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mikauzoran · 4 years

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LuXY/Lukadrien/Lukadrienette: Welcome to La-La Land: Chapter Seven

@luxyweek

Welcome to La-La Land: Chapter Seven: AU

XY was having a suck-tastic day.

Most of the fans seemed to be satisfied with Kitty Section appearing at the end of the show to perform their version of the song, but some people were making a big fuss because that guy had gotten akumatized.

No one seemed to care about XY and how he still didn’t have a new song to perform or how the akuma had attacked him, stolen his voice, and tied him up.

His dad was too busy performing damage control to tell XY what the plan was now, so XY was feeling a little anxious and unmoored, uncertain of what he should be doing besides waiting in the dressing room.

The worst part was that his father had called him an idiot on camera.

My imbecile son.

The words kept echoing in XY’s mind.

All of Paris had heard.

XY knew he was dumb, but he didn’t like other people thinking it or saying it out loud. He knew he was a little slow. He just couldn’t stand when it was pointed out.

It reminded him of when he’d started school in France and how all the other kids, younger kids who had actually grown up speaking French, rubbed in how stupid he was. He didn’t always understand the colloquial speech, but he knew the other kids were badmouthing him. When he looked up the words at home, he was ashamed that he’d been too dumb to understand that they were talking about how dumb he was.

His father’s words, “imbecile son”, cut deep, dragging up old hurts along with it.

He wished he could come up with something good, a new song, something original and unique like the fun, catchy unicorn song that Kitty Section had made. Maybe then his father would say something nice, not think XY was quite so stupid.

XY sighed heavily and pushed himself off the countertop so that his roller chair spun again. He closed his eyes, spinning, letting himself get dizzy.

Twelve minutes later when that ceased to be amusing, he let the chair slow to a stop and sat there for a second before he tried to get up.

He was tired and wanted to go home, but no one had come to get him yet. He was kind of hungry too. Akuma attacks always made him hungry, but there weren’t any snacks in the dressing room. He decided to go out in the hall and look for a vending machine, maybe get a soda or something.

He opened the door just in time to see the Kitty Section members pass—three girls and that giant guy—their backs to him.

XY wondered where that other guy was.

Luka. That was what his friend (girlfriend?) had called him.

Luka with the blazing blue eyes that lit a flame low in XY’s gut.

When Luka and his friend had first confronted XY and his father and Luka had reached out for the mask on the side of XY’s head, XY’s heart had done a double backflip. He’d thought for a second that Luka was reaching out to cup XY’s cheek.

In the moment before Luka had ripped the mask off, making the elastic snap painfully against XY’s skin, XY had stared into Luka’s smoldering, storm-like eyes, and it had been three kinds of magic.

XY had had crushes on guys before, but never that intense that quickly.

After the akuma had been taken care of, XY found the cheap, discarded mask where Ladybug’s magical ladybug swarm had put it back together after Chat Noir destroyed it. XY secreted the mask away, hiding it with his things to take home and save.

Luka was kind of terrifying but also incredibly attractive.

XY had watched him interacting with that girl he’d come with and the rest of his band, and Luka had a nice smile, a melodic laugh, a soft-spoken, sweet voice. It was clear that Luka could be a kind, fun person when he wasn’t angry.

XY kind of wished they’d met under better circumstances so that XY could have a chance at getting Luka to smile and laugh like that with him.

With a sigh, he shut the dressing room door and turned to head the opposite direction from Kitty Section.

He nearly ran right into Luka trailing behind his bandmates.

“Hey. Watch where you’re going,” Luka hissed, glaring XY down.

XY jumped, putting his hands up in self-defence as he flashed back to Silence finding him cowering in the storage closet, calling out to him with his own disembodied voice, tying him up, and then throwing XY over his shoulder to cart him off to the recording studio where Alec was already similarly bound.

Luka’s glare quickly dissipated into an uncertain, uncomfortable frown. He shook his head as if trying to shake his preceding thoughts loose and then turned, continuing on his way, putting XY and Bob Roth and this entire day behind him.

XY watched him go, noting the perfection that was the tight fit of his skinny jeans. He sighed again, lamenting the futility of his love life.

But then Luka slowed to a stop, fingers balling into fists, back muscles going taut as he seemed to struggle with something internal. Finally, with a huff, letting the tension go, Luka turned back around and tentatively approached.

His expression was shamefaced, his tone hesitant.

“Hey,” he breathed. “Sorry.”

XY blinked, mind scrambling to come up with an adequate response. “Oh. Uh. No. I wasn’t paying attention, so…”

Luka grimaced, fair skin easily showing a blush. “No. I meant…” He bit his lip, drawing XY’s gaze. “I meant sorry for more than just snapping at you right then. I meant…I’m sorry for today in general.”

Luka looked up, fighting off his shame and forcing himself to meet XY’s gaze and own up to his own shortcomings. “Yes, you and your father were in the wrong for plagiarizing, but I completely lost my cool when he threatened Marinette, and I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have let my anger get the better of me, but I did, and I’m sorry I lashed out at you.”

XY kept blinking as he stared into those cool blue eyes, sparkling like aquamarines even in the unflattering fluorescent light of the hallway. “Oh. Uh…thanks.”

A pained expression took over Luka’s face. “I don’t remember what happened, so I don’t know what I said, what I did to you, but I’m sorry for that too. I wasn’t in control, and I never would have done or said any of that if I had been, so I just want you to know that I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” XY admitted, trying to make Luka feel better and make himself out to be brave. “I mean, sure, I was a little uncomfortable when you tied me up and slung me over your shoulder—” XY would never admit that he’d kind of liked being carried and that the angle afforded him a splendid view of Luka’s tush in whatever skintight material the evil suit had been made out of. “—but it wasn’t anything compared to when Jagged’s akuma tied me up and made me stand out on a plank at the top of the Eiffel Tower.”

XY shrugged, pretending to be aloof and composed, hoping Luka would pick up on how cool XY was.

Luka’s mouth dropped open as he attempted to process himself slinging Xavier-Yves Roth over his shoulder and Jagged Stone dangling the pop star off the side of the Eiffel Tower.

“Oh,” Luka finally responded. “Wow. Okay. Well…sorry again. I’m glad it wasn’t that bad.”

XY smirked, voice full of bravado as he declared. “It was no sweat, really, so don’t worry about it.” Luka didn’t need to know that if XY had had his voice at the time, he would have been emitting high-pitched shrieks. “The worst part was losing an hour out of my day.”

“Uh… Well… Sorry for the inconvenience, then,” Luka offered, feeling conflicted about the way this conversation was going.

There was a beat, and it looked like Luka was turning to go when he abruptly stopped mid-rotation and asked, “Purely out of curiosity, why did you steal Kitty Section’s song and Marinette’s costumes? You’re a professional musician with your own established style. Why poach amateur work?”

XY crossed his arms defensively, looking away. “It wasn’t stealing.”

Luka’s eyes narrowed, and his fingers began to coil once more in indignance that even now XY refused to admit he’d done anything wrong.

“It was just inspiration,” XY corrected petulantly. “I couldn’t come up with anything that Dad thought would sell, so he said all we needed to do was let someone else do the work for us, so we went through the entries, and I made the song based off of yours…and Dad said it was good, that it would sell.” XY shrugged, wishing Luka would drop it.

Hadn’t Luka gotten to perform his version of the song on TV? Wasn’t that good enough? Why did he want to make XY’s day worse? Hadn’t enough bad things happened to XY already?

