until october and it was now november.
she was now at the stage of nervous rambling, this too was normal for eyewitnesses or anyone providing a statement, which from gunwoo's experience, wasn't the worst thing. rambles, while most of the time incoherent, sometimes provided crucial clues & leads that would otherwise be left if not mentioned. he had learned that one had to be good at filtering out the helpful information from the mess. besides, there was a lot one could learn from the littlest things revealed in rambles. but all of that came with experience.
"but then she didn't come home after that. which i thought was strange beause she has tutoring- she tutors some younger children who live in our neighbourhood. she does that every tuesday, wednesday and thursday." those last sentences were quickly added, it seemed, to provide some context. it was appreciated on gunwoo's part. "again, i-" the mother's voice began to crack again and her hand clasped over her mouth, "i dismissed it because sometimes- sometimes when she tutors at a house, she stays there for dinner. the tutee's family do it as a thank you, but then- but then-" tears sprang back to her eyes and the words burst out of her.
"she never came home! my husband kept saying 'she's probably at a friend's house, she's probably staying with a friend'. but she wouldn't do that. she would tell me, she's a good girl! and i wanted to call her friends' parents, the family who she tutors for, everyone, but... it was already late by the time i had realised that was something i could do, but my husband said i shouldn't make a big deal over it,that i would just be causing more trouble for everyone over nothing because she was probably just staying at a friend's. but i know my daughter, i know her." her breathing, erratic again, but stable enough for the detective to understand her words. "i didn't sleep at all last night. just waited until it was an appropriate enough time to call all of jieun's friends, parents, her tutees, all of them. and they all said that they hadn't seen her. her friends told me that she left the trackfield early because she needed to get ready for tutoring, but when i called the family she usually tutors for, they said-" her face contorts to contain a cry, "they said she never showed up." and finally, the dam broke & she gushed out in tears again.
>>>
all that drama had worked baek gunwoo up enough to deserve another smoke break, he justified as the flame licked over the end of the cigarette and he blew out his relief. it wasn't typical of him to so cheekily use a particularly tumultuous testimony as an excuse for a cigarette, he realised that himself. 'so why,' he began to wonder, 'or what about this case is so different?'. it gave him a strange feeling deep in his stomach, squeezing and twisting. either something was wrong or there something more to it all, something bigger. either way, this was his gut calling out to him.
he took a sharp breath in when a thought struck him, the cooling november air almost burning as he did. the dots didn't connect themselves that easily, for his realisation was unlike a 'eureka' moment and more of an itching in his brain that he couldn't satisfy until its solution. once the thought reached him, he refused to let it go, fearing that if he didn't collect his thoughts now, it would never return. so, understandably, the detective was quick to throw and stamp out what remained of his cigarette before rushing inside to confirm his suspicions.
because he realised that what was bothering him wasn't how different this case was, but what was so familiar about it.
2 notes · View notes
rcksmith · 3 years
Text
Mine — Kaz Brekker
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(photo not mine)
Requests: “9 from the fluff prompts with Kaz brekker please? It could be where they're keeping it a secret and it slips out? Thanks”
“Could you possibly do a kaz brekker and reader imagine where they are both like in their mid twenties. Number 9 from the fluff prompts “So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend?" "No, that girl is my wife”, I could just imagine him with the smuggest grin saying it. Your a very good writer and thank you if you decide to write this.”
“Could I get a kaz brekker x reader secret relationship with fluff prompts 5, 7, 12, and 14 please?”
Fluff prompts:
5. ”Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.”
7. “I feel like i cant breathe when i’m around you.”
9. “So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend?!" "No, that girl is my wife!”
12. “I’m not jealous! Its just...you’re mine!”
14. “I don’t like to pretend we’re not together.”
Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader
Warnings: swearing, mention of fights, mention of post-traumatic stress, fluff too.
Word count: 2k.
A/N: Thank you💖 I hope you guys like. I changed some details a little, hope you don't mind
Normal Rules. Smut Rules.
English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.
Requests are open. Love you❤️
— — — —
Fissure. That's what mercenaries, thieves, assassins and his enemies were looking for. A fissure to drive Kaz Brekker to ruin. Burn his empire, wood for wood, until there is nothing left but funeral ashes swept away by the winter wind. Even the most infinitesimal fissure would ensure that his enemies infiltrate, like hungry parasites, into the heart of the dungeon of his deepest secrets. Swallowing, absorbing, any hint of what could do the infamous the Bastard of the Barrel down to his own knees.
And Kaz Brekker feared that if they looked into the most secluded corner of his dungeons, where it was reserved to hide the greatest truths of his soul, they would find the one only thing to beg on his knees for would be something he would do without hesitation.
You.
You were like the last summer solstice in a world ruled by darkness, cold and empty. Which he kept in a chest locked with seven chains.
If he had to describe you with the five senses, Brekker would remind that, when he was in the bitter cold of the ocean, clutching the stiffness of dead and putrefying flesh like a lifeboat, a ray of sunshine, warm as the summer, it opened up through the thunderclouds and came down to his face, warming that spot of skin like a kiss from the sun.
And it would be with that memory that he would describe you.
Kaz Brekker shouldn't have fallen in love with you. He was the person who most understood the disastrous consequences if he let himself get carried away by the way his heart sped up whenever he saw you. If he allowed herself to taste the way all of your heat radiated into his body and made him feel alive. But he fell in love.
Everything was all too much. The feeling of life every time you said his name, like a devotion, something religious, lyrical. The sweetness in your eyes, the warm voice. Everything had been too much.
And what should he do? Tell you he missed you every time you went on a mission? Saying that he were jealous and envy of Jesper because the man managed to make you laugh with a silly joke and hug you tight, something Kaz still hadn't been able to do? Tell you it was almost religious the way he venerated your smile? Of course not. Because all these things would have been sensible, and Kaz couldn't do anything sensible around you.
Because when he saw life offering him, with such joy, the one thing that had been denied him all his life, and that he swore never to crave, his first impulse was anger. Stupid, irrational anger.
So, for the first few moments, his entire reaction to you had been cold, distant, almost avoidant. Because the way his whole body shook in hot spasms when, in that summery tone, you called his name, it was too much for Kaz to handle.
“Kaz!” You call, one night.
He heard your voice from across the crow club, and had to close his eyes tightly at the way his heart leapt in his chest.
"Hey, hey." You appeared beside him, your cheeks chased away by coral red, the happy smile and the sparkle in your eyes as someone who have the path to true happiness. "Jessy said you were wanting to find a new way to invade that bank."
