mhedlunds

[mhedlunds]

Having small talk with a stranger over a glass of wine and a tray of hors d'oeuvres was not his definition of a party. Sure, the incorporation of masks provided a fun twist, but once the novelty of it wore off, it made the ball more tedious than it previously was since there were no human faces to observe, no expressions upon which thoughts could be inferred from. In his boredom, his eyes scoured the room for someone who seemed bored enough to play along with him. He caught them by the bar -- all alone. He slid on the stool beside them, and as an accolade to the mystery of the event, he decided to ditch his English accent for one that was flawlessly American. “You seem bored. Wanna play a good ol’ game of Truth or Dare with a masked stranger?”

[mhedlunds]

Bill Skarsgård in Hemlock Grove (2013)

[mhedlunds]

SANIA OF INDIA. 

“Yeah, go wild,” the words escaped her mouth but she corrected herself immediately. Filtering her words was one of the things she needed to work on, especially since they were strictly required to speak to agents with utmost respect. “I-I mean yes. Yes, go ahead.” Sania was sure she was alright with him touching her. But the moment she felt his hand on her stomach, her heart started thrashing, and when his other hand landed on her bum, she felt as though she might just collapse again. It wasn’t that she found Agent Saint completely breathtaking (most especially when he wasn’t wearing his uniform and just lounging by the beach). No, that wasn’t it. It was because she wasn’t used to people having their hands on her, or so Sania forced herself to believe. She couldn’t think about anything else but how warm his hands were that she barely put any effort into doing the actual push up. Not that she needed to, really. Even bracing her abs proved difficult when all her stomach did was flutter every damn time a whisper escaped the agent’s mouth. It was only when he mentioned how she wasn’t breathing that Sania realized how long she’d been holding her breath, and how warm her face felt. Was she blushing? Was she actually flustered at a time like this? She desperately prayed that Saint wouldn’t notice. Suddenly self conscious, a nervous chuckle fell past her lips as she tried to find words to say. “Can’t it always be this easy?” But then her mind reeled of the implications of what she said. And all of a sudden, a stream of words that seemed endless came rushing out of her mouth. “Not that I mean I’d want your hands to always be there. I just- I just meant that I wished training was less painful and stressful. I didn’t mean- I didn’t mean anything else by it. Alright? Sir? Mister Agent Sir?”

It would have been impossible for Marcus to have an inkling of what was running on her mind had Sania not decided to open her mouth. From where he was knelt, she couldn’t see her face, but even if he did, he wouldn’t read deeply into her reddened cheeks since it was normal to get a flushed face while working out. She was a virgin, and she was highly uncomfortable with the male touch. And since she wasn’t giving off any indication of disgust, he thought maybe she had a bit of a crush on him. She seemed the type whose affections would blossom under a bit of kindness. She was definitely no closed book, so it wouldn’t take a genius to figure that out. Still, naturally impish was he that he wanted to test his theory. If that really were the case, he thought he could use her feelings to her own advantage; to manipulate -- no, gingerly nudge her into training well. It wasn’t the first time he resorted to such a method, and the results were usually outstanding. "Of course you didn’t.” Despite his general nonchalance, he purposely let a hint of teasing peak through his tone. He couldn’t help the corners of his lips from tugging up into a cheeky smirk. “Sania, love, I’m gonna take my hands off you now, alright? Maintain your form.” His voice was still uncharacteristically warm, gentle. He withdrew his hands from her body, then scooted away a little. “Three good push-ups, and I’ll let you go. You needn’t see me until tomorrow.” 

[mhedlunds]

@saniakhans

Lady Bird (2017) Directed by Greta Gerwig

[mhedlunds]

NORA OF IRELAND. 

Movements stopped immediately as a voice cut through the quiet, for a split second her posture had stiffened before her attention was snapped to the source. It wasn’t as if there was any danger on the Island, that was the whole point of this place after all, but he was definitely close to it in a way of his own. As her eyes came to focus upon his familiar features her weight shifted between two feet and just as her lips parted, she managed to catch herself before his name found its way from between her lips. Instead switching to the title he was known as. “Agent Saint—” It felt odd not calling him Marcus but it was easier to try and attempt at keeping any sort of distance. “How long have you been out here lurking in the dark? Someone might get the wrong idea.” Her head tilted slightly, a small pause coming before she spoke once more, “—and as much as I’d hate for your hard work with the nurse to go to waste, what you’re suggesting is against the rules.”