“You had writer’s block?” Luka inquired in exasperation. “So you decided to rip off somebody else?”

XY changed the cross of his arms and looked at Luka defiantly. “Dad said to. I was just doing what Dad said. He’s the best in the business—he has been for years—so I just trusted that he knew what he was talking about. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Luka pursed his lips, trying to understand how a person could have their head so firmly in the sand to the point where they couldn’t acknowledge that they’d made a mistake. “But didn’t it feel wrong playing someone else’s music? I put a lot of myself into my songs, little bits of life experience, the things that happen to me, the things I feel. I couldn’t imagine playing someone else’s music with the same intimacy that I play my own. Didn’t it feel wrong to play something that wasn’t yours?”

Deep trenches formed in XY’s forehead as he tried to comprehend Luka’s meaning. “No,” he answered bluntly. “I just…you know. I make music that’s catchy, sure to be popular. Repetitive. I don’t ‘put myself into the music’, so…it’s just…whatever, you know?”

Slowly, Luka began to nod as he started to understand where the disconnect was coming from. “I always thought your music sounded soulless.” He didn’t say it in a mean way. It didn’t sound like an insult, more like a realization, an epiphany.

XY still didn’t like it.

He crossed his arms harder and shifted his weight so that it rested on his right leg, making his hip jut out. “Okay, well, tell me how to ‘put myself into the music’, then, if you’re so great.”

Luka’s expression softened. “I’d hardly call myself great, but…if you really want to make authentic music, the first step is to stop caring so much about what sells.”

XY visibly recoiled.

Making marketable music was the catechism Bob Roth had drilled into his son from an early age, so Luka’s first step sounded like downright heresy.

“Seriously,” Luka chuckled (making XY’s body stand at attention because Luka was laughing, and that laughter was directed at him). “You’re an established musician with hundreds of thousands of fans. There are people who will buy whatever you put out, so it’s not like you have to be so rigid. You have some wiggle room to experiment, so stop thinking about what sells and think instead about what you like.”

“What I like,” XY repeated, feeling clueless.

Luka nodded. “Sure. What kind of music do you like?”

XY bit his lip. “I don’t…I don’t really know.”

Luka’s eyebrows started to inch together. “Well…maybe figure that out first.”

“How?” XY challenged. If Luka was giving XY instructions, he wanted concert steps he could follow, none of this “figure it out” crap. XY was not much of a thinker. He couldn’t “figure it out” unless someone else explained it to him.

“Listen to a wide variety of music. Listen to classical, listen to folk music, rap, jazz, gamelan music, traditional Japanese shamisen and koto…listen to everything. Professionals, people busking in parks and in the subway, birdsong, the sound a bottle makes when you blow into it, children playing, passing cars, the wind in the trees, the sound of dropped coins, water splashing in a fountain. Listen until you find something that resonates with you,” Luka advised.

XY pursed his lips, furrowing his brow in confusion. “How will I know when it resonates with me?”

“You’ll know,” Luka assured. “You’ll feel it through your whole body. You’ll get really excited and want to share it with someone. You’ll know, and when you do, try to make something like it—Not a copy,” Luka was quick to clarify.

“Don’t copy it note for note if it’s another piece of music. Just create whatever it inspires you to make. After you’ve done that the first time, you’ll understand the process better, and then you’ll be able to keep your ears open as you go about your day,” he insisted, seeing the skeptical look on XY’s face.

Luka smiled encouragingly. “Inspiration will come if you just keep your ears open. Maybe it will be a snatch of something someone in the street is humming or the sound of someone’s laughter or the buzz of cicadas or an intricate display in a shop window. It can be anything so long as it strikes a chord in you. Just be open to the sounds and sights around you, how they make you feel. Feelings can be inspiration too. Sometimes you need to throw in a tritone or a two to get across the tension and unease.”

“Triton?” XY repeated, feeling lost.

Luka shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. The important thing is to try to incorporate your feelings and the things you come across in your daily life that strike a chord with you into your music. Don’t worry about if it sells. Just use your experiences to make something that you’re happy with. That’s what it means to ‘put yourself into the music’.”

XY’s fingers tightened around his bicep. “I don’t know. I don’t think I can do that. I’m not…” He looked away, mumbling, “I’m not very talented like that. I don’t have good ideas.”

Luka frowned. “I think your fans would disagree.”

XY blinked, surprised at the gentleness in Luka’s tone. He was so used to his father laughing and agreeing when XY commented upon how stupid or talentless he was. It had turned into a kind of sick inside joke, so it was jarring for the conversation to veer from the script he’d grown so accustomed to.

“It might be hard at first, but if you really want to make music that you yourself are happy with, you can do it. You’re already a professional musician with an eager audience. You don’t have to fight to get your music heard. Take the opportunity to experiment a little. Everyone has a song inside of them. You can find yours,” Luka encouraged.

XY’s insides melted.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had cheered him on like that, telling him that he could do something. Luka made it sound so simple, made him think he could actually do it, create music for himself. Luka had XY believing that he really could find his own song if he dug down deep for it, the music reverberating inside of him even before he decided to go into the music business to connect with his father and make Bob Roth happy.

XY’s heart fluttered. He wanted to get to know this guy better. He wanted to hear Luka talk more, watch Luka’s eyebrows and the corners of his mouth as they made the most interesting microexpressions, injecting so much unspoken meaning into the exchange.

The words, “Can I take you out for coffee?” were on the tip of XY’s tongue when a dressing room door down the hall opened, and the giant guy from Luka’s band stuck his head out, calling, “Hey, Luka, you coming?”

“Just a minute!” Luka replied and then turned back to XY with a smile XY wouldn’t soon forget.

“I’ve got to go, but good luck.” Luka visibly hesitated, biting his lip and crinkling his brow, before adding, “And maybe don’t listen to your dad all the time. You might one day regret the person he’s turned you into.”

Luka patted XY on the arm and turned to go. “I hope you find your song.”

XY’s skin burned through his signature jacket in the shape of Luka’s hand. On the inside, his brain was exploding into fireworks in the loveliest shades of blue and green. Luka’s eyes were indelibly stamped on the back of XY’s eyelids, their delicate blue glowing in a way XY knew he’d be seeing in his dreams.

Bob Roth ranted all during the long drive back to Le Grand Paris on the other side of town. Mostly it was a torrent of abuse directed toward Luka, Kitty Section, Chat Noir, and Ladybug, but there were some barbed comments about XY’s musical abilities and IQ as well.

XY sank down low in his seat, feeling miserable…until he thought of Luka.

Luka’s kind words, gentle smile…his expressive eyes, lyrical laugh.

I hope you find your song.

For the first time in a long time, XY really wanted to. He wanted to make music for the sake of fun and not have to worry about whether it would stick in people’s ears and sell copies.

XY wanted Luka to hear the music he made and think it was good. He wanted to put himself in the music and have Luka think it was good…think XY was good.

As soon as they made it back to their suite of rooms at the hotel, XY headed straight for the shower to avoid a further tirade from his father as well as to wash all of the product out of his hair.

He changed into less conspicuous skinny jeans, purple converse, and a white baseball shirt with purple, three-quarter length sleeves. He lost the blinged-out necklace advertising his identity, added oversized movie star sunglasses, and piled his long, blonde hair into a bun at the top of his head.

“I’m going out incognito, Dad,” he called as he made his way towards the door. “Back in a bit.”

Bob scoffed at his son’s appearance. “You look like Man Bun Ken. Didn’t I tell you never to style your hair like that? What if someone sees you? It’ll ruin your image.”