Oh perfect. In the same way his body exalted when he heard the sound of your name and your lips, hearing you call Jesper by that infernal nickname had a much more destabilizing effect. And fierce.
Kaz raised an eyebrow at you, in a nonchalant gesture but inviting you to keep talking.
“I happen to know of an underground path.” For an instant, the pride in your smile made Kaz want to smile too. “You and I can put together a map today and we'll be right tomorrow to go.”
That was one of the times Kaz should have made some dry, disinterested, trivial comment, something that made you not want to spend time with him, something that made you turn around and walk away. He should have turned around and left. He had done this over a thousand times with other people and knew it to be one of the best outings.
Still, the acid comment didn't come and he couldn't turn his back on you.
So, like the idiot he became whenever it came to you, Kaz couldn't help but spend an hour in your company. Even if it resulted in him lying in bed at the end of the day, alone and feeling the guilt gnawing at him more and more.
So, before he even knew it, Kaz was already in his office with you, listening to you chatter about things he knew he should have been paying attention to. But the way the crackling of the fire flames in the fireplace flashed across your face was a distraction of unimaginable proportions.
“Jessy and I…”
“You want to stop.” He found himself saying before he even realized it. “That nickname is already exasperating me.”
“Why? Jealousy?” You joked, oblivious to the truth.
Kaz looked at you like your comment was the most pathetic thing he'd ever heard. He wanted to screaming: ‘I’m not jealous! Its just...you’re mine!.’ But he didn't. Instead, the words that came out were:
“No. It's childish and immature, and it doesn't fit with...”
"What if I call you ‘Darling’?” You rested your chin on both palms of your hand, your elbows resting on his desk in his office.
Kaz's heart skipped a beat.
“That way you won't be jealous of Jessy's nickname and…”
“It's not jealousy!” He countered, and too late realized that he didn't disagree in the first instance about the nickname, but about the green color that emanated from his body.
And you didn't let that go either.
Your eyes took on a caustic gleam that you quickly hid, turning to the map on the table and going back to drawing the paths. “Okay, Darling.”
After that night, Kaz's self-control began to crumble.
He gave you death glares whenever you called him that nickname, but he never dared contradict or scold you. Much less deny it. The truth was, the core of his soul wanted this. He wanted every part of your caress warm as summer. He wanted to appreciate how perfect you looked when you called him that way. As if that nickname was born just to be used between you.
Something unique.
Over time, his body's physical reactions began to be stronger, coercive and overwhelming. Kaz felt dry, burning, and you soothed and inflamed him at the same time. You were the breath of peace, and also a glass of hot brandy.
And everything that he once felt dead, frozen or putrefying, slowly began to blossom, reborn and shine.
"Darling." You said, going behind the chair Kaz was sitting in, submerged in the Krisha security system sheets in front of he. “You've been there for hours.”
He ignored you, though his body was all too aware of yours behind him, the way your breath hit the top of his ear, how your heat hit his back like a high summer breeze. Kaz swallowed hard, ordering his eyes to stay on the pages.
“What are you reading?”
Your voice rang out from the top of his head, and Kaz felt his heart race into a cardiac arrhythmia the second your hands went to the back of the chair and your face tilted, chin hovering millimeters from his shoulder, your nose almost brushing his cheek.
Fucking Saints! You were hot! It was as if you had sun bathed, swam in the flames of fire, and been born into the summer.
Kaz lost his breath. His sanity. His soul.
“Do not do this.” His voice was no more than a whisper.
You looked at him, the furs not touching but breath hitting each other's cheeks. Kaz followed your gaze, and suddenly the world subtly turned hot. Pulsing and muffled.
“What?” You whispered, your heart so fast.
This was the time for Kaz to use the touche in a very valid argument. To make you move away as fast as you approached. To nip in the bud any path this interaction between you could take. He should have said about the touch. But he didn't remember. Kaz didn't remember his limitation, his traumas, his demons.
In that second, of insanity and magic, you couldn't do that just because…
"I feel like I cant breathe when I'm around you." He said.
After that day, Kaz realized that life no longer made sense without having you by his side to share it. Money didn't have the same value anymore if you weren't there, the robberies didn't make sense anymore if he couldn't tell you how it was at the end of the day, or have you by his side to fight.
Very quickly, Kaz Brekker realized that he had lost the battle against his own feelings. Loving you was inevitable. And having you close to him was made as essential as breathing. That's when things between the two of you developed faster, more solid, more right. The weeks turned to months, the months to years, and your relationship fortified as gloriously as the hilt of a sword.
Kaz still had very difficult moments with touching, days when a single brush of fur was unbearable and the mention of a kiss was impossible. But you stayed there. Firm and unshakable. Giving your summer smiles,your warm winks, and his nickname that had the power to soothe every nerve in Kaz's body.
However, the more Kaz understand that he was need you to he still live, the deeper he hid any trace of public affection for you. Any clue that could sparked the theory in someone that you were the reason, for Brekker, for the sun rose every morning. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you. Never.
Kaz Brekker became very aware that his soul was harnessed to yours. And there was nothing in the world that would take you away from he. Not while he lived, and even seven feet from land, Kaz would still find a way to fight for you.
It was a logical decision when he said you two should get married. Kaz was still trying to maintain his serene posture as his soul burned in a fire too eager and excited to make official anything that said you were his. That he had finally managed to have that ray of sunshine in the midst of the atrocious ocean. You, unlike him, exhaled your happiness in excited squeals, little jumps of joy and a passionate, quick kiss on the man in front of you.
And Kaz understood, as perfectly as the sky are blue, that he would do anything, for the rest of his life, to be worthy of that overwhelming happiness that sparkled in yours smiles.
“Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.” He said, feeling himself smile because your happiness for the wedding was exorbitant.
And you, like the little tease you were who loved to make him piss off, smiled even more and hugged him. He love you. Unconditionally.
But, just like the ocean waves, Kaz and you have had your ups and downs. He wasn't a man who had a lot of patience, and you weren't the most obedient, calm woman in the world. You found him exasperating and he found you as stubborn as a door.
"I already said you can't do that!" And there he was, once again, lecturing you because you showed too much affection, in his mind, for him in a public situation.
And, as Kaz fucking Brekker liked to point out, ‘all walls have eyes and ears’.
"We've been together for six years, Kaz!" You tried to keep your blood calm, but you weren't a person to put up with sermons. “Is this going to be our life? Living as if we have the same connection as a boss and an employee?!”
