#and you spend your whole life dreaming of escaping your home country and finally getting to *live* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

just-someone-who-likes-to-write · 3 years

Note

hello 👋🏻 i was wondering if you could write different kissing/kisses scenarios with Jonathan? just tooth rotting fluff, maybe a desperate kiss where they feel they might lose one another or something yanno? THANK YOU ILYILY

YES!!!

Note I don't have access to my laptop, that's why this time is a bit different, so I'm sorry if this came out weird because I'm typing it from my phone.

Either was I hope you enjoy!

((LOOK AT THOSE LIPS!!.. I'D KISS HIM!!))

• Morning Kiss

Jonathan groaned annoyingly at the one ray of sun light that was able to escape the dark heavy curtains of the equally dark room. His first instinct was to get up from the bed, move to the curtains ,and close them properly. However, that was all forgotten when her realized the small weight that pressed his arm to the bed, he smiled as he looked down at your sleeping face. Carefully, Jonathan layed back down, ignoring the light that woke him up and focused at you. He has said how he loved the look of fear in people's faces, but when he is with you he wants to see nothing but your smiles and the peaceful look you have now as upu slept. Leaning down, he gently pressed his lips to yours and proceeded to shower you with kiss, when he heard your giggles it encouraged him to keep going, until you are fully up, which would take a while. The master of fear had always preferred the night, but since he met you he started to love mornings even more.

•Angry Kiss

"Fuck You!" You yelled before turning away to leave to your room.

"(Y/n), please wait!" Called Jonathan and he walked after you.

"No!" You said mot stopping as you went up the stairs. "You alway do that, you promise you'd make time for me everytime, and lile everytime I belive you, like an Idiot!"

When you were almost about to reach your room jonathan graped your wrist to stop you. It wasn't a strong hold, a gentle one that you could get free if you pulled your hand away hard enough. But you didn't and just stopped in your place but did not face him.

"I know I have been a terrible boyfriend to you, my love." He started. "I am so sorry,but please know that I am truely trying so hard to spend more time with you, but the Legion-"

"The Legion this, the Legion that, with how much you use them as an excuse you sound like a broken record!" You spat before pulling your arm away and faced him. He looked so guilty but you stood your ground. "I know your reputation as a villain is important, and I was ready to be patient through it all, when you have your all nighters, your meetings, and even when you get send to Arkham."

"My love-"

"7 MONTHS!!" He cut him off. "We haven't been able to be alone in the same room let alone set together for 7 months, I don't even remember that I have a boyfriend unless I see the news to see you in it!"

"I promise to be there more!" He said quickly. "I will take a break from the Legion, I will even take us on a vacation to that place you love so much, even if the Legion called me for assistant I will ignore them, I will be here for you for as long as you want me! "

All that didn't effect you because he said it all before, but what calmed your anger is what he said it next.

"Please...don't leave me."

His voice sounded so broken and lost. there was a pause between you two before you let out and angry groan, and get a hold of his shirt collar, which suprised him, and pulled him to you, where your crashed your lips to his. Jonathan was so lost and confused but he didn't pull away and gave in to you. The kiss was so agressive, heated, and before you pulled away you bit his lower lip making him wince in pain. The bute drew a bit of blood.

"You better keep your promise this time." You smirked. "Or I'll have to punish you~"

• Desperate Kiss

Like the joker you were Jonathan's Harley, but unlike the mad clown jonathan never abused you. In fact, he'd always keep you close to him at all times, you were his lab partner, the first head seek their opinion on his next plan, and whenever they'd face the batman, he'd send the henchmen to fight while dragging you with him to escape. There were couple of times where you were caught and sent to jail, and because you are not insane the judge would always send to spend time in regular jail for women which makes jonathan go into a frenzy, needing couple of guards to hold him down as the others took you away. Of course, the moment he escapes arkham he breaks you out the same night.

It wasn't long for a rumor to break loss of the two of you dating. You ignored it, which was hard considering how Harley and Ivy would poke you around to make you "Confess", which was never satisfying since your answer was always "We are not dating". The rumor became a reality, when jonathan confessed his love for you and asking you out for a date. Least to say, you were lovely dovey, even when your relationship lasted years, you still acted as if you were have become lovers recently. Despite the ups and Downs of being beaten by the bat, and seperated in court, you were happy.

Until that Halloween night, where Jonathan had planned something... really... Very ...bad. It was so bad that after you were caught and sentenced to jail for life as usual you found out from TV that Jonathan was sentenced to death. You felt your face grow pale and body grow cold at the news. He was being guarded by batman himself to assure he won't escape, that same night you had sever panic attack that they sent your to the infirmary to calm you down before you hurt yourself or others. You tried to escape by yourself but it always failed and ended up with you being beaten by the gaird and sent to solitary. One night a couple of guards took you away and sneaked you out of jail, you were confused by the lake of show, jonathan would put as he broke you out, but you were still excited, thinking he had escaped and came to get you. But was disappointed when you handed a letter from him telling you leave to the agreed location, and with it was tickets. The same day you escaped prison you left the country with the confident that Jonathan will come after you. Months past and you heard nothing from him or of him. Every day you'd go to the post office and asked if there was any letters by your "Fake Name" but every time nothing, you'd stay up at night thinking he'd be walking through the door every moment now.

After a whole year had and you broke down crying because by now you believed that jonathan had died a long time ago and you were hanging to a hope that wasn't there. You were crying so hard that you didn't notice the warm arms that wrapped around you until you were brought against a hard chest. You gasped and looked uo only to be met with tearful blue eyes of jonathan. You didn't think, you quickly wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and pulled him to a desperate kiss, he kissed you back as his hand went and and down your back to calm you down. When you stopped kissing you didn't pull away and only hugged him tighter and rested your head on his shoulder.

"P..Please ...don't go away.. " You begged between sniffs, thinking this was just a hallucination. "Don't leave me alone again."

Jonathan hugged you tighter, deeply regretting not giving a sign of him being alive, how he broke out, how he needed to do many favors for other villains to help him retire, obtain enough money to last you a life time,and live the peaceful life you both have ever dreamed of.

"I promise, I won't."

• Distracting Kiss

You came home from work excited. They finally gave you the vacation that you have been asking for and you wanted nothing more than to spend it with Jonathan. You were daydreaming about all the things you had planned for the both of you when you almost tripped and fell over something, you looked down and recognized the item as Jonathan's shos.

You let out a sigh. Everytime he leaves his shoes at the door like that, it means that he had hurried to his lab to work again. Normally you'd just shrug it off and just head off and make food for him so he won't starve himself... Again. However, today you will no have that. You put your things aside and went to the basement where he had set a mini lab for him to work in, his original lab was in his secret hideout, but he still set a lab in your home so he won't have to go back and forth over small things. You stopped at the end of the stairs and just stared at a hunched over jonathan who was writing on paper as if it was his last day.

"Jonathan." You called sweetly. He lifted his head to look at you and give you a tired smile before going back to his work. That didn't set well with you. "What are you doing?"

"I am working on a new formula for the fear toxin." He answered not noticing you coming closer. "It came to me on my way back home-"

He stopped talking, writing, and breathing when you wrapped your arms around him, and pressed your front ti his back. But that wasn't what made him stop functioning, it was the kisses you were placing in the back of his neck and with how your hand were moving around his body. He let out a sigh of pleasure that he couldn't hold in.

"(Y/n) dear... Please stop." His voice struggling. "I need to go back to work."

"And I need attention." You pressed your body on him more to be able to whisper in his ear. "A lot of it."

Jonathan tried to resist you could see it. He took his pen again and started to continue writing but this time slower than before. You held back a laugh at his determination, and decided to do your own testing, you started kissing up and down his neck. You knew all his weak spots and so it was only a matter of minutes before Jonathan gave up and turned around to give a direct kiss, which muffled your laughs as he lifted you up to your shared room where he will give you all the attention you want.

•Chaste Kiss

You and jonathan were setting together in the living room, you were watching whatever was on TV on the wide sofa, while he was reading in his seperated chair. Expect, he wasn't reading at all, he was staring at you while resting his head on his hand. You looked so beautiful, that he knew very well when he first saw you, but your beauty became even greater the moment he knew you more. You were so smart, sweet, kind, and most importantly patient. When he would be sent to arkham, when he would come injured from a failed crime attempt, when he made a lab in your basement. The list can go forever, yet she still stayed with him and when he asked her why she just answered with...

"I love you, that's why."

It bewildered him, confused him, he found no sense to give up all that for someone just because they loved them, but the warm feeling he felt by your words silenced everything else. He never told you those words, but that doesn't mean the feeling isn't mutual. His eyes trailed to her lips, which made him realize how in the past he hated any kind of physical touch, that just the mention of kissing made him feel disgust. But now he doesn't seem to have enough from her sweet kisses, even in their intimate moments he would make sure to ravish her lips the most... Aside from other areas.

"Why are you smiling?" You asked pulling him out of his train of thought, you also were smiling but he could also see a bit of blush obviously embarrassed by the realization that he was staring at her while smiling.

Jonathan didn't answer, he careful closed his book and got up and left to the other room, missing the pout you had, but it was quickly replaced with bewilderment as he came back after putting his book away, and instead of setting back in his chair he went to set next to her. (Y/n) still looked confused but pleased, he smiled down at her before placing his hand on her cheek and leaned in to kiss her. He could feel her tense in surprise before quickly relaxing. The kiss wasn't heated or deep, just a simple and gentl kiss.

"Jonathan, what-" you tried to asked after the two of you pulled away but he cut you off with un expected words.

"I love you." He said as he stared into her wide eyes.

He never said those words for he preferred his actions to speak louder, but those simple words seemed to please his lover quite a lot.

•Unexpected Kiss

"Shit!" You exclaimed as you jumped up from your desk and started gathering papers and other items from your desk. Jonathan who once in a while would visit your office for a coffee break looked confused if not surprised by hearing you curse.

"What's the matter?" He asked as he silently watched you go through your drawers searching.

"I forgot my mother is going arrive to Gotham today!" You said as you put stuff in your suit case. "I told her that I'd pick her up after work, but I forgot it was today!"

That's going to be troubling considering the distant between the airport and Arkham." He said casually sipping his coffee.

"I KNOW!" You yelled desperately.

"Want me to drive you?" He asked and you shock your head as you wore your coat.

"Thanks for the kind offer Jonathan, but I'll be able to handle it this time." You said getting ready to leave, you went to your place which was across from him and drank the rest of your coffee.

"Very well, just be careful and good luck." He said getting up to leave.

"Yeah thanks you too!" You said distractedly, but your next action left Jonathan with a look of pure shock, you kissed him on the lips before existing the office. "Lock the doors on your way out, thanks!! "

Jonathan was still staring with wide eyes at the direction you disappeared to. You had just kissed him and hadn't realized it yet, knowing you, you'd probably realize it only late at night when things had calmed down and you were alone with your thoughts. Now, you and him have only been friends in the work place at Arkham, but from your action just now, which happened because of two reasons, you genuinely wasn't aware of it, or deep down you wanted for them to be more than just friends, who drink coffee together, or go out for lunch after work.

He hoped for the later, but to finally find out he'd have to wait untill tomorrow morning, or later that night when she'd probably call him apologizing while being embarassed.

---

I hope you guys liked this one and sorry for any error, again I wrote this on my phone.

#jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane imagine #Jonathan crane prompt

532 notes · View notes

hangezoeenthusiast · 3 years

Text

Totem of Undying

gn!reader

person: c!technoblade

word count: 1,852

warnings: blood, yelling, cursing, failed execution (art not mine, SAD-ist on youtube)

One day, you were pacing across Techno’s floor, wearing out the carpet, wondering were he was. He was gone for 9 days, and normally he isn’t out for that long.

He specifically said before his little expedition, “I won’t be gone long, I just got to get something for Phil.” “Ok, have fun honey.” you said, not looking up at him from your book. “You’re sure you don’t need anything?” he asked, trying to find a way to spend a little more time with you before he left. “Yeah, I’m sure, just tell Phil that I said hi.”

“Ok, bye my Aphrodite.”

Ever since, you haven’t gotten any messages on the comms, no messenger birds from him, or any sign of communication between the piglin hybrid and you.

“If he was going to Phil, then I should call Phil.” you murmured under your breath. How could you forget, he said he was going to get something for Phil, so he must be with him.

You looked for you phone, and called Phil’s number. “Hello, who is this?” replied on the other side of the phone. “Phil, is this you, I need to talk to you.”

“Oh hey Y/n, how are you doing?” “Not particularly well, um I have a question, is Techno there, he isn’t answering my calls.”

"Umm, well, he isn't here right now." he states, regret lacing his words. "Well where is he, it's urg-" Phil cut you off, "Y/n, you don't know?"

"What do you mean Phil?"

"I don't wanna say this, but he got captured by the Butcher Army." "Are you fucking kidding me, when he get caught?" you questioned. "IThey came to your house a few days ago, didn't you see them?" "No, I don't think so."

Then you suddenly remembered, “I think they might have came to our house. I was on a trip to get some spider eyes, so I guess that’s when they came over and got Techno.”

“Yeah, they haven’t come back yet, they tried to interrogate me, but I said no, and then they put an ankle monitior on me.” “They decided that if I wasn’t going to tell them anything, they would confine me to my house.”

You apologized to him, “I’m sorry Phil, hopefully you get that off soon enough.” “It’s fine Y/n/n, right now, what I’m concerned about is Techno. The Butcher Army built something, it’s a little cage with an anvil, I watched them build it, but it was kinda vague to me.” "I'm coming to L'Manberg Phil, I'll be there in a hour or so." "Ok, be safe."

You arrived in L'Manberg, looking for Phil's house. "Hey Y/n." he spoke. "Right back at you Phil, how are you doing today?" "I'm doing eh, I'm just worrying about Techno." "Me too, hopefully he turns up soon."

So then you stayed with Phil for a while, drinking tea and talking about random stuff. You were trying to buy your time until Techno popped up somewhere, preferably unharmed.

“Yeah Phil, there was-” Hooves stomped on grass, triumphant talking covering every sound outside. The people that cut you off was the Butcher Army, who was boasting their victory over their fight with Technoblade.

Techno, blood all over his skin, bruises on his face, barely showing any sign of his true skin tone. Chains rapping all over his body so he wouldn't escape. You felt devastated, what had they done to him? Behind them was Quackity riding Carl, holding him hostage so Techno couldn't escape on his steed. "What did they do to you?" you whispered under your breath.

They led Techno to the stage, when he looked up at you and Phil, suprise basking his face. "PHIL, PHIL, WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU PHIL, Y/N, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" he yelled from under you guys. "I'M FINE TECHNO, THEY PUT AN ANKLE MONITOR ON ME." Phil screamed back.

They dragged him away from the house, bringing him onto the stage. "LEAVE PHIL AND Y/N ALONE YOU HEAR ME, LEAVE THEM ALONE." he retaliated. They locked him in the cage, where he was waiting his impending doom.

"Technoblade, this is actually not a trial, if you look up, you can see an anvil hanging down. When we press that lever down there, what it's going to do is drop on you and it's going to fucking kill you."

After Quackity's little statement, he demanded Tubbo to explain to everyone what was happening, but what they didn't know was that there was an ally, or friend of Techno's that would help him sooner or later.

After Tubbo spoke about how Techno betrayed the country, and how he had to pay for his wrongdoings, Punz swooped in, throwing snowballs to distract the Butcher Army. With his armor clad self, he started to attack them, momentarily trying to buy time for Techno. He splashed potions all around himself and the Butcher Army.

Then he started to load up the stage with unlit TnT, sending a warning to the Butcher Army not to fuck with him. Quackity yelled in scaredness, hoping that Punz wouldn't light the TnT. "PUNZ, PUNZ, CHILL THE FUCK OUT PUNZ, CALM DOWN." Quackity begged. He didn't stop, and that lead to the whole Butcher Army attacking him with their axes.

While they were chasing Punz, they didn't realize that he slipped Techno a totem of undying. That's right, one of the only things that can prevent death if someone was to kill someone else. So when Punz left the scene, and Ghostbur came to the stage to secretly tell Techno that he named his sheep "Friend", they started to prepare for execution.

"Ok, no more, I'm pulling this fucking lever." Quackity stated. And there is was, he pulled the lever, and the anvil went crashing down on Techno's head. But Quackity didn't know that he had a totem of undying in his hand, so when the anvil came down on Techno, there was a flurry of green and yellow sparks all around him, protecting him from his death.

During the little show, Techno escaped the iron cage, and ran for his life. The Butcher Army was confused, why did Technoblade die, he was supposed to perish, right?

He ran to the little hole in the ground, and was meet by Dream, riding Carl. Dream started to block up the hole, while Techno rode Carl to victory. As he rode Carl, he reached a control room, where there was chests filled with stuff for specific people. There was Eret's, Tubbo's, his, and many others.

He looted his chest, put iron armor on, and started to prepare for his journey. He splashed potions onto his body, giving him strength for a few minutes, and swiftness. When he realized that the pathway wasn't large enough for both him and Carl, he started to break blocks so he and Carl wouldn't suffocate in the walls.

While he was doing that, Quackity sneaked up behind him, taking him by suprise. “Techno, you’re not leaving this place, how didn’t you die?”

“None of your business Quackity, how about you leave me alone.”

“You’re my business Techno, and as long as you’re alive, this server is going to go to shit.” And this the fight began, Techno only donning a pick axe for a weapons, and iron armor, and Quackity, with full netherite and all the tools you could ever need for a fight.

Their weapons clashed together into a disgusting sound. “I’M GOING TO DEFEAT YOU TODAY TECHNOBLADE.” shouted Quackity, thinking he was going to win. “NOT A CHANCE.” Techno answered.

Quackity was clearly arrogant in this matter, even though he had the good stuff, and Techno had the shitty stuff that would be easily broken, he forget something. He forgot that he didn’t have technique, and Techno was the great night Blood God. Technoblade could’ve easily, if he wanted to, take down an entire village.

But he didn’t, and that’s what Quackity didn’t realize. Yes, Techno did some shitty things in the past, but he declared that he was going to retire from the fighting, from everything that related to violence. It wasn’t necessary to try to execute him.

So when the final swing hit, Quackity with his ego to a high capacity, at almost half a heart, Techbo easily defeated and killed Quackity, taking one of his canon lives.

You paced across the wooden floor for 10 minutes. “Phil, is Techno ok, where is he, why isn’t he here right now, Phil-” you cut yourself off, “Phil, is he dead?” “No he isn’t Y/n/n, I know Techno, he’s still alive, trust me.” he assured you, trying to comfort your thoughts, but it wasn’t getting to you.

Techno had to be dead, an anvil fell on him. “But what was the green and yellow sparks, what was the reason for that?” you thought. Was that a distraction, or was it something more significant.

“Phil, are you sure he’s-” he interrupted you with a shush. “Do you hear that?” he asked, not sure what’s was happening outside of his home. “No, I don’t, what’s wrong?” “Stay here Y/n.” he ignored your question.

He sneaked toward the door, trying to quiet his footsteps. He slowly opened the door, looked around, and saw Techno standing there, covered in bloody armor. “Holy shit Techno, what are you doing here, they could come any minute.”

“I need Y/n for a second.” he calmly said, trying to ease Phil’s nerves. “Mate, what about the Butcher-”

“I killed their leader.” “Heh?” “I killed Quackity, unfortunately it isn’t permanent.” he sighed. “Ok, first of all, weirdchamp, and secondly, please come inside, you’re worrying me right now.”

Phil let Techno in, and offered him a cup of tea. “No thanks Phil, so back to what I was saying, where is Y/n?” “Oh, they’re in the back, I thought you were someone else.” “Thanks.”

He stepped towards the direction you were in, and opened the door to find a frantic, worried Y/n. He put his body on the doorframe nonchalantly, “You missed me?” You turned around from your pacing, and looked at Techno, relief coating your eyes, “TECHNO.”

“Y/n.” he replied. You hurriedly walked to Techno, and gave him a bone-crushing hug. “Oh my goodness I’ve missed you so much, why did you have to leave, I don’t want you to die, fuck Quackity and the rest of them...” You rambled on and on about how the Butcher Army should be convicted, and a whole bunch of other things, when Techno cut you off, “Calm down my Aphrodite, I’m back, and that’s all that matters.”

"Ok, well are you hurt anywhere, Phil has some healing pots as well as some bandages." "I'm fine, but are you ok, did they hurt you?" he put his hand on your shoulders. "I'm ok, they didn't acknowledge me."

"Well, I'm glad that was the case."

You severely hugged him again, "Please never leave without me, I don't want this happening again."

"Never Y/n, never."

#dream smp #dream smp x reader #dream smp x you #dream smp x y/n #mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #technoblade #technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #technoblade x y/n #c!technoblade #c!technoblade x reader #c!techno #louistommosnesquickmilk writes #louistommosnesquickmilk

233 notes · View notes

bucky-barnes-diaries · 3 years

Text

Leaving Home

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Captain America: The First Avenger

Pairing: 1940s! Bucky Barnes x Female! Reader

Summary: Bucky gets enlisted. Him and reader have a magical last night together.

Word Count: 1445

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, minors DNI, slight angst, unprotected sex, mention of bodily fluids

Authors Note: not everything may be accurate to the 1940s, war or Bucky’s story. My apologies! Enjoy loves <3

Main Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

You are waiting at your small New York home in anticipation if your husband managed to enlist in the army or not. On one side, you were happy for James because this was something he had wanted to do for a while, but on the other hand, you were anxious and worried about him traveling to an unknown country raging with war and destruction.

You waited on the couch with a book in hand for him to arrive. The book had been on page 52 for a while as you didn’t manage to take in what you were reading while you waited. The clock on the wall showing that it was well over 3 o’clock. He was supposed to be home way before that. Where was he? Your leg was bouncing up and down in a fast rhythm as the nerves started to take over when he wasn’t on time. It must be the traffic, or maybe he got held up with something else?

The handle of the doorknob turning made you snap up from the book your face was buried in. “Hey, doll, I’m home.” A smile was brightening your complexion at finally hearing his voice filling the quiet house. You got up, smoothing out your dress, to meet him at the door. “Hi, honey. How did the-” You didn’t need to finish the question, as the grin on his face and the uniform were the equivalents to him getting enlisted.

The smile from you dropped just by an inch when you realized what this meant. “You got your orders?” “Yep. The 107th, Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out to England first thing in the morning.”

The slight smile you had left turned into a frown in hearing the news that he’s departing already tomorrow. You thought you would have a little more time before he left for months on end. “Why so early? Where’s the rush?” “I’m sorry, honey, I know it’s on short notice. I wish I could stay longer.” He closed the short distance between you two to take your hands in his bigger ones, laying a kiss upon them.

“I’ve made arrangements for you and me to have one magical last night together in the city as an apology to you.” The promise of a beautiful last evening with the man of your dreams brightened your spirit immensely. “Show me the way then, Sergeant.”

Later...

“Keep your eyes closed. Trust me. Don’t open them yet.” You always trusted him, so obeying his order was in no way a problem for you. His hand held yours as you walked up some stairs in what felt like all eternity. “Where are you taking me, Bucky?” “You’ll see. We’re almost there. Just hang on.” He opened a heavy door, and the bustling noise of the streets of New York was heard faintly in your ears. The tiniest of a cool breeze felt on your skin, indicating that you were pretty high up.

“Now open them.” The sight your eyes met when they opened was magical. James had set up a fairytale date on the rooftop for you. Twinkling lights, wine, sweets, and just now, you heard the soft music of Frank Sinatra playing from the radio. “This is so beautiful,” you gasped excitingly, “sweetheart, you didn’t have to do this all for me.” He didn’t lie when he said it would be an enchanting night.

“Of course I did. Everything for my beautiful wife. Now come dance with your husband.” His hand was held out for you to take up on the offer. Dancing with your husband? Nothing could be better than that. James pulled you flush against him as his hand rested at the small of your back, the other one finding your hand to hold.

The calm sway of your bodies was pleasing. His words that were only meant for you whispered ever so softly in your ear, making butterflies emit from within you.

Once in a while, he would spin you around, which made both of you laugh out in glee. The dress you were wearing was twirling around, and you had never looked more beautiful in his eyes. This was the picture of you he would imagine when he was abroad and felt alone and scared without you by his side. His beautiful wife being as carefree as she had ever looked. The laugh he would remember from you would fill his head up at night, making him sleep that much better.

The rest of the night was spent with drinks, sweets, and even more dancing ending with you and him sitting on the blankets and pillows scattered on the tile floor.

Your faces inches from one another as you talked about everything and nothing. His hand that had a grasp on the back of your naked thigh giving off a squeeze and caress ever so often had your mind racing to some hot and heavy thoughts.

James felt the sinful energy radiating off you, and he didn’t think for another second in kissing you. Lips were moved against each other in hurried sync, desperate to feel one another.

He pushed you down to lay on the back while he found his place on top of you where he belonged. The passion of his lips moved to that sensitive spot connecting your neck and shoulder, kissing and loving on the skin there. The sensation made you shudder in delight and let out a whimper of satisfaction. After some time, they travel to the top of your breasts. Kissing, sucking, and biting on the flesh. If he could, he would spend the rest of his life worshiping your body every second of every day.

“Is someone going to see us?” You asked in a panic when you remembered where you were. He looked around. It seemed relatively safe for his liking. “Don’t worry, princess. No one will see us.” It looked like he was sure, and that was the signal you needed to continue.

Clothes were removed all the way to feel all up on one another. Once he pushed inside of you, a gasp of pleasure escaped your open lips. The feel of his length filling you up was intoxicating as he slammed his hips against yours over and over again.

Legs were enclosed around his hips to force him more into your tightness. Your nails were making marks on his back when they dragged downwards as you were close to completion.

“Let go for me, baby,” he growled in your ear.

He didn’t need to tell you twice. Your eyes fluttered shut, and your back arched high in the sky as waves after waves of pleasure came over you. The feel of you pulsating around him brought him to the finish line just a few moments later.

The next morning…

It was time to say goodbye, and you had promised yourself not to cry. You wanted to be strong and brave for him, so he didn't need to worry about leaving you all alone for months on end. But you couldn’t help it when a few tears escaped when the car to pick him up pulled in front of the house. The last moment of you two on the porch exchanging words of love was interrupted.

“This is goodbye, doll.” “Oh, Bucky!” Your arms slung around his body to feel him one last time. The tears from you wetting his uniform some, as the side of your face rested against his chest, taking the last advantage to listen to the beats of his steady heart.

“Hey, look at me.” His fingers lifted your chin to look into his crystal blue eyes one last time. “Don’t cry,” the pad of his thumb whipped as good as they would the tears that were falling, “it’s going to be ok. I promise.” “Please just come back to me,” you begged in a whisper.

He knew he couldn’t promise something he didn’t know of. He wished he could with his whole being that he would come home safe and sound to his love. “I will fight through hell to try and come back to you, my love, that I will promise you.”

His lips found yours one last time in a kiss that held so many emotions. Love, fear, desperation, need. “Goodbye, Y/N.” He picked up his bags and took a seat in the car. One last time he took a look at you through his window. Sending you a warm smile in your direction for you to remember him. You watched and waved until the car was no longer in sight, begging the universe to bring him home in one piece.

Credit @ firefly-graphics for the wonderful divider

Thank you for reading <3 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated if you liked it! As well as a reblog to share it with others!

If you are going to join the taglist please show support in following my blog as well!

Marvel Taglist: @whothehellisbuckybarnes @phoenixhalliwell @x-goddess-of-nature-x @trulysuccubus @skyesthebomb @whoreforsamwilson @natashadeservedbetter @beth-winchester21 @mrs-salvawhore @soldierstucky @missswritings @sariche @claudiaatje @myakai13 @paintballkid711 @ttalisa @teti-menchon0604 @J-e-nster

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @sirrwritesalots @acciosiriusblack @academiawhoree @feescher @cigarettesonmars @doyoumindifislytherin-1 @yippikaiyaymotherfucker

Let me know if you want to be added/removed!

If your name is not highlighted it means I can’t tag you for some reason. My apologies!

320 notes · View notes

sundaysundaes · 3 years

Text

Unravel

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Romance | 4k | Mr. & Mrs. Smith AU, Secret Agents/Assassins AU

A continuation of Delirium.

Summary: Your relationship with the mysterious stranger you met during your mission continues and it intensifies into something deeper, forcing you to break your own rules.

Warnings: car sex, rough sex, oral sex (male receiving), swearing

“Spend the day with me.”

Your hands stopped mid-air during their attempt in drying your hair with a towel. Donghyuck was sitting on the edge of the bed, tapping his fingers against each other, his eyes gazing at you from behind his bangs. Unlike you, he has dressed handsomely in a pair of black ripped jeans and a light blue denim shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The bedsheets were all crumpled and stained underneath him from the activity you shared with him the night before—and this morning as well, when he suddenly decided to take the whipped cream and strawberries off his plate and smeared them all over your stomach, tasting them directly from your skin.

“Let’s get some breakfast together or something,” he offered.

You coyly smile. “I thought we’ve had our breakfast.”

“Well, I’m still hungry.” But by the way his eyes ran down your body, lingering a little too long at the hem of your lingerie, you knew he was craving for something else. “I want to take you out on a date.”

Still dressed solely in your underwear after your morning shower, you sent him a sly grin. “Do you do this with all your one night stands?”

“Only the pretty ones.”

You shook your head in amusement. “I’m supposed to fly back to Seoul tonight.”

“Change it. We can fly back together tomorrow.”

“I have work tomorrow.”

“Then take a day off.”

You scrunched up your nose. “Are you always this demanding?”

“Part of my charm.” He stood up from his seat, walking closer to you and you carelessly let your towel slide down to the floor, hands winding naturally around his neck. The way he sighed whenever your mouth made contact with his always left you a bit weak, stomach somersaulting in delight. “I’m a pretty determined man.” He kissed the skin below your ear, his hand trailing around the dip of your waist. “I have to get what I want and I won’t back down until I have it.”

You tilted your head, exposing more of your neck for his teeth to mark on. “And what is it that you want?”

He unclasped your bra, calloused fingertips raking down your spine before they went back to your chest. “What do you think I want?”

You didn’t want to think about anything else, not even the fact that you just washed yourself clean from his previous touches. You just wanted to feel him again, to hear his soft moans against your ear, to make him flinch when you slide your hand under his shirt, nails scraping against his delicate v-lines.

“I love your cherry mint lip balm,” he commented after he glided his tongue across your lower lip. “But you taste even better without it.”

Ripping his buttons open with hasty fingers, you murmured against his mouth, “I think we should just go straight for lunch. What do you think?”

Donghyuck smirked and let you crawl on top of his lap.

Being attached to someone could risk your life, or worse, put your loved ones in danger. You knew this. That was the most important rule in your handbook and you had been following that for years in order to survive, even distancing yourself from your parents and family. Which was the whole reason why you wanted to keep it casual with him. As much fun as he was, Donghyuck was only a lover for one night. That was how he was supposed to be.

But the last two days you spent with him was magical. Donghyuck was alluring, reeked of masculinity and sensuality, but the more time you spent with him, the more you realized that he was still a child at heart. The little pout he made when he lost an argument, the way his tongue was protruding against the inside of his cheek whenever your joke struck too close to home, and the little whines that escaped his lips when things didn’t go his way—he was young, refreshing, in a way. And you could feel yourself letting go, allowing yourself to bury the guilt and the sins you’d committed somewhere deep inside your mind and finally be yourself for once.

But all magical things must end at some point. And yet, when you were about to part ways with him at the airport, already walking toward the opposite direction of where he was heading, you realized how your heart stayed with him; how your body still longed for him, no matter how many times they had made contact during your two days together. When you pivoted on your heels, about to ask him to stay longer, you saw him doing the same thing.