The most impish of smiles found its home on his lips when she rejected his name for his alias. Clearly, she was trying to distance herself from him ( how cute ), but he was confident she was a only a few words away from willingly falling into his trap. When she asked him how long he’d been lurking in the shadows, he languidly raised his arm to check his watch. “Around thirty minutes, with no one giving me a single glance.” As he looked down on her, his eyes were electric, a tad dangerous, inviting. It was already eight o’clock. “Come on, Nora, it’s just vodka. I’m not asking you to help me set fire to the camp.” The crickets were raucous in the background. The smell of sea salt was heavy in the air. “I missed you.” He really did. He couldn’t get enough of Nora -- her knowing eyes, her soft lips, her straitlaced tendencies, her quick wit. For years, they managed a vicious cycle that was toxic, vicious, addictive. “I found a nice cave facing the sea. We could set up a fire, lay down a mat, spend the night.” Gently tugging at the hem of her shirt, she pulled her closer towards him, but only slightly so. “I know how sore you must be from training.” He snaked a warm hand on her hip. "And you know how good I am at giving massages.” His smile was purposely devilish. “I promise I’ll have you back before the 3 am reveille.”

[mhedlunds]

@noraocallaghan​

It had always easy for Marcus to slink into the night -- for his job, the ability determined death or life. He had his back leaned against the side of the female barracks, long arms and legs languidly crossed, when his deep voice broke into the night’s silence as Nora was about to turn the corner. He had been waiting for her to emerge from the showers for the past twenty minutes, or so. “Wanna sneak out and catch up by the beach? I may or may not have charmed a nurse into smuggling in a bottle of vodka for me.”

[mhedlunds]

@gracedgrimaldi​

When he saw her on the training field,  brown hair illuminated gold by bright sunlight, Marcus nearly dropped the crate of pistols he was holding. Camilla -- a close friend, near-fling he had to leave the moment his duty called him back to England. “No fucking way,” he muttered to himself, as his feet unconsciously made a beeline -- dodging runners, joggers, walkers, as he brought himself closer to her. During their short time in Monaco, he never told her about his real occupation, and apparently, neither did she. He didn’t know how he would feel if he were to find out she was destined to run a country.

[mhedlunds]

SANIA OF INDIA.

“What am I, if not overly dramatic,” she muttered under her breath as she got up lazily and set her gaze onto the frustrated agent in front of her. Agent Saint seemed to be doing the push ups so effortlessly and Sania couldn’t help but marvel at how easy he made it seem. Clench your ass and brace your abs. The statement made her snort and giggle. Though the atmosphere in the place wasn’t one to encourage sprightliness and laughter, Sania couldn’t help but be her natural self. “Clench my ass. That’s funny.” She was still smiling when she assumed an even more awkward push up posture, her back arched downwards and her butt slightly raised. And then she was pushing her self down and up, grunting and looking every bit in pain as sweat ran down the side of her face. She was barely on her 6th when she said, “Mister Agent Sir.. Don’t be mad or anything.. But I think I’ll snap my whole self in half if we keep doing this.”

“It isn’t funny anymore, is it?” If he were with some other trainee, he would have doubled their load, but there was a preciousness to her, a child-like quality, that strangely brought out a certain softness to him. She was one of those rarities not even the devil would want to suffer. “Alright, give me three proper push-ups -- just three, and I’ll have your training schedule clear up for the rest of the day.” His voice was gentler now. As much as he wanted to push her to near perfection, he also didn’t want to see her collapsing -- especially not on her first day. Marcus was sure his superiors would grant him the request, given how unfit Sania seemed. He also was confident he’d have her medical records to back him. “Permission to correct your form through physical contact?” When she granted it, he got down on his knees without ceremony. One hand went underneath her abdomen to straighten her back, while the other went atop her glutes to level them down. Marcus was no stranger to the female body, so the physical contact wasn’t that big of a deal for him. It also helped that she had the frame of a prepubescent girl’s. “Now, unlock your elbows.” The large hand supporting her stomach carried the brunt of her weight up and down, so she was basically doing push-ups sans the effort. “Brace your abs,” he would whisper from time to time. “Contract your ass. Why aren’t you breathing? Breathe.” 