“And what do you want, Y/n?!” He placed both hands on his office desk, looking at you from the other side “Want us to have a party and tell everyone?! Or do you prefer to hang a red target on your chest?!”
"I did not say that!" You were starting to get really angry. “I'm not asking for a billboard saying we're married and you know it! The only thing I'm saying is that you let me choose to sit next to you, take your hand, or tell you I love you when any of us go off on a dangerous mission!"
Kaz shook his head, impassable, his gaze flashing with anger. How did you not realize he was trying to save you?! Save everything you two built, your lives! And all this for what? Walking hand in hand on the street? It was ridiculous!
“This is indisputable!”
“Kaz…”
“I said no!” He slapped his hands on the table.
A less brave woman would have cringed. But not you.
“I don’t like to pretend we’re not together!”
“And I don't like a fucking girl who complains all the fucking time about something I do to save her! But it feels like I've been put up with it for six years, doesn't it?!”
The words hit you like a slap. Crackling, burning and electrifying. You felt yourself holding your breath and your shoulders instinctively tightening back. The room was silent. Loaded with tension, as if lightning had just hit the ground.
You looked at Kaz in amazement. And he pursed his lips when he realized what he'd said.
“Put up with? And you call me ‘fucking girl’ ?” You repeated, your voice low, serious and in a mixture of hurt and outrage. “Good to know.”
You turned your back, walking out of the office and slamming the door behind you hard, making the thud reverberate through the corridors of Kaz's soul.
"Y/n!" He called you, striding to the door "Y/n!"
But when Kaz pulled the doorknob and took a few steps down the hall, it wasn't you he bumped into. It was Nina, trying to hide, in a very terrible way, her curious and shocked expression. In female hands she carried a small stack of documents, probably something important that Kaz needed to check.
He had to check that out. But his eyes, restless and quick, wandered the great hall of the crow club below, watching your figure pass between the bodies, advancing towards the exit.
"Sooo…" Nina started, even though the attention wasn't on her. "Couple fights, right?"
But Kaz didn't think before nodding, trying to get past Nina to catch up with you. But of course the girl wasn't going to let Brekker get away with it that quickly. She was betting with Inej how long you two would pretend to have nothing. And now she was going to get the truth!
"So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend?" The smile of shock and excitement was wide open on her face.
Kaz muttered a curse, gently pushing the girl aside and moving towards the stairs, aiming to catch up with you. But not before answering:
"No, that girl is my wife!"
1K notes · View notes
falcqns · 3 years
Text
Aurorra
Pairing: Dad!Henry Cavill x Single Mom!Reader
Summary: Henry meets his daughter for the first time.
Warnings: fluff, slight angst. Dad!Henry
A/N: I don't know why I'm a sucker for these types of stories but I am. Hope you enjoy!
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It's been two years and two days exactly since you and Henry had broken up.
It had been one year, one month, and two weeks exactly since you had given birth to his daughter, the daughter he had no idea existed.
It hadn't been a particularly nasty break up or anything, but both of you were hurting. You both wanted the relationship to work out, and when it didn't, you were both too heartbroken to even remain friends.
You had moved away from London not long after the breakup, deciding to live in Manchester, which was closer to your family. When you found out you were pregnant, you had tried to call him, but he had blocked your number. You had no way of contacting him other than through instagram, but he had unfollowed you and you knew your message would get lost in the thousands he received a day if you tried that.
You had no way of contacting his family either. You didn't know what to do. You had told your family, and they were insanely happy for you, even though you were going to be a single mother. When your mom had sat down and told you her and your father would do anything to help and support you through whatever decision you made, you knew the answer.
You were going to be a single mother.
When your daughter Aurorra Enola Cavill was born nine months later, you knew you made the right choice. Being a single mother may not have been what you were planning in life, but holding your blue eyed and brown curly haired baby in your arms for the first time, you knew it was what you were meant to do.
Aurorra had become your little bestie. She was such a well behaved baby. She rarely cried, slept through the night not long after she turned a week old, and was always full of smiles that were clearly from her father. There was never any doubt in your mind that she was Henry's, and every time you looked at her and saw her blue eyes, brown hair, and her cuddly chunky body, it only solidified that fact.
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Aurorra had just turned 13 months old, and your job transferred you back to London, so you and Aurorra had just made the big move back.
You had opted to move back to the same neighbourhood both because of the safety of it, and because you knew you'd have a good chance of running into Henry. You had thought about it for months on end, and knew he couldn't be kept in the dark any more.
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You had just finished unpacking the last box in the bedroom, when Aurorra woke up from her afternoon nap. You changed her and the two of you headed out to ASDA to get some groceries.
You pulled in the driveway and saw car that looked similar to Henry's BMW, but you didn't think anything of it. You parked and got a less than happy Aurorra out of her carseat and strapped her into the cart before heading on your shopping journey.
You had made it through the fruits and vegetables, and was heading to the freezer section to grab frozen fruit for the growing 13 month old, when you saw a familiar back in the same aisle.
It was Henry. There was no doubt about that. He was wearing a white knitted cardigan, with faded blue jeans, and running shoes. From the top of his cardigan you saw a dark blue t shirt poking out. His hair was slightly messy, but still curly. He was reading the nutrition information on the back of a frozen energy bowl, and you quietly opened the fridge, hoping to grab what you needed from this aisle and escape without him noticing you.
You had gone over seeing him again a million times in your head, and in no way did you plan on it being in the grocery store with other people around.
But, 13 month olds have a mind of their own. At that moment, Aurorra saw a popsicle package with the characters from her favourite show, Miraculous Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir, and proceeded to squeal and call your attention.
"Mama!" She squealed and pointed a chunky hand at the popsicles. "Bug!" You glanced up and Henry and watched as he did a double take back at you. His eye brow furrowed, but you ignored him, instead turning to your baby.
"Yes, that is Ladybug. Would you like them?" You asked, and she nodded eagerly. You smiled and grabbed them out of the freezer once you noticed they were organic. "Say thank you," You prompted, and she brought the same chunky hand up to her chin and then down flat towards you. It wasn't the most perfect sign, but she was still learning.
You saw Henry walk up to you and had to steel yourself for the coming conversation. "Y/N?" He asked, and you turned around to face him.
"Hi, Henry." You said, placing the popsicles in the cart with the rest of your groceries. He smiled at you, and then glanced at Aurorra. She smiled and cooed at him and he smiled back, and stroked her cheek. "Hows everything," you asked, trying to avoid the question you knew was about to come.