With a sheepish smile—a stark contrast to how he usually displayed his expression—he suggested, “Maybe we can get some coffee first before we head home?”

You didn’t get to come home that night, but your heart had already settled down someplace better.

Neither of you ever talked about your relationship status. It wasn’t important, anyway. But what started as a strictly physical bond, became so much more the second he opened up about his childhood days followed by you disclosing your recurring dreams and nightmares. Personal things were shared, intimate memories were told and the wall that separated you from him began to crumble.

Despite how talkative he was, Donghyuck could really listen when you needed him to. He wouldn’t give you any advice because he knew you were already smart enough to figure them out by yourself, but he would embrace you tightly to his chest with his lips grazing against your fringe, his fingers playing with your strands. And if you really wanted him to say something, he would kiss you on your forehead and whisper, “You’re strong. You’ll get through this. But if you feel like you’re tired of their shits, you could just ring me. I’ll finish them for you.”

You laughed. You thought he was joking.

The hardest part of being an undercover assassin was you had to travel most of the time for your work. Your target could be walking in another city, living in a different country, speaking a different language and you just couldn’t afford to be distracted. So whenever you got the chance to meet him, you’ll try to satisfy your needs—mostly, physical—as best as you could. Lucky for you, he was only eager to comply.

Hovering above you, nude except for the silver necklace hanging around his neck, body glistening with sweat, Donghyuck took a detailed look at your wrist. The lighting in your room wasn’t bright enough for him to examine the bruises blooming on your skin, but the way his eyes narrowed, accompanied by a frown, told you that he knew it wasn’t just a simple injury.

“Who did this to you?” His choice of words startled you. He didn’t ask what or how—he straightforwardly asked who, confident that it was done by someone and not merely a result of an accident. It sent a shiver down your spine because the truth was you were wounded during your last mission when you tried to infiltrate the enemy’s base by getting caught in purpose. At one point, you were restrained to a pole with ropes tied firmly along your wrists, hence the bruises. But there was no way you could be honest.

So, you lied.

“I tripped and accidentally twisted my wrist,” you said, moving your hips to distract him. He was still sheathed deep inside you, his cock slightly twitching in response, but held you by the waist to keep your body still.

“Did someone hurt you?” His voice was deep as it reverberated through the air, and you grew rigid after noticing how his previously laid-back demeanor suddenly became serious, almost dangerous even. “Who is it? Tell me his name.”

You swallowed. He was smarter than you’d expected. Way smarter. “I was tied up.”

“By who?”

The way he strictly sought revenge at the thought of someone hurting you was both arousing and frightening at the same time. You knew how protective he was over the things he owned, you just didn’t realize you were one of them.

“By a cute guy I met at a club,” you said, smiling seductively at him. “Per my request.”

His grip around your wrist loosened a little bit, his lips parted in surprise. “What?”

“It’s not like we’re officially dating or anything,” you taunted him, clenching your walls around him in purpose. “Are we?”

Donghyuck’s eyes were almost gleaming at that point, staring down at you coldly at first before he broke into a smirk.

“Not official, huh?” The way he suddenly flipped you over to your stomach almost made you yelp. “Get on your knees.”

He was angry, you knew it, and you were grateful that you were facing the headboard because you could feel your smirk creeping up your face, excitement bubbling up in your chest.

“He tied you up with a rope, did he?” He held your ass in the air, his nails sinking into the skin of your hips as he forcefully thrust inside, slamming his entire length in one motion. “I wasn’t aware you were into that.”

Donghyuck had always been passionate and although he loved marking you with his lips and teeth, he was never rough. Tonight, though, that was all he was. Rough and merciless, and you enjoyed every second of it.

You didn’t even hold back your moans, knowing he wouldn’t want you to anyway. Your voice would most likely be hoarse tomorrow and that would be awful since you had a meeting scheduled on the next morning, but you couldn’t care. It was easier to let go than to hold back, because Donghyuck was hitting you at the right spot, at the right pace, at the perfect angle.

“Tying you up with a rope is a bit too much, don’t you think?” He breathed out, pounding into you hard and fast, his hand sliding down your stomach to rub his fingertips against your clit. “If it was me, I would’ve used my tie.”

Fuck. “Then—” Your breathing began to stutter, matching the snap of his hips. “What’s stopping you?”

“I wanted to hear you ask about it first.” You were astonished by how thoughtful he was. “And force you to beg for it afterward.” You took your words back. He was a fucking tease, after all.

You fisted the sheet beneath you, desperate to keep a hold on something as you gasped his name. “Was he any good?” He slammed his hips once, pausing for your answer and when he saw you nodding, he thrust again, harder this time. “Better than me?”

You were having the toughest time concentrating, couldn’t even breathe properly, let alone forming a word. You were pushed against the headboard, now placing your hands on the wall for support. You shakily nodded, wanting to rile him up even more, driving him to the brink and practically forcing him to give the best fuck of your life.

And he did, exceeding your expectation.

When he asked again, his lips were grazing against your ear. “You sure about that, Sweetheart?”

You couldn’t tell if more words were falling from his mouth because the rest of the world had faded into a blur. He was giving you the same amount of pain and pleasure from how he was frantically thrusting inside you, and it felt so new, so raw, that you started feeling lightheaded, drowning in ecstasy. You closed your eyes, stars sparkling behind your eyelids as your orgasm hit you like a wave, leaving you shaking and whimpering against the sheets.

Donghyuck turned you around so he could ravish your lips with his, teeth gnawing against soft skin, tongue sliding against yours in a messy kiss. His left hand was squeezing your thigh, bringing you closer so he could release inside you; his other one was on the side of your face, fingers tangling around your strands, nearly tugging against the roots of your hair as he slid his hand down to your neck, applying pressure until you choked out his name. He came with a loud, breathy moan, which you swallowed directly with your mouth.

When both of your bodies had stopped trembling from your post-orgasm, Donghyuck kissed you again, slower and idly this time, as he was still in a haze. You responded with a sigh, your heartbeat gradually reducing to its normal pace.

“Let’s make it official,” he said, still breathing quite heavily as he placed his temple against yours. His eyes were closed. “You belong to me, as much as I belong to you. How does that sound?”

And as he felt you smiling against his lips, you said, “Sounds perfect.”

Donghyuck was protective but not possessive, which played a huge part in why your relationship with him worked so well. He knew how to keep you safe, how to give you comfort, and wouldn’t let anything harm you even when he knew you could protect yourself just fine. Being with Donghyuck was easy because he respected you without making inquiries. He was a man with a lot of demands, but he always gave you the space you needed and knew when to put your priorities before his. He always picked-up little details but never making unnecessary comments or questions, unless you wanted him to. Sometimes it made you nervous, perturbed by the possibility of him finding out about your secret. But with a pocket knife hidden inside your vanity bag, you knew what to do if something went wrong. It would be near impossible for you to hurt him as you probably wouldn’t have the heart to do it, but your identity and your profession remained the top priority.

You just wished, really wished, he wouldn’t notice.

“You look nice,” you commented when he showed up at your flat, dressed sharply in a black suit and tie. His hair was shorter, slightly pushed back and parted to the side, making him look younger but also much more mature at the same time. It was the night of your second anniversary—well, counting from the day you met him anyway. The top of his white shirt was unbuttoned, two more than necessary, as always.

He smiled, taking you by the wrist and yanked you forward until you fell on his chest, lips locked with his. When he broke the kiss, he licked his bottom lip once. “You taste nice.”

You slapped him lightly on his shoulder, smiling bashfully to yourself as you grabbed your purse. “What time is our reservation?”

“In half an hour.”

“Then, we better go.” You linked your arm around his. “I’ll just ravish you after dinner later.”

The way he chuckled made you feel warm inside. “Can’t wait.”

His Audi smelled more of citrus and less bergamot—the perfume he often wore—and you wondered whether it was a rental or he just rarely used it. You didn’t have the strength to care, too busy stealing glances at him during the drive to the restaurant. He had lent you his suit to cover your bare shoulders from the night cold, and he had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his veiny arms with his silver Tag Heuer watch glinting along his wrist whenever a passing car shone headlights. He only had one hand on the steering wheel, with another one propped up against the window, unconsciously pressing the side of his index finger to his lips and a thumb on his chin.

“Thinking about something?” You questioned since he seemed to be deep in thoughts.

He took a glimpse of your face, the corner of his lips curving upwards. “Just trying to figure out why you keep on looking at me every two seconds.”

You were a bit flustered but kept your face in check. “Honestly? You just look so good in that black shirt.”

“Yeah?” He changed gears, chuckling softly. “Then, what should we do about it?”

“Well, it’s been a while since we’ve had the time for ourselves, what with us being busy with our jobs.” You placed a hand on his thigh, rubbing up and down the silky fabric of his black trousers. “I’m sorry I left you alone for so long. I’ve always hated going overseas, even more now since I met you.”

Donghyuck glanced at the way your fingers are reaching dangerously close to the part he had been longing to be touched for the last three weeks you had been separated. “That’s… fine… ” He forced his eyes to go back to the road when a car passed by from his side, honking angrily at him. “I had to go out of town too, so we wouldn’t have been able to meet anyway.”

You bit the corner of your lip, trying to contain a smirk from breaking on your face. He was obviously distracted, but the way he tried to act so composed was adorable too. “Then…” You tucked some loose strands behind your ear, wetting your lips. “Let me make it up to you.”

You leaned over to his seat, close enough to be able to unfasten his belt and unzip his pants. Donghyuck took a sharp breath when he felt your fingers curling around his length, stroking him gently until he came alive in your hand.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” you said, smiling at him as you glided your thumb across his tip.

Donghyuck mirrored your mischievous smile. “Yes, Ma’am.”

When you dipped your head, slanting your lips around his tip, he let out this small sigh of content which only urged you to please him more. You slid your tongue across his slit, going down to the side to trace his vein, and murmuring sinful things against his sensitive skin.

“You’re being rather expressive today,” he comments. His voice sounded stable but the way he bit the tip of his thumb to contain his groan betrayed him. “Did something good happen?”

“I’m just happy,” you pause to engulf his length completely, bobbing your head twice before letting him go with a pop. “That I get to see you again.”

The way he hit on the brakes were not as gentle as before. Waiting for the red light to go green, Donghyuck leaned back to his seat, his fingers immediately slipped between your strands, tugging softly at your locks as he slightly thrust into your mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” he hissed, reeling in the sensation of your heated mouth enveloping him. “That feels good—you’re so good at this.”

But when a car stopped by just three meters away from you, Donghyuck straightened up on his seat. The driver—a middle-aged man with a goatee—was nodding his head to the music, both windows of his car opened for him to enjoy the night wind. He noticed Donghyuck’s car, perhaps amazed with how expensive it was, and your boyfriend slid his window down to show his face. You wanted to protest but he held you down by pressing his palm against the back of your head. “It’s too dark, he won’t be able to see.” He reassured you and you grunted in response, which made him chuckle under his breath.

“Nice car, man,” shouted the man.

Donghyuck waved a hand, an innocent smile strapped to his face. “Thanks. I like your tires. Custom made?”

And they began to have a casual conversation as if he didn’t have your mouth wrapped around his cock. He was always like this, a fucking tease, but two could play at this game. You sucked harder around his tip before you went down completely until he hit the back of your throat. Donghyuck’s grip around your locks grew tighter but his voice was airy when he replied to the man. You swallowed around him to pull more reaction out of him.

It was his luck that the light turned green.

As he drove away, taking the opposite direction from the other man, you pulled away from him. “Where are we going?” You noticed he was no longer heading to the restaurant.

“Someplace quiet where I can fuck you properly,” he said, smiling dangerously at you. “You don’t think I’m gonna let you go just like that, do you?”

You grinned. “You never fail to impress me.”

The second he pulled over an empty parking lot behind an abandoned building, Donghyuck immediately moved your seat all the way back and latched his lips on yours, making you giggle against his mouth on your way down.

“Let me be on top this time,” you breathed out heavily when he pushed your lingerie to the side with one hand and stroked himself with his other one. Donghyuck glanced at you from behind his bangs, his lips bruised from your kisses. He confirmed your plead with a nod and let you switch positions. It wasn’t easy to move around in such a small space that you ended up bumping your head against his chin but the hilarity of it all only added more emotional feelings to be involved. Suddenly, the need for physical contact didn’t matter as much as before. You were enjoying his laughter, blushing when he swatted the bangs out of your eyes, pouting when he told you how ridiculous you looked trying to work this out and you just really loved having him around.

Maybe it worked the same way with him too because Donghyuck’s eyes were not solely filled with lust anymore. They were soft, tender as they peered into yours, and the way he caressed your face was soothing, as if you were the most fragile being he had ever touched in his life.

“Kiss me,” you said, not sure if you could handle his gaze any longer than that. He made you feel vulnerable, made you feel transparent and you were scared of having him look into your soul and finding out the secrets you’d been hiding.

He pressed his lips gently to yours, almost in a chaste kiss. He broke away to kiss the corner of your mouth when you were about to deepen the kiss, then he peppered more to your cheek, your temple before he landed a peck on the tip of your nose. “I’ve missed you,” he confessed, making you grow stiff in his arms. “I missed you so much when you were gone.”

It was very unusual for him to say such romantic words in such a serious manner and you were left speechless, dazed even, at the way he tenderly embraced you. “Happy anniversary, Sweetheart.”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, hiding your smile. “Happy anniversary, baby.”

It felt different that night, the way he held you, the way he moved inside you, the way he made you feel. It was the first time he ever made love to you, truly, and it was both weird and funny to know that it was happening in an abandoned parking lot, with both of you fully clothed except for the part where you were connected to him.

And as he tried to be quiet, you could hear him sigh and curse almost inaudibly under his breath—which felt somehow more erotic to your ears. Leaning forward to get closer to him, Donghyuck intertwined his fingers with yours, his free hand tugging at the zipper of your dress so the strap would fall off your shoulder, revealing enough skin for him to mark on.

Usually, he would be rough and dominating, sucking bruises until you hissed in pain but this time, he only applied soft kisses, sometimes peeking out his tongue just to make you shiver. Sex with Donghyuck had never been boring since he knew how to keep his women entertained, but tonight, your senses were taking so much more details because your heart was involved. And so was his.

“I’m—” You quivered, the sway of your hips moving out of rhythm. Being on top of him let you take control and you used it fully to maximize your pleasure. “I think I’m gonna come—”

He added the sensation by rubbing his thumb over your clit, almost making you jump off his lap. “Wait—” You could feel the knot in your stomach tightened. Knowing you were so close to the edge, Donghyuck’s hand found home in your hair once again and brought your lips to his. “I love you,” he whispered between kisses and you lost it. You lost every sense, every control, every thought that you could only whimper against his lips when you came undone, him following soon after.

Donghyuck muffled his moan by mouthing against the bare skin of your shoulder. His whole body shook under your touch and you let him finish without a word, just pressing your lips lazily against his collarbone.

Your heart was beating loudly, and you wondered whether it was simply because of the sex or his last three words. You had known that he was committed to you, just like you were to him, but you didn’t know that he loved you that way.

Donghyuck had his head thrown back, eyes tightly closed as he enjoyed the rest of his orgasm, breathing heavily through parted lips. You kissed him softly on his chin, making him look back at you. “Hey,” he smiled, a bit drowsy.

“Hey, stranger,” you cooed, fingers stroking his jaw. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“When you said you loved me.” You analyze his expression, every contort of his face. “Or was it just because of a spur of the moment?”

The sudden vulnerable look on his face made you freeze. Donghyuck had always been a little guarded and you’d noticed that, no matter how hard he tried to hide it behind his teasing smirks and mischievous smiles. You just never questioned about it because like him, you also had your secrets to bury inside your chest. You thought it wasn’t fair to pester him about it when he never forced you to spill. It wasn’t like he was hiding the fact that he murdered people on a monthly basis like you did. Unbeknownst to you, anyway.

“I don’t think I know what love is,” he answered with eyes just as soft as his voice. “What I do know is that I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I thought about you a lot, so much that it freaks me out.”

You quietly laughed. “You’re just obsessing over me.”

“Whether it’s an obsession or love, I’m willing to have it.” He cupped your face, eyes boring into yours. “I want to feel everything, I want you to make me feel everything.”

“That’s quite a demand.” You gazed down to his lips, tentatively touching his plump lower one with your fingertips. “But as a start, I think I want to love you too, Hyuck.”

The way he reflected your smile was both beautiful and heartbreaking—as if it was the first time he ever heard someone said those words back to him. He pulled you for another embrace, his lips grazing against your earlobe when he sighed, “That’s good enough for me.”

You giggled, nuzzling closer to him. “I think we’re late for our reservation.”

He chuckled. “We have got to stop skipping our meals for sex.”

***

554 notes · View notes

zillennial97 · 3 years

Text

Friends to Lovers | Larry Fanfic Recs

Hiding Place by alivingfire | 365k | Explicit

Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.

From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe. Meanwhile, Harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. All he has to do now is convince Louis to give them a chance.

Or, the canon compliant Harry and Louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

And Then a Bit by infinitelymint | 158k | Explicit

“We’d like to give the fans what they want.” Magee states, placing his hand on the table in front of him and leaning forward. “We want to give them Larry Stylinson.”

Or, take a parallel universe where Louis and Harry were never together, mix in a two year hiatus and an impending comeback, pour in a dash of lost fans, two tablespoons of strong friendship and a Modest! employee with a good idea. Add a squeeze of pretending to be a couple, lots of kisses and a tattoo or two. Stir. Serve: the mother of all publicity stunts.

(aka Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.)

Wild Love by purpledaisy | 130k | Explicit

“Good,” Julia says, clearly pleased to have them both uncomfortable and unable to look at each other. “Now, I only have one more question before you can go. What are you planning to do when this experiment ruins your friendship?”

“We said we’d stay friends no matter what,” Harry says smoothly, his chin lifting in defense.

“That was our one thing going into it,” Louis agrees. “Stay friends no matter what.”

Julia raises a perfectly manicured brow, “That’s all fine and good. But I hope you realize your emotions aren’t going to realize this is an experiment in the end. If one of you falls for the other and finds out those feelings are not reciprocated, you’re not going to be able to laugh it off as a social experiment. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this, I’m just hoping you’ve considered all of the possible outcomes.”

- AU: Two best friends try to date each other for forty days. It's supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated.

California Sold by isthatyoularry | 123k | Mature

Notoriously closeted boyband member Harry Styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile Louis, as his best friend, is back home in Manchester, living the typical life of a 24 year old. When Harry needs Louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

A fake-relationship AU between two lifelong best friends.

Tired Tired Sea by MediaWhore | 113k | Mature

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

Like a Bullet in the Dark by Vurdoc | 99k | Explicit

Prince Harold Edward Styles Lancaster is second in line to the throne of Great Britain. He is also your average Uni student- or he tries to be, anyway.

With a promise from the press (and his father) that they'll leave him alone for four years, he sets out to be a student at Cambridge, when he meets his very normal, very working class, very handsome suite-mate, Louis Tomlinson.

Louis makes Harry feel more like a person than he ever has before, which might cause some issues later on- 'cause Harry has a secret that he's only told his sister Gemma about.

Little does he know though, that Louis has some secrets of his own.

A Will & Kate Au- with a twist.

Christmas-ing With You by dolce_piccante | 65k | Mature

Two writers from Loving Heart Television, the premiere network for holiday romance films, find that, sometimes, love is not only in their works of fiction.

Faking It by TheCellarDoor | 46k | Mature

A uni AU in which Louis has been Harry’s best friend since he offered him cubed fruit on the playground, and they spend more time cuddling in their dorm beds than they do apart, but it’s not like that. Or is it?

Aka Harry pretends to date his best friend to escape unwanted attention from a too insistent classmate and hopes it won’t blow up in his face. Featuring embarrassing dildo accidents, awkward boners, longing, first times, late night conversations, emotional discoveries and Niall as the exasperated friend with bad advice.

if the sun don't shine by falsegoodnight | 36k | Explicit

Louis finds himself struck frozen, fingers stuck in place where he’s flattened them against the cold railing. It takes every bit of his remaining strength to pull them away, sliding them under his shirt and pressing them to his stomach to leech some of the warmth. He hardly pays attention to the bite of the wind and air on his shivering body. He can only pay attention to the music.

The music that is undoubtedly new to Louis’ ears, yet listening to it is the most familiar thing Louis has ever experienced. An inexplicable rush of emotions flood his mind and body, rendering him speechless and hollow. It’s a call of loneliness. It rings of everything Louis’ been feeling.

And the pure yearning - the intense longing for something and someone - tears through straight to Louis’ heart. The desperation feels all too intimate, all too real. It makes Louis think of what he yearns for more than anything. It makes him think of his soulmate.

In a world where you meet your soulmates in dreams, Louis has spent the last three years going to bed hoping to finally meet his, only to end up disappointed time and time again. It all changes with a violin.

From the Start by allwaswell16 | 32k | Explicit

Louis has no idea that one act of kindness will cause his life to spiral out of control. But that's what happens when his new friend fake proposes to him and a video of it goes viral.

Barefoot in Blue Jeans by indiaalphawhiskey | 24k | Explicit

AU. Louis Tomlinson is trying desperately hard not to fall for his son’s au pair, but he can’t, for the life of him, remember why.

475. The hope that this fear is unfounded.

In Dreams by dolce_piccante | 23k | Mature

AU. When Harry moves to a new city, his new flat come with a number of sweet, anonymous gifts and surprises that brighten his days. Could it be a friendly ghost? Another friendly presence in his new building is his tattooed neighbor, Louis, who seems determined to put a smile back on his face.

You're Writing Verses About Me by Rearviewdreamer | 23k | Teen And Up Audiences

Everybody knows that Louis has never been one for serious boyfriends. His reputation around campus precedes him, which is why he doesn't think twice before proudly telling his mother about his new and completely fabricated relationship with his oddly quiet and completely

And I Will Hold On To You by darkmarkburning, staybeautiful | 23k | Mature

“I can’t believe my best friend is about to be Prime Minister of Canada,” Harry whispered in his ear, his arms tight around Louis’ shoulders. “Who decided it was a good idea to let some brash kid from Doncaster run a country?”

“I don’t know,” Louis laughed into his shoulder, “but if you promise not to tell them they’ve made a mistake I’ll give you a posh office.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Tomlinson.” Harry pulled away and smacked a kiss onto Louis’ cheek. “I’m proud of you, Lou, I can’t fucking believe it, but I’m proud of you.”

or Louis has just been elected Prime Minister of Canada and Harry is his best friend since childhood.

the way the storms blow by rbbsbb | 21k | Explicit

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick.

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.

Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea.

Autumn At My Window by TheCellarDoor | 20k | Mature

A canon-compliant AU, in which Harry and Louis are both in the band and have been sharing flats and hotel rooms for nearly five years, but never made the leap past 'friends who are too close for comfort'.

Featuring a lot of pining, Louis' addiction to Harry's scent, and a whole lot of sexual tension that might just snap loose when they decide to spend some time together all on their own.

The Sex Methods by Alice_Novelland | 19k | Explicit

Harry and Louis explore alternative methods aka sex methods to help each other out.

once bitten and twice shy by pinkcords | 19k | Mature

This time as his stomach rolls, there’s no doubt about it. He’s going to vomit. And if he does, it’ll be on Louis’ shoes, a nice little parting gift to go with the embarrassment he’s caused the both of them. “I’m gonna throw up,” he says just as Louis turns to look at him, blue eyes swimming with shock and confusion, and asks, “Is that true?”

Or, in a rush of bravery only senior year can bring, Harry confesses his feelings in a letter to his neighbor and best friend, Louis, only for the entire school to hear it and laugh him out of their small town in Wisconsin. Ten years later, Harry's a successful lawyer at Columbia Records, coming home for Christmas for the first time since he departed for college. He plans to work his way through the trip, eat his mom's cooking, and avoid everyone from his past for as long as possible. The only problem is best laid plans hardly ever go as intended.

Oblivious by Speechless | 19k | Explicit

"You say it's nothing serious after you've been obsessing over it for months," Liam observes, pausing their videogame. "But now you barely talk about it-" "You guys fucking ignore me whenever I try!" Louis shouts, bumping his shoulder against Liam's and hurting himself in the process. "You're postponing sex, when it's obvious that Luke's up for it at this point." Liam ignores him. "For some reason you've left Harry in the dark about it-" "What?!" Louis snaps, banging his controller against the coffee table. "I have not!" "And no matter how blatant it is, no matter how fucking ridiculous you both get when it comes to it-" "Shut your hole." Louis urges, pinching his thigh, as soon as Harry enters the room. "Shush."

* Where Louis gets a little crush on Luke and for some reason Harry starts acting weird *

searching for a sweet surrender (but this is not the end) by feelslikehxme | 18k | Teen And Up Audiences

Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles, the two most loved coaches on The Voice UK known for their banter on the show and best friendship off. Louis’s determined to win and finally end Harry’s winning streak with Zayn Malik on his team, but Harry’s flirting and Liam Payne have different plans.

— Or an AU based off the Voice where Louis’s Adam, Harry’s Blake, Niall’s Shakira, Zayn and Liam have a cliche Romeo/Juliet love story and Louis’s too old for pathetic pining.

Can I bother you for a sex? by perfectdagger (sincerelyste) | 16k | Explicit

Reason #40 – Called/texted the wrong person, but he was into it anyway

“So, this isn’t really an invite for a sex, I see,” Louis spoke, not missing the chance. There was a teasing smile on his lips as he turned around to face Harry again after he had just closed the door.

Harry let out a laugh as he closed his eyes and shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh for fuck's sake, Louis,” he looked back at Louis, “this will haunt me forever now, won’t it?”

Louis shrugged. “Not my fault some people manage to mistext and sext others at the same time.”

When Harry mistexts Louis, Louis realises that he wouldn't mind Harry bothering him with anything, especially not with sex.

You'll Be Home For Christmas by 2tiedships2 | 15k | Not Rated

“Honesty, Lou, just ask Harry for help.”

Louis remained silent as he continued to scowl at the Christmas calendar Niall had hung on their refrigerator.

“And be nice to my calendar filled with holiday cheer,” Niall instructed. “You’re going to burn a fucking hole in it from the way you’re glaring at the innocent thing. It’s not the calendar’s fault that your heat is starting so close to Christmas.”

You're The One That I Want by spacecakesandmilkshakes | 15k | Explicit

Harry had always been Louis' best friend and...well...his baby, until one day he realized that his baby was all grown up.

show you the stars in the daylight by bruisedhoney | 13k | Explicit

Louis laughed, the sound loud and borderline obnoxious. Harry winced. “Are you kidding, Haz? I wouldn’t even look twice at someone that couldn’t pick me up.”

And, well. That was new information to Harry. It’s not like Louis had ever mentioned to him that he was his type in any way, shape, or form. Harry shifted closer into the space between Louis’s legs, even more intrigued than before. “Why not?�� he asked curiously, all pink lips and big curls. Louis smiled.

“Tiny, innocent, little Harold. Need someone that can pick me up, don’t I? I like being tossed around a little. You know, pinned down and made to take it. Lifted up like I’m nothing,” Louis said it all with a confident smile, his sharp little teeth tugging at his bottom lip as he locked eyes with the jock across the kitchen. “Think he might come over here. Move over. I don’t want him to think we’re together.”

Or, the one where Louis has a type and at sixteen and scrawy, it's definitely not his best friend's little brother Harry...ten years later, he changes his mind.

when everybody wants you by nightwideopen | 11k | Mature

Harry nearly faints on the spot. He got the job. He’s going to be on Saturday Night Live.

Three of Harry's dreams come true, then one of them falls apart.

the SNL au that no one asked for

Shape of You by Only_angel_28 | 11k | Explicit

“Seriously?” Surely, Harry must be joking. Louis arches a skeptical brow and snaps the waistband of Harry’s joggers playfully. “What exactly do you have down there, Styles? I know you’ve got four nipples, d’ya have a couple extra bollocks as well or summat?”

“No!” Harry shrieks, his voice bordering on shrill. “No,” He repeats a little quieter, calmer, “I just—I’m, er, kinda…big, I guess.”

Louis rolls his eyes in fond exasperation. “That’s hardly a problem, curly.”

*Or Harry is insecure about a certain rather large part of his anatomy that is apparently intimidating to the point where it has actually scared off potential shags. When he ends up confessing this to his best friend and roommate, Louis takes it upon himself to prove that Harry’s size doesn't have to be a curse, and decides to help show him just how perfect he is.

Waiting by allwaswell16 for LadyLondonderry | 10k | Explicit

Louis Tomlinson was Harry’s omega, of this Harry had always been sure. Unfortunately for Harry, Louis seemed to think they were just best friends. The six weeks that Harry has to live with Louis were going to be rough.

You Give Me Fever (What A Lovely Way To Burn) by my_fandom_OTPs | 10k | Explicit

Louis walks in on Harry jerking off in the shower. What happens after is just… Impulsive and spontaneous.

the value of this moment lives in metaphor by clicheanna for hattalove | 10k | Teen And Up Audiences

Louis and Harry are best friends and absolutely nothing more. It’s a bit strange that, suddenly, everyone thinks they’re dating.

Or the one where they’re all teachers at a high school and students are more invested in their lives than normally expected.

trusting things beyond mistake by sarcasticfluentry | 9k | Explicit

"Is that even possible?" asks Harry.

All of them stare at him for several seconds, and then Louis says, "What, coming untouched?"

"Christ," Zayn mutters, throwing his hands up. “This fucking band, I swear.”

...or, Harry wants to see if he can come without touching his cock and ends up getting more than he bargained for.

And I Will Steady Your Hand by kiwikero | 9k | Explicit

All first year university students who had not yet presented were strongly advised to join the Fire Away meetings, a support group for so-called 'late bloomers.'

They were not, however, advised to fall in love with someone else at the meetings without knowing what they might eventually present as.

A Christmas Wish by Snowy38 | 8k | Mature

"So when are you going to tell him?"

Louis pursed his lips at his sister, his Skype video call relaying his thoughts on that subject perfectly.

"Next question," he mused.

Lottie rolled her eyes.

"It's your birthday in four days, Louis."

"What difference does that make?" He scoffed.

She shrugged.

"You can get drunk and confess how you feel and take it back afterwards if he doesn't feel the same."

That might work if Louis wasn't in love with Harry. But Lottie didn't know that and she didn't need to find out.

"Thanks Lots," he said anyway.

"Seriously Lou what's stopping you?"

Louis sighed.

"Fear mostly."

Under that Damn Mistletoe by hickeystyles | 7k | Mature

Louis' heart froze when he looked over and saw Liam whispering in Harry’s ear and nodding towards the mistletoe. Louis’ eyes widened comically before he dove out of sight so Harry couldn’t see him standing under the mistletoe like an idiot, or worse, like he was part of Liam’s plan to have Harry kiss him.

Or a Christmas Party AU where Louis is in love with his best friend Harry and everyone else is trying to force the two of them under the mistletoe together

We Could Be A Dream by Bearandleonardwrite | 7k | Explicit

“So, I’ve never seen you at one of these parties before,” Harry says as he hands Louis his drink. “Who’re you here for?”

Well, shit. Louis was definitely not expecting that. He sips on his drink to give him a few moments to think of an answer and then, “Oh, y’know. I’m dating the host’s brother. What about you?” He’s quite pleased with himself. Great answer. He takes another drink as a reward.

Harry grins at him, eyes bright, and shrugs. “Gemma’s my sister.” Louis hums around the rim of his cup waiting for him to elaborate. “She’s the host,” he tacks on, smug smile on his face. Louis chokes on his drink and tries his best to glare at Harry while he coughs. Harry rubs at his back until he can breathe properly again, which is actually really not that helpful. “Didn’t realize we were dating, Lou. I’m flattered.”