XY shrugged. “They won’t recognize me. I’m not wearing my bling or my signature jacket. No one will know it’s me without the tall hair,” he assured, hustling out the door.

He ended up in the Place des Vosges, sitting in the shade of the trees at the base of the Louis XIII statue with the weird tree trunk coming up through the middle of the horse.

Children were shrieking with joy as they played on the playground at the south-east corner of the park. The fountains were burbling, and XY could hear the indistinct, hypnotic murmur of people picnicking out on the grass. Birds sang, and someone was playing something jazzy on a saxophone under one of the arches of the brick underpass leading into the plaza. The notes echoed, reverberating out into the world.

The sun was slowly sinking, evening coming on with a vanguard of soft orange and yellow and rose-tinted light. The sky overhead was still blue. Blue, like Luka’s eyes, Luka’s hair, Luka’s clothing.

Blue.

Luka’s laugh, soft and self-conscious, bounced around inside of XY’s head like a song playing on repeat.

XY frowned, recalling Luka’s advice for creating authentic music. Hadn’t he said that XY could take inspiration from anywhere? Birdsong or dropped coins or someone’s laughter?

A melody started forming in XY’s mind, bouncing along to the cadence of Luka’s chuckle.

He hurried home and worked long into the dim hours of the dawn twilight on his song. It was nothing like when he’d made pieces focusing only on what would sell. That was formulaic and could be done, not in the five minutes he’d bragged to Alec about, but at least in one sitting. This, what he was doing now, making authentic music, was uncharted territory, and it took days of tweaking to get the song just right.

He called it Blue and presented it to his father the following weekend.

Bob Roth scoffed at it, saying that it was too obscure, too niche to sell to the masses, but that was okay with XY. He was happy with his song…and he thought Luka might be too.

It had been hard but fun and satisfying to create something heartfelt, to put himself into the music. He decided, after that first song, to walk around with his ears open and create more authentic music.

He thought about trying to get in contact with Luka, but every time he was on the cusp of actually doing something about his crush, he lost his nerve. Luka was probably dating that Marinette girl. Besides, what would Luka and XY have in common? Luka was really smart; what would he see in XY? What would XY’s dad say? Bob Roth had told XY that he could only date women and that he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone that he liked guys, so what was the point?

Time stretched on, and it eventually started to feel too random to go up to a guy he’d met once a year ago (two years ago, five years ago, seven years ago) and tell him what a difference he’d made in XY’s life, how XY had feelings for him, wanted to know him better.

XY settled for working on his music, creating something Luka would enjoy and respect. He secretly followed Kitty Section’s career and then Luka’s when he went solo. He attended almost every concert he could, incognito so as not to cause a scene. In private, he devoured Luka’s interviews, the photos posted on Instagram, the blog posts, the tweets.

He let his feelings smolder in secret for years until one night, ten years after they’d first met, XY and Luka attended the same party. He saw Luka’s name on the confirmed guestlist and put his plan into motion. His heart fluttered when he saw Luka there, standing off on his own. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, and XY couldn’t help but take it.

#LuXY #luxyweek2k20 #Lukadrien #Lukadrienette #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Luka Couffaine #XY #Xavier-Yves Roth #Luka Couffaine/XY Roth #Mikau's Writings #Welcome to La-La Land

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writingjusttowrite8 · 6 years

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Warmth (Chapter 11)

So, this is a little late… my bad. Life has been super hectic, but I graduated college so yay! This doesn’t contain much smut (though there is a bit), cuz it’s mostly fluffy romance. Tom’s hair has me feelin’ some type of way for a while now, so be prepared for the next chapter to be all about that lol. As always, thank you so much for your continued support in reading this story. I’ve gotten some really sweet messages that truly make me happier than words can describe, so thank you all so much for that. Please let me know what you guys think!

You can also read this on AO3!

I jumped into Tom's arms; ignoring how he ungracefully dropped the stuff he was carrying. He had clearly been working out; his chest was hard and wide and his arms were thicker than I remembered. I clutched his chest close to me and wrapped my legs around his waist.

"You're here, really here," I said, breathing in his scent. I felt his bearded chin nuzzle into the side of my face, and him placing gentle kisses on my cheek. I pulled back a bit to look at him, my eyes glassy, and run my hand through his beard.

"I had to come see you. I was going mad, especially after my drunken night of revelations. Seeing you over Skype and hearing your voice on the phone is great, but feeling you with my own hands is infinitely better," Tom said, gently letting me down to the floor.

"But, how did you have the time to-"

"I made time. I'll always make time for you," He said, placing both hands over my cheeks. My smile grew, and so did his before he leaned down to kiss me. It was hot and intense, feeling his lips move along with mine after so long without it. I wrapped my fingers in his longer hair and groaned at the feeling.

"God, love your hair like this," I groaned against his lips. I felt him smirk, but he didn't cease his movement. He was mauling my neck, pressing me against the wall outside of my suite. I hiked my leg around his him, and Tom held onto it and pulled it higher. His hips ground into mine and I felt myself get dizzy with anticipation.

"You know," I said while Tom kissed at the base of my neck, "there's a very large and private bed inside, if you want to get comfortable in there." In lieu of a verbal response, Tom hiked my entire body up, holding me, and walked me into the room before dropping me onto the bed. His lips found mine again, but something else crossed my mind. "My presents!" I shouted, which muffled against his lips.

"I'll get you more," He said, obviously consumed solely with getting me undressed. I whined in protest.

"I want those..." I said, tugging his hair. His head dropped to my shoulder and he grunted before quickly spinning around, getting the bear and chocolates from the hallway and slamming the door shut once more.

"May I properly ravish you now?" Tom asked, a slight hint of amusement and pain in his voice. I scooted up further onto the bed.

"Do your worst."

I awoke to soft snoring and the rhythmic rise and fall of a chest underneath me. I inhaled Tom's bare skin for what seemed like the millionth time in the last 12 hours, desperately trying to commit it to memory. I glanced at the clock to see 8:43 a.m. flashing, before looking up at Tom's peaceful sleeping face. He was getting so pale, his hair turning back to its natural ginger; that boy needs to see the sun more often. I shifted around a bit, not wanting to disturb our moment of serenity, but tried to climb up further onto Tom so I could kiss him. My hands played with his hair while I placed love bites on his neck. I felt him nuzzle into me, making his coarse beginning of a beard tickle my skin. I lifted my lips to his; eyes still closed, and licked his bottom lip for entrance. His tongue swirled with mine and I felt him grasp my hips. My core was still wet and slick from our multiple couplings last night, and I ground into him, feeling his erection come to life. One of his hands came up to kneed my breast and tweak my nipple, and his mouth never once faltered while on mine.

I trailed one of my hands down between us to pump his cock a few times, almost getting embarrassed when I realized just how wet I was. I moaned into his mouth as I lifted my hips and guided him into me. His hand gripped me tighter as my head dropped to the side to catch my breath.

“I love having you… inside of me…” I breathed into the shell of his ear. He groaned and began bucking into me. I sat back, balancing on his chest and began moving up and down. His eyes were only slightly open, staring at me as I threw my head back in ecstasy. His hands grabbed at mine and he intertwined our fingers together. We moved slowly, relishing in the feel every stroke and soft touch. I leaned back down over him, so that I could kiss him as deeply as possible. I gasped as I came, rubbing my clit on the coarse and wiry hair at the base of his cock. He pumped himself into me a few more times before releasing into me. His cum felt hot and fulfilling, and I nearly passed out on top of Tom.