[mhedlunds]

AGENT EOS. 

Gabbi couldn’t help herself. “’And you’re basing that assumption on whom? Disney princesses?’” she repeated in a mocking tone, then almost immediately regretted it. “Uh,” she cleared her throat. “Please, you don’t know that. You sound like someone who got their heart broken by the princess of England or something. Don’t be a hater,” she suggested, reaching out to poke his arm with her finger. She crossed her arms and squinted as she thought about her answer to his question. “No, they just made me cry sometimes. But I can’t just make my trainees cry. That sounds like something you would do.”

Marcus had an eyebrow raised as she did an impression of him. “What freak alien accent was that?” He feigned offense, but a warm grin quickly peeked through. “And you sound like one of those girls who dream to marry into the royal family. Crushing on a royal already?” His movements were languid as he went on to flop on the couch by her side. “Only when they’re being wimps.” Marcus was infamous for inflicting hell towards his trainees just push them to near perfection, so he wasn’t going to tell her he went surprisingly easy on the Princess of India mainly because he found her a tad cute.

[mhedlunds]

SANIA OF INDIA. 

“Okay, I give up!” Sania, all aching muscles and unsteady breaths, practically collapsed on the floor after literally one round of push ups. “Let them take me! I don’t think I can take more of whatever that is.” She’s never been one to do sports even as a young child, and training to be a spy is an even more ghastly nightmare. “This will kill me even before those extremists can!”

When Marcus underwent probation for a mission-gone-wrong, he was sent back to Fort Monckton to train cadets for a year. As expected, his trainees were already physically adept before entering the program. This was why, when he first started training Sania, he felt as if he were watching a peculiar creature in a zoo. Clumsy, maladroit, easy-to-run-out-of-breath Sania. She truly was a piece of work. "Quit being overly-dramatic.” Marcus was definitely amused, but he was able to seamlessly masked it with frustration. “It’s hard the first time, but it’s only because your muscles aren’t used to the effort.” He got down assumed a push up position beside her. “Come on, sit up, watch my form. Notice how my arms and legs are positioned? Make your body as straight as possible. If you find that hard to do, clench your ass and brace your abs. Then go down.” He made thrice the number of push-ups she did look as easy and as natural as breathing. “Now, you do it.” When he stood up, it was clear he didn't break a sweat. "Give me another round. Remember to clench your ass and tighten your abs.”

[mhedlunds]

AGENT EOS.

“This is truly the most stressed I’ve been in my entire life.” Gabbi mumbled to herself, tucking a chunk of blonde hair behind her right ear. “So, I was trying to train this dude, right? Y’know, teaching him some self-defense or whatever - and then he just, like, gave up, tousled my hair like we’re best friends, and walked away. I know people who are built like trees are annoying like that but shouldn’t royals be like… nice?” She didn’t really know who it was that she decided to share her story with (or anyone, really), but at that moment she knew she needed to rant or she’d explode.

Marcus had just entered the trainers’ lounge when he caught ear of Gabbi’s rant. Skin flushed and nerves electrified from a recent spar, the MI6 agent headed straight to a water dispenser, which was conveniently stationed just beside her. “And you’re basing that assumption on whom? Disney princesses?” He was preoccupied with filling his water bottle, so he wasn’t looking at her as he talked. But by observing the curve of his lips alone, it would be clear her ordeal amused him. “Most of them are spoiled brats who were told they’re better than us the second they were born. If you want their respect, show them who’s really in charge here. Did your superiors let you treat them like shit when you were just a trainee?”

[mhedlunds]

starter call for marcus!

[mhedlunds]

Flaunt Magazine | Bill Skarsgård

[mhedlunds]

AGENT ORION. 

Jasper hadn’t been on the island long, probably as long as everyone else but he thought it best to take to the bar before he could only do it on the weekends. He loved his job and was honored they asked him to be here but now being here he wished he had been assigned to finding the bad guys and not being jailed to an island. He looked over and laughed, shaking his head at his fellow MI6 agent. “Negative,” he replied, laughing shaking his head. “Better not be Mai’s either.”