(Basically; Louis meets Harry at a party that he wasn't invited to. He ends up asking Harry to tutor him so he can keep seeing him. Featuring a bit of pining and a tea party.)

Mission Fucking Impossible by orphan_account | 7k | Mature

“Are you and Louis fucking?”

Harry nearly spits out his drink as he tries to communicate a "what the ever living fuck" to Niall with his eyes.

Niall takes another casual sip of his beer “Not like I’m the only one thinking it mate, I’m just the only one saying it out loud.”

- Harry is in love with Louis, and he is almost positive Louis is in love with him too. Naturally, Harry deals with this by trying to get Louis horny and hope for the best.

Things don't exactly work out how he plans.

One day to believe in you by mediaville | 7k | Explicit

A mysterious force compels Louis to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Even when it's really inconvenient.

Harry blinks and has the nerve to look surprised. "You think about me when you get off?"

"Yes," Louis says. He wonders how hard he'd need to punch himself in the face to knock himself out.

"Often?"

"Yes, Christ, Harry," Louis groans. "Probably eight times a week for going on six years now. On average, you know. More when we were touring, less when I've been visiting family. Anything else you'd like to know?"

Fake It Till We Make It by whileatwiltshire | 7k | General Audiences

#33- Keeping up with the Neighbors

“We can fake it.”

What?

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“No I did not. Say it again.”

“I said” Harry started slowly, “We can fake having sex to teach them a lesson.”

It was clear to say that Louis's mouth went a little dry at the suggestion.

Or ,

Their neighbours were a bit too loud during their bedroom activities and Harry comes up with the worst plan to shut them up. Louis agrees anyways.

Web Me Harder by iwillpaintasongforlou | 6k | Explicit

Louis Tomlinson, otherwise known as London's masked hero Spiderman, finds himself crashing through the window of Harry Styles one night after a particularly nasty fight with a villain. Luckily Harry is a nursing student with a soft spot for caped crusaders who's more than happy to tend to all of Louis' wounds, no matter how many times he swings by.

candy in your mouth (i know you love me) by embodied | 6k | Explicit

“You’re wrong,” Harry says, jaw clenched tight. “Because if all I wanted was a fuck, I’ve got at least three willing parties a phone call and a five minute drive away. What I want is you. I want us, I want it to be normal again -”

“What the fuck is normal?” Louis yells, much too loudly, and has to pause to consciously lower his voice before he speaks again. “Because a year ago, normal was eating too much takeaway and watching B-movies on Netflix in your room, and then normal was me choking on your cock at half past two in the morning, and I don’t know about you, but as of the past few weeks, normal is not seeing or talking to you at all, because I’ve all but admitted that I’m fucking crazy for you and you don’t know what to say to that.” Louis’ chest heaves, his breath coming out short. He hears his own throat stick when he swallows, and his voice is decidedly weaker when he asks, “So which one is it, Harry?”

AU. Things have shifted since last Christmas.

Running Through a Cloud of Steam by allwaswell16 | 5k | Mature

As Harry’s long anticipated twenty-first birthday approaches, he anxiously awaits the moment when he finally meets his soulmate. He’s not even sure he believes in soulmates, but at the very least, he hopes to prove to his best friend that nothing can come between their friendship--not even a soulmate.

You Can't Blame Me For Tryin' by lululawrence | 5k | Mature

Reason # 38 - Because He Is From One of the Countries You Haven't Had Sex With a Person From Yet.

Louis had been accepted into the study abroad program through his uni back home and therefore got to spend a year in rural Minnesota, of all places, but he wasn’t going to complain. It was still a pretty cool experience, even if it was far different from what he had been expecting. And besides, if he’d been sent to literally any other university, he’d never have met Harry.

If It's Meant To Be (It'll Be, It'll Be) by lululawrence | 4k | Not Rated

“So, anyway. I’m done here and on my way to the airport. I think I’m expected to be there in the morning, around ten. I’ll let you know when I’m getting close.”

“Sounds good.” Harry pulled back from the window and threw himself onto one of the beds. Once he got comfortable, he steeled himself and then went for it. “It’s been too long this time, Lou,” he finally whispered. He watched as Louis bit his lip and nodded slowly.

“I know,” Louis agreed, just as quiet in return. “We have to swear to never go this long without seeing each other again. Two months is just...unacceptable. I’m gonna go now, but I’ll see you soon. ‘Kay?”

“Yeah. See you. Be safe,” Harry said, far too fondly for his best friend. He couldn’t help it though. It was how he always had been and probably always would be.

They hung up and Harry threw his arm over his face.

“I am so in love with him,” he whined to himself. “Fuck.”

Satisfaction by iwillpaintasongforlou | 2k | Teen And Up Audiences

Louis and Harry have known each other since before they could remember and been in love with one another for about as long, even though both steadfastly refuse to admit it. When Louis starts dating other people, it is only to help himself move on and not at all to make Harry jealous. And the sulking sort of anger Harry feels when he watches Louis kiss other people is completely irrelevant anyways.

#larry fanfiction recommendations #larry fanfic rec #larry fic #larry fanfiction #larry stylinson #louis tomlinson #harry styles #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic recs #larry fanfiction masterpost #friends to lovers

83 notes · View notes

lancermylove · 3 years

Text

Too Late (Oneshot)

Fandom: MLQC

Pairing: Victor x fem!Reader

Warning: MAJOR angst, reader’s death, mention of blood

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Can i get a oneshot of victor

Word Count: 2,158

A/N: The reader is looking back on past event and reflecting, so flashbacks (italicized text) are in narrator’s POV, while the present (reg text) is in the reader’s POV.

———————————————

Since childhood, I have always stood by his side and took care of him. Whenever people saw the two of us interacting, they immediately assumed we were a couple. Even the employees at LFG gossiped about us, saying that I was Victor's lady but he wanted to keep our relationship a secret.

Without knocking on the door, you walked into Victor's office, holding a collection of shopping bags. "Hi, Victor. Let me guess you forgot to eat lunch?"

The CEO shifted his attention from the computer screen to you and examined the bags. "Someone had a lot of free time today. Did you purchase the entire mall?"

"Wait, can I buy the whole mall?" You playfully asked while carefully setting the paper bags on the couch.

"If you plan to, warn me ahead of time," the CEO chuckled, removing his reading glasses and setting them on a stack of unsigned papers. He sighed quietly and rubbed his eyes with his right index finger and thumb.

"Why do you take so much stress?" You walked behind his chair, wrapped your arms around his shoulder, and pressed your lips on the side of his head. The subtle scent of his shampoo tickled your nose. "I know you're the CEO, but Vic, you need to rest once in a while."

"I'm fine, (Y/N)," Victor delicately touched one of your arms and whispered, "you worry too much."

"If I won't worry, then who will?" You giggled, resting your forehead against the side of his head. "Now, let's eat! I'm starving."

“You have not had lunch yet?” The raven-haired man inquired in a concerned voice, raising an eyebrow.

“How could I eat lunch knowing you haven’t eaten yet?”

Victor was aware of my feelings for him; he had known for years that I loved him, so why were his eyes only for her? She had done nothing for him and only caused him trouble, so why? No matter how much time I spent with him, his mind was preoccupied with her. Even on my special day, he was with her.

You waited on the sofa wearing his favorite black, backless dress with a pearl shoulder necklace. Every few seconds, your eyes shifted between the main door and your cellphone. You told yourself that he will walk in or call you any minute. You made excuses to appease your restless mind.

"There must be a lot of traffic, or maybe, he is stuck in a meeting. What if he is planning a big surprise for me?"

Seconds, minutes, and hours ticked by, but there was no sign of Victor. You spent your entire birthday waiting for him, but he never showed up.

The sound of a loud knock forced your heavy, bloodshot eyes to open. Even after the events of the previous day, only one name escaped your lips, "Victor?"

You rose from the sofa and hurried to the door in hopes of seeing your love; instead, you found a shimmer blue present sitting on your doorstep with a purple envelope on top. Picking up the box, you closed the door and dragged your heavy body back to the living room. As soon as you bent down to set the present on the center table, you caught a glimpse of yourself in a nearby mirror. Your cheeks were stained by your dark mascara and eyeliner, your red lipstick smudged past your lips, and your hair was disheveled.

"What a mess..." you mumbled under your breath and averted your eyes.

You carefully opened the envelope and pulled out an elegant ivory-colored birthday card. He apologized to you multiple times, but your eyes repeatedly darted back to one sentence: I had to attend to an urgent matter.

"Urgent matter...right," you snickered and hung your head, feeling a strong burning sensation in your eyes once again.

He apologized many times, and I didn't want to forgive him, but my heart refused to cooperate. Did he forget the promise he made to me when we were kids?

“I promise to always spend your birthday with you, no matter what! I will always find a way to come see you on your birthday.”

I remember how happy I was hearing those words on a clear, sunny day in our favorite park. The words that I held close to my heart seemed like nothing but an empty promise from him. I didn't want to forgive him, but in the matter of the mind and heart, the heart somehow always emerges as the victor.

Then came the day where she broke his heart and went to another man. Despite everything, I opened my arms for him and stood firmly by his side. I even stayed with him in his home to make sure he didn't take stress or overwork himself more than usual. As if blessing me for my good deeds, Victor slowly started to open up to me.

"Why are you still awake? It's 4 am, and you have a meeting at 8 am." You groggily stepped into Victor's bedroom, rubbing your sleep-filled eyes.

"I am almost done with this report. Why are you awake?" He asked with his eyes still on the stack of papers in his hand.

"A nightmare woke me up...so I thought to check on you."

Victor momentarily glanced at you before setting the report down on the nightstand. He stretched out a hand towards you and gently whispered, "Come here."

Wordlessly, you stepped closer to him and took a hold of his warm, large hand. Victor helped you onto his bed and pulled a gray cotton blanket over your body.

"Sleep here for tonight."

He turned off the light and settled down on the mattress, facing you. Victor ran his long fingers through your hair in an attempt to help you fall asleep. In all the years you knew him, never once had Victor touched you in such a tender manner.

At that moment, I started to think everything was working in my favor, and life was finally smiling at me. But who was I kidding? Once again, she came back and ruined my life.

"I am sorry, Victor," she hid her face in her hands and sobbed, "I shouldn't have left you. Please, forgive me."

You stood a few feet away watching her cry as Victor comforted her. Then she said the words you prayed she wouldn't. "Please, give me a second chance."

Victor hesitated for a while but eventually gave a small nod, "Fine. Will you stop crying now, dummy?"

A sharp pain shot through your chest as you felt your heart shatter to pieces. Blinking rapidly, you tried to fight back the tears clouding your eyes in vain. You covered your mouth to prevent any sounds from escaping and backed away, step-by-step, your eyes fixed on the back of his head.

Victor snapped his head towards you when he heard your footsteps retreating in a hurry. He stared with wide eyes for a second before squeezing his eyes shut. The corners of his lips tugged down as his head lowered.

I loved him to no end, but why couldn't he see it? Why did he always favor her over me? Was I truly that...worthless? To add to this pain, my family started to pressurize me into marriage, but I refused. I told them my heart only belong to one man, but they didn't listen. Unfortunately, I only had one person to turn to for comfort, so I ran to into his arms and cried my heart.

"I don't want to marry a random man," you cried in his chest, "but they won't stop pressurizing me. What do I do?"

Victor's muscles stiffened at hearing the word 'marriage'. He silently exhaled, placing one hand on the back of your head while wrapping the other around your waist.

You waited for him to say something, anything, but he remained quiet. His silence made your world crumble, and the little hope you had left diminished.

Why didn’t he say anything? Did my pain not affect him, or did he not care? They kept pushing me even more after that, and ultimately gave me a final warning, marry Victor or marry the man they chose for me. My family's only goal was to help their sinking business by finding a rich husband for me. I went to him yet again and broke down completely.

You kneeled in the middle of his office and hung your head low, letting tears drop onto the black tiles beneath you. The coolness in the tiles seeped into your otherwise burning body. "Why are they trying to ruin my life?"

Victor kneeled in front of you and rubbed soothing circles on your upper back.

"Victor, please do something," you bawled in desperation, knowing that he had the power to change the outcome. He averted his eyes from your crying form and stared at the fireplace, his jaw clenching tighter and tighter.

You lent me a shoulder to cry on, but why didn't you say anything? That day I left your office empty-handed and angry - not angry at him, but myself for thinking he would help me.

Then came the day of my forced marriage to a man who I hadn't even seen. From the new reports, I knew Victor was in a different country for a global conference, but I still didn't lose hope. Why was I so foolish? Why did I think he would walk in at any moment and rescue me like a fairytale prince on a white stallion? I waited and waited, but he never came. I should have expected this, but I was such a fool.

Days and months passed but Victor never contacted me, not even to ask if I was okay. Would I have told him the truth if he called to ask? Would I have told him that my husband doesn't care about the marriage or me? That my marriage was completely meaningless. That my dear husband hadn't even kissed me once, let alone touch me. That I was glad he wasn’t interested me because I only dreamed of kissing only one man. That I hate everything, everyone, and was reaching my limit.

I stared at the pearl-like raindrops rolling down the bedroom window and forced a chuckle. It was comforting to know that at least nature cared about me. Was nature crying for me? I tilted my head to look at the cellphone beside me and stared at the black screen. What was I hoping for? He didn't care back then, he still doesn't care, and he won't care tomorrow. Not a single person in my life cares, which I guess is good, considering that no one will be sad. My husband will find some other woman, my family has their prospering business, and Victor has her.

"Well, l-looks like it's almost time." I turned my head to look at the rain one last time as my vision began to blur. Within seconds, my head began to spin. Probably from the blood draining out of the cuts on my wrist.

"G-Goodbye, V-Victor...I hope you're always happy."

As soon as those words escaped my lips, I felt like laughing at myself for still being a fool. Even in my final moments, I couldn't stop thinking of him.

------

The raindrops continuously fell from the sky, each drop hitting the ground with a loud thud. Goldman followed Victor from a safe distance, curious to find out where the CEO was headed. The secretary nearly lost his footing when he saw his boss walk into a cemetery. He hid behind a tree close to the grave and quietly watched his employer.

Victor crouched down in front of a black granite stone slab and gently placed a bouquet of white camellias on it.

"Hey," he whispered in an exhausted voice as he brushed his fingertips on the rain-drenched stone slab. Goldman watched as Victor lowered his head and rested the flat of his right palm on the grave.

"Forgive me for not visiting for a few days...I was out of the country." Victor blinked his eyes rapidly and forced the corners of his lips up. "I...ate lunch already and..."

Goldman's eyes widened when he heard his boss sniffle. He leaned a little closer to make sure his imagination was not getting the better of him.

"(Y/N), h-happy birt-" Victor choked on his words and squeezed his eyes shut. He took a few moments to gather himself before standing up and trudging towards the exit.

The secretary studied his boss's slumped shoulders and heavy footsteps in confusion. As soon as Victor disappeared out of sight, Goldman carefully walked to the black granite slab and followed the bouquet up to the tombstone.

"Let's see...," he adjusted his glasses and read the words inscribed on the gravestone, "To all those reading this, tell the person you love your feelings before it's too late and all that's left is regret."

———————————————

➣ MLQC Masterlist ➣ Buy me a Ko-fi or Commission?

#mr love victor #mlqc #mlqc victor #victor x reader

73 notes · View notes

nikki-writes-stuff · 4 years

Text

Straight Lines and Sharp Angles (Tony Stark x Reader)

Summary: After finding out that Tony Stark is your soulmate, you spend the next several years avoiding the wild, cocky playboy. But when he shows up on your doorstep one day asking for you to give him a chance, you start to reassess your assumptions about the man with your matching soulmark.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader, Soulmate! AU

A/N: I still don’t know if this is going to be a oneshot or not, but for the moment there aren’t any warnings here! Maybe just fluff if you squint; I didn’t realize I was so soft for Tony Stark before writing this! I hope y’all enjoy. Let me know if you think I should write a second part.

Tony Stark – it was a household name, one that everybody had heard of, no matter what country they lived in, what language they spoke. Nearly every person in the world had heard of the famous billionaire, and you’d grown up hearing his name on the news.

Up until the day you were 16, he was just another celebrity, albeit one that you looked down upon. Nearly every month, he was in the papers for doing something reckless and stupid, but at least it made for good entertainment. However, that all changed after one of his more drunken interviews on Access Hollywood.

When your mother had called you into the living room that day to watch it, you’d been confused by the shocked, almost horrified look on her face.

“Mom, what is it?” you’d asked, furrowing your eyebrows. “He didn’t blow up a country, did he?”

“I… No,” she’d said carefully.

“Screwed the first lady?”

“No. But-“

“Skinny dipped in a public fountain again?”

“Honey, just… Just watch.”

Picking up the remote, she’d gestured for you to sit down beside her before pressing play. Perplexed, you’d dropped down onto the sofa, watching as the famous philanthropist swayed drunkenly on his feet.

“Mr. Stark,” the reporter started, “Is it true that you broke a world record for the amount donated to UNICEF in one year?”

“Oh, please,” he slurred in response. “The point in giving to charity is to do it out of the, the goodness of your heart. So I will by no means confirm the fact that you just stated. It just wouldn’t be, be ethical to mention the literal billions myself and my company have given to charity in the past couple o’ years.”

The reporter had smiled at that, but you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath.

“So are you out celebrating tonight, then, Mr. Stark?” the reporter carried on.

“Oh, yeah; Playboy called and said their models are eternally grateful for my contributions to humanity.” He winked at young man beside him, who only grinned and nodded. “So I’m headed over to the mansion to let them thank me in person, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, I have a pretty good idea.”

“Mom, this guy is a complete douchebag,” you said, “but I don’t see why you wanted me to-“

“Shh! Just watch.”

With a sigh, you did as she said, watching as Tony seemed to sober up a bit, looking into the camera.

“Sorry - I’ve been told it’s not good for business to talk about banging supermodels. Plus, I mean. I can only imagine how pissed my soulmate is by now.”

For a minute, the reporter froze, his eyes darting to the cameramen in surprise before turning back to the billionaire.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, but I wasn’t aware that you had a soulmate.”

“Oh, yeah,” the young man laughed. “Shit, my bad. I’m not supposed to talk about that on tv. Fuck, Obadiah is gonna kill me-“

“Are you and your soulmate together, Mr. Stark?”

“What? No. Fuck, you think I’d be out right now if I had a hot piece of ass waiting for me at home?” He stumbled on his own feet for a second, and he reached out to stabilize himself on one of the cameramen. “Shit- Nah, I haven’t even met her yet. At least. I mean, I think it’s a she. Might be a he, who knows? But, I dunno, I just have a feeling that they’ll have tits.”

All of a sudden, Tony looked as if he’d just come up with a brilliant idea, and before anyone could say anything to stop him, he was reaching down and pulling his t-shirt off, flinging it somewhere behind him. And, all of a sudden, you realized why your mother had made you watch this debacle of an interview.

Tony Stark had a soulmark that sprawled from his left shoulder down to his right hip, and it was made up of a geometric pattern. The mark contained crisp lines and sharp angles, all coming together in unique shapes that stretched across his torso. Your mouth went dry, and you felt the blood drain from your face as you stared at it and the man who it belonged to as he pointed at the camera.

“If you’re out there,” he started, but a hiccup shook his entire frame before he could continue. Blinking his eyes a few times, he shook his head and tried again.

“If you’re out there, and you have my matching mark, please, just…please contact me. Send me a letter, shoot me an email, fuckin send a carrier pigeon – just let me know you’re alive, at least.”

From there, he made to say something else, but he suddenly looked as if he was going to be sick. His face took on a greenish tinge, and he covered his mouth and turned away from the camera, stumbling away by a few feet. Your mom paused the tv at the first sound of his retching, and for a long moment, you just sat there in silence, feeling the weight of what had just happened settle over your shoulders.

Your eyes trailed down to your thigh, to the geometric soulmark that had been painted across it since you’d been born. You’d always liked to think about who your soulmate was, what they would be like and how the two of you would meet. But never, in all of your years of fantasizing, had you ever imagined you would be bonded to a celebrity. Much less an arrogant, loud-mouthed, entitled playboy.

“…Sweetheart, I… I’m so sorry. He had no right to speak about you that way-“

A bark of laughter escaped your mouth, and you looked to your mom incredulously.

“He has no right to do any of the shit he does,” you fired back, and your mom didn’t even try to correct you on your language.

You’d stood up, pacing the length of your living room, feeling a cold dread start to settle in your stomach.

“…He’s not my soulmate,” you eventually declared, eliciting a sharp exhalation from your mother.

“Sweetie, his mark looked just like yours-“

“Well, I don’t care,” you interrupted her. “He doesn’t get to be my soulmate. And not just because he talked about my tits on national television. It’s because he makes his billions off the suffering of others. He manufactures weapons, for God’s sake. And he thinks that a few donations to UNICEF is gonna make up for it?

“I would rather die than be with Tony Stark.”

_____________

Years passed after that fateful day when you were sixteen, and you went to painstaking lengths to make sure Tony Stark remained unaware of your existence. Even after he hung up his weapons development and turned into the beloved, lauded Iron Man, you couldn’t find it within yourself to reach out to him. In your mind, he would always be the same spoiled, drunken brat you’d watch humiliate you on Access Hollywood.

Ever since then, you only ever wore pants that covered your whole leg, even in the summertime. You didn’t have any social media profiles, and if anyone asked if you had a soulmate, you would lie and say you were one of the many who’d been born without a mark. Even when you moved to Massachusetts to start college at Harvard, you did your best to stay out of the limelight, instead choosing to throw yourself into your studies. And despite the temptation, you avoided all news that pertained to Tony Stark.

But, despite all of that, you still had a social life. You had a good, tight-knit group of friends, and you were mostly happy with where you were at. You were in your second year of college, and you were living on your own in a tiny, matchbox apartment just three minutes from campus. And you had grown comfortable with what you had.

Too comfortable.

Because one day, when your good friend Jade asked you for the millionth time to hang out at her parent’s pool with her, you’d said yes. She’d worn you down with promises that it would only be you, her, and a few of your mutual friends, and you’d reasoned that it wouldn’t hurt if the people who were closest to you knew about your soulmark.

And, sure enough, the pool day came and went without incident. You went, you swam, you dodged any questions they had about your mark, and you quickly forgot about the entire day within a week of it happening.

But on the seventh day after the pool, you heard a knock at your door.

_____________

“Coming!”

You put down your textbook and rubbed your eyes, glancing at your phone. It was 6:45 in the evening, and you’d once again gotten carried away with your homework. With a sigh, you stood up from your bed and stretched your arms above your head, listening to your joints pop with the movement.

Once again, a firm knock came to your door, and you let your arms drop to your side with a huff.

“I said I’m coming!” you called out, crossing the small living space.

Unlocking the door, you went to pull it open, but it barely moved an inch as you tugged at it. It wasn’t the first time that had happened; in fact, every day you told yourself that you would get one of your friend’s dads to come help you fix the door jam, but over a year had gone by without you doing anything of the sort.

With a grunt, you pulled on the doorknob with all your might until, finally, it popped open. You huffed, pushing some hair out of your face as you straightened up.

“Sorry about that. It sticks someti-“

Your words died on your tongue when you saw who was standing before you. You blinked, wondering if you were dreaming as you stared blankly at Tony Stark, who was looking between you and the door with arched eyebrows.

“…Candy gram?”

You huffed, looking down to the large bouquet of red roses he held in his hands. His hair was slicked back, and he was sporting his usual impeccably-sculpted facial hair. Plus, you knew next to nothing about men’s fashion, but even you could tell that his charcoal-gray suit had to have cost him thousands of dollars, if not tens of thousands.

“Um… Hi,” you greeted, shifting on your feet. “Can I help you, Mr. Stark?”

Once more, his eyebrows twitched, and he took a step forward.

“You know… For most of my life, I’ve been preparing a little monologue for whenever I finally got to meet you, but for the life of me I can’t remember a single word of it,” he admitted, a ghost of a smile spreading across his lips.

You nodded your head, still unimpressed.

“Does any of it include how you found me?”

The smile faltered on his face, and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

“I have my A.I. routinely check the internet for any image matches to my soulmark,” he explained. “Your picture popped up this morning, so I flew over from Malibu and-“

“Wait, my picture? I don’t have any pictures of myself up on the internet. Not any that have my soulmark in them, at least.”

Tony furrowed his eyebrows and made to reach into his jacket pocket, trying to juggle the large bundle of flowers for a second before giving up.

“Uh… Here, hold these for me,” he said, all but shoving the roses into your arms. You scrambled to accept them, immediately getting hit by a wave of their scent as you watched him pull out his phone.

After unlocking it, he turned it around to face you, showing you his home screen background. Your eyes widened as you looked at the picture of yourself in your swimsuit, smiling at something off camera with your soulmark in plain view. You hadn’t even remembered seeing anyone take your picture, but there was no denying that it was from Jade’s pool party.

“I… I didn’t post that,” you stammered. “How did you-“

“Someone named Jazzi put it on her FaceBook,” he explained, shoving the device back into his pocket. “Friend of yours, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah…” You trailed off, frowning. “But, wait, you set it as your phone background?”

He didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish.

“Well, yeah. I mean, my soulmate turned out to be a smoking hot college girl. Why wouldn’t I have you as my screensaver?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, and you shook your head, not knowing what to say; your world had suddenly been tilted on its axis, and your brain couldn’t keep up with it.

“So,” he continued on, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “I thought that we could have some dinner together tonight. You know, wine, dine, get to know one another. From there, I can have your things moved to my place – you’re gonna love Malibu. It’s so much nicer than Massachusetts – summer, all year long. Beaches, palm trees-“

“Wait, wait, wait,” you said, holding a hand up. “Just… Pause for a second. Pause. You want me to move in with you?”

“Well… Yeah. I’m on the wrong side of 40, hon – I’ve waited long enough, I think. Now, I’m starving. Do you like Italian? I know a place close by-“

“Tony!” you interrupted.

He stopped in his tracks, his mouth still open as you shook your head.

“I’m not… I’m not going to move in with you,” you told him incredulously. “I can’t just put my life on hold at the drop of a dime. I have my own home; I’m in college. I’m not going to leave that behind just because you showed up at my doorstep saying you want to make up for lost time.”

Tony sighed, sliding his hands into his pockets as he chewed on his bottom lip for a second, thinking over what you’d just said.

“…I get that,” he finally conceded. “I guess that would be a little too fast. …Alright, well, I can buy a place up here, I guess. We can live there until after you’re finished up with university-“

“Ok, you’re…clearly still not getting this. Tony, has it occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, there’s a reason why you haven’t found me until now?”

At that, he was left speechless, and for a second you wondered how many times in his life someone had managed to leave him without anything to say. You could practically see the gears turning in his mind as he tried to fathom the idea, and you used his silence as an opportunity to speak your mind.

“Listen, I get that you’re a big deal. I mean, you have your own action figure for crying out loud. But I’m perfectly content with where I’m at right now. I don’t need a reckless, arrogant billionaire showing up in my life thinking he owns me just because we happen to have the same pattern on our skin.

“Now, if you want to get to know me, I guess I can live with that. And maybe something will one day come of it. But if I do ever move in with you, that’s gonna be years from now. And any kind of relationship we do go into is going to have to move slower than what you’re clearly expecting.”

As you spoke, you could see Tony’s face start to grow more and more somber, and there was an edge to his stare that made goosebumps spring up over your arms. His hands were balled up into fists in his pockets, and once you were done speaking, he ran his tongue over his teeth as he considered his next words.

“…You don’t know a thing about me,” he started off. “Reckless? Yeah. Arrogant? Maybe on a bad day. But there’s a whole different side to me that you would be able to know if you just gave me a chance. Do you know how much it’s hurt? To watch the years tick by, knowing you have someone out there that the universe hand-picked for you, but still not able to do anything about it except sit and wait with your thumbs up your ass until something turns up?”

“Not as much as it hurt me to hear you objectify and humiliate me on television when I was sixteen years old,” you fired back. “And, yeah, my heart bleeds for you. However hard it was for you to wait for me, I’m sure the women, booze, and drugs did more than enough to numb the pain. I’ve been meaning to ask you, how did that evening at the Playboy mansion go, hm?”

“…I had no way of knowing you were only sixteen,” he tried to defend himself. “And that was one time; it was a drunken mistake, and I don’t even drink like that anymore. And, for the record, I haven’t touched drugs in years; I’ve gotten better-“

“And yet you show up here, thinking a bouquet of flowers and a fancy dinner will be enough to get me to move in with you? Even if you’ve gotten better, I can’t just look past that arrogance, Tony. If you want me in your life, you’re gonna have to prove it.”

With that, you turned on your heel and walked back into your apartment, slamming the door shut behind you. The last thing you saw before it closed was the look of hurt on Tony’s face as he watched you walk away, and you waited by the door until you heard the click of his footsteps as he walked away. As soon as you were sure he was gone, you felt the dam inside of you burst, and tears started leaking down your cheeks as you lowered yourself into one of your dining room chairs.

You sat there for a while, crying and clutching the flowers, watching as your tears dripped down onto their blood red petals. Because even though you’d been avoiding Tony for your entire adult life, and despite the fact that you’d meant every word you’d said about his arrogance, you still couldn’t deny that there had been a small, treacherous part of you that had wanted to go with him to dinner. That was the part of you that whispered to you, saying that he was still your soulmate, that there had to be a reason why he was your chosen one, even if you couldn’t see it.

But, as you dried your tears and stood up to find a vase for your roses, you snuffed that voice out. Whether or not Tony would get his chance with you was now completely up to him. If he was willing to show you that he would be able to put away his pride and work with you towards the relationship he wanted so desperately, then you would give him a chance.

But miles away, soaring through the air, Tony was developing his own plan. He’d spent enough time waiting. And now that he’d found you, he was gonna make damn sure that you didn’t slip away from him again.

_____________

You’d worked at the campus coffee shop as a barista for about a year, now, and you’d grown to enjoy it. It wasn’t your favorite among the three jobs you kept to afford rent and student loan payments, but it definitely wasn’t the worst. You’d gotten to know your regular customers, and your coworkers were generally cool people, easy to get along with. You were used to the little routine you had at the café, and that was why it was so jarring when, in the middle of your shift, a UPS delivery man walked in with a large package, claiming it was for you.

“I… I didn’t order anything,” you’d tried to tell him. “And even if I had, I wouldn’t have given my work address.”

“Look,” he’d sighed, “your name is on the package, and I had very specific instructions not to leave until you’ve accepted it. Can you please just sign for it?”

With an annoyed huff, you’d done as he asked, taking your 15 minute break to open it in the back room. Your coworkers had all watched the scene with piqued interest, but you’d shrugged them off when they asked any questions.

Cutting through the tape and cardboard, you sliced across the top seam of the box and opened it…only to find three more boxes. Shoe boxes, to be specific. One was labelled from Miu Miu, one read Christian Louboutin, and the third was from Louis Vuitton. You gulped, opening them each up to find the most stunning pairs of high heels you’d ever seen.

You jumped when you heard a gasp sound from behind you, and you turned to see your coworker Anna staring over your shoulder.

“Oh. My. God! Those shoes are to DIE for,” she squealed. “Ohmygosh, can I hold them?”

Arching an eyebrow, you handed her one of the Miu Miu heels, which were encrusted in glittering gemstones that you were sure couldn’t be actual diamonds. No one would be able to bring themselves to wear diamonds on their feet, right?

“Holy fuck, I think these are real diamonds!”

Well, shit.

“How in the flying fuck did you manage to afford these?” Anna demanded, handing the shoe back to you reluctantly. “Did you get yourself a sugar daddy?”