“I miss waking up like that,” he whispered into my ear. I smiled while still breathing heavily and chuckled a bit.

“Soon we’ll be able to wake up like this all the time,” I said. Tom rubbed his large, warm hands in soothing circles on my back.

“Indeed my love, we will. Soon,” He said, staring down at me. My smile faded a bit when a realization came over me.

“How long do you have here?” I asked, propping myself on my elbow to look at him.

“Today and tonight. I leave early tomorrow morning,” Tom said, sadness in his eye.

“How’s shooting going?” I asked, trying to get off the subject of him leaving.

“Well enough. The script isn’t as fully formed as I initially thought. I like it though; the producers actually listen to me, and the rest of us, when we want to make changes. I miss being a producer. I might have to try it out again soon,” A proud smile replaced the sadness that had washed over him. I let out a wide grin; I loved seeing such passion out of Tom. He was truly made to be an actor.

“I’m glad. But not too soon. We’re finally getting some time off in a couple weeks, remember?” I asked. Tom chuckled and rolled on top of me, brushing some hair out of my face.

“If this morning is any inclination as to what awaits me in our time off together, you better believe I will never forget it.”

We showered and dressed quickly, and began eating breakfast in the small sitting area of my room. I was buttering a croissant when Tom asked me about a subject I’d nearly forgotten.

“Are you truly not mad at me for the way I announced our relationship. I know you’ve said you’re not, but I need you to be honest with me. It’s okay if you’re mad; to be honest, I’m a little mad at myself. I shouldn’t have let something as big as that slip,” he said. I took a bit of my croissant before responding, wanting to choose my words carefully.

“I’m not mad; the only thing I’m mad about was that so many people got to see your fun, drunk side and I still haven’t. But in all seriousness, I’m not. It was bound to come out at some point, and the timing wasn’t ideal, but I doubt there would ever be an ideal time. If anything, I’m mad at myself. I feel bad for forcing you to hold it in for so long. If I had known that the sense of relief that overcame me when I found out, I would have never asked you to hide it. I want us to be a team, not just to each other, but also in the eyes of the world. Our lives are our own, and giving the power over to everybody else to dictate how our relationship should go isn’t something I want to do anymore. I want to be with you; I think I have from the moment I met you. I’m glad we don’t have to hide anymore. No matter the circumstance, I think what happened was for the best,” I said. We were sitting so close to each other I had to crane my neck up to look at him. He was contemplative, taking into consideration ever word I said. I small, tender smile started on his lips, and I could have cried because of how happy it made me.

“You really are something different all together. I love you,” Tom said. I reached up and placed a tender kiss on his lips, with he returned with the same kind of love. It wasn’t the normal, heated kiss that ended with each other tangled in the sheets, but the kind of kiss that reassured intimacy in other forms.

“I love you too,” I said once we pulled apart, “but we’re in one of the most romantic cities in the world on valentines weekend. We should explore a bit before coming back here and fucking each other senseless.”

Tom’s eyebrows rose up at me. “Or we could just skip the exploring and go straight to the senseless fucking?” He gave me a cocky grin. I pouted and looked up at him through my lashes. He rolled his eyes and sighed, giving me a small smile of amusement. “Or we could do whatever you want to.” I smiled, grabbed his face and pulled him into a sweet kiss.

“Good choice.”

Paris was always beautiful, but it was even more beautiful being there with someone you love. Tom had been giving me lessons in French all day, trying to improve my very broken understanding of the language. But the way he was able to so flawlessly fit in to those around him never ceased to amaze me.

“I’ve worked here a lot. We came to France quite a bit as children and spent most of our holidays here. That’s really only why I know it so well,” Tom said, as we walked down the street.

“It is quite beautiful here; have you ever considered moving here?” I asked. Tom took a moment before responding, holding my hand a little closer and rubbing his thumb in circles on the back of it.

“Not really. Sometimes the beauty of a place can only remain if you keep it at a distance. I’m not sure I would like it the same way if I lived here,” He finally said.

“That’s very poetic,” I started, “keeping something at a distance so not to tarnish it’s beauty.” Tom shrugged

“Would you ever move here?” He asked me.

“No!” I responded much quicker than I should have. “I mean, I love London too much. Plus we’re away so often, that having another place to try to be together would just be too much,” I corrected. Tom chuckled a bit at me.

“Well, if you’re not here then I certainly would have no reason to be,” Tom said. He stopped us and pressed a sweet kiss onto my cheek. I blushed at such a public display of affection, especially after hiding it for so long. As I looked up at him when he pulled away, I realized there wasn’t any reason to hide, and let myself do what I’ve wanted to do for so long now. I threw my arms around his neck, pulling him back down for a deeper kiss. Our mouths moved in sync, and he grabbed my cheek with his large hand. I always hated couples who made such a spectacle of their relationship, but now I realized what I’d been missing out on. Kissing Tom so publically felt so freeing; as if I was finally saying ‘He’s mine! We’re together! And we can make out whenever we want because he’s mine!’

I was the first to pull away from the kiss, but I pressed a few short ones as I pulled away. I looked up at him to see a flushed, boyish grin on his face, and my deep red lipstick smothered along his mouth.

“Sorry, I guess I got caught up,” I said biting my lip and using my thumb to get some of the lipstick off.

“I’m not sorry at all. I’m glad we finally get to do this now. And I intend to keep doing this for a very long time,” Tom said before pulling me into another mind-numbing kiss.

By the time Tom and I made it back to the room, we were clawing at one another. We’d barley shut the door before our lips were on each other’s again. He led me back to the bed, and I fell onto it with Tom towering over me. He grinned down at me and a devilish look overcame him. I started breathing heavier with anticipation. Tom trapped me between his arms, his face hovering over mine. I lifted my head to attach our lips, but he used one hand to gently push it down. For a few moments, Tom traced my skin with the tip of his nose, nuzzling me occasionally and making me giggle a bit whenever his beard would rub me. Finally he connected our lips, and I couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. This kind of intimacy was so agonizingly wonderful. My hands were all over him; tracing his face, in his hair, down his neck, until a buzzing sound came from my purse.

I rolled over, fumbling around in my carelessly discarded purse before pulling out my phone. I finally got it and looked at my screen in confusion.

“Who is it?” Tom asked, between pressing ticklish kisses against my neck.

“It’s Henry… that’s odd,” I said. Tom kept kissing my neck, but I felt him falter a bit. I debated whether or not to answer it for a minute, before putting my phone down. But before I could actually get it down, I felt Tom’s hand slide down my arm and grab the phone from my hand. He accepted the call on the last ring and pressed it to his hear.

“Hello?” Tom said into the phone, nonchalantly. He sat back on his knees, keeping me pinned beneath him. I swatted his chest and mouthed ‘what are you doing?’ at him. Tom smirked down at me and I could hear Henry’s deep voice on the other end.

“This is her… boyfriend,” Tom said. Part of me was angry for answering it, but another part became curious as to why he had hesitated before saying ‘boyfriend’. I looked up at him and tried to get out of his grasp and tear the phone away from him, but he was able to hold my arms down with his free hand.

“Ah, well, unfortunately [Y/N] will be otherwise occupied tonight. She won’t be joining you,” He said smugly. Henry had called me wanting to go out? This was odd.

“That’s kind of you to offer, but I believe I’ll be more than capable of keeping [Y/N] entertained by myself. Have a good evening,” Tom hung up the phone. My cheeks burned; half from anger at his actions, half in embarrassment.