"Everything's good. Kal misses you. Still sleeps with the teddy you got him," He said, his eyes locked on your daughter. You smiled.
"Well, tell him I miss him too. Now, if you'll excuse me, we're running a little late. I have to get home and get her fed." You said, but before you could move the cart Henry asked you the question.
"I-is she mine?" He asked, and you nodded, trying to swallow the lump that had been forming in your throat, to no avail.
"Y-Yes." You stuttered, and seconds later, Henry's arms enveloped you. "I-Im sorry," You whimpered, and Henry shushed you.
"Its okay. Let's not talk about it here. How about I meet you at your place once were both done?" He suggested, and you agreed, before giving him your address.
"Okay. I'll see you there." he said, giving you another hug, and pressing a kiss to the top of Aurorra's hand that had curled around his pointer finger. He stroked her cheek once more, before giving you both a smile, and heading off. He grabbed his cart with groceries, and made his way towards the checkout.
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By the time you had finished shopping and made it home, Henry was parked in the driveway. You took a deep breath, and got out, giving him a smile. He returned it, and got out of his car before walking over to help you.
He grabbed the groceries, leaving you to grab Aurorra, who squealed at the sight of Henry. Henry chuckled, and blew her a kiss. He followed the two of you inside. You set Aurorra down, who stumbled on her own feet before stabilizing, her empty bottle in the right hand.
"Go put your baba in the kitchen please," You said, and she babbled to herself as she walked off, ignoring you and Henry.
"She's absolutely adorable," Henry said, and you smiled. "Well, she is your daughter," You said. Henry threw his head back and laughed before following you into the kitchen.
You set the bags down on the ground and turned to put away the ones Henry set on the counter. You two made small talk while putting away the groceries, mainly about work. You heard ruffling behind you but didn't think anything of it, as Aurorra usually liked to help put away the soup cans.
"Mama?" You heard a little voice ask and you turned around to face Aurorra. She was holding the box of popsicles out to you in one hand, while her other hand made a clockwise motion on her chest, signing please.
You smiled and took the box from her.
"After dinner, okay?" You said, and she didn't like that very much. She plopped on her butt and began to cry.
Her arms reached up to where the popsicles were and sobbed her little heart out. Henry's heart melted and scooped her up. "It's okay baby girl," He said, bouncing her. She sniffled, but calmed down and laid her head on his shoulder. He smiled in happiness, and pressed a kiss to her curly head.
He turned to you. "I just realized, I don't know her name," he said, and you smacked your head.
"Shit sorry, I completely forgot to mention that. Her names Aurorra Enola Cavill. I made sure she got your last name, and that you're on the birth certificate." You said, running your hands through her curly hair.
"Enola? Like Enola Holmes?" He asked, as Aurorra cuddled closer, her chunky arms wrapping around his neck. You nodded.
"Yeah. I couldn't think of a middle name for her, and I was watching Enola Holmes just before she was born. It was the scene where Sherlock and Mycroft see Enola on the train platform and you say her name. I knew then it was perfect." You said, and Henry smiled.
"It's a beautiful name," he said, wrapping his free arm around you. The three of you stood there for a few minutes, before Aurorra shook her hands at you, and tried to wiggle out of Henry's arms.
"Ah dun, Mama." She said. Henry pressed a kiss to her chunky cheek, and let her onto the floor. She scurried away seconds later, towards her bedroom.
"Is she okay wandering by herself?" He asked, watching her little body fall to her hands and knees, but get up and brush it off before continuing on her mission.
"Yeah she'll be fine. She's just going to play." You said, and Henry nodded before pulling you into his arms fully.
"I really am sorry I didn't tell you about her. I couldn't contact you or anyone in your family, and I didn't have the energy during my pregnancy or after to make the journey to London. I promise I didn't plan on hiding her forever." You said, and Henry squeezed you even tighter.
"It's okay. I know you'd never do something like that on purpose. You've done an amazing job raising her. I just wish I had witnessed it."
"You'll get to see her grow. You might have missed her start life, but I have everything recorded. Her first breath, her first steps, her first words, all of it. I know it's not the sam-" You said, but were cut off by his lips.
His hand travelled up to cup your face, before he pulled away. "Sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I just- You amaze me, you know that?" He said and you giggled.
"How so?" You questioned.
He rested his forehead on yours before continuing. "You thought to record everything. You made sure she has my last name and that I'm on the birth certificate. You didn't have to do that, but you did. I've missed you so much, and I didn't know just how much until I saw you in ASDA. I never should have left. I never should have blocked you." He said, a tear falling from his blue eyes. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that alone. Thats never what I wanted. But, I promise to be the best dad to her, whether we're together or not."
"I know you will be," You said, and pulled Henry in for another kiss.
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The groceries were put away a few minutes later and you told Henry to go and play with Aurorra while you cooked, which he happily did.
He walked down the hallway to her bedroom, and smiled lovingly when he saw his daughter sitting on the ground playing with blocks, a stuffed Akita just like Kal secure under her arm. She was babbling to a Mickey Mouse toy that sat in the corner of the room, and was stacking blocks.
Henry began to walk in the room when she stopped babbling let out a sneeze and a sigh. He grabbed a Kleenex from the change table and sat down next to her.
"Hey sweetheart, can I wipe your nose?" Henry asked, seeing the snot coming from her nose due to the sneeze. She looked up at him and giggled, which Henry took as a yes, and he wiped her nose quickly before disposing of it in the garbage can.
She began babbling again, and pushed the Akita stuffy into his hands. "Goggy," She said, and clapped, which made Henry smile.
"It is a doggy. I have a doggy like your stuffy, wanna see?" He asked, and she nodded and clapped.
Henry pulled out his phone and pulled up a picture of Kal. Aurorra stood up and clambered into his lap, which Henry welcomed. When she saw the picture of Kal, she started bouncing and clapping again.
"Goggy! Goggy wun!" She exclaimed when he showed her a video of him running.
"Thats right, he is running. He's really good at it too, believe me." Henry said and put his phone away. Aurorra stood up and reached out her arm for him, opening and closing her fist. Henry stood up, and let her take his big hand in her tiny one, and lead him out of the room, and towards the back door that led to the backyard, babbling the entire way.
"Hold on, honey, we gotta tell Mama we're going outside, okay?" He said and she nodded before running to the kitchen shouting Mama.
Henry watched as she stood in the doorway and babbled before pointing at the door. She held her hand in front of her face and moved it out, closing it into a fist.