“No,” you immediately answered her. “No. This is just… It’s a long story. But I’ll tell you one thing – I will not be keeping them.”

“What? Girl, are you crazy? …If you’re going to get rid of them, could I have maybe just one-“

“I’m giving them back to the asshat that sent them here in the first place, Anna,” you informed her. “I’m 99% sure I know exactly who it is, and if he thinks he can buy me, then he’s got another thing coming.”

There hadn’t been a return address on the package, and so at the end of your shift and before your American History class, you dropped it off at your apartment and told yourself you’d get them back to Tony later, not even thinking to wonder how in the world Tony had been able to guess your shoe size perfectly.

The next day, though, while you were working your shift at the campus bookshop, yet another package had come for you. This time, it was a Chanel purse with a note attached to it that simply said, ‘I’m sorry.’ You’d simply snorted and thrown it into the box with your unwanted shoes that night when you got home, only mildly concerned that Tony had found out A) where you worked, and B) your work schedule. But, you reasoned, if he’d been able to find out where you lived, it wasn’t that surprising that he knew the rest of it, what with the resources he had at his disposal.

The third gift, though, went above and beyond the others, and it crossed a line that you hadn’t even thought Tony Stark would cross.

That night, you’d come home from your day of classes, feeling relieved that no other delivery men had tracked you down to give you an insanely expensive package. You’d changed into your pajamas and snuggled into bed, ready to watch some Netflix and get a head start on homework.

And, of course, that was when you heard the doorbell.

With a sigh, you’d stood up and marched over to the door, ready to tell Tony that it was too late for him to bother you and prepared to force him to take back all of his gifts. But, instead of your soulmate, a delivery woman was standing at the door, holding a package in one hand while a crate rested at her feet.

“Are you (Y/N)?”

With a sigh, you nodded your head and signed for the gifts, not even wanting to fathom a guess at what Tony had in store for you this time. After accepting the crate in her hands and setting it down on your couch, you watched in surprise as she picked up the crate, cooing to whatever was inside of it before holding it out to you.

“I hope he’s able to find a good home with you,” she said, smiling, and your heart clenched when you heard a soft whimper come from inside.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you said, shaking your head. “Please tell me there isn’t a living organism inside that box. Please, tell me he didn’t-“

You were cut off by a sharp, high pitched bark, and you backed up a step.

“I can’t accept this,” you told the woman, and you watched as she pursed her lips.

“Well, whether you want it or not, there’s a dog in here for you. And I was told that, if you didn’t take it, it’s going to the nearest pound.”

“I…”

You trailed off, watching as a small, wet nose poked out of one of the thin slots in the crate. You didn’t have a dog, nor did you want a dog at the current point in time – you could barely afford to feed yourself, much less a pet.

But you weren’t heartless, and you couldn’t bare to send an innocent animal to a pound that, for all you knew, could be a kill-shelter. And so, with a heavy feeling in your gut, you took the crate and closed the door behind the delivery woman, setting it on the ground and kneeling down to open it.

Inside was the most beautiful puppy you’d ever seen. It was a Samoyed, and its fluffy, pure-white fur offset its big, black eyes and its dark, button nose. It squirmed in your hands as you lifted it from the crate, and your heart all but melted when, after you sat it down, it climbed into your lap and rose up on its back legs to put its paws on your chest.

“Well, hey there, little guy,” you murmured, reaching down to the collar on its neck. It had a circular pendant hanging from it. On one side, there was a phone number listed, one that you didn’t recognize, and on its other side there was a name printed on its gleaming silver surface.

“…Ozzy, huh? Nice to meet you, Ozzy. I’m so sorry that you’re just a pawn in a rich man’s game to win my heart, but…at least you’re cute.”

Ozzy panted as he looked up at you, and you found yourself scratching behind his ears as your eyes fell onto the other package that had come with your new household member. You leaned over and pulled it to you, peeling off the tape as Ozzy waged war against one of your slippers.

Inside of the box, there were all the supplies one would ever need to take care of a dog. There was a black harness that came with two matching leashes, and further down you found two marble bowls for food and water. There were also more toys for Ozzy than you’d ever owned cumulatively during your childhood, and beneath it all there was a small, embroidered dog bed that had “Ozzy Stark” embroidered on it in gold thread. You huffed at the last name, wondering if it would be too petty to use a pair of scissors to remove ‘Stark’ from it, but you reasoned that you wouldn’t resort to that just yet. After all, you didn’t even know if you would be keeping little Ozzy.

That night, you took Ozzy outside to walk around for a little bit, and after he did his business, you went back in to set up his supplies. Luckily, Tony had included puppy food in his doggy care package, and so you served up a bowl of it for Ozzy to chow down on. From there, you put off your homework and played with him, watching his antics with a smile on your face; he really was adorable.

Despite the fact that his bed had probably cost more than yours, Ozzy slept curled up against your side all night, and you had to admit that you slept sounder than usual with him tucked against your hip. And when you woke up to him laying sprawled out against your stomach, you couldn’t hold back the happy grin that had come over your features. Luckily, it was your one day off during the week, and so you were able to sleep in, watching the little puppy slowly wake up.

As he lifted his fluffy white head up and yawned, your eyes caught on the tag hanging from his collar. More specifically, the phone number printed on the back of it. You chewed on your lip, weighing the pros and cons of giving Tony a call, but you reasoned that it was your only day off during the week – if you were going to return all of his pointless gifts, then it would have to be today.

And so, after taking Ozzy outside for a short walk, you took a seat on your bed and pulled him into your lap, dialing the number and waiting with bated breath as the phone rang.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Tony said, having picked up right after the third ring. “How’s our son doing?”

“He’s not…” You huffed, letting yourself fall back against your pillows. “Tony, c’mon. You can’t just get me a dog.”

“Why? You allergic? ‘Cuz Samoyeds are actually hypoall-“

“Tony, you know why! This isn’t a pair of shoes or a purse – which I’m fully planning on giving back to you, by the way. This is a living being! I’m too busy to take care of a dog. And he’s going to grow up to be big; he’ll need more space than I can give him.”

“I know. I’ve thought about all of that,” your soulmate assured you. “And I have a proposition for you.”

“Tony, I’m not going to move in with you-“

“So you’ve said. Look, just… Can I come over? I’d kinda like to be able to see your face again. It’s a nice one.”

“I…”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“You’re the most difficult human being on the planet.”

“Aw, love you too sweetie. I’ll be over in five.”

With that, he hung up, leaving you just barely enough time to get dressed. You threw off your pajamas and pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt before frantically arranging your hair into something mildly presentable. You studied yourself in the mirror even though you told yourself that you didn’t care about what Tony thought about your appearance and straightened up as much as you could, throwing dirty clothes from your floor into your hamper and washing as many dishes as you could before a knock sounded from your door. Your heartrate jumped when you heard the tap-tap-ta-tap-tap, and you hurriedly dried your hands off before walking over to let him in.

Once again, the door jammed as you tried to pull it open, but with a bit of finagling you managed to pry it away from the frame. There Tony stood on its other side, holding a box of donuts and wearing, this time, a burgundy button-up with a black tie.

“I brought breakfast,” he announced. “But you have to let me in to have one.”

You rolled your eyes but, wordlessly, stepped aside, closing the door behind him as he took a seat on your old, threadbare sofa. You crossed your arms as he turned his head, taking in the small studio, his eyes lingering on the chipped paint on the walls and the water stains on the ceiling.

“…Well, this certainly is an apartment,” he deadpanned.

You were about to say something snarky back, but Ozzy chose that moment to jump into Tony’s lap, prompting a wide grin to spread over the man’s face.

“Well hey, there, buddy,” he cooed, scratching behind his ears. “You been wearing her down for me?”

“No,” you answered for the dog, taking a seat on the opposite end of the sofa as your soulmate. “I know I shouldn’t be surprised that you bought me an entire-ass dog, but I am.”

“What can I say? Chicks dig puppies.”

You let out a sigh, shaking your head as you reached for the donuts; you were hungry, after all.

“I can’t keep him, Tony,” you reminded him. “I mean, he’s really sweet, but it just wouldn’t be responsible for me to have a dog right now.”

“Oh, I agree,” he replied, arching his eyebrows. “At least, not when you’re living here. With not one, not two, but three jobs. Fuck, how you’re not exhausted 24/7 is beyond me.”

“I am exhausted, Tony,” you sighed. “All the time. But some people weren’t born rich geniuses.”

“But some people are born as their soulmates,” he pointed out. “And you haven’t heard my latest offer yet.”

“A relationship isn’t a transaction, Tony-“

“I will buy you a house,” he spoke, stopping you dead in your tracks. “One that’s not too far from your campus. And I’ll give you a weekly allowance so you don’t have to work so much; all you’ll have to focus on is your classes, Ozzy here, and yours truly. And before you say anything, I won’t be living with you in this deal. I mean, I’m totally going to buy some property really close to you so I don’t have to fly up from Florida a couple times each week, but you’ll have your own space.”

You gulped, turning his words over in your mind; if this were anyone else, you’d tell them that they’d have to be a fool not to accept this offer. And Tony had clearly thought a lot about this a lot.

“Oh, I do have some conditions, though,” he added, as if it were an afterthought.

“…Ok. What are they?” you asked warily.

“I wanna see you at least two times during the week,” he started. “And I want to be able to spend at least one day out of the weekend with you – Saturday or Sunday, take your pick. And one other thing.”

At that, he leaned forward, scooting closer to you on the couch, and you noticed that his face had gone stone-cold. There was no joking whatsoever in his eyes, and there was no hint of a smile on his features. Your own eyes widened; you’d never seen him look like this, not even during his famous ‘I am Iron Man’ press conference.

“I want you to give me an honest chance,” he said solemnly. “I know I’ve done some stupid shit in the past, but I meant it when I said that you don’t know me. Not yet, at least. So no more of this ‘arrogant billionaire’ bullshit – I’m asking for a clean slate in return for a full-ride through the rest of your college career. And a shot to make it work with the person you’re destined to be with.”

You bit your lip, looking away as you processed everything that he’d said. If you said no, you knew, without a doubt, that you’d spend the rest of your life wondering what would have happened if you’d said yes. You would still have your pride, sure, but you would also have a student debt that you’d never even be able to dream about paying off. And the sentimental, optimistic side of you whispered that you would lose your chance of getting to know the person behind the mask Tony wore, the person who shared a destiny with you.

“…Deal.”

Relief settled over Tony’s features, and he closed his eyes as his wide, joyful grin returned to his face.

“…Thank you,” he murmured, almost under his breath. When he finally did look back up at you, he leaned forward, his hand planted on the sofa cushion beneath him.

“Would a celebratory kiss be too much to ask for?”

“Yes, Tony,” you chuckled in spite of yourself. “Yes, it would be.”

“Damn.”

__________________

Moving day came only a week later. Tony had emailed you several listings that were within five minutes of Harvard’s campus, and you’d at first balked upon seeing that not one of them was below one million dollars. You couldn’t say that you were surprised; the location alone was enough to drive any property’s worth up by a considerable amount. But you’d still felt guilty as you looked them over.

“Are you sure this isn’t too much?” you’d asked him over the phone.

“Hon. I could buy all of the homes on this list and still have enough money to live comfortably for over a century. Pick whatever you want.”

You’d eventually picked one of the more modest listings, comforting yourself by forcing Tony to take back the shoes and purse he’d bought for you. From there, you’d packed up all of your belongings and posted your furniture to Craigslist; your over-zealous soulmate had already hired an interior designer for your new townhome before you’d been able to warn him not to do such a ridiculous thing.

And now, the day had finally come to move your little life from your ratty studio apartment to a three-story brownstone on the other side of campus. Truth be told, everything was moving so fast that the week had gone by in a blur. Tony had left you alone for the most part, busying himself with getting your house ready for you, and you’d put in and worked your one-week notice at your three jobs. Anna had known right off the bat that your quitting had something to do with the mystery man who’d bought you the shoes she so coveted, but she surprised you by not saying anything about it, merely telling you on your last day that she wished you luck and happiness.

Now, you were dressed in an old pair of overalls and a Rolling Stones t-shirt you’d stolen from your dad as a child, and your hair was pulled back as you lifted your boxes into the moving truck Tony had hired. He’d had a meeting that morning in New York, but he’d assured you that he’d be able to make it back in time to help you with moving them into the new place.

You’d assured him it was alright, but he’d still insisted on hiring movers. After about two minutes of watching the men carry your boxes down the stairs and into the moving van, though, you’d insisted on helping them with the work. And now, here you were, shoving your last box of books into your van as Ozzy barked from the front seat. You’d asked the movers to crack the window and blast the A/C for him, but he was still anxious from being away from your direct line of sight.

“Alright, I think that’s it,” one of the movers said. “You all set to head out, young lady?”

“Just a second! I need to leave my key under the mat for my landlord.”

“Okey doke. Well come on down to the truck when you’re ready to. We’ll keep it running for you.”

“Thanks so much!”

After dashing upstairs and leaving your key, you turned to walk back out of the old apartment building. But you paused for a moment, turning back and taking one last look at the space. So much had changed in such a short time, and you couldn’t quite believe you were leaving this behind. But despite where you were going, despite how uncertain you were of the future, you knew that you would always be proud of the person you’d worked to become while living in your tiny, broken down apartment.

Taking a deep breath, you turned around and walked out to join the movers, and you offered them small smiles as you climbed into the backseat of their truck.

From there, it was only a twenty minute drive to the other side of campus, and you watched as the buildings along the way started becoming nicer and nicer, dissolving from worm apartment buildings popular with the students to sophisticated brownstones favored by the wealthiest of the university’s professors. You couldn’t believe that you were going to be living among them, in a house with three floors and a small, fenced-off backyard.

A suspicious voice whispered to you in your head, saying that it felt too good to be true because it was, but you pushed it aside. Today, you were solely focused on the move, and you’d be damned if you let your anxiety ruin your day.

Part of your optimism faded, though, when you saw a sleek sports car parked in front of your building, with none other than your soulmate leaning against its hood, a pair of gaudy sunglasses perched on his nose as he tapped away at his StarkPhone. You fought against the urge to roll your eyes when you saw that he, too, was wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt under his black blazer, but it was too late to change now; hopefully, your overalls would cover yours up enough for him not to notice.

After the movers parked the van, you picked Ozzy up and exited the vehicle with him tucked under your arm, squirming with excitement as Tony walked over to greet you, a wide grin parting his lips.

“What took ya so long?” he asked, eyes darting up and down your figure in a way that brought heat to your cheeks. “And one of us is gonna have to change.”

Damn.

“Hello, Tony,” you sighed, finally letting Ozzy down while keeping a firm grip on his leash. “How did your meeting go?”

“Boring – painfully so. But the rest of the day looks promising.”

“What do-“

“Holy cow, is that Iron Man?”

You were interrupted when one of the movers approached you, jaw slack in disbelief as he looked between you and your soulmate. You watched as Tony’s smile dropped into something plastic and practiced, indulging the mover by striking up a conversation with him as you turned to unlock your new home’s front door. The other mover, bless him, seemed unaffected by the superhero’s presence, and so the two of you began unloading boxes as Tony took a selfie with his enthralled fan.

“Woah, hey,” he suddenly interjected, gesturing for you to put down the boxes in your arms. “These guys got that covered; I thought we could go get lunch while they finish up.”

At that, both of the movers started working in earnest, and you glanced between them and Tony, arms still full.

“I mean… I feel bad just leaving it for them,” you reasoned. “And there really isn’t a lot to move – shouldn’t take more than ten minutes. You can wait for me inside, if you want to.”

A bemused huff escaped the billionaire, and he quirked an eyebrow at you before starting to shrug out of his jacket. You watched as he threw it onto the hood of his car before brusquely taking the boxes from your hands and starting to carry them inside.

“You know, I did hire them to do this so we wouldn’t have to,” he grumbled, but there was a fond gleam in his eyes as he glanced over his shoulder at you on the way in.

Pleasantly surprised, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you grabbed the next box from the van, making sure to put Ozzy in the downstairs bathroom so he couldn’t escape through the open door. With the four of you working together, it only ended up taking five minutes to complete the move; you really hadn’t owned a lot of things, a fact that Tony was clearly unsettled by.

“So, is that it?” he asked once you were done, a light sheen of sweat breaking out on his brow. “All of your things? Clothes? Kitchen stuff? Books?”

“That’s it,” you confirmed, turning towards the movers as they started towards the cab of their truck. “Thank you guys, by the way. I appreciate the help.”

“No problem, miss,” the one who wasn’t Tony’s fan assured you. He, on the other hand, had been making moon-eyes at your soulmate the entire time, and if you’d been more invested in your relationship with him, you might have even felt jealous.

“Oh, before I forget,” Tony suddenly startled, reaching into his back pocket. He pulled out a black leather wallet and fished out a few hundred dollar bills, causing your eyes to widen as he handed it to his still-enraptured fan. “Divvy this up between the two of you; thanks for helping my soulmate out.”

Now, their eyes widened, and even the more chill of the two men stared between you and Tony. You felt as if your cheeks were going to catch on fire as he smugly smiled and turned towards you, placing a hand on your lower back and spinning you around to steer you towards the house.

“Now, about lunch…”

___________________

The two of you ended up going to a boujee outdoor bistro for lunch, located smack dab in the center of the nearby shopping district of town, and you were already deeply regretting your decision not to change into something other than your paint-stained overalls. The menu didn’t even have prices listed, for crying out loud, and there were things like ‘herbed Israeli couscous with preserved lemon’ and ‘brunch galette with spring greens, herbs, and feta’ on it. You couldn’t even pronounce some of the items, but Tony looked right at home as he ordered a bottle of champagne for the two of you.

“Starting to drink early?” you asked, arching an eyebrow, but he’d just grinned and shrugged.

“Champagne hardly counts as drinking,” he defended himself smoothly.

As the two of you waited for your drinks, you fell into a silence that was, at least for you, supremely awkward. To distract yourself from it, you stared down at Ozzy, who was curled up at your feet with his leash looped securely around the armrest of your chair. The bistro apparently not only allowed dogs, but actively encouraged them, if the bowl of whipped cream your waiter had brought out for him earlier was any indication.

“So… How’d you like your new digs?” the man across from you suddenly asked, and you turned to find his eyes locked onto your face, his chin resting atop his fist as he rested his elbow on the table.

“It’s…nice. Still entirely too expensive,” you added, at which he playfully rolled his eyes, “but it’s nice. …Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he immediately fired back. “It was part of our deal; I’m getting something out of this, too.”

You glanced up as the waiter suddenly appeared to pour the two of you champagne, and despite your initial protests, you found yourself gulping down half of your glass as soon as it was filled. When he asked for your orders, you just blandly stated that you’d have whatever Tony was having, but your soulmate seemed immensely pleased with your words before launching into his order.

Once the waiter had retreated to the kitchen, he turned back to you, tilting his head slightly as he took in your features.

“Has your opinion about me changed at all?”

You were momentarily taken aback by such a sudden question.

“…Tony, it’s going to take more than just gifts to get me to like you the way you want me to.”

“Oh, I figured. You wouldn’t be the one for me if they were. But what will?”

You bit your lip, tracing the lip of your champagne flute with the tip of your finger.

“…You said that there’s a side of you that you don’t let people see,” you started. “Tell me about it.”

The man smiled, mischief gleaming in his eyes.

“Only if you show me yours, too.”

You nodded, and he leaned back in his chair, snatching up his flute and taking a quick sip of the bubbly booze.

“What do you wanna know about the ‘real’ me?”

“Whatever you think is important.”

He paused, considering that as his eyes flickered between you and the puppy at your feet.

“…You make me incredibly nervous,” he started, taking you off guard. “I’m used to people pandering to me at least on some level, either because of my money or fame or their sense of ‘gratitude’ for me, you know, saving the world on a few occasions. But not you. And I like that about you, I do. I hardly know you, and I already love your sass. But I’m not used to it in the slightest.”

Unexpected warmed bloomed in your chest, and your lips twitched up into a smile to match his as he carried on.

“I got you the gifts because that’s what I’ve always done in relationships in the past, but I was secretly glad when you gave back the shoes and the purse. …Not enough to stop buying you things, obviously, but most girls I’ve met took the presents even if they insisted they weren’t in it for the money.”

“So you have tried to date other girls?” you asked, not feeling surprised or offended that he’d date people that hadn’t shared a matching soulmark with him.

“Jealous?” A mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes, but you only raised your eyebrow at him, prompting his smile to fall by a few centimeters.

“I wouldn’t call it dating,” he eventually sighed. “But it’s been, uh…lonely. I would swear off relationships for a year or two at a time, saying I was gonna just buckle down and wait for you, but then I would meet someone and feel that spark and think, what the hell? Might as well.

“But they, predictably, never worked out, and then I was back to waiting. And the cycle would repeat itself.”

You felt a pang of sympathy for him, seeing the earnestness of his words in the set of his shoulders and the depths of his eyes.

“…I have to admit,” you murmured, “I’ve never pictured you feeling lonely before. The possibility hadn’t even come to my mind.”

He shrugged, trying to make light of something you knew weighed on him.

“Well. Now I have you to bother, so I don’t expect to feel that way much longer.”

For the rest of your lunch date, the two of you made easy conversation – easier than expected. All of Tony’s comments were laced with carefully constructed humor, but you quickly realized that it was just a coping mechanism, a way of protecting himself from sounding too vulnerable when discussing matters that hit a little too close to home.

During that first deep conversation, you found out that, though his relationship with them hadn’t been perfect, Tony still missed his parents deeply, and that a lot of his actions stemmed from a place of wanting to make them proud, even in death. He was also a genius, but while he was very much aware of that fact, he didn’t flaunt his knowledge nearly as much as you thought he would.

He briefly touched on the Avengers, but it was still too soon after Captain Rogers’ defection for the subject to not be painful for him, so you steered the conversation back towards lighter matters, noting the grateful look on his face after you did so.

In return, he asked you question after question about your life, proving to be a better listener than expected. He soaked up everything you had to say, learning about your family, your hobbies, your preferences. As it turned out, both of you enjoyed art, and while you didn’t consider yourself a gifted artist by any means, you enjoyed listening to his opinions about different genres and classical painters.

By the time your food arrived, you were so in deep with your conversation that the waiter startled you as he arrived with two artfully arranged plates.

“Here you are,” he gushed, his voice filled to the brim with pride as he served your famous counterpart. “Creamy oven risotto with crispy roasted mushrooms and lemon-pepper chicken.”

After placing the food in front of you both, you noticed a small bowl tucked into the crook of his elbow, and you smiled as he knelt down in front of Ozzy, presenting him with it as if he were a patron at the table.

“And some frozen strawberry yoghurt for this little one,” he cooed, giving the pup a pet behind the ears before straightening up. “Can I get anything else for you three?”

“No, thank you,” you assured him, picking up your fork.

The food, predictably, was delicious, and both you and Tony were quiet as you dug into it with relish. Ozzy, too, gorged on his food, getting pink yoghurt all over his face as he dived headfirst into his bowl. The two of you laughed at his antics, and by the time you were finished with lunch, you realized that you felt…content.

Tony really was different than what you were expecting. He was still slightly full of himself, aware of his own accomplishments to a fault, but he was also considerate of yours. You’d always pictured him as the type to talk over others while flaunting his superior intellect, but he was more down-to-earth than you’d ever hoped he’d be. After the two of you finished and the check was paid (all of your offers to help cover it had been met with eye rolls and pseudo-glares), you didn’t even hesitate to take him up on his offer to stroll through a nearby park before heading home and starting to unpack.

The weather was bright and sunny as the two of you watched Ozzy run down the sidewalk, his tail wagging so fast that it was just a little white blur as he sniffed at everything that crossed his path, and you walked and talked until Tony got a call at 4 o’clock. F.R.I.D.A.Y., his AI that, as he put it, ‘ran his life’, had informed him that it was from someone named Happy, and he’d apologized before stepping to the side to answer it.

As you took a seat on a nearby bench and watched him talk, you felt your own phone start buzzing, and you pulled it out of your pocket to find that it was your mother calling.

“Hi, Mom,” you said as you accepted the call.

“How did moving go?”

Your mother, when you’d first told her about your deal with your soulmate, had been apprehensive, to say the least. She’d never forgiven Tony for the way he’d unwittingly spoken about her daughter, and she’d made it clear that, while she would support your decisions, she didn’t trust your soulmate as far as she could throw him.

“It went well,” you assured her. “He actually carried boxes.”

“I know,” she sighed, and you could all but picture her rubbing her forehead in exasperation. “There are already pictures of the two of you floating around on the internet.”

You bit your lip, unconsciously darting your eyes around the park if you could see anybody sneaking pictures. It was mostly empty, though, with the only person in your range of vision being Tony, but you were still nervous about what you would see when you searched for yourself on Google later that evening.

“He’s…been really nice,” you admitted lamely. “Today has been really good, so far. He took me and Ozzy out to lunch-“

“I still can’t believe he mailed you a dog.”

“…And now we’re walking around a little park close to campus.”

“Has he said anything rude to you?”

“No, mom. I promise. If he does, I’ll slap him just like you said to.”

“Kick him in the balls for me while you’re at it.”

You huffed out a laugh, perking up when Tony hung up his phone and started making his way over to you.

“I have to go,” you told your mom. “But I’ll call you as soon as I get home.”

“You’d better.”

“I will! Love you.”

You hung up after she echoed your last two words back to you, and you watched as Tony lifted one sculpted eyebrow, glancing pointedly at your phone.

“Should I be jealous of someone?”

“Not unless you see my mom as competition.”

A relieved smile came over his features, and he held out his hand to help you up off of the bench. You didn’t comment when he kept it in his as he walked you back towards the entrance of the park, but you did let go when a couple of joggers did a double take while passing you on the trail. For a second, you thought you saw disappointment flash over his features, but he made no comment as the two of you made your way back to his car.

“So, what did your mom have to say?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“…Well, she started by asking how moving went,” you began, wondering if you should tell him about her distrust. “I told her you were very helpful.”

The corner of his lips quirked up at that, and he shot you a glance from the corner of his eyes.

“She’s not a fan of me, huh?”

You were puzzled by his deduction, and it must have shown on your face.

“I figured. I wouldn’t be a fan of me, either, if I were in her shoes.”

“I find it hard to think of you as being anything but a fan of yourself.”

A hiss of laughter escaped from behind his teeth, but his expression was surprisingly devoid of a smile.

“Your soulmate ended up being a self-righteous playboy who’s nearly 20 years your senior,” he deadpanned. “Not really the type of person you bring home for Thanksgiving.”

“…If it makes you feel any better, I’m probably going to end up hosting my family’s Thanksgiving this year. And I’ll invite you.”

At that, he did smile, and a part of you was relieved to see it.

“It does, actually. Thanks.”

The rest of your walk was done in silence, with both of you watching as Ozzy became less excited and more sleepy with every step. At his first yawn, you bent down and scooped him up into your arms, and by the time you’d arrived back to Tony’s Lamborghini, he was fast asleep with his nose tucked against your chest. The sight was enough to make your heart melt, and you jolted when your soulmate reached over to rub his upturned belly, his fingers just barely grazing against your breast as he did so. Even though you knew it was unintentional, your cheeks were once again enflamed as he opened your car door for you.

The two of you only spoke next when you were stood on your doorstep, whereupon Tony hesitated as he stared up at you from his place at the bottom of your steps. Neither of you knew how to say goodbye, and neither of you knew whether or not you should address the instant connection you’d made over lunch. You didn’t regret giving him a chance, and while you were still apprehensive of the man you’d been avoiding for the past several years of your life, you couldn’t help but wonder, almost hopefully, if he’d kiss you goodbye.

“…I had a good time today,” you started, clutching your puppy even closer. “Thank you for lunch. And, um…the house.”

The both of you chuckled at that, and Tony kicked his heel, digging it into the concrete beneath him with something resembling bashfulness; the sight was endearing, as was his honest smile.

“Thanks for giving me a chance,” he replied. “It’s…probably more than I deserve.”

Your heart squeezed at that, and after a moment of deliberation, he determinedly rose up onto the second step of your small porch and leaned closer, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. It was over in a moment, barely as long as a heartbeat, but his lips were soft and warm against your flesh, and you’d been able to smell his warm, spicy aftershave as he leaned close.

“Call me,” was all he said before turning around and climbing into his car, leaving you with a fluttering heart as you walked into your house and closed the door behind you.

Something had blossomed somewhere behind your ribcage, and it took you a second to identify it as your thoughts swam and spun around Tony. It was hope, you realized, and a small smile spread over your lips.

It was hope, and it was beautiful.

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #soulmate #soulmate au #marvel #MCU #fluff

404 notes · View notes

teamhappyme · 3 years

Text

a series of promising events (4/5)

aaron hotchner x female!reader

word count: 6.7k

a/n: happy new year!! we’ve made it to part 4! this part differs from the 3 previous ones, as it takes place all in one (and a half) days. But there are flashbacks, represented with italics. if anything is confusing with the timeline, or anything else is confusing you in general, please let me know! my brain is a weird place and does not connect the dots when i post for a public audience. i hope you guys enjoy this part, it was really fun for me to write!

get ready, let’s go friends!

here are the links to part 1, part 2, & part 3

****

October 2012

“Some people care too much. I think it’s called love.” - Winnie the Pooh

You’re known for your predictability. Yes, you’re overly kind, extremely perceptive, and a little bit of a literary genius. But those closest to you knew the predictability of your life.

You craved routine. You woke up at 5:30 every morning, had breakfast, watched the news, and caught up on some domestic things before heading into the office. You stopped at the same bagel cart every morning, an Asiago bagel with butter for you and a coffee for Spencer. Monday’s, you treated the whole team. You got to work at 7:12, second only to Hotch.

The team knew how you would react to every case. Missing or dead children would cause you to go silent, families being the target would choke you up, and anything including a scumbag with a signature kill made you nauseous.

So it was safe to say they were more than surprised to find out that you’d left for a month long european holiday, from an email, with Strauss cc'd on it. The team couldn’t remember the last time you went on vacation, because you hadn't gone further than two hours in one day.

In your travels through Europe, you stopped in countries that you’d only dreamt about visiting in your dreams. You saw Nyhavn, Denmark, the colorful canal right outside of Copenhagen. Hopped through Warsaw and Gdansk in Poland, before being silenced by your tour of Auschwitz. Next was France, the country you always said you would flee to once you aged out of the system. Besides hitting all the touristy attractions in Paris, you traveled through the alps, and made sure you stopped to see Giverny, the little village that inspired Claude Monet and his water lily paintings. The last true destination was Spain, jumping at the chance to flex your spanish minor muscles. You roamed Barcelona and Madrid, feeling a little like the Cheetah Girls as you stood in front of La Sagrada Familia.

The more you travelled, the more you’d thought about quitting. Thought about sending your resignation to Strauss through an email, leave your desk full of the mementos and picture frames, and continue falling in love with the continent you’d never been to before.

But then you made your final stop in London, to the sister who you missed immensely, and lost the nerve entirely.

“You’ll regret leaving them for the rest of your life,” Emily said to you, and you wondered for a second if she was projecting her decisions onto you.

“They don’t deserve me.” You’d mumbled out, just loud enough for her to hear. “I can’t continue on like this.”

You’d given the team everything you had for seven and a half years. The job demanded personal sacrifices you never thought you’d be capable of, until you met the people who signed on for this before you. The people who shared the same commitment to helping others, the responsibility to improve the world around them before the one that housed them. It was the first time you felt at home in your quarter century existence.

But the work never seized. The jet began to feel more like home than your apartment, hotel beds provided more comfort than your own pillow covered mattress. And no matter how many people you saved, no amount of gratification from loved ones could quell the loneliness building back inside you.