“What the hell, Tom!” I screamed at him, once he let me go. I pushed him off of me and walked to the other side of the room, after grabbing my phone from his hands.

“He knows you have a boyfriend, why would he be asking you out to dinner on Valentines Day?” Tom asked, a hint of anger playing in his voice. I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Because he’s nice. He didn’t know you were in town and figured I’d be alone. Also, we’re coworkers! It isn’t exactly unheard of for coworkers to go to dinner together. We went out together plenty of times before we started dating!” I continued.

“Exactly, and look where we ended up!” He said standing up and walking in front of me.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked incredulously.

“We were friends well before we started dating,” Tom said, darkly. I looked at him in disbelief.

“You think I’m cheating on you?” I asked, my voice quiet.

“NO! But I don’t trust him! He shouldn’t be going after you, I thought it would be best to ward him off a bit,” Tom’s voice wavered a bit. I stood frozen. Anger, disbelief, and sadness coursed through my body.

“You honestly think that was the way to ‘ward him off’? Being rude to him? Speaking for me? Accusing him of intentions you have no way of proving? That’s really what you came up with?” I asked through gritted teeth. The realization of what he did finally washed over Tom. His angry expression faded, and his eyes dropped to the floor.

“He gets to be around you. You work with him every day. He gets to see you, to touch you, to feel you. I don’t. I’m thousands of miles away and some other man gets to be there for you. You have to understand how horrible it is for me to know this.” Tom said, staring at the floor.

“You don’t think I’m jealous too? That other women get to be around you and I don’t? Women constantly thrown themselves at you, Tom! I have to grin and bear it and it sucks but I do it! You’ll have to figure out a way to do it too!” I said. I relaxed my arms and rubbed my face. How can such a sweet, hot moment of love turn into… this.

“I’m sorry,” Tom whispered, “I shouldn’t have done that.” I took a deep breath.

“No you shouldn’t have. Why did you?” I asked. Tom sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m terrified of loosing you, of letting other people into our relationship. If anyone ever caught you two out, even just as friends, the media would jump on it and try to tear us apart. I’ve been through that before, and I’m not strong enough to ignore it all again. I can’t loose you, [Y/N]. I love you so much and my jealously got the best of me. I’m so sorry,” His eyes looked up to mine with a pleading look. I walked over to him, but he made no move to touch me. I placed my hands on either side of his face and looked up at him.

“We can’t let anyone tear us apart; not Henry, not the media, anyone. I won’t let them. I love you Tom, so much that it can be painful. Don’t let anyone else affect you like that. I’m with you, only you. Never doubt that,” I pleaded with him. I wasn’t angry anymore, just sad. The separation and unexpected announcement of our relationship had taken a major toll on us, and we hadn’t even realized it. His hand cupped mine, keeping it to his face, as he stared down lovingly at me.

“I won’t.”

The wind blew harshly against my face as we walked into the airport. The normal entrance was too crowded with paparazzi, so we were taken through a back entrance with significantly less weather coverage. I grabbed onto Tom’s arm tighter and he squeezed my hand in assurance. Despite my hatred of the cold, I was thankful that it was consuming my thoughts over what our actual purpose was here. Tom was leaving to go back to L.A. to finish filming. Though the trip was unexpected and quick, it stung a bit whenever he had to leave.

We finally made it inside of a small side alcove connected to the boarding zone of the air plane, and the person who had been walking us in turned to us and told Tom it would be a few minutes before he could board. Tom nodded curtly and the man exited the area. I looked up at Tom while he placed his hands on either side of my face, smoothing out my hair.

“We’re getting better at this; I’m not even crying this time,” I joked. It was supposed to sound humorous, but my sadness drowned the fun out.

“You said it yourself; soon we won’t have to say goodbye for a while,” He reminded me.

“Yeah, but we’re having to say it right now,” I started, “Living in the present is a lot harder to do than looking to the future.”

“But that future will be much better. And it’s not that distant, only a few more weeks,” Tom said. I grimaced when he said weeks. His attempt to cheer me up was failing, and I felt bad for making it so hard.

“Thank you for coming out to see me. I’m really happy you came,” I said. He smirked mischievously.

“I believe we both came, quite a few times actually,” Tom teased. I playfully slapped his chest, embarrassed by his comment. He laughed at my reaction and tugged me in for a tight hug. I reciprocated the hug, holding onto him for dear life.

“I love you so much, never doubt that. I’m yours; entirely,” I whispered. Tom pulled back just a little, so that he could capture my lips in a deep kiss. I kissed back just as fervently. When he finally pulled away, we were both breathless.

“As am I. I love you,” Tom rested his forehead against mine. I looked into his eyes once more, and pressed a very quick last kiss. The man who led us here cleared his throat, alerting us to his presence. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, but Tom didn’t seem to mind.

“Call me when you get to L.A.,” I said, voice breaking a bit. Tom nodded, stepping back towards the plane, but still holding onto my hand. He pressed a kiss to the back of my hand while maintaining eye contact, before dropping it and turning to board. I watched him for a few moments, waved back at him when he quickly spun around to wave at me, and wiped my eyes for the few stray tears that had fallen.

Only a couple more weeks, I told myself, then Tom and I can truly start our lives together.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfict #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x reader #imagine tom hiddleston #twhiddleston #This is v fluffy!#I couldn't help myself lol #also #v sorry this is so late #and the next one will be SMUT #because of who i am as a person lol #warmth #part 11

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infinitysdecendants76730 · 3 years

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Infinity’s Descendants

“Decisions Decisions “

The girls were still on a high from the recent activities so the overall house mood was more jovial than normal. “Cassius and I will be going out again tonight after work” Céleste said as the two of them were getting ready to start their day. “The two of you have been courting for quite some time now. How long has it been?” Asked Azazelle. “Four to five months or so I believe” replied Céleste. “Five months? Why is it that you have not introduced him to me yet?” asked Azazelle. “Sis, I just want to be sure before I introduce you to him. I want to be sure he’s the one, you know?” Azazelle could tell that her sister was trying not to get too excited or move too fast with Cassius. “I do not like that I have not met him but I will always support you and your decisions. I must be off to work now. Will I see you before your date?” Azazelle asked her sister. “Of course! I expect you to help me get ready” Céleste smiled “Be careful sis” “Of course” replied Azazelle. “Please be safe” Céleste embraced her little sister. Despite efforts to keep the plague out of Marseilles it had made its way into the city. The number of cases were low but it was beginning to spread throughout the city. With Azazelle being a sick nurse she was exposed to those who had the plague so naturally Céleste worried about her. “I will, now let me go I am going to be late”

Céleste left the shoppe a tad bit late but this was not an unusual occurrence. She often lost track of time when she was working on a design she so truly loved. She headed home to prepare for her date with Cassius practically skipping the entire way.

“Zaz where are you? You can tell me about your day while you help me get into my dress” Céleste said excitingly. « Azazelle, Êtes-vous ici? » she asked. Céleste had began walking around looking for Zaz when she saw the paper on the table.

“Cele,

Jane has fell ill and cannot work. I will be filling in for her tonight. I am terribly sorry I will not be here when you arrive. I hope that you enjoy your date. I expect all the details tomorrow morning. We can discuss it all over breakfast. I will prepare it and I fully expect you to be here to eat it...while it’s warm.

Ta sœur,

Zaz”

Céleste frowned at the note; she was really looking forward to seeing her sister when she got home but sadly she no time to be sad. She had to get ready because Cassius would be arriving soon.

Céleste had just sat down to rest after all that work and there was a knock at the door.