"You're going outside?" You asked, and she nodded. Henry saw you bend down and whisper something into her ear with a smile on your face and Aurorra giggle but didn't think much of it, before his little girl was running towards him and squealing.
He scooped her up and carried her out the door. She pointed at the toy box in the corner of the yard and Henry carried her over. He sat her down and opened it, before letting her pick what she wanted to play with. She grabbed a bucket with shovels and molds before running over to the lady bug sandbox and patting the lid. Henry chuckled and pulled the lid off.
"You wanna play in the sand?" He asked, and she nodded before climbing in.
Henry sat down next to her, and a shovel was thrust into his hand seconds later. She had a bright yellow one in her own hand and was digging a hole. Henry followed suit and helped her dig the hole.
A few minutes later she handed Henry a elephant mold.
"Put, Dada." She said, and Henry's breath caught in his throat, the mold falling from his hand.
"Did you say Dada?" He asked her, tears clouding his vision, and he saw her smile and point at the house.
"Mama, say." she said, picking up the elephant mold again.
"Mama told you I'm your Dada?"
She nodded and shook the mold in his face, practically begging him to take it. Henry smiled and pulled her out of the sand box, into his arms.
"I am your Dada, and I promise you I will love you forever." He said, and kissed her cheeks. She giggled before pointing at the sand box and doing grabby hands. Henry chuckled but put her back where she was. He picked up the mold and began to fill it with sand before she got upset.
"I apologize for interrupting your playtime," He said. "Now, lets make some animals."
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Later that night, when Aurorra had been fed and put to bed, Henry pressed another kiss to your lips.
"She called me Dada when we were playing outside." He confessed and your eyes lit up.
"Really? I told her before she went out with you that you were her Dada, I wasn't expecting her to say it so soon!" You exclaimed. Henry chuckled, and pulled you into his lap.
"I'm so happy she did. Thank you for giving me her." He said, pressing his lips to yours before you could respond.
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mypoisonedvine · 3 years
Text
Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 9)
(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4) (chapter 5) (chapter 6) (chapter 7) (chapter 8)
series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.
word count: 3.8k
warnings: smut (semi-public fingering, specifically), angst... I think that's it
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After your impromptu motorcycle drive you stayed out all night; exploring the empty city, ducking into dive bars if they were still open, dancing in the streets to music only the two of you could hear.
The city was so eerily empty at night, nothing like a metropolitan complex like London. But it was less creepy and more peaceful, especially when you were walking with Sebastian hand-in-hand along the cobblestone path. He started to swing your hand as you walked and it made you laugh.
“Teach me more Romanian words, please,” you requested, looking at him and struggling to fight your smile. “Română?”
“Eu voi,” he nodded, looking around and pointing to the ground. “Stradă.”
“Stradă... we call it the street,” you answered. “Or road. Road?” you prompted.
“Road,” he repeated.
“Good! Your pronunciation isn’t too bad either,” you grinned.
“Copac,” he announced as he pointed to a tree.
“Copac,” you repeated. “In English, it’s tree.”
“Tree,” he smiled. “Engleza este o prostie.”
He suddenly pulled you into him and spun you around in a twirl, making you laugh. “Dans,” he said as he stepped his feet in time with yours. “A dansa.”
“Yeah, dancing,” you smiled. “I haven’t danced in years, you know, except for tonight.”
He surprised you with a sudden kiss that was unexpectedly chaste, just a press of his lips on yours that either lasted longer than it normally would or just slowed time for a moment. “Sărut,” he whispered when he pulled back.
”Sărut,” you repeated.
“Aș putea să te sărut ore în șir. Ai cele mai perfecte buze,” he breathed, running his thumb over your bottom lip which had gone slack just from listening to him talk.
Your fingers trailed down over the portion of his chest exposed by his unbuttoned collar. “I didn’t know I could feel this way about somebody,” you admitted aloud to yourself. “I wish I could stay…”
His hands lifted your face to look up at him. “Nu face asta. Nu te mai ascunde în gândurile tale. Fi cu mine.”
“Sărut?” you requested, making him grin.
“Da, iubirea mea,” he cooed as he leaned in and kissed you again, smiling into it.
You really hadn't even liked kissing all that much before you met him… you just hadn't seen the appeal beyond warming up to more exciting activities, but now? This was all the excitement you needed; you could kiss him for hours and never get bored.
That said, apparently Sebastian had exciting plans of his own, because you found yourself being backed up against a brick wall, his hands exploring your body— subtle at first, just rubbing your arms and gripping your waist, but then it got less ambiguous as you felt his fingers toying with the hem of your shirt, just barely grazing over your stomach.
His touch trailed higher, nearly reaching your breast but stopping just before: you didn't mean to whine impatiently, but you heard it muffled against his lips and felt him chuckle lightly, breaking the kiss and leaning in to whisper in your ear.
"Atât de nevoiași," he hummed, nibbling on your earlobe as your thighs clenched together much too strongly when he'd barely touched you.
You clutched at his shirt, watching as his hand moved down to the top of your pants, the tips of his fingers just barely breaching past the fabric and starting to slide down.
"Here?" you gasped, finally remembering you were in public though you hadn't seen another person out here since you left the bar.
His hand moved lower down and your stomach fluttered with the forbidden nature of it all, feeling like a rebellious high schooler fooling around behind the movie theater when you both had curfew in ten minutes. But then he found your clit right away and it was nothing like high school.
"Oh fuck," you whimpered, shuddering and pushing your hips up to silently beg for more. He rubbed circles over your bud and smiled against your neck, already making it a struggle for you to stay quiet.
“Un alt cuvânt pe care ar trebui să-l știi,” he whispered, the pitch of his voice making it clear he was saying something beautifully filthy, “este dracu. Vreau să te dracu.”
“Seba, please,” you sighed.
"Dar nu cred că o pot face aici," he added with a soft laugh.
Two fingers suddenly pushed into you and didn't seem to struggle with it at all since he already had you soaked, curling into a tender spot inside you right away.
“Yes,” you whined.
“Yes?” he repeated with a smirk.
“Yes,” you said it again, “fuck yes.”
“Fuck,” he laughed, the word that was so familiar to you almost sounding foreign when he said it. “Spui asta mult. Cred că asta înseamnă că vei veni.”
“Your fingers feel so good,” you moaned, barely enough air in your lungs to get the words out. "Please… please don't stop…"
He kissed you again, open-mouthed and desperate as you both breathed heavily, his tongue sliding against yours as if to taste your moans. Hoping to stay upright now that your knees felt a little wobbly, you slipped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. That, in turn, led to you feeling the hard outline of his cock pressing against your thigh and you nearly melted right there, wishing you could feel him inside you now but figuring it probably wasn't worth the risk of being arrested for indecent exposure.