So you listened to Emily, and came back to the states on your original return flight, October 23, 2012. You returned to the real world in less than seventy-two hours and promised Garcia you would brush up on the next case before debriefing on Monday morning.

You were betting on the fact that the team wasn’t lingering around the office, considering it was seven thirty on a friday night as you headed up in the elevator, fresh off your flight from the UK. The last thing you wanted was someone to corner you, when all you wanted to do was sleep off the lingering memories of your last night here.

The glass doors leading into the BAU gave you a view of the bullpen; empty. Opening the door, you walked over to your desk, quickly glancing around the other spaces to see if anything had changed. It hadn’t.

Grabbing the files Garcia left on your desk and your car keys from the drawer, you tidied up the space the tiniest bit. You made sure everything was squared off to your monitor, updating the days passed on your desk calendar. You wrote a reminder on a yellow sticky to thank Reid for watering your small desk plant and stuck it to the screen for Monday. Everything looked like it was in its place, until you saw a blue stress ball sitting on your chair. Your head whipped up to the office at the top of the stairs, but the lights were off and the door shut. He wasn’t here.

But you could feel the stare of his eyes from four weeks ago on you just the same.

You guys were working a local case in the District.

The unsub had murdered three men, each with one shot to the head execution style. There were no signs of torture, and all three men were found with their eyes closed and arms crossed over their torsos; signs of remorse.

It took the team thirty hours to stick the profile and find the woman responsible. Her name was Kathryn Downey, a forty two year old mother of three, with a law degree that hadn’t been used in fifteen years. After digging into the victims personal lives and her own, the motive and stressor became clear to everyone; her husband had cheated on her.

You found Kathryn with a gun pointed to her husband’s head, his hands and feet duct taped, and a strip around his mouth keeping him silent.

Her hands were shaking, and you knew from the second you saw her that she didn’t want to kill him. She was angry, and full of rage, but she wouldn’t be able to follow through with this.

As long as you use the right language.

“Kathryn, put the gun down, we’re with the FBI.” Hotch started in a calm voice, but she shook her head, hands shaking faster.

“No. I have to do this. He,” She took a breath, pushing the hair out of her face with her free hand. “He has to pay.”

You glanced at Aaron before taking a step closer, slowly lowering your weapon. She needed to feel safe, and she needed to feel like an equal.

“Kathryn, my name is y/n l/n. I’m with the Behavioral Analysis Unit from the FBI. I really want to help you through this situation, so I’m going to put my gun down, alright?” You slowly lowered the gun to the ground, kicking it back gently to Hotch.

“Now Kathryn, I know your children are here. I don’t want anything to happen to them, and I know you don’t either, so could you tell me where they are so we can help them?”

“In the basement, I locked them in the basement. I didn’t want them to,” She let the thought end, not wanting to manifest it into the universe. She didn’t want them to see their mother kill their father.

Hotch spoke gently into the comms, getting Morgan and Rossi down to the kids.

“Kathryn, I want to know why we’re here in this situation. I’ve read the file, I profiled you and your family, but I want to know your side of the story. Why are you holding a gun to your husbands head?”

Her eyes widened in the slightest, and you were sure it was from the empathy in your voice. But this was your specialty, and you were determined to talk this woman down.

“He cheated on me,” She whispered, and for a split second, you thought this was going to be easy. But then she pressed the gun harder into his head, and let out a low laugh. “After everything I’ve done for this family, for him, he just takes his pants off for another woman?”

You heard the safety click off, and Hotch’s own in return. Please do not end in a shootout.

“Kathryn, don’t look at him. Don’t think about him kneeling in front of you. Just focus on me. Tell me how you got to this moment right now.”

“How did I get to this moment? I got here by following around this sad excuse for a man for the last twenty years. Like a moth to a flame, I couldn’t escape this life of mine.” Her eyes started to water, and you internally sighed. You were getting somewhere. “I have a law degree, you know. Fifth in my class at Columbia, and I only used it for a year. And it was in sleazy corporate law. Because I got married, and I got pregnant, and Sean wanted someone to stay home with the kids.

“I went from the intelligent corporate attorney with her eyes set on the attorney general’s office, to a cliche housewife who spends her days cleaning and dotting on her husband and kids. I never wanted to be this woman,” She closed her eyes, letting the tears fall down her face freely. She looked so young in this vulnerable state, too young to have three children. Yet she looked so tired, and so defeated. “I gave up everything for this family. I gave up my career, friends, bucket list dreams, and a life that was waiting to be lived, for this man. I cater to his every need, I listen to him drone on about work, assure him when he’s feeling anxious, and give in when he needs a release. I am my children’s rock; when they need a shoulder to cry on I’m there in a second. They need help with their math homework, I’m the number one girl. But when it’s my turn to fall apart, when it’s my turn to be lifted up and supported, nobody is there for me. And he should be able to be there for me.”

If you hadn’t undergone intense training at Quantico, you would’ve been in tears by now. You empathized with this woman more than you should, and you were trying so desperately to help her out of this situation. So you continued to dig your fingernails into your palms, and spoke again.

“I know what you’re feeling, Kathryn.”

“You don’t know what I’m feeling!” Wrong move. She ripped the gun away from her husband and fixed the trigger on you. Hotch moved so that he was only one step behind you, trying to get her to lower the gun. “You have no idea what this is like!”

“I do, Kathryn. I promise you I do. I may not be a wife, or a mother, but I know what it’s like to give yourself completely to a person. I know what it’s like to hold onto the stress and fears of the people you love. I understand, because I’m this person too.

“People like you and me, we feel the need to be the emotional support for everyone we love. We never want to see them struggle, and we never want to see them in pain. So, we listen. We overcompensate to make them feel better, and we check in regularly to make sure they’re okay. Our happiness, as strange and sad as it may be, is directly linked to theirs. We can’t be happy unless they’re happy. But once they come out of their depression, once they thank us for being the light in their lives, they walk away, and take the happy rainbow with them. And they don’t leave any for us.” Tears continued to fall down her face, but you needed to go further. She was going to break if you kept going. “Kathryn, I was in your position not long ago. I remember what it feels like when you realize that the love you have for someone won’t be reciprocated. That after everything you’ve done for them, all the small moments that you succeeded in taking their grief away and bringing happiness back into their life, they still don’t appreciate you. And it’s heartbreaking.

“But I’m standing across from you today, on the other side of that pain, trying to tell you that it gets better. It doesn’t go away, but it gets a hell of a lot better, Kathryn. So please, do not let this one moment that you couldn’t take the pain away ruin all the times you did.”

You expected the tears. You expected an emotional end to this situation. You didn’t expect Kathryn Downey to drop her gun in the middle of the room, and collapse onto you. But that’s exactly what she did. And instead of letting go to untie her husband, instead of joining Hotch in cuffing her, you held her for a minute. You held her breaking heart in your hands, and tried your hardest to take away all her fears and pain for once in her life.

After a minute, you pulled away and grabbed a hold of her upper arm. She gave you a slight nod, knowing this is what was always going to happen. You led her down the stairs and into the back of a squad car, as Aaron helped the husband to his children once outside of the house.

You were leaning against the suburban that you came in, watching as the team debriefed with the local pd before being dismissed. But amongst the chaos, Hotch found your eyes, and gave you a knowing look. One that meant you were going to talk through the very personal negotiation you gave.

The team arrived back at the office just shy of ten o’clock, Penelope waiting for Derek at the elevator. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder as you led the gang into the bullpen, everyone dropping their go bags at their desks.

You lingered for a moment as Hotch made his way up to his office, knowing you’d be joining him in a few seconds. You grabbed your blue stress ball, complimentary from the C.A.L.M. department meeting, as through the curtains you could see him drop his bag before checking his phone for any messages from Jack.

“L/n,” Here it comes. “Can I talk to you in my office please?”

You and Spencer shared a look, and he gave you a comforting smile in return. You took the steps two at a time to his office, and shut the door behind you once you arrived. He was standing behind his desk, so you didn’t feel the need to sit yourself.

You waited for him to speak, since he was the one that called you in. It was a little childish, but you weren’t the one who wanted the discussion.

“I want to talk about the negotiation.”

“I thought it was pretty successful. I empathised, I got her to drop her weapon, and no one was injured in the process.”

“Y/n, you know that’s not what I meant.” He uncrossed his arms, letting out a sigh. The two of you were too exhausted to have this conversation, but that wasn’t going to stop Hotch from going on. “I told you that you could lean on me when it all became too much.”

“That was six years ago, Hotch.” Defensive, but not rude. A fine line. “And this wasn’t about work, this was personal. You’re not obligated to listen to our personal issues that take place outside the office.”

“And you are?” Stop spinning my words, Hotchner. “I know you, y/n. This isn’t just something that can be brushed back under the rug.” You scoffed. “You don’t know me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t know me, Hotch. None of you do. You know my file. You know that I got a full ride to Bowdoin, that I was a social worker before transferring here, and that most of my life before eighteen was sealed away. I confided in you six years ago about my childhood and now you think you know me?”

“Why are you getting so defensive?”

“I’m not-” You paused, knowing that if you finished that statement it would, in fact, be defensive. “I’m just really tired and I don’t want to be having this conversation right now.”

“It’s not healthy for you to keep everything in while people spill their lives to you. And you know that.”

“Hotch,” You warned, your exhaustion quickly turning into rage.

“What, you really think I’m just going to drop this after hearing you confess to a serial killer that you have no joy in your life? And now you’re going to try and convince me that I don’t know anything about you? Bullshit, y/n. I know that you talk to your foster siblings every sunday to check in and make sure they’re all doing okay. I know that you volunteer with Garcia to help the families of victims cope with their loss. I know that you cling to Spencer like gum wherever you go to make him feel less insecure in a bar.”

“Stop it,”

“I know that your favorite color is purple, that you still write articles for CNN and The Times under a pseudonym. And I know, more than anything in the world, you want to be the mother that you never got to have.”

“Stop it!” You threw the blue ball into his builtins, hitting one of his stupid administrative awards in the process. He didn’t even flinch. “You don’t get to know me like that.”

“Why not?” You let out a low laugh as tears started to fill in your eyes. He was oblivious, and that's what made it hurt even more. You cracked your knuckles for a few seconds, waiting for him to connect the words you spoke at the Downey house and your frustration with him in this moment.

But his face softened, the wrinkles disappeared from his forehead, and you knew he figured it out. He didn’t need to say the words for you to know exactly what was going through his head. But he was with Beth, and you were not going to interfere. This wouldn’t change anything.

“It’s late, I should head home. I’ll get you my report before monday.”

You left his office without saying goodnight, and you tried to ignore the rest of your team huddled around Morgan’s desk, pretending not to be eavesdropping. But they totally were.

Instead you grabbed your bags, giving Spencer a reassuring smile as his gaze lingered on you for a second longer. You had no intentions of turning around to see Hotch’s face. But if you had, you would’ve seen the same heartbroken expression across his face, realizing he let you walk away.

You tore your eyes away from the office, not wanting to relive the memory any longer. You stashed the stress ball under your monitor before turning out the light, and making your way back to the elevator.

Once you were settled back in your apartment, you sent a text to Reid and JJ, letting them know you got in okay and that you’d see them at the office on Monday. After getting a thumbs up and a ‘glad you’re home’ in response, you turned in for the night, trying to dream of nights in Paris and Barcelona instead of at the BAU.

---

It was hard for you to get back in the routine of consulting and profiling. Garcia had left you copies of three cases the team was going to be working on when you returned, and you’d barely worked through the first one in two hours.

Three teenagers went missing from their small town in Idaho, and all were found in Seattle in the same week. Of course, your first case back included kids.

You resorted to calling Spencer when you really had no idea where to begin. You felt like a rookie all over again, asking for help when creating a geographical profile or running new negotiation tactics. But your best friend was quick to help, assuring you that once you got back to the office, you’d fall back into the routine.

“Did you have a good time?” He finally asked, albeit apprehensively. You didn’t leave on the best terms with anyone, and they all seemed to know what pushed you over the edge.

“I did. It’s amazing to know that there is a whole other world out there that we don’t even know about. It’s so different over there, Spence. It’s peaceful, and beautiful, and everything the place you call home should be.”

You could hear the intake of breath over the line. “Does that mean you’re moving to Spain?” A smile crossed your lips just thinking about Barcelona. But, it wasn’t home.

“This is my home, Spencer. I’m not leaving anytime soon.” You left out the part about contemplating a new life for the better part of three weeks, knowing it would only cause him more paranoia. You were staying in Quantico, continuing what you were born to do.

After drafting a rough profile and reviewing family statements, you took a break from the paperwork staring back at you all morning.

You made your way into the kitchen to find something for lunch, the afternoon approaching quick. All you really wanted to do was crash on the couch and watch old movies for hours, until monday morning inevitably rolled around. Selfishly you wanted your vacation to last forever. But your mind, and your bank account, thought differently.

After consuming a sandwich and some chips, you brought back the fresh mug of hot chocolate to the kitchen table, ready to take on the second file. Two women raped, tortured, and murdered outside of Miami. Why the fuck did it always have to be Florida.

Halfway through the family statements, there was a knock at your door. You grabbed your gun from the side table, just in case. Only three people had a key to your apartment. One of them was in England, one you just got off the phone with, and one… you didn’t exactly know where you stood with him.

After checking the peephole and seeing Hotch on the other side, you let out a sigh of relief. No one is coming to muder you. But it was quickly replaced with the memories of your last encounter, and the unspoken realization of feelings unrequited.

You placed your gun back on the table, and unlocked the door for him. He was wearing a navy blue quarter zip, jeans, and sneakers, the ultimate Aaron Hotchner not on duty look. It made your heart beat just a little faster noticing his hair was free of any gel, flopping naturally as he walked.

“Hi,” You greeted him, half of you hidden behind your front door.

A shadow of a smile crossed his lips, and he placed his hands in his pockets. “Hi. I’m sorry for stopping by unannounced. I know you must be tired and getting ready for Monday.”

“No, it’s okay. Did you want to come in?” You opened the door a little more, stepping out to show your sweatpants and sweatshirt look from behind the door.

“Thank you.” He murmured as he walked through the entrance, moving to take off his shoes. You told him a million times that you didn’t follow that rule, and that you hated it when people made their guests remove their shoes. But he told you once that it was a sign of comfort, that he felt at ease in someone else's home.

“Can I get you something to drink? I have some tea bags left over I think, or I can make you a cup of coffee.”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? It’ll only take a second. Oh, are you hungry? I still have some sealed crackers from before I left, might have something in the freezer if-”

“Y/n,” He interrupted you and you stopped in the middle of your path to the kitchen. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” You nodded, making your way back to the living room. “Oh, I um, got something for Jack while I was in England with Emily. I know it’ll probably keep him holed up in his room for a week, but I couldn’t resist.”

You pulled out the bag of souvenirs you got for the team, grabbing the London attractions lego set you bought for the young boy. Aaron smiled when you handed it to him, knowing the two of them would no doubt be starting this when he got home.

“You didn’t have to get this for him. But he’s gonna love it.”

“I know.” You reached in the bag once more, pulling out the gift you got for Aaron. “And I know you’ll probably never wear this, but I had to get it for you.”

He opened the box, a british flag tie on the inside. He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips, the tacky gift really meaning a lot to him. “Thank you. I can honestly say this is the most unique gift I’ve ever received.”

“Glad to hear it.” You tucked your foot underneath you as you settled onto the couch, letting Aaron set the gifts aside. You knew what conversation was coming next, but you didn’t have the courage to start it. Especially since he was the one to come to you.

He settled in on the couch, a cushion between the two of you, a clear boundary that he’d set.

“Did you enjoy your time over there?”

“I had a really great time. I can’t believe I’d gone thirty two years without leaving the country. You don’t realize how much of the world there is to see until you go and uncover a small fraction of it.”

He smiled while beginning to pick at his fingernails. This was a new tell of his, he was usually extremely reserved with his anxiety. “You sound like Emily.”

“I’m going to take that as a complement.” You said with a small laugh, adoring the woman across the ocean.

“It is. She called me a few days ago, told me you guys had a nice visit.”

“We did. Prentiss knows how to have a good time no matter the city. It was a little too much for me, though.”

“Nobody can quite keep up with Emily.” He added before letting out a breath.

“She also told me that you were contemplating leaving the BAU.” There goes the first shoe, dropping from the ceiling. “Are you still thinking of quitting?”

“No.” It was the truth. Em had spoken some sense into you, and you knew deep down, like you told Spencer, this was your home. “I just needed a break from everything. And Europe was an amazing distraction. But I’m back, and ready to get back into the swing of things.”

He nodded, some tension slowly released from his shoulders. He couldn’t lose another member. It was too soon.

“Was it because of me?”

“What?” Even though you were expecting this conversation, it still caught you off guard.

“I’m not conceited enough to think you fled to another continent because of a fight, but is that what pushed you over the edge? What led you to want to quit the BAU?”

In a word, yes. The argument was the last straw on the camel's back. You’d spent years with this unit, fulfilling a destiny that you made up for yourself so that you wouldn’t feel guilty for not having a family or friends to confide in. You spent the better part of the last three years pining for a man you couldn’t have, trying to fill the holes in your life by playing pretend. So yes, it was Hotch that pushed you over the edge. But you learned a hell of a lot about yourself in those four weeks.

“Hotch, did you know that this was the first time I went on an airplane for my own enjoyment? This was the first vacation I’ve been on in my life. I booked a flight on a Thursday night that left at six a.m. the next morning. I was spontaneous, and in control of all the moves I would make for the next thirty days. I’ve never felt more liberated in my life.

“But then I landed in Copenhagen, and had an anxiety attack. I can’t speak Danish, I have no idea how to get around a new country, and I only had thirty dollars in cash to my name. And the only thing I could think of to help me get through it, was calling you. I had your contact pulled up, ready to call you and tell you what a stupid fucking mistake I made. But then I could hear your voice in my head, saying ‘I know you’, and I’d never turned my phone off faster.”

“Y/n,” He sounded exhausted himself, but you weren’t going to give in to the apologies. Not yet.

“I had the time of my life there. I went to places that I never thought I’d get to see in my life. Places that my foster parents told me I’d never be important enough to go to. But I made it. I made it to Giverny, and I saw what inspired Claude Monet to paint the Water Lilies series with my own eyes. I went inside La Sagrada Familia and walked on the steps that Gaudi dreamt of. I saw everything I wanted to, and I wept every place I went to. Because I got myself there. I persevered and worked my ass off my whole life, to get there. I didn’t have any parents, I didn't have any siblings, a spouse, or children. I did it all by myself, and it felt pretty amazing to accomplish that.

“No one knows me like I do.” You finished. Your walls were back up starting to feel secure in your own skin again.

He stayed silent for a few minutes, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. He was calculating his response, trying to formulate the perfect response to get the two of you back on track. It was exhausting watching his brain work, and you wondered how tired he must always be.

After another minute, he sighed and dropped his hands into his lap. “Beth and I broke up two weeks before you left.” The other shoe had dropped.

“What?” For the second time tonight, you were rendered speechless by Aaron Hotchner. This was not the response you were expecting, and not the news you expected to hear anytime soon. The two of them were obsessed with one another, how could they just end it?

“We ended it two weeks before your trip. She accepted a job in Kyoto, and didn’t want to string me along with long distance. But she also said she knew my heart wasn’t in it anymore.”

You stood up from the couch, not being able to sit still with this new information. Hotch and Beth were no longer together, he said all those things to you as a single man, understood what you felt for him, and still let you walk out of his office. For four weeks.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It was his turn to stand, still leaving enough distance between the two of you to continue your pacing.

“Don’t deflect to another conversation.”

“You’re the one that brought it up!”

He sighed, running a hand through his perfectly shaggy hair. “I don’t want to have this conversation with you again. So please, get it through your thick skull when I tell you that I know you. And I don’t mean that on a bureaucratic superior level. I know you, y/n. And just because you’ve been alone your whole life, doesn’t mean you deserve to be alone for the rest of it.”

Your eyes started to water, so you looked away, gluing your line of sight to the wall next to you.

“You give us all one hundred and ten percent of your attention when we need you. And when I say all of us, that includes Jack and Henry. I’ve never met someone so intune to another person's feelings, who exudes so much empathy with one look and a smile. And we’ve taken you for granted for seven and a half years. Me the most.” Your eyes found his brown ones, begging you to continue looking at him. “I couldn’t have gotten through Haley’s death without you. And that is the biggest understatement of the decade. I am eternally grateful for all that you’ve done for me and Jack. But at the same time, I’m so sorry that it pushed me further and further away from you.”

His own eyes started to water, and he choked out a laugh. “What you said to Kathryn Downey, about giving yourself completely to a person and not getting the love reciprocated. I felt like an absolute idiot for not realizing that you felt the same way I did.” You closed your eyes with his confession, letting the tears roll down your cheeks.

“There were so many times I wanted to tell you. But then Haley took Jack, and Foyet came, and the world got away from me. And I’m so sorry that you’ve felt the need to carry all our problems on your own.”

“Hotch, you don’t have to apologize.”

“Please, don’t call me Hotch right now.” He took a step toward you. “It’s Aaron, when I’m standing in front of you, begging you to just let me in.”

“I don’t,” Your voice cracked, and you rubbed your hands over your face in frustration. “I don’t know how to let someone love me.”

“I know,” He took another step closer. “You’re just going to have to trust me when I tell you I’ve been in love with you for years.”

He didn’t see the rest of your tears fall, because you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder. His arms found their place around your waist, pulling you two impossibly close.

“I love you, Aaron.” You could feel him laughing with his chest pressed against your own, and he moved to kiss the side of your head.

“I love you.” He whispered back, causing the last of your tears to fall onto his sweatshirt.

He started to pull away, just enough to get a look at your face. His eyes were no longer filled with tears, but his cheeks still glistened when the light illuminated the damp spots on his face. He brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, letting his knuckles gently graze your temple. You caught his hand in the middle of his movement, lacing your fingers with his own. You’d been dying to know what it felt like to hold his hand like this for years, when you found yourself comforting him in his office one night, lightly holding his hand in yours. But this was so much better.

“You good?” He asked, and the corners of your mouth turned up the slightest.

“I’m good.” He traced the lightest check mark on your laced hands, causing a true smile to grace your face.

“You have a tally to see who can make me smile the most?”

“It’s just mine. Been keeping it for years. But I’m always in the lead.”

You laughed while letting go of his hand, wrapping your arms back around his neck. His eyes flickered to your lips for a second before looking back at you. You gave him a small nod, knowing he was asking for your permission.

When his lips met yours, you knew this was the feeling that all the fairytales sang about. He was gentle at first, slotting your upper lip between his own. It was slow, and full of love from the years of knowing one another inside and out. He bit your lower lip softly, barely there, and you slowly parted your lips, letting him trace your tongue with his own.

All you could think about was how warm he was, how his breath was actively leaving his lungs and entering your own as if you were one person. It was all consuming, and you were grateful that he took the lead, because you couldn’t focus on anything but him.

His hands slipped under your sweatshirt, resting on the skin just above your hips. You let out a small gasp as his cold fingers made contact with the sensitive skin, but it only made him laugh into the kiss.

After a few more moments of getting lost in the feel of one another, you reluctantly pulled away, needing air to fill up your lungs. But Aaron didn’t go far, gently resting his forehead against your own.

“I love you. And I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to stop telling you.” You closed your eyes and tilted your head up, slowly kissing him again.

“I’ll never get sick of hearing it.” You mumbled, your lips still grazing his own. He smiled into the kiss, which only made your heart glow brighter and brighter the more he showed you how he felt.

You pulled away first, tracing the outline of his jaw with your thumbs. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He tilted his head to the side, just enough to press a kiss to the palm of your hand.

The tenderness this man exudes is beyond belief. “I really love you, Aaron.”

He laughed while pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad to hear that.”

You let him hold you for what felt like an eternity, but in reality was only a few minutes. “I promised Jack I would take him out for ice cream to make up for missing his soccer game last night.”

“Okay,” You said and started to pull away, but his grip on your waist only tightened.

“Really? You’re just gonna let go without a goodbye?” You laughed at his fake hurt expression, so incredibly happy that you get to see Aaron in this light, enjoying his son, his life, and you.

“I’m not about to stand in the way of Jack Hotchner and a sugar rush. That guy loves his sugar.”

He let go of your waist, but not without a light squeeze to your sides. “I know we literally just started this, but I really would like to tell him. I don’t want to keep any more secrets from him than I have to.”

You smiled at the thought of Aaron telling Jack how in love the two of you were. It made you feel complete, in a way you never thought you’d get to experience in your life.

“Tell him. As long as he doesn’t blab about it to anyone on the team just yet.”

“You sure?” You nodded while passing him the souvenirs as he slipped his sneakers back on.

“Aaron, he’s your son. I’ve loved him as long as I’ve loved you, maybe even longer.”

He stood up once again, that stupid smile not willing to leave his face any time soon.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“Must’ve been something pretty good.” You said with a laugh, which he silenced by placing his lips on yours. You hoped the butterflies you felt now would be there every time he kissed you, no matter how many years have passed.

“Like that.” You said once he pulled away. His dimples were showing now, and you wished that you could take a picture of him in this happy moment and remember it for the rest of your lives.

“I’ll call you tonight.” He said and opened the front door.

“Okay. Have fun, tell Jack I said hi.”

“I will.” He kissed your cheek before starting the walk back down the hallway. He didn’t even make it halfway before turning around, and giving you one final kiss in the doorway.

“Love you,” He said and gave you one more peck, before you shoved his shoulder. “I love you too. Now get outta here, Hotchner.”

****

tags: @simplyprentiss @michaelahah @ssahotchner99 @svrgicalhands @hotchtopic @unionjackpillow @philcoolson @tommhollandzxhaz @kathleenjasmine @canimarrypizzaornah @reaperwalking @inlovewithaaronhotchner @shelbymm11 @mrshotchner23 @tropicalwrites @averyhotchner @dreamy-moments @softhxtch @crazymar15 @theinsanespaceship15 @wecouldbreakthedistance @jeor @funnycuteandannoying @andherestograce @thisisntjuliana @captwilson @kennedyblair @lovelysunflowerxoxo @rcompton @iifaequeenii @iwaizumiee @mrsaaronh0tchner @abbeyannsmith-blog @becausehello @rinacriedpower @ssa-raye @ephemeral-barnes @slxtherinchxser @baueoud @lieswithoutfairytales @hug-a-bug-boo @blogmythoughts @freebanditghostcalzone @sugarbutterbailey

#aaron hotchner x female! reader #aaron hotchner x female!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #jules writes shit ??

68 notes · View notes

drakewalkerfantasy · 3 years

Text

The art of surrender. (Tatum x F!MC)

Summary: When the anger takes over nothing lefts but the truth. Will it be enough for Tatum to be ready to admit the truth. And will it be enough for Claire to finally demand the answers she needed.

Words: 3170

Authors notes: I really hope you will enjoy this. Please let me know if still want to be tagged and what I can improve. Huge thank you for @jamespotterthefirst for proofreading and reading this for me and being amazingly supportive friend. Also huge thank you for @choices-bound for being supportive and also reading this before I published. Also thank you for @annekebbphotography for finally helping me decide what version I should use. You amazing friend so never forget that.

Raiting: to be safe 17+

**Warnings: confrontation/couple of curse words probably and if you squint really really hard some dry humping**

See Part 1 Part 2

From the moment Claire opened her eyes the following morning she felt annoyed and defeated. The sexual frustration she felt the previous night, though a little bit relieved, but still not enough for her mood to get better. And definitely not the way she would hope it will happen. She closed her eyes for a moment reliving the memory of Tatum’s hands gripping her hips a little bit harder. His body so close to hers that she could feel every inch of his hard, warm body against hers. And she could breathe in his familiar scent that was still lingering in the room.

She rolled over pressing her face into the pillow to muffle a frustrated groan. Angry at herself that she was so bluntly throwing herself at Tatum, that she clearly misread all the signs. Angry that despite the hope she still held, even so many years after, he still wasn’t interested in her the way she dreamed of.

Along with her anger at herself came anger at him, at the guy, she had a crush on for for so many years. At the guy, who was her best friend. At the guy who will never see her the way she would want him to finally see her. And at the one who ran away so abruptly as if her touch burned him.

Angry that despite everything she was still holding a fracture of hope that someday he will finally see her the way she did him. Hoping that someday he would want to be more than her bodyguard. And more than just her best friend.

She felt angry that even now, despite everything that happened yesterday she still wanted him. Even knowing that he didn’t want her the same way.

She felt scared thinking that she may lose him by crossing the unspoken line they drew between them so many years ago. Knowing that the friendship they had was the only thing that kept them afloat in the world they lived in.

She felt hurt by the way he pushed her away. Knowing that it was only to protect her even if she didn’t want it.

And she felt confused as when she pressed her body to his, she could feel how his length was straining against the zipper of his jeans undoubtedly wanting her the way she wanted him.

And she hoped... she hoped that this would be enough to make him surrender.

However the way Tatum acted this morning as if yesterday never happened... as if yesterday didn’t impact him the way it did her made nothing to improve her mood. Or make her believe that what she wanted would ever happen. Even though she still could feel that here was something between them. Even though the sparks she thought she felt so many years ago before he suddenly left to the army were back. And no matter how hard he tried to hide it she could feel them every time their eyes met. But even so whenever she tried to get closer to him, he pulled away. And she was so afraid of losing him that she simply didn’t know what else to do other than to make him tell her the truth. To finally tell her what happened with her Tatum... her best friend... her rock... the only person in the whole universe who never let her down. To the person who always knew how to make her smile. Wanting him finally to admit why he acted so afraid to get closer to her.

It was still early in the morning, when he came to walk her to the library. The simple summer dress was fluttering lightly around her thighs while the wind was blowing through the campus grounds. She was walking fast trying to match Tatum’s long strides. Her high heels clicked on the ground. And she huffed in frustration trying to catch up with him, finally having enough of Tatum not even meeting her eyes. Having enough of him pretending that yesterday never happened, looking rather like a solid stone made statue and not a breathing, living human being.

“Tatum...,” Claire called after him, when Tatum continued to walk in front of her in silence without even slowing. The stoic mask she used to see during these past weeks back in place.

And the only sign of recognition of what trespassed between them yesterday was the way his hand nervously fixed the cuffs of his jacket and how his eyes darted to her parted lips when he came to her apartment to pick her up. The only sign of remembering how her lips softly pressed to the corner of his lingering there for a moment too long, while her head was spinning from a musky scent of his cologne. Looking as if this didn’t affect him at all. As if his pulse didn’t skyrocket by a single touch of her fingers. As if his eyes didn’t become a shade darker when he saw her in the sinful dress she wore the previous day.

She peaked up the pace trying to match his, starting angrily to walk after him when he didn’t stop. Her long legs still unable to make as long strides as his almost running now on her high heels. Her hair fluttered in the wind, while her eyes prickled with tears of frustration, thinking of how much of the foul she made of herself yesterday. Her breathing coming in huffs, while she tried to calm her racing heart. And her next words came as a surprise even to her. “You don’t have to pull away from me again, not after yesterday.”

Her words came out with a broken sob, which finally made him stop and turn to face her. His eyes widened, when he caught a glimpse of the first tear rolling down her cheek. Her brows furrowed angrily and she tried to turn away from him to cover up another stray tear rolling down her cheek. Her chest rose and fell, trying to suppress another sob that tried to escape her throat. But it was too late, as she felt his fingers gently curling around her elbow and turning her to face him. His intense gaze met hers and before she could lower her head he placed the knuckles of his other hand under her chin, tipping it up.