White. The purest of whites is what Cassius was clothed in. He was dressed as if he were at court at Versailles. His baroque coat was exquisitely designed with pearls and tiny rubies worked into the embroidery. The Lace of the shirt was of the finest of quality ornamented with gold guilded edges and his shoes were adorned with diamond buckles and gold heels. The sun light coming through the many windows of the house caught the red of the rubies and casted beautiful little red flashes of light around the room. All of the aforementioned things did not compare to when he smiled. He was beyond handsome when he smiled and Céleste wondered how on earth she had managed to be courting a fine gentleman such as Cassius. As she looked at the man before her she could not help but think that this man was somehow going to break her heart. He had showed no signs of this nevertheless the feeling still remained.

“Are you ready my star?” Cassius asked causing her to suppress those unwanted feelings. « Oui, how do I look? » Cassius playfully bit his lip and looked her up and down before replying « délicieux ».

As customary the coachmen opened the door for the couple. “Wait before you sit” Cassius said as he entered the carriage. He hurried and sat where Céleste had intended on sitting. “You mustn’t look at me, promise?” He swirled his finger in a circular motion indicating he wanted her to turn around. “Promise” she replied with a giggle. As quickly as possible he untied his breeches pulled the fabric up, exposing his thigh muscle. “Now you may sit” Celeste gathered the fabric of her dress and sat on Cassius’ lap. He inhaled sharply when he felt her warm heat on his flesh. “Mademoiselle your undergarments” he whispered in shock. “I figured it would be a pleasant surprise” Cassius said nothing he just gazed at Céleste in disbelief. “Well?” She said breaking the silence. “Well what?” he replied. « Êtes-vous surpris? » she asked nervously. “Pleasantly” he replied with a smile.

There was an internal battle going on in Céleste’s head. Half of her thought the no undergarment idea was a brilliant the other half of her disagreed for two reasons. One, after giving it a bit of thought she came to the conclusion that perhaps Cassius was not ready for something like this or perhaps this was out of the ordinary for him seeing that he left in such a hurry the last time they were intimate. After all he hadn’t moved an inch since they set off. Second, she hadn’t thought about how much the carriage would bounce and shake on their journey and the frequent contact had her quite flustered to say the least.

Unexpectedly, during conversation Cassius flexed his thigh muscle which causing Céleste to stammer mid sentence. A small smirk played on his lips. “Ça va?” He whispered in her ear. She cleared her throat and shook her head yes. “Encore?” She knew exactly what he was asking. She bit her lip and shook her head yes once more. He placed his hands on her hips and guided her at the pace he wanted. A pace that was just enough to get her good and warmed up but not enough for Celeste to fully satisfy herself. Just as Céleste was starting to lose herself in the rhythm the carriage slowed and came to a stop. “Time to go mon Cherie” Cassius said lifting Céleste off his lap. She stood and did a marvelous job of appearing as though she was unbothered but in actuality her stomach was in knots and her core was aching for Cassius’ touch.

Céleste and Cassius walked down a small path until their destination became visible.

“Is that-“ “Château D’if? Why yes Mademoiselle it is” Cassius smiled and kissed Céleste on the temple. “But I thought it was a military fortress? How can we go there?” Céleste’s beautiful brown eyes peered up at Cassius. “The général and I are close. I assure you we will not be of any bother” Cassius kisssed the hand of Céleste’s that he had been holding as they walked. “Shall we?”

They made their way down to the coastline and boarded a small boat. Cassius held Céleste in his arms while they sailed across the crystal blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea. “This is beautiful Cassius. You never cease to amaze me” she said happily.

« Monsieur. Thank you for getting us here safely. You may either wait here until sundown or you may leave. It matters not to me I only expect that you are here when sunsets so we may depart. D’accord? » said Cassius. « Oui monsieur » replied the sailor. « Merci, pour vous famille » Cassius gave the man a couple of extra francs as they pulled into shore. “Let me aid you love” Cassius stepped out of the boat and held a hand out for Céleste. Once she was off the boat she took Cassius arm and the two of them headed up to the Château.

“Cassius, I’m pleased to see you made it safely” a man in a naval uniform greeted them from behind two giant red doors. “Yes General, thanks again for allowing us to come visit” replied Cassius. “The pleasure is all mine. I believe you will find that the soldiers will be practically invisible. However should you need anything just ask and they will assist you” said the General. « Merci Général » replied Cassius.

“Well Mademoiselle LeBlanc, how do you like the view from Château D’if? Marseille is even more beautiful from here is it not?” He asked wrapping his arms around her waist. The two of them stood in silence observing the beauty of the city for quite some time. Here they could escape from everything, people, work, city conditions absolutely everything. It was was just them and the calming waves of the Mediterranean and Cassius was especially care free out here. “Would you like a tour?” He asked finally breaking the silence. “I’d love that” she smiled. Céleste enjoyed the sea breeze tickling her skin as Cassius led her through the corridors. They were strolling past another archway when Cassius stopped and pushed Céleste back against the wall.

He gently cupped her face and kissed her passionately. He pulled away and skimmed his thumb over her lip. Céleste leaned in to continue the kiss and Cassius gave her a quick peck on the lips “There will be more time for that later mon étoile. There is more to show you” he smiled so brightly it was contagious.

She returned his smile but inside she couldn’t help but feel a small morsel of doubt. She could tell Cassius had been holding back. Every time the promise of intimacy would rear it head Cassius would come so close to giving into his urges but would then withdraw and apologize. With the exception of that one time they played cards and even then under the influence he still hesitated. He was always such a gentleman, so much so that it was infuriating to Céleste at times. She hoped and prayed that today by the beautiful Mediterranean Sea he would finally give in and make sweet sweet love to her. With the festivities in the carriage it seemed that she may be in luck but the kiss still had her giving way to doubt. “Finally we’re here. Down there lies the second best view on the whole island” said Cassius.

“Second best? What’s the first?” she asked. “The view I have right now of course” he replied. “Aren’t you quite the romantic” laughed Céleste.

“Evening soldiers. Are you not supposed to be en guard?” Cassius asked looking up from Céleste’s bosom. Céleste hadn’t even heard anyone approaching. How was he able to hear them when he was preoccupied she wondered. “We are sir but the General requested that we deliver an urgent message to you” said one of the soldiers. « Excusez moi, for just a moment please » he said to Céleste. He hopped up, wiped the sand from his clothes and followed the three soldiers up the steps and out of site. “What is this urgent message?” Cassius asked very seriously. “The General told us to inform you that the betrothal of Jareth and Mariana is in 5 days time” said one of the soldiers. “And Marius requests your presence at the celebration” another added. “Very well then I shall be there” replied Cassius « C’est tout? »

“Mademoiselle, you look beautiful” a soldier said scaring Céleste. “Pardon me, I didnt intend to frighten you. I patrol these shores to ensure there are no intruders. I was not expecting to encounter anyone let alone a beautiful young lady such as yourself” he said. “Not a bad job to spend all day looking at this beautiful scenery” Céleste replied trying to mask how awkward she felt. “No Mademoiselle, it is not” he replied with a smile. The soldier looked up behind Céleste then back down at her. “If I wish to keep my job I must continue on. Good day to you Mademoiselle” the soldier smiled again and continued walking past Céleste up the staircase Cassius had just ascended.