By now he knew you like the back of his hand, it seemed, because you were already throttling full speed ahead toward the edge, shocks of heat jumping up your spine each time he curled his fingers inside you.
"I— I'm gonna—" you stammered through your warning. He nodded, moving his fingers faster as you bit your lip a little too hard.
Just when you thought you couldn't help but cry out he kissed you one more time, rough and hungry, and muffled the sounds of you reaching your peak literally by his hand.
Everything that had twisted and snapped all at once began to soothe as you sighed and pushed his hand away slowly, feeling your walls spasm one more time when he slipped his fingers out and slid them right over your clit.
He pulled his hand out of your pants and brought his fingers to your lips; you dutifully cleaned them off for him, watching his lips twitch into a brief snarl when you took his fingers down your throat.
"Vom termina asta mai târziu," he promised darkly as he pulled you off of the wall and spun you around, and you wanted to return the favor but he stopped your hand from sliding up his thigh. "Mai târziu," he insisted, instead guiding you around the block and back to where his bike was parked.
Hopping on the back again as he started it up, you relished the change to cling onto his back tightly. He drove you through the empty streets, over sprawling hills and through stone archways, but just as you noticed this wasn’t the way to get back to the farmhouse, he slowed down and turned into a place to park.
“Why are you pulling over?” you asked, furrowing your brow as he parked the bike and motioned for you to get off with him. “Where are we going?”
“Ai incredere in mine,” he smiled as he took your helmet off for you and kissed you again, quickly, taking your hand and guiding you down a secluded path. You followed him down a few strange alleys, under clotheslines and sconces that started to dim with the oncoming morning light. Finally, he navigated you around a turn, through a tight gap, and out of nowhere you were on an overlook; one that gave you the perfect view of the sun beginning to rise over the city. “Wow,” you whispered, watching enraptured as soft yellow light overtook everything, the village and the woods in the distance beginning to come to life.
“Vremuri de genul ăsta mă fac să-mi fie dor de casă,” he sighed, before looking at you again from where he leaned on his elbows over the stone railing. “Îți faci mai ușor. Nu mai sunt singur.”
“This place is so beautiful, I’ve never lived anywhere like this before,” you admitted. “Maybe it’s just that it’s different that makes me like it so much… I guess I could say the same about you.”
Your eyes met his again, and the way he looked at you… it was like he saw right through you. Honestly, it was a bit terrifying. You'd never been so vulnerable to someone. You liked it more than you expected.
But it still scared you.
"Haide, hai să mergem acasă," he smiled as he stood upright again and took your hand.
"Let's get back to the house," you decided, but he was already leading you back to the bike where you rode through the countryside one more time, doing your best to memorize it all while you still had the chance.
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You found tears in your eyes, though you didn’t remember crying, as you typed the final page of your manuscript.
It was a first draft, nothing close to a completed novel, but you were on your way to jumpstarting your career again. The only problem? You couldn’t have a career here. You couldn’t be published while living here, you couldn’t even edit this thing properly without a computer and you didn’t even have one here.
You needed to go home.
It killed you to realize that this was not a sustainable system: you living here— Hungary or Mrs. Alberti’s lakehouse— and falling in love with a near-stranger.
Sure, it was good for what it needed to be; he reminded you what it was like to be cherished and cared for, maybe you helped him break some dry spell (although you couldn’t imagine that this guy was anything but drowning in pussy all the time, but whatever). Regardless, it couldn’t last. It wasn’t meant to be anything other than… whatever it was meant to be.
You flipped through the pages of what you’d written already, admiring the journey that you saw on the paper— not just that of the characters, but your own as well. You could feel the weakness in your own voice in that first chapter, as if your hurt was right there painted on the page with the ink-pressed letters. You could remember shakily typing these words, hoping they would distract you from the fears and memories that plagued your mind.
A few chapters in, you could see the hope and optimism that built with the action of the story. You could feel your own love mirrored in the way you wrote your story, it was painfully powerful.
It brought a sense of closure, in a way; it gave you a chance to appreciate everything you’d learned from this, even if you knew you couldn’t take it with you into the next chapter. But this love didn’t feel like a subplot, it didn’t feel like a stepping stone onto the next adventure— it felt like what you’d been looking for your whole life. Maybe that’s just how it feels to be in the ‘honeymoon phase’ or whatever it’s called; maybe it’ll fade soon, with time and distance.
That was what you silently prayed for as you packed everything, folded your clothes, checked the nightstand drawers for those random trinkets they seemed to accrue. Funny how packing to leave this place took you longer than it did to throw your stuff together when you left Michael, and you’d been living there for years.
Then again, you'd known Michael so much longer than you'd known Sebastian, and yet it was Seba that meant so much to you now.
You weren’t sure what would be more difficult: leaving him, or knowing that you could never hope to explain everything in a way he would understand. You considered writing a letter and hoping that he would come upon a Romanian to English dictionary— but with everything you wanted to say, that would take him hours. After all that, would he find your words worth it? Or would he see it all as one last chore from a peculiar fling?
You were pretty sure he didn’t see it as a fling. But maybe he would understand that it was best left as a very unique rebound.
You left your room just to go get some coffee (or maybe something a little stronger, if it was available) and jumped when you saw Sebastian in the hall, causing you to quickly close the door behind you. “I didn’t expect to see you upstairs,” you greeted.
“Obținerea cearșafurilor curate,” he explained as he opened the door to the linen closet and pulled out some bedsheets.
“Oh, yeah, those could probably use a change,” you mumbled as you realized he may not have washed them since the last time you stayed in his bed.
“Vrei și tu câteva?” he asked, pointing towards your door and holding up the sheets.
“Oh, uh, I don’t need any more sheets,” you shook your head, “but thank you…”
His face curled into a mischievous grin. “Poate că trebuie să murdărim acele foi,” he purred as he set the linens down and stepped closer to you, wrapping you in his arms.
“Seba,” you mumbled, but he must not have heard the hesitance in your voice as he leaned in and kissed your neck, making you sigh a little. He hummed contentedly and lightly bit your ear, and you were almost ready to just let him do it and procrastinate this conversation a little longer, but you had to sigh and push him back.
“Esti bine?” he asked, voice heavy with concern, as he straightened up and examined your face.