“Hey... hey, what’s wrong?” Tatum asked with so much concern in his voice that it seemed that her Tatum... her best friend was finally back and this made her want to cry even more, knowing that here is no way she could hide anything from him.

“Nothing.” she stubbornly replied, noticing how his eyes narrowed and instead of letting go of her hand he led her toward the alcove in the end of the garden. The one they passed by the other day noticing how beautiful and secluded it was, like the one in her mum’s garden, where they used to spend so much time together. Like a piece of home. A piece of their friendship.

“CoCo,” he uttered gently, turning her to face him, when they entered alcove far off from the prying eyes if any of the paparazzi or her fellow students would sneak here. The childish nickname he used for her and only her slipping easily from his lips, while he studied her face. Her heart fluttering at the familiarity and warmth. But he could still see that the angry, hurtful frown that cut through her brows earlier didn’t go away and he repeated the question patiently waiting for her reply. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought you said the other day that as long as my life isn't in danger, I’m on my own. And also something about you being here only as my bodyguard and not as my friend,” quietly reminded Claire.

“Claire...,” he breathed softly, regretting the words that he spoke so harshly before. He didn’t mean them or at least he didn’t mean that he didn’t care about her. And this single breathless utterance of her name was enough for her to understand how much he already regretted the words he spoke and that for him she still was more than a simple assignment.

“Okay...,” she mumbled, lifting her head. “What happened to you?”

“What?”

“Why--- did--- you--- leave?” she asked. Her annoyance and anger clear in the way she pronounced the words, punctuating every single word.

“Because it was my duty.”

“No,” she shook her head, not buying his weak excuse, noticing him licking the corner of his mouth. The telltale of him not telling the truth.

“Because I wanted to protect my country.”

“No,” she snapped angrily. “You didn’t protect it. You were deployed to the country my mother so desperately wanted under her heel... and you... you of all people wouldn’t go there willingly. What means you were forced to go. So WHY? WHY did you leave?”

“Sorry,” he mumbled quietly, knowing that his reply will hurt her. But also knowing that this reply is far better than the truth itself. Still trying to protect her no matter what. “I... I cannot tell you.”

“Really? This is your reply?” she looked at him with such a hurt in her eyes that it wrenched his soul. But he didn’t say anything else, simply watching her turn toward the garden without saying another word.

“Wait...” finally said Tatum breaking the silence, swallowing hard before asking his next question. “Why? Why did you want to know.” Expecting anything else but not the reply she gave him.

Quickly... almost instantly, she whirled around. Her eyes pitch black, fuming with anger at him. Her hands curl in small fists, and her cheeks hollowing on the inhale.

“Why??? Really? WHY?” she spat the words taking a step closer to him. “You left me without a care in the world. You left me like I meant nothing to you... NOTHING,” she shouted angrily, the sob ripping out of her throat.

“What?” asked stunned Tatum. His heart twisted painfully as anger started to rise inside him at her words. “You want to know why I left?” he asked. His voice rising until he was shouting his next words at her. “Do you really think I didn’t care for you enough to stay? I left because I cared for you. Because I tried to protect you. Because I fucking loved you! And I came back because I STILL love you.” He shouted out breathing heavily.

The words, leaving his lips even before he could stop them. The truth, the one he never was able to admit even to himself, finally out. His eyes locking on Claire’s, but before he could say anything, he felt her small hand placed on his, while she took a step closer to him. So close that he could see tears welling in her beautiful eyes.

His fingers brushing away a tear hanging from her thick black eyelashes before it could drop to her cheek. And then as if not able to help himself he ran them over her cheek, gently outlining its contour before stopping under her chin and tipping her head up to meet his gaze.

For a second she closed her eyes, too afraid that she would see a regret for the spoken words. But when she finally opened them to meet his, she found nothing but the intensity of the man who wanted the same thing as her. The eyes of the man who wanted her no less.

“You... you love me?” asked Claire in a soft murmur, moving closer to him. Her heart skipping a bit, when she stepped into his space and he could do nothing but nod. Not able to find his own voice to reply. He could feel how her heart fluttered against his chest. His own heart thumping violently when she tiptoed toward him pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before hesitantly sliding her lips to the corner of his. Lingering there just for a split second. His hands gently coming to the dip of her waist feeling the silky sensational of her bare back under his fingers, while he pulled slightly away to meet her eyes. To search in them for any indication that she wanted him to kiss her. For any indication that maybe... just maybe they still wanted the same thing after all.

Slowly, hesitantly he pulled away, still holding her in his arms. Giving her the opportunity to push him away if she would want to, but instead he felt how her fists curled around the lapels of his suit jacket pulling him back to her. Their lips just a breath away. His hands sliding from her waist to her hips. His eyes holding hers intensely. His pulse picked up the pace meeting her gaze, and he couldn’t wait any longer when he dipped his head toward her finally meeting her lips in a tentative kiss.

It seemed that the time had stopped when their lips met. Their hearts fluttering in anticipation, when his fingers tensed on her hips, claiming her lips with his. Tasting barely perceptible flavour of her peach gloss.

He could feel how his dick twitched in the confines of his pants, while his lips captured hers again and again. Kissing her deeper and harder, intensifying the kiss. Sending the warm sensations straight toward her core, making her slick and wet with desire.

His hand ran up her back, groaning when it finally tangled in her hair angling her head for better access. Taking more than he ever could have imagined possible. The warm tip of his tongue trailed along the seam of her lips probing for entrance that she granted willingly. Her lips parted and she felt him washing over her like a wave of warmth as he deepened the kiss, swallowing her soft moan. His tongue sliding inside her mouth, gliding against hers in sinuous dance, kissing her tantalisingly slowly. He could feel how his desire grew stronger with every kiss and every touch, feeling her hand resting on the back of his head pulling his head even closer to her. Kissing him desperately... willingly.

Her body melting into him when his knees buckled slightly hitting the edge of the bench, pulling Claire in. His mouth claiming hers over and over, hungry... intense. His hands sliding up her legs and under her summer dress bunching it up. Her knees placed on the both sides of his thighs, and her body leaning into his.

He catched her lower lip between his pulling it slightly into his mouth, sucking on it with a groan. Letting his tongue slide against it before capturing her lips in a kiss. Kissing her with abandon, finally letting go of every single restraint he had.

Her toes curling, unfurling all her senses as the taste of him nearly silenced all thoughts. She wanted more. Her hips grinding against his growing hardness, no doubt feeling every single inch of his throbbing length. His hips rising to meet hers with the groan of desperation. Parting only for a split second just for an air, before digging in to kiss her even harder and hungrier. Letting go of years of restraints and doubts. Letting go of every bit of self control and resistance. The only thing he wanted to feel was her. Her lips. Her scent. Her touch. At this moment... and this moment only he didn’t care of any warning her mother gave him. Of any pain she would cause him. Or any heartache it could bring. The only thing he cared for and what’s mattered was Claire and she loved him, the way he loved her for so many years. The way he never stopped loving her.

He kissed her vigorously, whispering the words of adoration and love in between. Feeling how she started to move faster and harder against his throbbing flesh separated only by the thin material of her panties and his suit pants. And he was close... oh my God how close he was already. He was so close that one roll of her hips would be enough for him to explode right there and then... Only one more...

With the last sloppy desperate kiss and incredulous self-restraint he tightened his grip on her hips sliding her off from his laps and onto the bench. His breathing came out in hard and heavy puffs. His eyes still glossy from their kisses. And his lips lightly ghosted over hers before reluctantly pulling away.

“Why did you stop,” she breathed. The fear of rejection, of him pushing her away again reflected in her eyes so clearly that he could almost feel her pain. Her lips red and swollen from the way he kissed her just moments ago. So temptingly beautiful that he couldn’t resist it but kiss her once more.

She could feel how his lips softly pressed to hers, kissing her sweetly and tenderly for just a moment longer before pulling away. His fingers gently brushing away the stride of her hair from her forehead. His gaze locked on hers before dropping to her lips, fighting the desire to kiss her again. The heat in his gaze made her core quiver, and the tip of her tongue ran over her lips making them glossy, making it even more difficult for him to resist the temptation.

“Claire...,” he breathed heavily, taking her hand in his, placing a soft kiss to her knuckles. His other hand sliding around her waist, bringing her closer to him, resting his chin on the top of her head. They sat like that for a moment both unable and unwilling to break the moment of peace between them. Both unsure what will happen if either of them would start to speak. Thinking that if they will start to speak that the truth will finally come out and there will be no going back for either of them. “Claire,” finally said Tatum breaking the silence. “Earlier you asked me a question... two questions. The ones, you tried to ask me for weeks since I came back. The ones I always tried to avoid to answer. But not today. What do you want to know?” asked Tatum, brushing his thumb over Claire’s knuckles. Still unable to let go of her hand.

“Everything... I want to know everything,” whispered Claire with a bated breath before asking her final question. The question she was so afraid to ask, but the one she couldn’t go another day without knowing the answer for. The one she shouted at him in the moment of anger. And the one she cried out in the quietness of her bedroom while no one could hear her. “But most of all I want to know why you left me?”

He nodded silently, looking into the distance. His eyes somber, and his hold on Claire’s waist becomes a little bit too tight as if whatever he was about to tell her would change everything between them. And in some way it will.

Tagging: @jamespotterthefirst @choices-bound @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @openheartthot @ramseysrookiex @shaylan211 @annekebbphotography @boneandfur @mercury84choices @xxrainbow-princessxx

#tatum x mc #tatum mendoza #tatum x f!mc

50 notes · View notes

shirtlesssammy · 3 years

Text

6x05: Live Free or Twihard

Then:

Vampires are real

Now:

At a gothy bar, a girl shows an ID and starts looking around. She takes a drink and starts walking around. She bumps into her presumed date. Later, they’re really bonding --or well he’s pressuring her to reveal more about herself than she feels comfortable. She agrees to show him more of her poetry, and in the process of pulling the sheets out, she gets a papercut. The guy looks away TOTALLY not interested.

Actually, he’s more interested than he should be and takes off for her sake.

He comes back though, because he can’t stop thinking about her. He pulls out his best Edward line and tells her they can’t be together. Bella Kristin disagrees. He’s done BAD things, girl. But she’s 17! He shows her his fangs. It only excites her. He invites her to see his world. And a gross dude pops out of the alley to go to chow town on her neck.

Dean gives Lisa a call, seeing if she’d like him to visit. She misses him --of course.

Sam has a bunch of missing girls. They’ve got a case.

They head to interview a parent of one of the missing girls, Kristy. They check out her room to discover she’s REALLY into sparkly vampires. Dean’s little “wow” says it all. Sam finds the girl’s computer, while Dean entertains himself with reading the vamp books the girl was obsessed with.

They read the emails and find the location where the girl met her fate.

Meanwhile, a blood transport van is robbed.

Sam gets on the phone with Samuel. He confirms that they’re hunting vamps and they need to find the nest. Dean and Sam head inside the bar to scope the scene. They find three potential vamps (well, actually just two because one kisses another dude and Dean Bean, you don’t have to look so awkward.)

They split up to follow their respective vamp. Sam ends up in a storage area and slices his vamp’s head off easy peasy. Because Sam Fucking Winchester is Sam Super Fucking Winchester without a soul. Dean heads to the alley to break up a totally normal couple just making out. The dude wasn’t actually a vamp --he just pretends to be to get laid.

Dean gets jumped by the longhaired vamp. Sam rushes into the alley to watch the vamp beat up Dean. He has plenty of time to stop it --but just watches with a cruel and curious smile on his face. He watches the vamp feed Dean his blood. The vamp takes off (THANKFULLY) before Sam can kill him.

Dean’s a vampire, guys!

His transformation involves hypersensitivity to sound and light. He tells Sam that once Samuel gets there, he needs to kill him. He also wonders why Sam isn’t more freaked out. Sam just wants to know how he physically feels --cause that’s normal Samuel.

Dean heads to the bathroom to check on his little baby fangs. They’re coming in nicely!

Also, he totally runs away and heads to Lisa’s place. He acts cryptic but tells Lisa, “Thanks, for everything.” (Remember when Cas said those exact words to Dean when HE was being cryptic but knew he’d never see him again? I do.) Dean then tells Lisa he’s got to go --he’s not going to talk about it. He doesn’t want to bring it home. She gets closer and demands that he tell her what’s going on. Dean takes off, but not before waking Ben. He comes closer to Dean and Dean shoves him away--hard.

Later, Grandpa Campbell scolds Sam for losing track of his brother. But, surprise! Dean is lurking next to the refrigerator. He double pinky swears that he didn’t feed. “You can relax, I didn’t drink anyone. But...I came close.”

Dean begs for a quick ending, but Samuel reveals that he has a vampire cure - as long as Dean doesn’t drink any human juice boxes. There’s just one catch: he has to get blood from the vampire who turned him. Dean departs, armed with dead man’s blood and a can-do attitude!

Samuel spends a moment looking at Sam suspiciously. Apparently they both discussed the vampire cure months ago! So why didn’t Sam save his brother? WHY INDEED. Samuel implies that Sam did it solely to get a man on the inside and help them track the alpha vampire.

Dean encounters Edward Cullen in the grimy, dark hallways of the vampire lair. Sparklepants the Vampire Boy offers Dean a refreshing blood cooler before they sit down and watch Nickelodeon together. “I killed so many people on the way over here,” Dean boasts awkwardly, turning down the blood. He just can’t eat another bite! Dean gets the feature tour of the compound. He’s been tagged as a recruiter for the vamps, on account of his pretty face.

Dean encounters his sire. The vamp reveals his dirty scheme. He keeps the captured and turned women locked up until they’re “compliant” (EW) and then sets them out to catch hot guys, who in turn set out to catch hot girls. Etcetera! Ah, the circle of life.

The vamp leans in reeeeeeeaaaal close and asks Dean if he wants the “private tour.” GOOD GOD I am deceased.

Dean pulls out the vial of dead man’s blood, but one errant drop escapes the syringe and the game is over. They grapple for control, and Dean looks like he’s about to lose. But whispering descends from above. All the vampires collapse to the ground and in an instant, Dean follows. He dreams of a series of images - little girls and vampires and gothic country imagery. A man appears in the vision - the alpha vamp.

Dean swims to consciousness just as all the vamps try to ambush him. Heads meet the blood cannon.

Sam and Samuel pull up outside of the lair. A vamp breaks their windshield.

Dean continues to murder his way through an entire building of vampires while Sam and Samuel fight off windshield vamp. They head inside to see room after room of dead vampires. “Looks like your brother has some Campbell in him after all,” Samuel mutters. DAMN RIGHT HE DOES. (Some Mary Campbell, that is.) They finally find Dean sitting in contemplation with his boot resting gently on his sire’s severed head.

For Male Modeling Science:

Later, they prepare the cure. Sam demands to know what Dean saw of the nest - what visions did he have? Cold as ICE, Sam! Dean chokes down the cure. He vomits a truly next level amount of bile and his flashbacks go in reverse because, you see, HIS VAMPIRISM IS REVERSING. The last thing Dean remembers is the smirk on Sam’s face as he got turned.

He wakes, physically whole but mentally as scarred as ever! The next morning, Sam presses Dean again. He wants to know what Dean saw in the nest. WHAT GOTHIC COLLAGE?

Alone outside, Dean calls Lisa and then immediately chickens out on leaving a message. He checks in with Sam as they leave - he’ll always have his back, right? RIGHT????

The Sparkle Quotes of Doom:

These aren’t vampires. These are douchebags

You’re pretty!

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn 6x05 #live free or twihard #supernatural season 6 #et tu brute #the lolz

19 notes · View notes

thetravelerwrites · 4 years

Text

Sheng (Part 2) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Female Human/Male Yeren Additional Tags: Exophilia, Yeren, Chinese Yeti, Bigfoot, Sasquatch Content Warnings: Slavery, Indentured Servitude, Gladiator Words: 5545

The conclusion to the story commissioned by @floral-and-fine! After three years, the reader returns to repay Sheng's generosity. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

Sheng’s friend Rantha was a large, black minotaur, you discovered. He and Sheng had been raised together at the arena. Rantha had had the makings of a top-winning gladiator when he was young, but he left after he killed a man during a bout, deciding that fighting wasn’t what he wanted to do with his life.

He now made a living as a hunter and was married with two sons, living in a quaint cabin in the forest, which is where he took you when you left the city. You had given Edgar the extra papers you’d found before you made your escape, not certain what they were, but hoping Edgar could do something with them and help other people unjustly imprisoned find freedom, or at least justice.

Mercy, Rantha’s wife, was a cheerful and accommodating woman. She had a shriveled left arm, an affliction she’d had since childhood, but she managed to do things one-handed with little to no trouble at all. When you told her about how your own family had sold you into slavery to pay off their debts, she had told you about being left here in the forest to starve by her mother.

However, it was only because of that that she was able to meet and marry Rantha in the first place. She knew she was lucky, though; if Rantha hadn’t been here and she’d been left at an abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere with no help, she wasn’t sure if she’d still be alive. As much as you empathized with her, it did make you feel better knowing that her own sad tale had a happy ending. You hoped you and Nhemi had a happy ending waiting for the two of you, as well.

Nhemi, who’d grown up a slave, wasn’t used to not having any work to do and was a little confused by the change. Honestly, you were feeling out of sorts, too. Rantha and his family gave you food and shelter with no expectation of reimbursement. Being a guest after being a servant for so long felt unnatural to the both of you.

That evening, Rantha slept in his boys room and gave you, Nhemi, and Mercy the large bed.

“I’m sorry for inconveniencing you,” You whispered to Mercy as the three of you began to prepare for sleep.

“It’s no trouble at all, love,” She replied. “Rantha has been helping folks escape hard lives in the city since before the two of us ever met. He was able to walk away from the arena freely, but a lot of the friends he left behind weren’t as lucky. I think he’s always felt guilty about that.”

“I get that,” You said. “I wasn’t close with many of the other slaves besides the children I helped raise, like Nhemi, but I still feel bad that I’m here and they’re there.”

“I can’t tell you how to feel, of course, but considering you were working off someone else’s debts and that you were being held illegally, you’ve more than earned your freedom in my opinion. You don’t have to feel bad that you’ve finally received what you deserved in the first place. Trust me, that was a lesson I had to learn myself.”

You smiled. The three of you climbed into bed with Nhemi in the middle. She’d only ever slept on a thin cot before, so the plush bed was something she was unfamiliar with. She adapted quickly enough, and was dead asleep in a matter of minutes.

Despite the exhaustion due to the three day flight from the city to Rantha’s hidden cabin, you lay there unable to doze off. You stared up at the ceiling, the uncertainty of yours and Nhemi’s future made sleep slow in coming. Where would you go? You were now a fugitive on the run. If you or Nhemi were caught, it was the gallows. Rantha said there were options, places you could go where the people would protect you, but that seemed dubious to you. You knew better than anyone that everyone had their price.

Rantha had told you that Sheng had provided you with a care package of money and papers recommending you for work wherever you chose to go. You weren’t even sure where you should go. Where would be safe? Honestly, the safest thing would be to leave the country altogether.

You could go to the port in Shoreton and beg for a place on a ship. You didn’t know anything about working on a boat, but you were a fast learner. Every ship needed someone to mop decks and cook. You’d need to buy some trousers.

What about Nhemi? Would she be able to work on the ship? You knew there was an orphanage two towns over. Should you leave her there? You didn’t like the idea of leaving her with strangers, but it may be what was best for her.

With the future uncertain, you fell into an uneasy sleep, visited by tense dreams that were gone when you woke.

Three Years and Five Months Later

You stepped off the gangplank in Shoreton, adjusting your hat and looking out over the port town with a smile on your face. Shoreton was built on the ruins of an ancient elvish city, long decayed. What it’s original name was is lost to time, but now it was a town full of life and livelihood with fisherman and sailors and working girls. It felt more like home than any home you’d ever known, despite you spending a collective few months there.

You had managed to get a job on a merchant ship. Their merchandise was of questionable origin, but they hired you and Nhemi as deckhands, mopping the deck and scraping barnacles off the bow. Much like in the arena, you had worked your way up into owning your own small transport ship with a handful of crew, including Nhemi, who could climb the rigging like a spider.

Despite being a woman, your reputation for getting cargo where it needed to go regardless of seas or circumstance had garnered you a lot of business. In three years, you were now a captain of a small fleet of ships and a loyal crew. Your habit of humming as you navigated had earned you the name “Sea Sparrow” by your crew, a nickname that had caught on with the other sailors.

Next to you was your first mate, Neeta. Neeta was a siren who’d fallen in love with a crew member of yours. She was also the secret to the success of your business. The crewman she loved had died during a pirate raid, and the two of you had hunted them down and slaughtered them in his honor. Afterward, she swore allegiance to you, becoming a trusted friend and helping keep the seas and weather calm and favorable on your journeys. Staying on the boat allowed her to remember her departed lover and stay close to her home, the sea.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” She asked.

“Yes,” You replied. “This was always the plan. I told you that from the beginning.”

“I know. Far be it for me to question your decision,” She said sardonically. “It’s not as if I’ve ever left my whole world behind for someone I loved, after all.”

“That’s only part of it,” You replied evenly. “I have unfinished business in Dunmountain. Clearing my name is important to me and so is repaying Sheng, but there are people out there who need to pay for wronging me, and people who are still being wronged. Someone has to do something about it.”

“Does it have to be you who does it?”

“If I don’t, then who will?”

Neeta gave a conceding nod. “That’s fair. Do you think you’ll come back to the ships when you finish your work? I can certainly run things in your absence, but the seas will be sadder without you on them.”

You smiled. “That’s kind. I’m not sure. Sheng talked about a small cabin in a small town, and I want him to have what he wants.”

“What do you want?”

“I’ll get what I want, regardless,” You said, smirking. “I always do eventually. The key is convincing people your patient, when really you’re just stubborn.”

Neeta chuckled and crossed her arms, looking out over the port town.

Nhemi stepped up next to you on your other side and took a deep breath, looking up and grinning toothily at you. She wasn’t much taller than she had been three years ago, but she stood straighter and with more confidence. She had earned quite a bit of respect herself, having become an invaluable member of your crew.

“Ah, there you are,” You said, crouching down so that you were eye-to-eye with her. “Now, you remember what I said, you hear? Listen to Neeta, keep close to the rigging, and take care of yourself. When you come of age, one of these boats will be yours. You’ve earned it. And who knows? One day you might be my competition.”

“That’s right, I will!” She said brightly.

You twitched her nose and kissed her cheek. “You be good, alright? You’ll see me again before long.”

“I better,” She said, hugging you around the neck. You returned it and stood, giving Neeta a firm handshake, and headed out into the town to hire a carriage.

It was a nerve-wracking six days to reach the city. Not much had changed, especially the arena. The sight of it when you rode past it made your heart lurch. Was Sheng still there? Did he think of you? Had he been hurt again since you’d been gone? Had he gotten into trouble for helping you?

You’d thought of sending him a message, but Rantha said it was dangerous. The only thing you’d been allowed to do was send a missive to Edgar with the words “All is well” and hope he passed it along for you.

You found an inn uptown and set your belongings in it. You’d sent a letter to a magistrate in the city asking to meet, and the date was set for tomorrow. The waiting was agonizing. You wanted this to be over. You wanted the slavemaster and your family in jail. You wanted to see Sheng. But, you reminded yourself, you had decided not to meet Sheng until all this business was done. Sheng was the final piece.

The next morning, you went to the magistrate’s office with the papers you had kept on your person for the last three and a half years. You were so sick with nerves that you hadn’t been able to eat your breakfast, but you kept a stern and stoic face. You imagined you were quite the sight for the land-locked city, wearing a sword on your belt and a fine overcoat. Not to mention the well-tailored trousers. Tasteful women didn’t wear trousers. Not in this city.

“The magistrate will see you now, madam,” The attendant said to you. You nodded to him grimly, and he stepped aside warily to let you pass.

“Judge Andrews, good day,” You said as you entered.

He looked up from his papers. “Ah, good day, madam. You’re my appointment, I assume.”

“Yes,” You replied, and he gestured for you to sit. “You received my last letter, I trust?”

“I did,” He said, laying down his quill and sitting back in his chair. “And those are some serious allegations you’ve leveled against the slavemaster, serious enough to be taken to a higher court than mine, should they be true. I assume you have proof of your claims?”

“I do,” You said, handing him the envelope with the papers. “I also believe you should be in possession of a sheaf of similar documents from an anonymous source, correct?”

“That is correct,” He replied, looking at you curiously. “Though, without a formal complaint, no action could be taken. Are you making such a complaint on behalf of those referenced in the documents?”

“I am,” You said. “Should you need time to peruse the documents, I will wait. I’ve waited this long.”

“You aren’t doing yourself any favors by coming without a legal representative, by the way. Are you sure you don’t want a lawyer?”

You shook your head. “I trust myself and my own competency, not the competency of someone who wants my coin. Especially when lives are at stake.”

He scrutinized your letter with a furrowed brow. “This is indeed the slavemaster’s seal.”

“And you’ll note that the dates and balances are after my original imprisonment.”

“That’s so,” He replied. “It would be very difficult to forge a letter like this. The slavemaster’s seal in particular is quite intricate and nigh impossible to duplicate. I would need a professional sealmaker to inspect it against the slavemaster’s, but this is strong evidence.”

“That’s good news,” You said. “So, how much time will we need to conduct an investigation.”

“No reason not to do it now,” He said, standing from his desk. “We can collect the sealmaster from on our way.”

“Wha--” You rose from your seat as well. “On our way to where?”

“The arena,” He replied. “If what you say is true, he’s had plenty of time to destroy valuable evidence. If we want to catch him red handed before he gets rid of anything that could incriminate him, including his own slaves, we should act fast.

Though he was an older gentleman, he was a spry fellow and quick on his feet. He flagged down a carriage and let you get in first. The two of you spoke on various things, mostly about your imprisonment. He kept the conversation light, but he often attempted to steer the questions toward your escape. It had been illegal, but since the statute was up he couldn’t touch you. He could, however, prosecute the people who assisted your escape. You appreciated his desire to uphold the law, and playful banter though it may have been, you refused to implicate anyone and carefully hedged the subject. After a while, he gave you a knowing look and ceased his attempts to glean information from you.

He made a brief stop at the sealmaster’s shop, grabbing the sealmaster and explaining the situation. He and the magistrate appeared to be associates, and though the visit was abrupt, he did acquiesce to accompanying the two of you to the arena to confirm the validity of the seal.

The arena loomed over you as you approached, it’s shadow an oppressive presence. One last time, You told yourself silently. Just this one time, and it’ll be over, either way.

This was the first time you’d ever walked in the front gate as opposed to the slave’s entrance. Your natural instinct was to lower your gaze, but you reminded yourself that you weren’t a slave anymore and you kept your eyes straight ahead.

“Pardon,” Judge Andrews said, catching an attendant’s attention. “Could you please notify the slavemaster that Judge Andrews has arrived and would like a meeting with him.”

“Of course, your Honor,” The attendant said. “Can I show you to a lounge where you may wait?”

“Please do, young man,” Andrews replied. “Bring wine.”

“Yes, your Honor.” The attendant turned and led you to the upper ring to one of the nicer private sitting areas.

“Young man,” Andrews said to him before he left. “Do tell the guard to be on alert but say nothing to anyone else. Bring two of your strongest to guard this room.”

“Yes, your Honor,” The attendant said, clearly disturbed but excusing himself to follow the judge’s orders.

Wine was brought, and the three of you sat discussing various things while guards arrived and flanked the doors of the sitting area. You recognized one of them, but you looked a bit different than you had when you were last here, so you weren’t sure if he knew it was you.

The attendant returned and said, “The slavemaster is available, if you’ll follow me.”

“No,” The magistrate said. “No, the slavemaster will come to us. And tell him to bring his seal. We have very important paperwork to go over. Tell him that.”

“Uh… yes… your Honor,” The attendant said uncertainly.

“Oh, wait, before you go,” You said, catching him as he turned. “Is… Does Sheng still fight for the arena?”

“Yes, madam,” The attendant said. “He has a fight today, in fact.”

“I see,” You said, keeping your voice level. “I will sponsor today’s event, then. Can that be arranged, or does he have another sponsor today?”

“He does not, madam,” He replied. “I will inform him that he has a sponsor and arrange for a meeting once he has become presentable.”

“Thank you,” You said, and tossed the boy a coin. He accepted it with a bow and left.

Judge Andrews raised an eyebrow at you. “It costs a pretty penny to sponsor a prize fighter, even for one round.”

You sipped your wine delicately. “I have a debt to repay.”

“Hmm,” He said, and drank his own wine.

The slavemaster took a full hour to drag himself to the meeting, and when he arrived, he did not look pleased.

“It’s good to see you, Judge Andrews,” He said, not at all looking as if he meant it. “To what do I owe this unprompted, unannounced visit? I was told something about documents to go over? Was this not something that could have been done from the comfort of my office?”

“Did you bring your seal, Master Owens?” Judge Andrews asked, ignoring the slavemaster’s questions.

The slavemaster sighed and produced it from his robes.

“Cornelius,” Judge Andrews said, gesturing at the sealmaster, who took the seal and fixed a jeweler’s loupe to his eye.

“What’s this about, James?” The slavemaster asked, crossing his arms.

“Pitting is identical,” The sealmaster said, examining the seal in reference to the document. “Grooves are the same. Moreover, I was the one who made this seal for the slavemaster. I can say with confidence that this document was not forged.”

You smiled slowly. Got you, you smug bastard.

“Forged? What are you talking about?” The slavemaster said.

“Read for yourself,” Judge Andrews said, handing the paper to the slavemaster. He snatched it from the judge’s hand and scanned it. His face then paled. “I also have these,” The judge said, retrieving the papers you had left with Edgar from his coat pocket. “These also have your seal on it, and I’ll eat my chair if they don’t match. What have you to say, Master Owens?”

“They’re forged!” The slavemaster protested. “They must be! I’ve never seen them before, I swear it!”

“Ah, but you see that’s why I’ve brought Cornelius, here. He was the one who made your seal, as he stated. He, himself, has judged them to be genuine documents.”

“Nonsense! I want a second examiner!” The slavemaster insisted. “I demand a proper investigation be done!”

“You can demand all you like from your jail cell,” Judge Andrews said. “Guards, arrest the slavemaster.”

The guards stationed outside the door entered and took the slavemaster by the arms, dragging him backward. You stood up and watched as he was forced, kicking and spitting, from the room.

“Did you want to say anything to him?” Judge Andrews asked.

You shook your head. “No. That’s done. Nothing needs to be said.”

He nodded in understanding. “Very well. I have much paperwork to do, so I shall be going. Please come by soon to sign some papers, will you?”

“Of course.” You held out your hand. “Thank you for your help, your Honor.”

He took your hand and shook it. “It was my privilege, dear lady. Do take care.”

“I will.”

He and the sealmaster left, and you sat down, sipping at the wine and waiting for the attendant to retrieve you for the fighting match.

You were led to one of the private sponsor’s boxes in the upper ring. This was all so surreal. You’d been in every inch of this arena, but never as a guest. You almost felt like you should get up and sweep the floor.

There was a roaring cheer that made you sit up in your seat and look down eagerly. There, striding out into the ring, was Sheng. His fur was shiny and glowing. He held up his hands and drank in the praise from the crowd. Seeing him made your hairs stand on end, but you also smiled. At least one thing hadn’t changed.

He stopped in the center and waved to the children, like he always did. He then bowed to the crowd. Finally, he turned to the box where you sat, and though he couldn’t see you from this distance, he bowed more deeply than he had to anyone else.

His bout was incredible, and you watched it on the edge of your seat, breathless. He was so graceful and athletic, even for his size. Your memories of him were nothing compared to him in real life, and you couldn’t wait to see him face to face again. You just hoped he would still see you as a friend, after all this time. Three years was plenty of time to change a person’s feelings. Not enough to change yours, but that was beside the point.