“Cassius, is that mortal down there with you?” the soldier asked when he reach the top of the steps. “Oui” Cassius replied not turning to face the soldier. “Perhaps when you feed from her you shall let us join? She is the sweetest smelling mortal I have ever encountered” Quicker than the soldier could blink Cassius had his hand around his throat with his feet dangling just above the ground “If you so much as think of coming near her again I will kill you” his tone was cool and his face was serious. “Cassius, calm down. He meant know harm” urged one of the soldiers. Cassius let go and the soldier fell to his knees. Cassius looked each of the four soldiers around him directly in the eyes before saying “Are we going to have any problems gentlemen?” Two remained silent and the other two shook their heads no. One soldier waited for Cassius to be out of site before he said “She truly is the sweetest smelling mortal, I could smell her from the terraces. He can’t take us all” “Stop this foolish talk. He is not one to trifle with” replied the only soldier with some sense.

“I’m sorry mon étoile. Where were we? Ah, I remember I was just about to kiss you here” he ran his fingertips from Céleste shoulder across her collarbone up her neck and softly turned her chin exposing her neck to him. He tenderly planted kisses on her neck occasionally sucking and nipping at the soft flesh. He laid her back down on the shore and took his place her legs. Celeste had patience for many things but when it came to intimate matters her ability to exhibit patience was less than adequate. It wasn’t that she wasn’t enjoying herself she just needed more and he was going a little too slow for her liking.

“Cassius please. I beg of you” she desperately needed friction so to give him a little motivation she wrapped her legs around his waist as best as she could. “I shouldn’t- it’s not- it wouldn’t be...” his words were failing him. He wanted to respect her innocence but he was struggling to fight his desires. His eyes searched hers. What if he lost control? What if he hurt her? He’d never forgive himself. “If it’s my permission you need you have it Cassius, Please make love to me” she pleaded.

He pulled her dress down freeing her breasts and arms from the confinement of silk and lace and she pulled her dress up exposing herself to him. His teasing touch became much much more purposeful. He Took her nipple into his mouth while he pushed his clothed member against her providing that delightful friction she needed. Quickly he sat up to remove his shirt and looking down at her he finally he freed himself. Her mouth watered as his thick cock sprang to life. He ran the head of it up and down her folds covering himself in her juices before burying himself inside her.

Céleste had known others but Cassius reached a place within her that was still untouched. No one had ventured this far; Cassius reached a place within Céleste that she never knew existed.

He groaned at her earlobe and took it between his teeth as he delivered slow deep heavenly strokes. Céleste’s nails dug into his firm ass cheeks pulling him even deeper inside her.

Cassius rested his forehead on hers just enough for their noses to barely touch. She tried to hold his gaze but her eyes would flutter shut when he rolled his hips into her just right. « Regarde moi » he commanded after grabbing her face. Her moans fueled his need for her as she kept her eyes locked on his while he continued to thrust himself balls deep in her. With each and every stroke her walls gripped him and Now it was Cassius who was struggling to keep his eyes open. This was the best feeling Cassius had ever felt, second only to feeding.

The sound of his balls slapping against her soaked core echoed in Céleste’s ears. The pleasure was too much, Céleste threw her head back and her back arched off the sand. Cassius decided to switch up the pace. He sat up on his haunches and pulled her close to him. He ran his cock through her folds once more and teased her entrance before slowly pushing himself back inside her. With one hand his thumb toyed with her clit while the other had a firm grip on her ass and was pulling her into each of his strokes.

Unbeknownst to Céleste she had been biting her lip so hard to refrain from moaning that it started to bleed ever so slightly. Smelling it Cassius stopped immediately and stared at Céleste in a way she had never seen him look at her before. “Do not quiet yourself, I want all of Marseille to hear you” Cassius kissed Céleste once more and bit her lip just enough for more of her blood to spill into his mouth.

Céleste could feel that his passion had new resolve. His strokes were faster, harder and deeper like something had came over him. It was delightful he was catapulting her to her peak. The walls of the cove and the continuous crashing of the waves providing enough sound dampening for her to express her passion as loudly and as freely as she pleased. “I’m close” she moaned. He smirked at her and placed her legs on his shoulders and began pounding into her. “Fuck ye-ss Cassius, right there please don’t stop” He didn’t stop. He gave it to her just how she wanted until she couldn’t take it. She muttered incoherent babble as her orgasm sent spasms down her spine and her legs shook. Cassius slowed his strokes again allowing her to ride out her high he didn’t want to overstimulate her, not just yet. « Mon étoile, je n'en ai pas encore assez de toi. Êtes-vous prêt pour plus? » he asked once Céleste’s breathing had settled. She was more than ready for whatever else Cassius had in store. She had been waiting for this since the moment she laid eyes on him. « s'il vous plaît, ravissez-moi » she replied.

“Our shift here has ended will you grant us passage back with you to the city?” the same soldiers from earlier were standing before Cassius and Céleste. “Sure” he replied begrudgingly. Cassius held Céleste close while they sailed back. Céleste struggled to keep her eyes open as the sun set on the city. To Cassius’ liking the soldiers leave the couple alone while on the journey.

Once back on shore Cassius walked Céleste back to the carriage. “I shall join you in just a moment. I have a small bit of business I need to tend to then I have another surprise for you” he said with that beautiful smile. The soldiers were still lingering around but Céleste thought nothing of it.

She watched Cassius as he spoke with the other gentleman. He looked so dashing. Almost as if he could feel her eyes on him he turned and smiled at her then went back to his conversation. The soldiers approached the carriage. “Madame, Cassius would like for you to accompany us” one of the soldiers said kindly. Céleste looked at them apprehensively. “It is part of your surprise, please” another soldier opened the carriage door and held his hand out as assistance. “This way” as she followed Céleste began to realize that these man played no part in Cassius’ surprise for her. “I think I should head back to the carriage. I am sure Cassius is looking for me” said Céleste. “Nonsense Cherie” one soldier. “Cassius can wait” said another. “Who does he think he is bringing someone like you around the likes of us. Parading you around” “Fucking you the way he did. Not even asking if we’d like a peice” the soldiers took turns speaking.

Cassius looked back at the carriage and saw the door ajar. “Un moment” he walked towards the carriage. “Céleste?” he called out.

The three soldiers had Céleste surrounded. One of them took a knife from his boot and pointed it at Céleste. For each step he took forward she took one back until she backed into a soldier behind her. With one hand he grabbed her wrists. The other covered her mouth. The soldier who seemed to be in charge smiled. Céleste winced when she felt the tip of the knife Pearce her skin. The soldier had sliced across the top of her breasts. “Let’s see what you taste like Mademoiselle” Céleste was struggled to process what she saw next. Something was approaching. It was moving so fast it could only be perceived as a blur. Suddenly she was freed and behind her she heard loud pops. When she looked down the soldier who had hold of her was laying prone but his neck and face were towards the sky.

She felt protective arms wrap around her. Cassius was standing between her and the other two soldiers. Both soldiers looked very different from just moments ago. The third in command clearly had a broken arm and the the leader was bleeding from the head. “You have two choices here Cassius” he spat out a mouth full of blood on the ground and picked up his knife. “You either let us have her or we will tell Marius what you have just done here” the soldier placed his knife back in his boot. Céleste stood behind Cassius speechless. What would he do Cassius thought to himself. After a brief moment of silence that felt like an eternity to both Cassius and Celeste the lead soldier spoke. “What shall it be Cassius?”

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antinous-posts · 4 years

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David and Jonathan

Jonathan was the son of Saul, king of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, and David was the son of Jesse of Bethlehem, of the tribe of Judah, and Jonathan's presumed rival for the crown. David became king. The covenant the two men had formed eventually led to David, after Jonathan's death, graciously seating Jonathan's son Mephibosheth at his own royal table instead of eradicating the former king Saul's line.