“Sebastian…” you started with a sigh, the words you’d been anxiously mulling over all night suddenly abandoning you. “What happened between us meant so much to me,” you continued slowly, “but the fact of the matter is, my first marriage isn’t even over yet. I mean, it’s over, but… I’m not really in a place where I can… start a new relationship…”
He looked back at you, that same blankness of incomprehension you were so used to painting his expression, and yet it was somber; he seemed to sense the tone, even if he was losing out on the specific ideas.
“It’s not fair to either of us, really,” you sighed. “I’m still mourning my marriage— and you were a really important part of that for me. So, thank you.”
You realized you needed to express your gratitude more thoroughly. Thinking quickly, you reached for his hand and opened it, placing his palm to your chest. He looked at you, a little confused.
“Thank you,” you repeated, looking him right in the eye.
He nodded slightly.
“Someday, somebody is gonna love you the way you need— the way you deserve,” you told him, stopping briefly to bite your lip in hopes it would stop quivering. “God, I wish it could be me. But it can’t.”
He held your face and kissed you, and much to your dismay it didn’t feel like a goodbye kiss. It didn’t feel like he knew this was the end. “Nu plânge,” he whispered. “Te iubesc.”
He kissed you again and you let yourself get lost in it like a complete fucking idiot, melting into his arms as he opened your bedroom door and pulled you inside with him. For a moment, it was like any other time, like any other perfect kiss with him, but then he pulled back and looked around and you had to watch his eyes as he realized. You had to watch his face as his smile fell away and his hope turned to despondence.
The whole room was packed. Heavy trunks on the bed, the sheets already stripped so Mrs. Alberti could wash them. Everything that made it feel like your room was gone, and it was just a guest room again, feeling bigger and emptier than ever.
All that was left was the typewriter on the table, because you still couldn't lift it.
“O să pleci,” he gasped, stepping back and releasing you from his embrace. “Chiar mă părăsești.”
You knew that look he was wearing on his face; beyond heartbreak— betrayal. You were all too familiar with it. “I’m so sorry,” you whimpered, “I would stay if I could, but I can’t, can I?”
A car horn honked outside, making you wince.
“That’s my ride,” you mumbled. “I have to go…”
You started to reach for your trunks and for a moment you thought that was really it. “Nu te duce,” he interjected suddenly, grabbing at your wrist and turning you to face him.
“I’m sorry— I have to leave—” you rushed, trying to grab your bags again.
“Nu te duce,” he repeated again desperately, pulling you close, cradling your face in his hands.
“Don’t make this any harder than it already is,” you pleaded as your eyes began to water.
“Stay,” he begged, and you didn’t know that he knew that word. A tear fell; you wished he didn’t.
“I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “I can’t.”
You stood up on your tiptoes to try to kiss him one last time, but he grimaced and pushed you away.
“Să trăieşti,” he said quickly, bitterly, as he stormed out of the room.
“Sebastian, wait—!”
But he was already running down the stairs; you heard the sound of the back door slamming a moment after he was out of sight, and another honk of the horn outside reminded you that you didn’t have time to chase after him. This wasn’t how you wanted it to end— really, you didn’t want it to end at all, and maybe if it had to (which it did) then this was as good a way as any. But you hated to leave like this when the last thing you wanted was to hurt him.
Defiantly wiping the tears from your face, you lifted the first of your trunks and made your way down the stairs, bringing them to the front door where the driver of the cab was waiting to carry them the rest of the way for you.
“Could you go upstairs and get my typewriter for me?” you asked him. “I can’t carry it well myself.”
He nodded and did as he was told, another small but painful reminder of your first day here. Mrs. Alberti came around the bend wearing a knitted shawl and a bittersweet smile.
“I hope you didn’t plan to go without saying goodbye,” she teased you.
“Of course not,” you smiled, “goodbye Mrs. Alberti.”
“I didn’t mean to me, dear,” she explained, making your heart twist.
“I don’t think he wants to hear it from me,” you admitted awkwardly. “I don’t think he can, literally.”
She just sighed and looked away, just as the driver loaded the last of your things into the trunk.
“So, this is it then,” you shrugged as you turned to face her.
“I doubt that,” she smiled. “It’s not a goodbye, sweetheart, just a ‘see you later.’”
“Sure,” you agreed, knowing she was wrong. You couldn’t come back here; you couldn’t leave him twice.
The driver shut the trunk and got back into the driver’s seat, leaving you to stare up at the house and take one last moment to soak it all in.
“You be sure to call me when your book is a big hit!” Mrs. Alberti instructed with a grin.
You were too choked up to say anything back, so you just waved and nodded as you got in the car and took a deep breath. “To the train station, please,” you mumbled to the driver, covering your eyes with your hand as you felt the car reverse and turn onto the road. You couldn't open them, or you’d look back, and you couldn’t look back.
Since your eyes were closed, you had no way to know that Sebastian chased after the car for nearly a block, giving up at the turn of the road, falling into the gravel and laying there for a while, repeating that one English word he couldn’t get out of his head: stay.
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Note
Hi! I saw prompt #196 and damn, I couldn't stop thinking about Andy 🥴
I hope this isn't too out there hahaha.
Work It Out
Warnings: implied noncon, cheating, two faced Andy
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You hate everything. It feels like no matter what you do, you can't win. You're starving, you're sore, and exhausted. And the scale hasn't ticked a single number down. You were trying everything those fad diets and fitness guides told you. You just couldn't seem to shed the extra pounds.
Your days at the gym grew no less uncomfortable as you look around and see enviable bodies, younger, older, all of the above. Every body that wasn't yours.
You turn up the belt until you're jogging, almost too fast until you're sure you'll fall on your face. You try to meter your pants and keep from hanging your mouth open, instead puffing through your nose. 
You wipe your forehead and feel a trickle of sweat on your lip as you brace the metal handbars and keep your feet moving. You bat away droplets with your lashes and flick away that on your lip with your tongue. You shakily pull on your shirt to air out the dampness and nearly stumble.
“Did you just look me up and down and bite your lip?" The deep voice startles you and you clasp tightly to the machines as your soles crash down clumsily, "Cause if you did, we’re having sex right now.”
You saw the man every day as you went to the same treadmill. You would guess he's 40, maybe older, and in peak shape for one half his age. He leans an elbow on your machine as you gape at him and stammer at how he arches a brow. Your grip slips and you go hurtling back as you fall to your knees and fly off the back of the machine.
"Oh shit," you hear him as you catch yourself on your hands and gasp for air, muscles shaking, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to break your concentration."