As expected, he won, and he was showered with applause and flowers from the crowd. You wished you had one you could throw to him, even if he didn’t know it was from you. He bowed again to you before he left the ring, scooping up several of the flowers that had floated to the ground and holding them up in salute to the audience.

“Madam?” You heard from behind you. It was a second attendant, a woman that you didn’t recognize. “A room has been prepared for you with refreshments while you wait for Sheng to get ready. If you’d follow me, please?”

“Of course, thank you,” You said, rising from your seat. “Are you a slave?”

“Oh.” She seemed surprised by the question. “Yes, madam, I am.”

“Whose debts brought you here?”

Her face soured. “My husband’s.”

“And where is he?”

“Drank himself to death. I inherited his debts.”

“Hmm,” You said. You took a few coins from your pocket and passed them to her. “To freedom. From one slave to another.”

“Thank you, madam!” She said. “Thank you very much!”

“You don’t have to call me madam,” You said, smiling. She returned the smile. “What’s your name, love?”

“Anya,” She replied.

“Well, Anya,” You said, linking your arm with hers. “Why don’t you relax and have a drink with me until Sheng is ready?”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” You said. “The slavemaster would sell me in a heartbeat.”

“Today is your lucky day, Anya,” You laughed. “Come on.”

She sat with you until another attendant informed you that Sheng was ready to meet with and to collect your sponsorship fee, at which time Anya excused herself. You took a deep, shaky breath and waited.

Sheng entered the room, looking glorious, and smiled at you. You knew him well enough to know when he was trying to hide when he was tired.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady,” He said, his deep voice reverberating throughout the chamber. “If I might ask why you decided to sponsor me today? Have you seen me fighting before?”

“Oh, many times,” You said, smiling and trying to keep your heart from jumping out of your chest. “Though, it was usually from the very cheap seats. This is the first time I’ve been back to the arena in several years.”

“Welcome back,” He said. “How was the view from the sponsor’s box?”

You chuckled. “If I’m honest, I preferred the old view.”

“And why is that?”

You sucked in a breath. “Sheng,” You said softly. “Don’t you know who I am?”

He blinked, and his smile slipped. “I’m sorry, my lady, but should I? Have we met?”

You sighed. “Well, I guess it’s not surprising you don’t recognize me. Cut my hair, and it’s a bit sun-bleached, too. I wear pants now. I didn’t do that when you knew me. I got a tan and lost some weight. That can happen when you’re on a boat for over three years.”

“A boat?” He said, confused.

“Yes,” You said. “I begged my way onto a ship after I… left. Worked my way up, and now I’m very successful. It’s why I sponsored you. I had a debt to repay.”

“A debt to me? Why?” He asked.

“Sheng, do you really not know who I am?”

He held out his hands in exasperation. “I’m sorry, my lady.”

“Then let me remind you,” You said. You reached for your bag and pulled out a brush. “Come and sit.”

He eyed you warily, but he complied. He was still wearing his breastplate, but he’d taken off his bracers and neckguard. You reached up and carefully ran your fingers through the fur of his neck and began to brush in long, broad strokes. After a few seconds, he stood up abruptly and swung around, his eyes and mouth wide open.

“It’s you!” He said in a quiet voice. “You came back!”

Your eyes filled with tears as you laughed. “Of course I came back, you lump!” You jumped up into his arms and wrapped your legs around his waist. He gripped you to him tightly.

“Oh, I thought I’d never see you again, little one!” He said into your hair. “What have you been up to all this time? Is that a sword on your belt?”

You snorted a laugh. “Yes,” You replied. “It’s helpful for fighting off pirates.”

“Pirates?” He asked, pulling back to look at your face. “What work has you dealing with pirates?”

“I’ll tell you all about it,” You said, crying. “Whatever you want. I’ll tell you anything.”

He kissed you. It wasn’t the same as the one he’d given you when the two of you had parted over three years ago, which was soft and feather-light and spoke of a long farewell. This was rough, hungry, and needy. Heat flared between your legs and you moaned against his lips.

He put you down on your feet and took your hand.

“Come on,” He said. “Let’s go somewhere more private, where we won’t be disturbed. You remember the way to my quarters?”

You smiled. “Some things one never forgets.”

He grinned back at you and the two of you sprinted to his rooms. Once there, the two of you began shedding clothes like they were on fire. Your breathing was ragged and his hands were shaking as he reached to touch your body.

“I’ve dreamed of this for three years,” He breathed. “Longer. I’ve wanted you since the first day I saw you from the arena, peeking into the ring. That was lust back then but even still I cared for you. I didn’t realize I loved you until it was too late.”

“It’s not too late, Sheng,” You said, carding your fingers down the fur of his chest. “I’m right here. I’m here because I chose to be. I chose you.”

He picked you up bridal style and tossed you lightly onto his wide bed. You bounced up and down with a giggle.

“You did lose some weight, but there’s still plenty of jiggle in those parts of yours,” He said, laughing as he climbed over you, pressing you down into the bed with his body.

You snickered and slapped his shoulder. “You’re such an idiot.”

“You like it,” He said as he kissed you. His kisses moved to your ear, then your neck, and to your breasts. He squeezed and kneaded them while he sucked on your skin. You sighed and pulled up your knees as he settled his body between them. Your back arched as he moved lower, kissing and sucking your belly and lifting your legs up and open.

The first press of his tongue against your slit was like lightning in your body, and the muscles of your stomach clenched. The sheets were balled in your fists as he sucked at your core, teasing the lips with one of his fingers.

“Oh, fuck,” You wheezed.

“Where did you hear such language, missy?” He asked.

“I’m a sailor now, remember?” You said breathlessly.

“I thought that ‘cursing like a sailor’ thing was an old wives’ tale,” He said.

“It mostly is,” You said, looking down at him lying between your legs. “Can we discuss it later?”

He grinned wickedly at you and went back to his task with renewed vigor. You moaned and bit your lip as he eased a finger inside you, crooked and rubbing the sweet spot. You felt yourself coming to a climax, but just as you were on the cusp of falling over that cliff, he stopped, much to your dismay.

“Now, now,” He said, pulling himself up your body, kissing your skin as he went. “We don’t want to burn ourselves out before the main event.”

“I can go for hours,” You replied.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” He chuckled, kissing your lips. You rolled him until you were straddling his waist. He was rock hard underneath you, and you slicked him in the wetness from your slit, rubbing yourself against him. He gripped your hips and groaned, his eyes closing.

“Is this as good as your dreams?” You asked, bracing yourself on his chest.

He touched your cheek and made a fist in your hair, pulling your head back. You laughed.

“Better,” He said. “Infinitely better.”

You pushed up on your knees while he reached between the two of you and held his cock in place so that you could slide slowly down upon it. There was a little bit of pain due to his size, but you gave yourself a minute to adjust, and began to rock gingerly. You bent down to kiss his chest and fondle his nipples and he bucked a little underneath you.

“You’re going to make me pop too soon,” He huffed.

“That’s alright,” You said, sitting up and bouncing faster. “You got me pretty close, it won’t take much to make me cum now.”

He grunted and his fingers dug into your flesh as he drove up into you from below to meet your hips as you came down on him. The two of you were beyond words at this point, moving in sync with each other. Your thigh twitched as you came suddenly, gushing down his shaft as he released inside you with a drawn out groan of pleasure.

You collapsed onto his chest with a deep sigh of satisfaction. He wrapped his arms around you and held on tight. Eventually he rolled so that you were tucked into his side and he breathed deeply, as if asleep.

“Are you still awake?” You asked.

“Aye,” He said quietly. “Though my vision went fuzzy for a moment.”

“You can’t die yet,” You said, kissing his chest. “You still need the cabin in a quiet town. The little tadpoles. I’m going to make your dreams come true. It’s why I came back for you.”

“What about your dreams?” He asked, opening his eyes to look at you.

“You’re half of them, and I’ve got that now. The other half I’ll have to work on, if you’ll support me.”

He hugged you in tight. “Anything you want.”

By the time you were pregnant with Sheng’s first child, you’d taken a position at Judge Andrews’ firm and started working your way up, like you always did. Even though women were not allowed to actively participate in politics, the two of you began petitioning for fairer treatment for slaves as well as making it illegal to sell family members into slavery to pay for their own debts

There was plenty of pushback from people who liked the system the way it was and didn’t want things to change, but you were just as stubborn as they were. You went through all of the cases of the current slaves at the arena and made sure the ones who were being held illegally were freed with reparations. You also ensured that the responsible parties were arrested and tried for their crimes. You had to do all of this through Judge Andrews, which meant you didn’t get any of the credit, but that didn’t matter as long as justice was served.

You made sure Sheng got his cabin and his garden outside of the city. Commuting to the city for work was a bit of a pain, but you were happy to do it if it meant Sheng was happy. He loved being a househusband and a stay-at-home father, and as much as he wished you’d slow down when you were pregnant, he knew by now that he couldn’t stop you. If you had a mission on your mind, you wouldn’t stop until it was complete. He knew that. It’s one of the things he loved about you, even if it frustrated him at times.

You still had a long way to go, but some things were going to take time.

You were patient. You could wait.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Yeti #Bigfoot #The Towns #Sheng

157 notes · View notes

extraordinarilyextreme · 3 years

Text

Crown Prince Li Kaiqing, Chen Ji, and Fushui

MAJOR spoilers for 《骊歌行》 Court Lady (2021)!!! This is just me blabbing about my feelings.

so we all knew that Crown Prince (CP) and Chen Ji (CJ) were gonna be BE cuz they have historical prototypes. after Chengxin was executed, Li Chengqian grieved for a long time, refusing to attend court and also building a shrine for him in the palaces.

well, even with that knowledge, i still cried like a little baby at the end of the drama. there’s not a single un-sad 感情线 in this entire show, but i really do think that the mess of these three is tragic.

before we dive into the mess that i’ve become, a huge round of applause to Li Zefeng for his amazing portrayal of the Crown Prince—the good-intentioned, sort of foolish boy that we first meet and then later the wide-eyed, paranoid, remorseless man. and of course similar props to Wang Yizhe’s two roles of sweet Chen Ji and scheming Fushui (and Sun Langlang for voicing them! Wang Zhi’s VA!).

so as i’ve already said, CP is really a whole different person after CJ dies. and the contrast between CJ and Fushui (FS) is very plainly evident: CJ dressed in pale white-blue, FS mostly in grey-black; CJ kept his hair loose, FS wears a bun (or hat, when he rises thru the ranks); CJ is a lowly palace entertainer, FS is well-trained in combat and medicine (and ends up as Senior Imperial Physician, somehow); CJ was terrible at weiqi, FS is good at weiqi but pretends to be bad at it. CJ was targeted and subjected to rumors, but no one dared question CP’s relationship with FS—because CP was in so much grief after CJ died, how could anyone bear to do that to CP again? even though FS was absolutely the one that everyone should have removed from CP’s side immediately…

when CP and CJ first meet in episode 7, CP is kind of a typical princely character: he’s kinda entitled, the world is his, his future is bright… and i firmly believe he 一见钟情 because while CJ still treated him with courtesy and respect, it’s obvious that CJ didn’t expect or want anything from him. and this continues in episode 9, when CP is trying to clear his thoughts by the riverside and runs into CJ who is fishing: CP brattishly orders CJ to stay and keep him company, and CJ is honestly more confused than anything as to why the freaking Crown Prince of the country wants to spend the whole goddamn day here. of course, it’s because CJ represents a freedom for CP: here, the Emperor won’t compare him to Prince Zhou or Prince Han; here, the Empress won’t admonish him over and over again; here, there’s no scheming advisors who try to curry favor with him. here, as CP tells CJ to use, it’s just “you and I” without care for rank or formalities.

(but also the death flag in episode 9 was atrociously obvious LOL with CP promising “I will make you a grave” to CJ’s absolute terror. on-the-nose. still made me sad later on, so that’s that i guess. in any case, the episode ends with a 定情信物 whereupon CP gives a jade from his belt to CJ.)

CP watches CJ perform (as he is an entertainer from Prince Han’s mansion) for the first time in episode 10, and we see it again in episode 12, episode 16, and episode 17. based off 《三国演义》Romance of the Three Kingdoms, the lyrics are as follows:

大丈夫只患功名不立 A great man should only worry about not gaining fame and honor/

何患无妻 Why worry over not having a wife/

舍生忘死报恩住 Leaving behind life and death to repay my Lord/

忠肝义胆待友朋 Treat my friends with righteous loyalty/

我要做有血性的英雄 I want to be a hot-blooded hero/

为义而生 To live for righteousness (loyalty)/

为义而死 To die for righteousness (loyalty)

CJ plays the main role of Zhao Zilong (Zhao Yun), and he helpfully compares the story to a game of weiqi in episode 16.

“A gambit [sacrificing insignificant pieces to protect the significant ones] is what Zhao Zilong did in the Battle of Changban. In order for Zhao Zilong to save A Dou, he couldn’t save Madam Gan. So, Madam Gan committed suicide. Isn’t Madam Gan a gambit?”

to which CP responds: “Thank goodness you are Zhao Zilong, and not Madam Gan.”

CJ: “The Crown Prince regards me as his soulmate [知己]. Even if in the future, the Crown Prince were to sacrifice me as a gambit, I would be willing.”

CP: “What are you saying? You and I are friends. No matter what happens in the future, I will never treat you as a sacrificial gambit.”

(so, like, death flags everywhere! 知己-mention! and, c’mon, i think for CP’s consort to be jealous/insecure is a little bit justified considering the amount of times CP has CJ perform this piece with a line like “Why worry over not having a wife”.)

backing up for just a moment before everything goes to shit, other notable events are CP finding out his wife is pregnant in episode 13 (but he spends the day fishing and then cooking the fish with CJ at the riverside, and they walk off with arms draped around each other’s shoulders), CJ hurting his leg after climbing a cliffside to pick red flowers after CP mentioned his wife loves the color red most in episode 14, and finally CP leading a blindfolded CJ to a new house just for him to tick off another romance-y trope in episode 15.

CP: “Didn’t you say you didn’t have a home? So I bought you this little estate. When you fall in love someday, have children, and have a great career, this will be your home.”

(the point is they’re both still kind of in a honeymoon phase right now, tho it ends quickly in episode 16 when our FL Fu Rou warns CJ against being so close to CP—but CP is a little bit too idealistic right now, a little bit too stuck in his blissful fantasy, a little bit foolish. foolish, and incompetent, and unable to protect the people he loves bc he unwittingly endangered them to begin with.)

of course, things come to a head in episode 17 when CP’s wife tells her sister about CJ, leading to the Emperor eventually finding out. but while that’s happening, CP goes to see CJ at the estate he bought for him.

CP: In the future, I won’t come here anymore. Therefore, let’s put aside differences for today and be friends like we used to. We will never have those kinds of days again.

CJ confesses he’s going to leave Chang’an: I want to learn swordsmanship well, and become a wandering hero, feeling at home wherever I am. When the Crown Prince becomes Emperor in the future, I can help you take care of bad guys along my journey out there. This will be my way of helping the Crown Prince to keep the empire stable.

CP gives his dagger to CJ: This is not a reward, but a gift for my friend who is about to leave. In the future, whenever you look at it, it will be like looking at me.

CJ: A gift from my soulmate. Chen Ji will definitely take good care of it.

(for ppl who’ve watched Qing Ya Ji, the parallel to Zhongxing and Fangyue here killed me. but there’s also a parallel within the show itself near the end when Fu Rou gives the Emperor a collection of scrolls and explains that the late Empress hoped that he would treat her writings like he were seeing her—one of Court Lady’s many confirmations that CP and CJ should be read as a romantically by paralleling it to visible, het relationships. ALSO, CP has CJ perform Zhao Zilong again right after this conversation, like a last nail in the coffin.)

so the Emperor finds out in episode 18 and angrily orders CP to kill CJ himself, lest he be stripped of rank. Fu Rou warns CJ, but he refuses to escape.

If I run away, the Crown Prince will not be able to fulfill the Emperor’s order—what would happen to the Crown Prince? […] Life and death are not the most important things; the most important thing is to stay true to yourself.

and so CJ unsheathes the dagger CP gave him.

The Crown Prince regards Chen Ji as his soulmate, Chen Ji also regards the Crown Prince as his soulmate. ‘A man of service dies for the one who knows him.’ (An upright man can die for his soulmate.)

CJ quotes “士为知己者死” from Sima Qian’s 《史記·刺客列傳》Records of the Grand Historian, tho if you’ve watched Winter Begonia, it should probably also look familiar.

CP pushes aside the soldiers who’ve accompanied him on the journey to CJ’s home, but it’s too late: CJ took his own life, using the weapon CP gave him, in order to protect CP.

the chorus of Lu Hu’s 《万里》 Ten Thousand Li plays as CP staggers toward CJ’s lifeless body.

呼吸，想着你, When I breathe, I think of you

在梦里，在心里, In my dreams, in my heart

怪完相遇，怪自己, After I’ve finished blaming that we encountered each other, I blame myself

别离，痛彻心扉！Farewell, my heart is broken

(this is a song from the OST we hear multiple times with the other couples in the drama—and we also see many couples by the same river that CP and CJ would fish together by. i think, like, all the couples associated with this song except our main one have a BE…)

in CP’s immense grief, he has the weiqi pieces from his last game with CJ glued to the board, never to be moved again, and he has the flowerbed outside flattened. we get our callback to episode 9: “Chen Ji has no family. I promised him that if he died, I would make him a grave.”

CP doesn’t meet FS until episode 37, but what the Emperor says in episode 19 about Chen Ji is what really makes the whole thing a tragedy.

You must be cautious when choosing friends. He would only have misguided you.

and that’s the thing, the Emperor isn’t wrong!!! it ultimately truly is the Crown Prince’s love for Chen Ji that destroys him. his love for Chen Ji ruins him, ruins the imperial family and threatens the dynasty as a whole. because when Fushui shows up, a man who shares Chen Ji’s face, the Crown Prince trusts him unconditionally—it’s the Crown Prince’s desperation to see any small part of Chen Ji again that leaves him vulnerable to FS’s manipulation: CP forgets who he truly is. because how could a man who looks like Chen Ji ever betray him?

CP is thrown from his horse in episode 37, striking his head upon a rock.

he wonders: Chen Ji, have I also died? Did you come here just to pick me up?

(but of course it’s FS, who was actually going to kill him but the soldiers arrived too quickly.) they meet officially in episode 38.

CP: I thought I was going to die. Dimly, I felt someone approach me—he wanted to save me. I originally thought it was Chen Ji who couldn’t bear for me to die, so his spirit appeared. I didn’t expect that it was you.

FS remarks that CP has brought up “Chen Ji” several times already; immediately, he understands that this is a weakness to exploit.

CP basically throws a temper tantrum in episode 39 when he discovers he will have a permanent limp from now on. (idk if it was an intentional parallel, but CJ also had a limp after falling from the cliffside in episode 14.) FS is the only person that CP allows to approach him, and FS gets him to eat grilled fish (which is apparently CP’s favorite food—how much of the people we love do we carry with us?)

FS acts innocent: I really am bad at lying; as soon as I lie, you see right through me.

it’s everything CP wants to hear.

CP tells him: When I fell off my horse, and was on my last breath, you came to my side and encouraged me to continue living. I’m now crippled and in despair, but you talked sense into me to eat grilled fish. Everything that has happened—if it were Chen Ji, he would also have talked sense into me, encouraged me. Sometimes, I feel that you are Chen Ji, just with a different face.

(obviously it’s the same face for us tho cuz he’s played by the same guy. but anyway, when FS comes clean about everything in episode 51, he mimics the words CP says here.

I am not Chen Ji. I, Yang Fushui, came to your side to find an opportunity to take revenge.)

back to episode 39, FS says he doesn’t want to be “another Chen Ji” because he doesn’t want to die so young—he’s afraid of death.

CP: I guarantee you that I won’t let anyone harm you. What happened to Chen Ji will never happen to you.

(and it’s true! FS gets away with so much goddamn shit because CP’s wife doesn’t dare criticize FS, and even the Emperor doesn’t after knowing what it’s like to see his son in such heavy grief. CP’s wife thinks this is her chance at making amends; she felt real remorse after CJ died, and honestly that line from It’s Quiet Uptown sums it up best: “If I could trade his life for mine/He'd be standing here right now/And you would smile and that would be enough.” a shame, of course, that CP was FS’s freaking main target. nobody wants to repeat the tragedy of Chen Ji, so no one questions Fushui.)

but, like, FS isn’t truly even that subtle—it’s just that CP is so blinded by his love for CJ. from episode 46:

CP: I have taught you for so long, but you’re still terrible at playing.

FS: I am doing it on purpose. Only if I play poorly, will the Crown Prince be willing to continue teaching me.”

CP: Even you put on an act before me? […] You are the person I trust the most. Don’t lie to me.

(太子，你醒醒吧!)

so FS successfully sows discord between CP and his brother Prince Han; the Empress passes away (always sickly, but her illness was very much exacerbated upon seeing her beloved sons turn on each other); CP’s wife kills her own sister in what she believes is a beneficial political move for CP; Prince Han’s wife is wrongfully executed; Sheng Chujun is killed and silenced too after he discovers FS’s plans. CP stages a coup against Prince Han. (the man who looks like Chen Ji must only want the best for him, right?) FS gets away with everything and goes to visit CP in prison in episode 51.

AND HERE! HERE! FS is supposed to kill CP; that’s been his goal from the very beginning. CP hasn’t eaten for days in the prison, but FS shows up with a grilled fish and CP eats without a second thought that it could be poisoned.

but. FS has been at CP’s side for so long now. he’s orchestrated CP to lose everything. there is nothing left that CP could give to him but the mere fact that he’s still breathing.

in episode 49, FS poisons Lian Yan’er and Yan Zifang is obviously upset on behalf of blissfully ignorant, head-over-heels Ma Haihu.

FS: I will kill whoever gets in my way.

YZF: What about someone you love? If it was someone you loved, you would be just as ruthless, right?

FS: It is human nature to be greedy and selfish. Where does love come into play? This question—you’ve asked the wrong person.

(but FS’s expression changes. someone he loves? he’s startled, he looks afraid.)

FS ruined CP’s life; and at the same time, gave CP reason to live again. CP started playing weiqi again, his relationship with his wife improved; he started smiling again. there was a passionate fire to him that he never had before (this was his second chance to do everything right, to protect the people he loves!)... the kindling, unfortunately, was his trust in Prince Han and his parents. from episode 39, FS comes in and sits down next to CP after CP trashes his room during his tantrum.

CP: Do you know why I treat you differently from other people?

FS: Because I remind Your Highness of your friend who already passed away—Chen Ji?

CP never stopped loving CJ; he loved Fushui, because he never stopped treating him as Chen Ji. after the failed coup against Prince Han, CP smiles in prison in episode 51 when FS visits him.

CP: It was fate who made us each other's soulmate [知己]. [...] If you can continue living well, I wish that you live your life to the fullest, with both smiles and tears.

how can Fushui bear to take the Crown Prince’s life when he’s received nothing but unwavering trust from him? when he explains who he truly is, when he calls CP foolish for trusting the wrong person, FS is on the brink of tears. his mouth trembles, his breaths shake. when the poison begins to take effect, and CP agonizingly reaches for him, FS takes his hand—just as CP gripped CJ’s lifeless hand so long ago, just as CP reached out to the person he thought was CJ when he fell from his horse. FS takes his hand, sobs, and gives him the antidote.

(Consort Yan’s eunuch is, of course, outraged.

Yu He: If you can’t bear to kill him, then I will!

Fushui: I forbid you. [...] He has nothing left to lose. I forbid you from killing him.)

so, we have the Crown Prince, ruined by his love for Chen Ji—and Fushui, who both took and freely gave the Crown Prince’s life back to him. it’s a love story; it has always been a love story.

and finally, FS gets Ma Haihu killed in episode 53. he picks up the comb MHH carved for Lian Yan’er (a 定情信物!), and when he speaks, ends up telling the story of CP and CJ as well.

There was a woman who sacrificed her life for your bright future. You only needed to enjoy it, yet you took the road of self-destruction.

and then he remembers what CP said to him in the prison in episode 51.

CP: If, in this world, fate truly exists, then so do the hearts of men.

FS remarks now: If you have a heart, you will be easily hurt, or even lose your life.

heartless Fushui, who kills without batting an eye, who nearly upturned the entire Tang dynasty, who doesn’t know of love. in the end, he couldn’t bear to end the Crown Prince’s life.

so, yeah. these three broke my heart. i really wonder what Chen Ji would say to the Crown Prince when they see each other again at last in the afterlife. what the Crown Prince would say to Chen Ji. how violent love can be. what it means to live in someone’s memory. or maybe they would return to the river and spend a long day fishing together again.

#court lady #骊歌行 #cdrama ramblings

10 notes · View notes

blackswaneuroparedux · 4 years

Text

Treat Your S(h)elf: I Drink Therefore I Am: A Philosopher’s Guide To Wine, by Roger Scruton (2009)

You could say that wine is probably as old as civilisation; I prefer to say that it is civilisation, and that the distinction between civilised and uncivilised countries is the distinction between the places where it is drunk and the places where it isn’t.

- Sir Roger Scruton, I Drink Therefore I Am: A Philosopher’s Guide To Wine

When I first got talked into investing in the dreams of my two cousins and their French families to continue to manage an old French vineyard I thought of Roger Scruton’s book. I already had this book on my shelf alongside his other works. Re-reading it nudged me to take a risk and go for it.

For one I have always loved wine and have drunk it from a very early age. Secondly what could be more cultured or civilising than to marry body and mind through the palate of philosophy and wine?

And finally, and perhaps more importantly, the opportunity to escape the madness of modernity - as well as make peace from war as a British combat veteran of the Afghan war by not so much as coming home but finding a new one - by getting back into nature with hard honest graft on the land that Mother Nature blesses. All of this I found especially appealing.

Of all the things we eat or drink, wine is without question the most complex. So it should not be surprising that philosophers from Plato and Socrates onwards to our contemporary times have turned their attention to wine: complex phenomena can lend themselves to philosophical speculation.

Wine is complex not just in the variety of tastes it presents – ‘wine tastes of everything apart from grapes’, I once heard a crusty old French vintner say – but in its meaning. Only the most woodenly literal-minded would deny that wine has a meaning: in its history, its role in human social life, in religious and other ceremonies. Though they drink it copiously over dinner at High Tables in their Oxbridge colleges, academic analytic philosophers do not spend as much time as they might in this kind of investigation of meaning or significance of wine – what we might call a phenomenology or a hermeneutic investigation.

Of course, there are more narrowly phenomenological questions which wine raises.

How do vintners or winemakers manipulate the underlying biochemical material to create the kinds of taste which they intend their wine to have? Does the ‘terroir’ of a wine really make a difference to taste, and if so how? What is the basis of evaluative judgements about the quality of a wine?

Arguably only those who actually make the wine and those who are life long wine connoisseurs can conceivably answer that on some experiential and technical level. But these are not the only philosophical questions in this area: the hermeneutic questions have their place too, in an understanding of the phenomena.

Sir Roger Scruton’s 224 page book is about the hermeneutics of wine rather than its psychology or phenomenology more narrowly conceived. Scruton, the late great conservative philosopher, is that rare breed who comes closer than most to bridging the gap between the grass roots and the High Table in answering such mysteries. The result is an engaging, insightful, informative and (in parts) a very funny book. It is immensely readable, more in the anecdotal style of Scruton’s England: an Elegy (2000) or On Hunting (1998), than his more heavyweight philosophical works, such as The Aesthetics of Music (1997), Sexual Desire (2004), Beauty (2009), and his writings on Wagner and high culture. He does often come across as curmudgeonly, but his (written) relations with women, music and poetry are very delicate and tender. And so it is with his love affair with wine. It is indeed a very personal book and its is warmly personable, like the man himself, and it contains so much of Scruton’s distinctive wit and intellectual personality, it ought to be of interest not just to wine enthusiasts (whom Scruton likes to call ‘winos’) and philosophers but also anyone curious enough to understand the place of wine in our world civilisation.

The first and obvious thing to say about Scruton’s book is how the title of the book is of course a play on words. It’s a playful wink to Eric Idle’s “Philosophers’ Drinking Song,” in which the Monty Python cast, lightly disguised as a group of Australian philosophers all named Bruce, list the world’s thinkers from a drinking standpoint. This includes the couplet slightly amending Descartes’s proof of his existence: “And René Descartes was a drunken fart / ‘I drink therefore I am.’”

The pun on words is Roger Scruton’s way of taking the Monty Python couplet seriously. After all Descartes was a serious man and though he was born in Touraine, the rich French wine region, did probably not drink much. He treats all this as a paradox that G.K. Chesterton might well have toyed with - that is, as a truth standing on its head to attract attention - and examines the drinking of alcohol as a way in which human beings learn more about each other, fellowship, some of the deeper realities, God, and not least themselves.

In this Scruton is a wise philosopher who teaches us how wine cultivates our moral virtue and our civilisation. He encourages us to recognise that stream of liquid descending from our pursed lips into our throat as the red or golden chord that runs from heaven to earth, and binds everything in-between into a cosmic whole. Wine both reflects and helps constitute our participation in all strata of reality, and points the way to our redemption, divine or otherwise.

In Scruton’s Prelude (a musical term, of course) where he quotes Emerson “who commends the great wino Hafiz [a Persian poet] in the following words: “Hafiz praises wines, roses, maidens, boys, birds, mornings and music, to give vent to his immense hilarity and sympathy with every form of beauty and joy.” This is echoed in Scruton’s terms that “by thinking with wine you can learn not merely to drink in thoughts, but think in draughts. Wine, drunk at the right time, in the right place and the right company, is the path to meditation, and the harbinger of peace.”

The book is divided into two parts, labelled ‘I drink’ and ‘therefore I am’ respectively. The second part of the book is more strictly philosophical - Scruton starts it with the nice conceit that ‘therefore I am’ contain the whole of philosophy, each word standing in turn for reason (therefore), consciousness (I) and being (am). But arguably wine and Scruton enthusiasts will probably get more out of the first part.

The first chapter is a nice description of his own discovery of wine as a young man. Warmly written, the chapter is devoted to his friends who made him “fall” for wine (or is it he who made them fall?) and his acquisition of a 1945 Château Lafite, “the greatest year from the greatest of clarets”. His first memories are happy ones of his mother’s home manufacture of elderberry wine in a post-war England where the French (and Spanish and Portuguese) grape had not yet “conquered the suburbs.”

“For three weeks the kitchen was filled with the yeasty scent of fermentation. Little clouds of fruit-flies hung above the jars and here and there wasps would cluster and shimmer on the spilled pools of juice.” Other Englishmen of Scruton’s generation will recognise and sigh at this description as many fathers - including my own - made his own beer and wine from motives of both fun and economy.

Thus ill-equipped, Scruton goes to university ignorant of the rich variety of wines available even then to an English wino. At Cambridge and, later, in Paris, a succession of tutors, patrons, and friends not only introduce him to a growing list of wines but also teach him how to drink them. Some of the wines he is given are complex and expensive Burgundies, others cheap French supermarket vin ordinaire.

But Scruton discovers that all have certain inherent qualities that an educated palate can discover by drinking them attentively and appreciatively. By learning their provenance and history, he enriches his knowledge of the locality that produced the wine — and he can imagine (I would like to believe this is so) that he can glimpse the character of the local people in the wine itself. He learns finally that certain wines go with certain things, not merely certain foods, but certain occasions, certain friends, certain thoughts, even certain topics of conversation. He becomes a wino.