"Mal?” Marcus furrowed his brows as he tried to connect the name with a face. “Oh, your Scottish girlfriend.” He had never seen the princess in person, but he could vaguely recall catching her on CNN once. When he learned his colleague was dating her, Marcus, like any sane person, thought it was a pile of bollocks. “If I had a shot for every time you’ve mentioned her name, I’d have died of alcohol poisoning by now.” Marcus basically saw Jasper as a brother, having already shared a handful of near-death experiences with him on the field. This was why he was so comfortable with teasing him so bluntly. “Why aren’t the both of you fooling around in a cove somewhere? Haven’t her seen yet?”

[mhedlunds]

SANIA OF INDIA. 

Sania was more than excited when she arrived on the shores of the Isle of Kings. She didn’t even bother checking out her own villa and immediately proceeded to exploring the expanse of the island. The sea glinted in the afternoon sun and the sand was warm and gritty in her feet. Her heart was soaring. Back in India, she had to go through a lot of pains just to get a few minutes of freedom. Now, it was being handed to her on a silver platter. Eyes fixated on the beauty of the ocean, she hardly noticed the person stretched out on the shore, and a shriek escaped her throat when she tripped over a pair of legs. She fell face first onto the sand, the grit tasting salty in her mouth. “I’m fine!” She practically yelled as she tried to stand, “I’m alright! Happens all the time!”  

It had been years since Marcus had a proper vacation. Sure, he got to travel the world on a regular basis because of his job, but while tourists were out in a foreign country to sight-see, he was there to track targets, and if need be, put them down. He was preoccupied with pulling the cork off a bottle of wine when he felt a weight press down on the side of his right calf. When his eyes eyes flicked up, he was surprised to see a girl in projectile motion, plunging down. It was such a dramatic sight he could have sworn he saw it in slow-mo. Marcus was already on his feet as she was trying to stand. He helped her up. Contrary to his codename, he was definitely no saint, but you didn’t need to be one to be a gentleman. “So tripping’s your thing?” His smile was warm, but there was amusement in his blue eyes. “Or is it getting your face caked with sand?” He bent down to reach for the clean towel sitting atop his mat. “May I?”

[mhedlunds]

AGENT DEIMOS. 

Coming in fresh from the beach, Alphonse sat on his bed and let his head rest on the pillow. He was glad to have this vacation - even if it was just for a while, before the actual work began in a few days. It took him a while to notice that he was not alone in the room. The shower was running, and there were a pair of flip-flops just outside the bathroom. Eyes narrowed, he stood and headed towards the bath just as the sound of the shower stopped. His back was flat against the wall, and when the stranger got out of the door, he slipped his arms around their neck and had them in a headlock. “Who the hell are you? And what do you think you’re doing in my shower? You’re a spy, aren’t you?” 

Marcus spent his morning just in his room -- bundled by the covers -- in a cycle of waking up, then sleeping in just because he could. When midday came, he felt his stomach grumble. That was when he decided to get out for some food, but not before freshening up. He was already dressed in a fresh set of clothes when he came out of  the shower. Alphonse took him by surprise, but his instincts immediately kicked in. He gripped the other man’s hand, then struck his neck up with the other. Now able to pull himself out of the headlock, Marcus, in one swift motion, yanked Alphonse’s arm straight, and used it as a lever to push him to the ground. “Damn straight I’m a spy. MI6.” His voice was seething with rage. “But why in bloody hell would I spy on you? That’s my shower. This is my room.”

[mhedlunds]

A mere ten minutes after he entered his villa for the first time, Marcus decided to venture out into the island. In his wandering, he caught sight of a bar, where he sat down for a few drinks. The alcohol was a welcome respite after his travels sucked him dry of his energy. It didn’t take long before another person occupied the seat by his side. He acknowledged their presence with a smile and a nod. He then turned his attention back on the glass he was swirling, the contents of which were creating a mesmerizing whirlpool. "My luggage must have been swapped with another person’s, because when I opened it, the first thing I saw was a lacy thong.” As he spoke to the other, he tried to keep his manner serious, but his amusement was betrayed by the way the corners of his lips lifted after he’d mentioned the racy underwear. “It doesn’t happen to be yours, does it?”