You hear a beep and the belt stills before he nears you. He kneels down and touches your shoulder as you lift your head.
"I think… um, I misread the situation, I thought you were looking at me," he chuckles nervously, "are you okay?"
"I'm fine," you sit back on your heels and rub your hip, "just mortified."
"I really didn't…" he pauses and drops his hand from your shoulder, "wow, I should be embarrassed. These last two weeks I thought… well I thought you were looking at me and, geez, that guy on the lift machine must have thought I was winking at him."
"I don't know--" you touch your chest as you catch your breath, "what?"
"Can't blame a guy for trying," he shrugs and stands up, offering his hand, "get a bit carried away watching you… that sounds weird, I'm sorry."
You take his hand and let him pull you up. You nod and smile awkwardly. "I'm flattered," you say thinly, "but… what would your wife think?"
You let go of his hand and look pointedly at his ring. He gives a tight-lipped smile and sucks his teeth, "separated… I just, uh, feel naked without it."
"Oh, sorry," you cringe, "that sounds, uh, complicated."
"Not really, just had to go to a new gym so I didn't see her with the other man," he scoffs, "that's too much information, huh?"
"You know, you just watched me land on my ass, I wouldn't worry about it," you wave him off, "but uh…" you try not to let your eyes drift but they do. He's fit and fine and you can't imagine any woman cheating on him but that ring was a problem, "look, I do mean it, it's flattering but I'd rather wait until you can take the ring off. It's… not something I wanna step in, you know?"
"Makes sense," his smile fell, "so…" he wiggles the ring off and tucks it into his pocket.
"Um," you look around but no one else seems to notice you or the man.
"Oh uh that was just an awful line," he shakes his head, "we can start with drinks."
You squint at him and bite your lip. His eyes follow and you make yourself stop.
"That's so hot," he says, "you sure you weren't looking at me?"
"You sure you were looking at me?" You counter, "uh, a drink sounds… fine but I might stick to water, as you saw I'm not great on my feet."
"Sure, I gotta finish my cool down but do you know The Frog?"
"Yeah, just down the block," you fill in.
"I'll be there at…" he checks his apple watch, "seven? Can I expect you?"
"Mhmmm," you nod nervously, half disbelieving and half humiliated.
"Andy," he offers his name and his hand. You shake it and give your own. 
He winks and you try to hold a smile. You watch him go back to the weight bench before you retrieve your water bottle and retreat. You could hit the shower before the bsr and at least save a little face.
💪
You walk into the bar before you can lose your nerve. You look around in the dim light, certain this is a cruel trick. That man could not be interested in you. Even if he was halfway a divorce, it was too good to be true. You won't be surprised if you're stood up.
"Hey," you see the wave of the hand and hear the half shout. 
You let out your breath and cross to the tall table in the corner. You smile and climb up on the stool across from Andy. He returns the gesture and looks over as a server approaches.
"Are we finally ready?" She asks sweetly.
"Stella," he orders and nods at you. You order a diet coke and the server smiles at Andy before she walks away. 
"I hope you weren't waiting long," you say. 
"Nope," he says coolly, "you know, one drink couldn't hurt. It might ease the sting a little from earlier too."
"Hmm," you grin sheepishly, "there's not enough gin in the world for that."
"Oh, a gin girl, I'll keep that in mind," he smirks, "so how was the rest of your work out?"
"A work out," you scoff, "I thought exercise was supposed to be relaxing."
"Certain kinds are more effective," he lifts a brow and you roll your eyes at the flirty remark.
"Wow, you're such a cheeseball," you giggle.
"I'll take it," he says, "I usually get meatball, all brawn no brain."
"That's yet to be determined," you jibe and sit back as the server returns with your drinks and you thank her. 
"No pressure," he says dryly, "none at all."
You laugh again. This Is easier than you expect. You've never been the smoothest and he was probably the best looking guy you ever talked to. No guy with his eyes and his jawline saw you past the skinny blondes and stunning insta models.
You lose track of time and finish your drink. You excuse yourself to the bathroom and only then realise how Andy's progressively shifted his stool around so he's right beside you. You need to take a breath. 
You feel lighter when you come out from the bathroom and pass another woman on her way in. You slow as you get to the bar as you find Andy with his phone to his ear. You near quietly, hoping not to disturb his call.
"No, I'm still at the office," he says, "yeah… no I forgot to grab the dry cleaning, Laurie. Tomorrow, okay? Right, bye, hon."
He hangs up and you realise he's lying to the woman on the phone and you. You brush by his seat and grab your purse from the back of the chair where you slung it.  He flinches as you pull out your wallet.
"So Laurie, that your wife?" You pick through your bills, "doesn't sound like you're separated."
"Woah, come on, let me explain," he tries to push your wallet away and you toss a five on the table, the tip would be as much as the drink itself.
"Explain what?" You rolls your eyes and scowl, "I'm so stupid."
You storm away and hear him shuffle before his stool wobbles and his steps follow you out into the night. He catches your arm and pulls you back before you can hail a cab.
"Look, I…" he drops his head, "we may as well be separated okay? She hasn't touched me in over a year, I sleep on the couch in my office… all we do is fight."
"So? Either get counselling or cut ties, but I'm not fucking with a married man--"
"I… I'm waiting until my son goes to college," he says desperately as you shrug him off.
"And in the meantime what? You pick up fat girls at the gym to fill the void--"
"You're the only girl--"
"Besides your wife," you spit, "wow, I feel special."
You turn and try to raise your hand. It's caught in mid air and you're pulled back by the back of your shirt. You look around but you're too far down for the bouncer to see you and there's no one else passing by. 
Andy's thick arm snakes around your neck and his bicep pushes your chin up. He drags you around the corner and forces you toward an SUV. You bring your feet up and hit the side with your soles.
"The fuck?"
"Please, don't act like I'm not doing you a favour, honey," he gropes your ass as you struggle with him.
"Get off," you grunt as his hand slips over your hip and he turns you as he rips the door open. 
"Shhh," he pushes you up into the back seat and you slip down on the floor.
You push yourself up and huff on your stomach. You reach to the other door as he climbs in behind you and the doors click as you grab the handle. He straddles your ass as his hand covers your mouth and he bends over you. 
He presses his cheek to your temple and hushes you again. You see the shadows of pedestrians and their voices as they pass just outside. You murmur into his palm and claw at the door helplessly. Their steps fade into the distance as Andy grinds his crotch against your ass.
"Honey," he growls through his teeth, "I know you were looking at me…"
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