When in his early middle years, Scruton buys a farm in southern England, he discovers to his delight an array of homemade-wine equipment, identical to that of his mother’s elderberry experiments, on the kitchen floor: “I listened to the bubbles as they danced in the valves, and studied the wasp-edged puddles on the tiles. I had come home.” Yet it is a different person who comes home. Scruton celebrates his good fortune not with elderberry wine but by opening and drinking in quiet happiness a treasured bottle of Château Lafite 1945 that had accompanied him in the long wanderings now ended. For, by this time in his life, Scruton is a confirmed Francophile in his drinking tastes.

The chapter ends on a remark concerned with the “new habit, associated with American wine critics like Robert Parker, of assigning points to each bottle” which should not only be “viewed with nothing but contempt” but also compared to “assigning points to symphonies, as though Beethoven’s 7th, Tchaikovsky’s 6th, Mozart’s 39th, Bruckner’s 8th all hovered between 90 and 95.

Perhaps his second chapter ‘A Tour de France’ is the best one. This is a very personal, but informative and interesting, guide to Scruton’s favourite French wine regions. starting in Burgundy, down to the Rhône Valley, the Pyrenees and ending in Bordeaux with T.S. Eliot’s description of a spiritual journey that applies equally to a journey through wine:

We shall not cease from exploration, And the end of all our exploring

 Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.

With much reason, Scruton does not think very highly of blind tasting: “To think that you can judge a wine from its taste and aroma alone is like thinking you can judge a Chinese poem by its sound, without knowing the language.” I let out a whoop of appreciation when I read this. In one clean swoop he casually casts aside the resultant snobbery that comes from the ritualising and self-importance of blind tasting events.

I think blind tasting whilst sincere is also an exercise in showing off. I’m not saying people don’t have a nose for wine or can tell certain elements but blind tasting is not the best way to truly appreciate the full complexity of wine. Indeed in my embryonic wine making experience (by watching my cousins and the managers on our vineyard) I would say terroir is perhaps one of the most overlooked aspects of wine making and it determines the difference between good wine and a bad one.

It’s great to read that Scruton defines himself as a terroiriste. Not the French word for a terrorist! But a believer in the French word, terroir. It is derived from the Latin word terra meaning earth or land. It’s a word coined by the French to express a wine’s sense of place. There is no English equivalent for this word. It was originally used to distinguish the wine making practices of old world wine. In other words terroir is how a particular region’s climate, soils and aspect (terrain) affect the taste of wine alongside the traditions gone into producing the wine. Some regions are said to have more ‘terroir’ than others. Johan Joseph Krug (1800–1866), the famous champagne producer, once suggested that “a good wine comes from a good grape, good vats, a good cellar and a gentleman who is able to coordinate the various ingredients.” No trace of terroir.

But I think Krug is wrong and vintners as well as the wine industry as a whole have come to the same realisation of the importance of terroir. Back in the 1980’s, many of these ‘terroir-driven’ wines were actually affected by wine faults including cork taint and wild yeast growth (brettanomyces). Vines thrive in a range of soil compositions from highly draining granite and schist based soils to limestone and clay and vines, in turn, react to these different soils in different ways. And on top of the differing soils, certain areas of the world have such unique combinations of geology and topography that interact with specific sun exposures that the resulting wines have distinct characteristics that cannot be found anywhere else.

Nowadays terroir is used to describe practically every wine region. Because much of European wine (old world) is steeped in tradition it is easier to get a sense of terroir. It’s a bit harder in a place like Napa or Sonoma (new world) because of the looser laws that govern winemaking but younger winemakers are coming around to the idea of terroir and trying to express the land. But certainly in France today vintners - as they come to increase their geological knowledge and environmental understanding and find ways to marry that to their unique artistry and craft - have realised the unique role terroir plays in the wine making process.

The next chapter looks at wine from “elsewhere:” Here Scruton looks at the Middle-East where wine was born; Greece where Bacchus, Dionysos, and more importantly, Eros used to hover; the United States; Australia, New Zealand and their misspelling of Syrah as Shiraz, the Iranian city of poets, gardens, nightingales and last but not least, wine; a few lines on South Africa, then Italy, Romania and Spain. But “travel narrows the mind, and the further you go the narrower it gets. There is only one way to visit a place with an open mind, and that is in the glass”.

Scruton had already warned the reader in the previous chapter not to read the “elsewhere” chapter: “After punishing body and soul with Australian Shiraz, Argentine Tempranillo, Romanian Cabernet Sauvignon and Greek Retsina, we crawl home like the Prodigal Son and beg forgiveness for our folly. . . [Bordeaux] is the wine that made us and for which we were made, and it often astonishes me to discover that I drink anything else.” I rather fancy he is being tongue in cheek here.

This is for the “I drink” part of the book. Its author then moves to the “therefore I am” part which often needs much deeper philosophical knowledge than perhaps than even your average educated layman might have some difficulty having if they are not versed in a basic understanding of aesthetics as philosophical discussion. But here his aim is to rescue wine from the philosophers and the so-called wine experts.

To those who have never been captivated by the complexity of wine and the way it is bound up with western civilisation, a book on the philosophy of wine might be dismissed as the typical product of conservative snobbery and elitism. But this would be a mistake. Scruton is not a snob about wine (nor, for that matter, about anything else). On the contrary, one of the strongest themes in his writing is his deep love of the everyday, of the simple pleasures of society as he imagined it once to be, where people were at one with the land and with the traditions of their culture. According to Scruton, this is something that (although it probably never existed) should be open to all, but which is being destroyed by the march of modernity. (In a nice aside, he asks: ‘Who am I to stand against the tide of history? Come to think of it, I am the only person I know who does stand against the tide of history’.)

In passing, Scruton evokes the great philosopher Avicenna who lived in Isfahan (Persia) during Islam’s Golden Age (980–1037 AD); he was a wine aficionado who recommended drinking at work defying “the Koranic injunction against wine, citing it as an example of sloppy reasoning,” that does not take into account whether it is a small or a large amount. Scruton (p. 133) also points to the fact that “in surah xvi, verse 7 of the Koran wine is unreservedly praised as one of God’s gifts. As the prophet, burdened by the trials of his Medina exile, became more tetchy, so did his attitude to wine begin to sour, as in Surah v verses 91-92. Muslims believe that the later revelations cancel the earlier, whenever there is a conflict between them. I suspect, however, that God moves in a more mysterious way.”

Scruton is very quite skeptical that the vocabulary used by so-called experts to describe wine is of much help: “If I say of a wine that it has a flowery nose, lingers on the palate, with ripe berry flavours and a hint of chocolate and roasted almonds, then what I say conveys real information, from which someone might be able to construct a sensory image of the wine’s taste. But I have described the taste in terms of other tastes, and not attempted to attach a meaning, a content, or any kind of reference to it. The description I gave does not imply that the wine evokes, means, symbolises or presents the idea of chocolate; and somebody who didn’t hit on this word as a description of the wine’s flavour would not show that he had missed the meaning of what he drank or indeed missed anything important at all. Our experience of wine is bound up with its nature as a drink [which] endows wine with a particular inwardness [and] intimacy with the body [that is not] achieved by any smell, since smell makes no contact with the body at all, but merely enchants without touching, like the beautiful girl at the other end of the party. . . Nothing else that we eat or drink comes to us with such a halo of significance, and by refusing to drink it people send an important message —the message that they do not belong on this earth.”

Again, I found myself saying amen to that.

The good part of the second part is Scruton trying to make a case for the cultural uniqueness of wine. In one sense, Scruton is right to do this: it is undeniable in many parts of western culture, wine has played a unique role in religious and social rituals, which no other drink has. But he can push his point beyond plausibility when he attempts to argue that because of the qualities of wine itself – and what it is to drink it properly – nothing else could play this role (more on this later).

The argument starts well, with a very illuminating discussion of the distinction between the various ways in which a substance can intoxicate. There are those that merely stimulate without altering the mind (like tobacco, for example). Then there are those which have mind-altering effects, but whose consumption itself brings no plea- sure (e.g. heroin). The third category contains those things which alter your mind and bring pleasure in their consumption: cannabis and forms of alcohol other than wine are his examples. Wine, Scruton argues, is in a fourth category of its own: here the alteration of the mind is internally related to the experience of consuming it.

These distinctions are very useful, and the distinction between the third and the fourth category is subtle but certainly real. It relates to the question of what non-human animals can and cannot do. Scruton makes the nice observation that an animal cannot savour wine (or any- thing else). In being able to savour or relish the taste of wine, a person no more separates out the effect of the wine from its taste than they can separate the meaning of a piece of music from its sound. Although one would not realise this from reading the thousands of words that are written daily about wine, wine would not be the drink it is if it did not intoxicate.

The last two chapters deal respectively with wine and whine, and being and bingeing. Though Scruton has something to say in favour of Puritanism, he castigates the ease with which “puritan outrage [and in particular, prohibition, but also sexual behaviour] can be displaced from one topic to another, and the equal ease with which the thing formerly disapproved of can be overnight exonerated from all taint of sin.”

He vehemently protests against “the humourless mullahs,” and the misuse of drinking, but also rejects the idea that fermented drinks are just shots of alcohol, and insists on their social functions across civilisations and time: “The burden of my arguments is that we can defend the drinking of wine, only if we see that it is a culture, and that this culture has a social, outward-going, other-regarding meaning. . . When people sit down together sipping drinks, they rehearse in their souls the original act of settlement, the act that set our species on the path of civilisation, and which endowed us with the order of neighbourhood and the rule of law.” But he has not much against drinking alone, and ends with a few words from the Chinese poet Li Po (700 BC), the same poet whom Mahler used in his Lied von der Erde (though in a very approximate translation):

A cup of wine, under the flowering trees; I drink alone, for no friend is near. 

Raising my cup I beckon the bright moon,

For he, with my shadow, will make three men.

Scruton points out in several brilliant passages, the prohibitionist, like the modern day Islamists and moral police in the West and the all too familiar binge-drinker are alike in their ignorance of the virtue of “temperance.” They can envisage no stopping place between abstention and alcoholism. Their absolutist logic, he argues, is like objecting to a first kiss on the grounds that it will one day lead to a divorce. And neither can really understand drinking for any reason other than to get drunk.

Scruton confirms the wider value of temperance in our lives: “Virtue should be cast in human form if it is to be humanly achievable. Saints, monks, and dervishes may practice total abstinence; but to believe that abstinence is the only way to virtue is to condemn the rest of mankind. Better to propose the way of moderation, and live thereby on friendly terms with your species.”

As it happens, the occasional bender may actually have therapeutic qualities in moderation (i.e., if indulged in infrequently). George Orwell, who can hardly be accused of lacking a puritanical streak, thought that people should get drunk every six months or so. The experience, he thought, shook one out of one’s regular complacency and could be compared in this to a weekend abroad. Certainly it very often produces a feeling of greater humility in those who can remember what happened. Yet getting drunk is something that most drinkers do very rarely, if at all.

Changing our mood and outlook is a very different matter. Under the influence of a moderate amount of alcohol, our inhibitions are loosened. Shy people become bold, the tongue-tied talkative, the dull lively, the unimaginative fanciful, and the isolated social. (Even “mean drunks” usually start the evening in festive and forgiving mood.)

That last loss of inhibition is the most important because it promotes the fellowship that is the basis of a decent society. Not all intoxicants perform this vital function. Cannabis and similar drugs tend, if anything, to imprison the taker within his own consciousness (however expanded it may seem to him in his dreams). Except for those who lose themselves in alcoholism (and consequently become asocial in their attempts to deceive others about their condition), however, alcohol is a profoundly social drug. At the same time, not all varieties of alcohol are equally social in their effect. This thought leads Scruton to narrow somewhat the scope of his enthusiasm. Having rejected teetotalism, he continues: “The real question, I suggest, is not whether intoxicants, but which. And - while all intoxicants disguise things - some (wine preeminently) also help us to confront them by presenting them in re-imagined and idealised forms.”

Scruton makes a fascinating and intriguing point related to our historical relationship with the vine to make wine the highest ideal form. He claims that wine derives from a crucial historical transition in our relation to the earth – when human beings settled, put down roots and stopped being mere hunter-gatherers. In a memorable phrase, Scruton claims that in this way wine celebrates ‘the earth itself, as the willing accomplice in our bid to stay put.’ But of course one could say similar things about distilled spirits and beer. Such drinks are not made in such an incredible variety as wine is, but Scruton’s point is not about variety but about the intrinsic and relational qualities of the drink itself.

In the end, one cannot help feeling that he is relying a little too much on the sheer panache of his writing to help his argument bounce along: ‘Wine is not simply a shot of alcohol, or a mixed drink. It is a transformation of the grape. The transformation of the soul under its influence is merely the continuation of another transformation that began maybe fifty years earlier when the grape was first plucked from the vine.’ Wine is a transformation of the grape, to be sure. And the mind or soul is transformed in its consumption. But these two transformations are so very different that it is hard to see what can literally be meant by the one being the continuation of the other.

In fact, Scruton’s view is not just that wine is unique as a stimulant, but that it has to be drunk in a particular way in order for the harmony of taste and intoxication to take hold. It is not hard to agree with Scruton’s argument that there are more or less civilised ways of drinking wine. And this part of his thesis is very plausible: ‘The burden of my argument is ... that we can defend the drinking of wine, only if we see that it is part of a culture, and that this culture has a social outward-going, other-regarding meaning. The new uses of wine point towards excess and addiction: they are moving away from the old way of drinking, in which wine was relished and savoured, to the form of drinking typified by Marmeladov, who clutches his bottle in a condition of need.’

However I still found all this a tad unconvincing in that he makes a case that only the savouring and relishing of wine can play a central cultural role as opposed to other spirits - think of Scotch whisky for the Scots and beer for much of Northern Europe or even tea(!) for the English. So my apologies to Roger Scruton but I remain sceptical of his argument that of all stimulants, wine is uniquely civilising, however much I want it to be true.

I think Scruton is also wrong to despise cocktails. A well-made cocktail is as complex a set of taste experiences as a good Bordeaux. A good-strength cocktail is the perfect prelude to the theatre, giving one exactly the right lift to help the play to entertain, but not suppressing one’s appetite long enough to spoil a post-theatre dinner. It can be the booster rocket that starts a convivial evening. But the cocktail has its limits. The alcoholic strength of most cocktails reduces their usefulness both as an aid to sustained fruitful conviviality and to the kind of imaginative introspection that Scruton thinks necessary for a happy life.

That aside, Scruton knows that the best (including Li Po’s poetry) should be kept for the very end. The bouquet (of the wine, but in French the word is also used for the finishing of a firework) comes with the Appendix: What to drink with what, though here the second what does not stand for food, but for philosophers. This part of the book I very nearly coughed up my wine as I found it terribly amusing to pair a suitable wine, as one would with food, to a philosopher one might be reading.

St Augustine: Drink a glass of Moroccan Cabernet Sauvignon, though “the City of God requires many sittings, and I regard it as one of the rare occasions when a drinking person might have legitimate recourse to a glass of lager [which I did in Odessa, while reading Scruton], putting the book to one side just as soon as the glass is finished” [which I did not do, since I had three glasses, each of which containing half a liter].

Francis Bacon: “Any discussion of his insights should, I think, proceed by the comparative method. I suggest opening six bottles of a single varietal—say Cabernet Franc- one from the Loire, one from California, one from Moravia, one from Hungary, and if you can find two other places where it is grown successfully you will already have given some proof of the inductive method—and then pretending to compare and contrast, taking notes in winespeak, while downing the lot.”

René Descartes: “As the thinker who came nearest, prior to the Monty Python, to stumbling on the title of [my] book, Descartes deserves a little recognition. . . He has ended up as the most overrated philosopher in history, famous for arguments that begin from nothing and go nowhere. I would suggest a deep dark Rhône wine [that] will compensate for the thinness of the Meditations.”

Baruch Spinoza: “The last time that I understood what Spinoza meant by an attribute it was with a glass of red Mercurey, Les Nauges 1999. Unfortunately, I took another glass before writing down my thoughts and have never been able to retrieve them.”

Immanuel Kant: “And when it comes to [his] Critique of the Judgment, I find myself trying out [several wines], without getting any close to Kant’s proof that the judgment is universal but subjective, or his derivation of the ‘antinomy of taste’— surely one of his most profound and troubling paradoxes, and one that must yield to the argument contained in wine if it yields to anything.”

Friedrich Nietzsche: “Although we should drink to the author of The Birth of the Tragedy, therefore, it should be with a thin, hypochondriac potion, maybe a finger of Beaujolais in a glass topped up with soda-water.”

Edmund Husserl: “I recommend three glasses of slivovitz from Husserl’s native Moravia, one to give courage, one to swallow down the jargon, and one to pour over the page.”

Jean-Paul Sartre: “Sartre’s great work of philosophy, L’être et le néant, introduces the Nothingness that haunts all that he wrote and said. . . If ever I were to read Sartre again, I would look for a 1964 Burgundy to wash the poison down. Small chance of finding one, however, so there is one great writer whom I shall never again revisit—and I thank God for it.”

Martin Heidegger: “What potion to complement the philosopher who told us that ‘nothing noths’? To raise an empty glass to one’s lips, and to feel it as it travels down—noth, noth, noth, the whole length of the tube: this surely is an experience to delight the real connoisseur.”

In conclusion I really enjoyed reading this book (again and again).

This is a wonderful book for anyone who loves wine and wants to try identify what, in all its complex connections with so much of what is valuable in civilisation, might be special about drinking it. I think he does a wonderful job in looking at the philosophical and religious questions related to wine, from the Koranic injunction against alcohol to the true nature of temperance. These questions take us far from the vineyard at times, making excursions into terroir as different as Wagnerian music dramas and the philosophical nature of smells. His arguments as well as his beautiful prose are fresh, original, teasingly provocative, but also joyous.

This book is only about 224 pages but fun to read either in one sitting or dipping in and out at pleasurable intervals.

There are pages of useful advice on what wine to buy that are also glimpses into what to look for in the wine. I think his recommendations are good ones even if he leans too heavily into French wines. As someone who co-owns a vineyard I can say with reasonable confidence that I know my French wines but also wine from South Africa but confess my ignorance of wines from the new world such as California or Chilean wines. But I see that as an opportunity to discover rather than stay in my comfort zone. Here Scruton gently prods you along to do just that.

As an aside Scruton, who never shies away from his staunchly conservative Tory beliefs, perhaps forget to mention one juicy vignette in that Karl Marx’s political and philosophical ideas were probably inspired by wine. Indeed Karl Marx’s family were the happy owners of a vineyard in Trier, a small affluent Rhineland city, on the rolling hills of the Mosel River Valley. The family sold it due to hard times. Then as now these vineyards of the Mosel Valley remain mostly small-scale, are still known for their fruity white wines, and especially their lemony Rieslings and agrotourism. It seems the politics of wine (tariffs and import taxes) played a larger role in the history of leftist thought than their quaint appearance might suggest. In the early 1840s, the economic struggles of these very vineyards inspired Marx to criticise the draconian Prussian government - and in the process, some historians argue, begin developing the theory of historical materialism for which he is best known. In fact there is a delightful book I can recommend written by Jens Baumeister called, ‘How Wine Made Karl Marx a Communist’ (2018) if anyone is interested in reading more about that.

Of course it’s always hard to know how seriously one is supposed to take Scruton in some of his more extravagant comments in the book, like many things he says in his other books: ‘you could say that wine is probably as old as civilisation; I prefer to say that it is civilisation, and that the distinction between civilised and uncivilised countries is the distinction between the places where it is drunk and the places where it isn’t.’ His desire to outrage and court controversy rises to the surface, and can result in some of the funniest moments in the book. But as with everything he writes, some of Scruton’s claims must be taken with a pinch of salt or more appropriately, with a glass of claret.

Indeed I prefer to picture his words as if he was one’s old and familiar drinking companion sitting on weather beaten leather chairs and making provocative but teasingly good natured remarks out of a desire to amuse rather than to be boorish or loutish. Indeed this book is best enjoyed with a glass of wine on hand whilst sitting on a comfy old worn out leather chair curled next to log burning fire as the light dims outside.

I would whole heartedly agree with Roger Scruton that wine is a “drink that causes you to smile at the world and the world to smile at you.” Instead of imprisoning you inside a solitary introspection, it takes you out of yourself - and your ideas with you - to mingle with others and their ideas. Wine is therefore a voyage of discovery - and rediscovery - in many senses. And for this I can happily raise my own glass and say amen to that.

But what glass of wine would I raise when reading Scruton’s own book?

Well, one bottle won’t do. So temperance is out of the window then - sorry Roger. You will need a good French Sauternes or Barsac (preferably 2014) with the nostalgic autobiography, a finely bodied Bordeaux wine (I would go with a more complex wine from Saint Emilion) with the philosophy section of the book, and a champagne (of course) to drink with the philosophical jokes towards the end of the book.

Oh go on then, finish off with a tipple of Cognac before bed time, I am sure Scruton wouldn’t begrudge anyone that pleasure.

55 notes · View notes

carlyserrano · 3 years

Photo

[ GEORGINA AMOROS, SHE/HER, CISFEMALE ] — [ CARLOTA “CARLY” SERRANO ] is a child of [ HYPNOS ] with the power of [ SLEEP MANIPULATION AND INDUCEMENT ] . they were born in [ 1998 ] and have been in nemean lion since [ 2016 ] . with the change, they [ ARE TRAINING IN ] the [ STANDARD ] role which makes sense since they’re usually [ HAVING AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS AND NAPPING ] . if you’d like to meet them try the [ SUN ] building . — kati / she & her / est / 18+

links: stats / pinterest .

background

carly spent most of her life knowing this : her mother died of sadness. it must be a terrible thing, to be a mortal that loves a god that deeply. so much that not being able to be with them tears you apart.

she doesn’t really remember her mother, she was only three years old when she took her own life, but carly still wishes she could have done something, that she could have been enough to make her happy – or at least to take away that overwhelming sadness.

as a result, carly was raised by her mortal grandparents. this accounts for some of carly’s old-fashioned taste in film, music and even fashion, raised by guardians fifty years her senior.

carly loved stories. whether her nose was stuck in a book or she was daydreaming herself, her mind was always exploring fantastical possibilities. sometimes daydreaming would take a step further into actual dreaming, which was something teachers started to struggle with in class. prone to fits of sleeping – which would be diagnosed as narcolepsy by her teachers – it became problematic. it was very difficult, pretty much impossible to wake her if she didn’t want to be woken up. as her powers grew, people around her would be prone to sleeping as well, but she didn’t understand how she was doing it or what exactly triggered it.

on carly’s thirteenth birthday, her grandparents sat her down to have “the talk” – they told her about her father’s identity and the true story behind what happened with her mother, finally thinking she was old enough to understand. it devastated her, how truly sad things had been for her mother and the circumstances surrounding her life. she honestly just wanted to be NORMAL. when her grandparents brought up nemean lion and suggested sending her there, carly refused. only thirteen, she didn’t want to travel to a new country and leave behind her grandparents. the changed scared her and she still held out hope of living a somewhere ‘normal’ life. she was legit just thirteen and scared to travel overseas and leave home...but with some new added trauma, too.

but things started to get worse from her going forward. children of hypnos are extremely powerful and carly didn’t know how to control any of the things that she was going through. her sleep patterns as a teenager became erratic, insomnia for days on end and then the inverse. after carly slept for a week straight, her grandparents felt like they had no choice. they couldn’t care for her and weren’t properly equipped to handle what she was going through, and when carly was seventeen, she had no choice but to pack her things and move to america.

despite missing her grandparents terribly, carly wanted to make the most of a bad situation. mentors at nemean lion taught her about her powers and more about how to use them – her ability to alter someone’s consciousness with a snap of her fingers. slowly, she started to become more confident in powers that she’d never thought she would be able to control. carly is the sort of person who tries desperately hard to make others happy, to look after them, and she considered switching to the hero track when she had a better handle on things, but she never got that far.

all of these people telling her how gifted she was definitely added to her confidence, but maybe...overdid it a little for a girl who had never felt special before, for someone that felt like an outsider and now was very much an insider with a lot of friends and like, the ability to have a social life now that she could maintain a normal sleep schedule. she really started to envision herself as this bold hero.

i’m having trouble putting this articulately and i keep rewriting this so i’ll just present this part. messily. naive, romantic carly falls for a fuckboy > loses her virginity then he totally ditches her like there was never anything between them > she’s pissed off and hurt so they get into a fight in the middle of the training room > she snaps her fingers to get him to shut up while her emotions are at an all time high and...he ends up in the infirmary in a coma. that was enough to teach her that her powers were not a good thing.

not only did she land the reputation of being the-person-most-butthurt-from-being-ghosted-ever but she also realized that her powers are STILL growing. she never thought she’d be capable of doing something like that, and she doesn’t know her own limits, and the realization scares her. she doesn’t feel like she’s capable of controlling her own emotions under pressure and she loses the confidence that she’s built – remaining in the standard track for the next two years or so.

homeboy likely did wake up from the coma as a result of NL having the best healers in the world but it took like some months, like he got his shit ROCKED.

so, that’s kind of in the past for her now, though it’s something she still struggles with, not knowing her own strength and being scared of letting her emotions get the best of her again. she now rarely uses her powers and is a bit scared of her own self, kind of just floating by in the standard track and only thinking of the hero track in like, her wildest daydreams. she just doesn’t really trust herself and doesn’t even know the full extent of her abilities, especially because it’s possible that as a child of hypnos she’s probably still developing more over time.

personality

FAIR: carly tends to stick to her morals, a distinct sense of what’s right and wrong. this can have some gray areas on the godly world, but she sees good guys and bad guys. due to her diplomatic world view, she’s pretty good at looking at a situation objectively and treats people and situations with fairness, apt to try to be the peacemaker in a friend group or during a disagreement. she also thinks that everyone inherently wants to be good and do good, so she’s inclined to give them the benefit of the doubt and second chances going forward.

SOCIABLE: extroverted and loves being around people, once you get started on a conversation with her, she could go for hours. definitely not one to isolate herself, she’s happiest when hanging out with friends or at social gatherings, doing things with other people. if she is awake, she is probably either reading or talking to someone and i’m sure her friends think she could learn to shut up sometimes but she can’t help but share her every thought, really lacks a filter.

LOVING: carly will freely give her whole heart to people, i think ! she’s not afraid to put her heart on her sleeve for people and she honestly puts a lot of her own value in the happiness of others / needing to make others happy, so she’s pretty selfless about wanting to show great love and care for the people in her life. i think of carly as a pretty big-hearted person who is not afraid to put herself out there and say how she feels about someone or something and she will show great affection for her friends, who she considers family.

i suppose some people could feel smothered by her at times but truly her heart is just so full

NAIVE: often thinks what you see is what you get with people, which...rarely the case. but she’s just so inclined to believe in the goodness of people and give second chances that she can sometimes get in over her head. the fact that she sees things in such black and white can be hard for her, because she’s seen her powers do bad things and she’s inclined to believe that she herself might be bad, or that those powers are bad, and she refrains from using them. essentially, she still has so much to learn.

STUBBORN: once she gets an idea in her head, it is really hard to change carly’s mind or get her to waver on it. she can be a bit infuriating in an argument because of this, and this also tends to get her to believe that her very first judgement of people is correct. very firm in her ideas once she has her mind made up, to a fault.

ANXIOUS: literally has anxiety but tends to get really nervous about being liked or doing things wrong, overthinking the small stuff. and the big stuff, like her powers. when she gets overwhelmed, however, her favorite escape mechanism is simply to go take a nap and then she’ll deal with it when she wakes up. essentially prone to nervousness, which is why she can sometimes overcompensate by talking a lot or going to great lengths to make sure someone likes her or to make sure that person knows she likes them.

headcanons

honestly is so fulfilled by reading like, she’s the sort of person to get really attached to characters in books and feel like they are her best friends ! so, she gets a lot out of stories and spends a lot of her alone time a ) reading or b ) journaling/scrapbooking.

is a really meticulous record keeper ! she keeps track of her days and is probably the one snapping photos when hanging out and she keeps scrapbooks over the years at NL and beyond, has the most fun collection of colored paper on her shelf that you’ve ever seen.

big angel energy ? i think. she doesn’t really partake in drinking or smoking ( though she’ll have like, a glass of wine during dinner or before bed, she really likes white wines bc she basic ) and do be wearing her heart on her sleeve, a very trustworthy person, i would call her dependable in situations though she’s too naive to be your mom friend because her advice definitely does not come from wisdom – she can be a bit of a ditz/airhead, actually.

if she sees something shiny and pretty in nature, she will keep it. so, that means she’s got flowers pressed between books, pretty rocks lining her windowsill, and some colorful leaves probably crumpled up in the bottom of her backpack. just loves collecting STUFF.

lots of her clothing is either vintage/thrifted or sweatpants/sweatsuits. generally she will go for comfort first when picking out something to wear.

favorite ice cream is cookie dough and she could eat it all day.

takes a nap every day i feel like most of her friends know they probably can’t reach her between like 3pm-6pm because she is having her little nap.

i might give her another power at some point idk i read on the hypnos wiki that his children are mad powerful and sometimes develop additional abilities later in life so who knows but prob something cute with dreams idk

wanted connections

gal pals, girl besties, girl squad ?? i just think that women, essentially, and i feel like the vibes of movie nights and sleepovers together and painting each others nails and gossiping late into the night would be super wholesome and would make me feel at peace in my soul and such.

i also want like a brooke to her haley james !!! sort of. i want this vibe, where carly is 🌼👼🧸 and ur muse is kinda 💃🍷💋

also gal pals in the way that they kiss sometimes but it’s not serious or is it !!! show ur friends u love them by kissing them on the mouth !!!

that boy she put into a coma. idk if your character fits sort of that player archtype and would be kind of a dick / would ghost a girl after sex then maybe this is for you !! if you’d be down to have your character have been in a coma for like 2 months a couple years ago. she feels so so bad about it though.

an ex? probably on good terms so we can talk about why things didn’t work out but honestly break my heart and fuck me up because it probably would have been like, her first love and there’s still a bit of a soft spot even if it’s not the same i’m sure she just wants them to be so happy ! maybe she’s trying to like, set them up with one of her friends and it’s weird.

married couple friends. you know, that best friend she has where they kind of bicker like a married couple and they’re both really stubborn but there’s a lot of love and mutual respect there.

a mentor or something? maybe someone in the hero track that sees how much she’s struggling with her powers and puts in the extra work to help her train a little. she says she doesn’t care about being a hero but maybe they can see right through her a little bit.

someone she can actually help. i’d love a way for her to realize she can use her powers for good a little bit! maybe if your char suffers from insomnia, bad dreams, something in their trauma makes it hard for them to have a regular sleep schedule...she feels inclined to help them a little bit? this would take time and some build up because she’s not really comfortable using her powers, but i’d love a storyline where she learns how she can use this power positively like that and she helps someone sleep a little better.

yearning. i don’t know <3 carly can have a little crush on someone who doesn’t give a fuck about her. i feel like she’s the type to have little crushes on everyone she’s prob a little in love w all her friends.

old friendships. maybe something that fizzled out after the incident a couple years ago, like maybe they were close before but they were really pissed at her for what she did and the two of them were just never able to make up afterwards, maybe they were pals with the guy that she hurt !!

bad influence? she’s so LAWFUL and GOOD, i’d love for someone to help her see the grey areas a little bit and crack her out of her shell or something, just kind of soft. in a healthy way, maybe they bring out the best in each other but also maybe one day it gets taken too far !

#nlintro #* ☁️⠀ / ⠀ 𝙁𝙄��𝙀𝘿 𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ intro. ⠀ ❫#suicide mention tw

10 notes · View notes