David (Hebrew: דָ��וִד‎; Dāwīḏ or David) and Jonathan (Hebrew: יְהוֹנָתָן‎; Yəhōnāṯān or Yehonatan) were heroic figures of the Kingdom of Israel, who formed a covenant recorded in the books of Samuel.

The biblical text does not explicitly depict the nature of the relationship between David and Jonathan. The traditional and mainstream religious interpretation of the relationship has been one of platonic love and an example of homosociality. Some later Medieval and Renaissance literature drew upon the story to underline strong personal friendships between men, some of which involved romantic love.

In modern times, some scholars, writers, and activists have emphasized elements of homoeroticism in the story. A number of groups made up of gay Roman Catholics trying to reconcile their faith with their sexuality have also adopted the names: Davide e Gionata (Italy), and David et Jonathan (France).

In the Bible

The relationship between David and Jonathan is mainly covered in the Hebrew Bible Book of Samuel. The episodes belong to the story of David's ascent to power, which is commonly regarded as one of the sources of the Deuteronomistic history, and to its later additions.

David, the youngest son of Jesse, slays Goliath at the Valley of Elah where the Philistine army is in a standoff with the army of King Saul (Jonathan's father). David's victory begins a rout of the Philistines who are driven back to Gath and the gates of Ekron. Abner brings David to Saul while David is still holding Goliath's severed head. Jonathan, the eldest son of Saul, has also been fighting the Philistines. Jonathan takes an immediate liking to David and the two form a covenant:

Now it came about when he had finished speaking to Saul, that the soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as himself. Saul took him that day and did not let him return to his father's house. Then Jonathan made a covenant with David because he loved him as himself. Jonathan stripped himself of the robe that was on him and gave it to David, with his armor, including his sword and his bow and his belt. So David went out wherever Saul sent him, and prospered; and Saul set him over the men of war. (NASB)

Death of JonathanEdit

As Saul continues to pursue David, the pair renews their covenant, after which they do not meet again. Eventually Saul and David are reconciled. Jonathan, however, is slain on Mt. Gilboa along with his two brothers Abinadab and Malchi-shua, and there Saul commits suicide. David learns of Saul and Jonathan's death and chants a lament, which in part says:

Saul and Jonathan, beloved and pleasant in their life, And in their death they were not parted; They were swifter than eagles, They were stronger than lions ... How have the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle! Jonathan is slain on your high places. I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan; You have been very pleasant to me. Your love to me was more wonderful than the love of women. How have the mighty fallen, And the weapons of war perished!

The sages characterized the relationship between Jonathan and David in the following Mishnah:

“Whenever love depends on some selfish end, when the end passes away, the love passes away; but if it does not depend on some selfish end, it will never pass away. Which love depended on a selfish end? This was the love of Amnon and Tamar. And which did not depend on a selfish end? This was the love of David and Jonathan. (Avot 5:16)"

Rabbi Shimon ben Tzemach Duran (Spain, North Africa 14th-15th century) delineated the significance of this mishnah:

“Anyone who establishes a friendship for access to power, money, or sexual relations; when these ends are not attainable, the friendship ceases…love that is not dependent on selfish ends is true love of the other person since there is no intended end.” (Magen Avot – abridged and adapted translation)

A platonic interpretation for the relationship between David and Jonathan has been the mainstream view found in biblical exegesis, as led by Christian writers. This argues that the relationship between the two, although strong and close, is ultimately a platonic friendship. The covenant that is made is political, and not erotic; while any intimacy is a case of male bonding and homosociality.

David and Jonathan's love is understood as the intimate camaraderie between two young soldiers with no sexual involvement. The books of Samuel do not actually document physical intimacy between the two characters aside from "kissing," while the euphemisms the Bible uses for sexual relations are missing, and nothing indicates that David and Jonathan had a sexual relationship. Neither of the men is described as having problems in their heterosexual married life. David had an abundance of wives and concubines as well as an adulterous affair with Bathsheba, and apparently suffered impotence only as an old man, while Jonathan had a five-year-old son at his death.

In response to the argument that homoeroticism was edited out, some traditionalists who subscribe to the Documentary Hypothesis note the significance of the lack of censoring of the descriptions at issue, in spite of the Levitical injunctions against homoerotic contact. Gagnon notes, "The narrator’s willingness to speak of David’s vigorous heterosexual life (compare the relationship with Bathsheba) puts in stark relief his (their) complete silence about any sexual activity between David and Jonathan."

Presuming such editing would have taken place, Martti Nissinen comments, "Their mutual love was certainly regarded by the editors as faithful and passionate, but without unseemly allusions to forbidden practices ... Emotional and even physical closeness of two males did not seem to concern the editors of the story, nor was such a relationship prohibited by Leviticus." Homosociality is not seen as being part of the sexual taboo in the biblical world.

Medieval and Renaissance

Medieval literature occasionally drew upon the biblical relationship between David and Jonathan to underline strong personal and intimate friendships between men. The story has also frequently been used as a coded reference to homoerotic relations when the mention was socially discouraged or even punished.

The anonymous Vita Edwardi Secundi, c. 1326 AD, wrote: "Indeed I do remember to have heard that one man so loved another. Jonathan cherished David, Achilles loved Patroclus." And thus, King Edward II wept for his dead lover Piers Gaveston as: "... David had mourned for Jonathan.". Similarly, Roger of Hoveden, a twelfth-century chronicler, deliberately drew comparisons in his description of “The King of France (Philip II Augustus) [who] loved him (Richard the Lionheart) as his own soul.”

The Renaissance artists Donatello and Michelangelo both brought out strong homoerotic elements in their respective sculptures depicting the youthful David.

Modern interpretations

Some modern scholars and writers have interpreted the love between David and Jonathan as more intimate than platonic friendship. This was first pioneered by Tom Horner, then adopted by John Boswell. This interpretation views the bonds the men shared as romantic love, regardless of whether the relationship was physically consummated. Jonathan and David cared deeply about each other in a way that was arguably stronger and more intimate than a platonic friendship.

David's praise in 2 Samuel 1:26 for Jonathan's 'love' (for him) over the 'love' of women is considered evidence for same-sex attraction, along with Saul's exclamation to his son at the dinner table, "I know you have chosen the son of Jesse - which is a disgrace to yourself and the nakedness of your mother!" The "choosing" (bahar) may indicate a permanent choice and firm relationship, and the mention of "nakedness" (erwa) could be interpreted to convey a negative sexual nuance, giving the impression that Saul saw something indecent in Jonathan and David's relationship.

Some also point out that the relationship between the two men is addressed with the same words and emphasis as other love relationships in the Hebrew Testament, whether heterosexual or between God and people: e.g. ahava or אהבה.‎

When they are alone together, David confides that he has "found grace in Jonathan's eyes", a phrase proponents[who?] say normally refers to romantic or physical attraction. However, this phrase is often used in nonromantic contexts as well. Throughout the passages, David and Jonathan consistently affirm and reaffirm their love and devotion to one another, and Jonathan is willing to betray his father, family, wealth, and traditions for David.

That there is more than mere homosociality in the dealings of David and Jonathan is asserted by two recent studies: the biblical scholar Susan Ackerman, and the Orientalist Jean-Fabrice Nardelli. Ackerman and Nardelli argue that the narrators of the books of Samuel encrypted same-sex allusions in the texts where David and Jonathan interact so as to insinuate that the two heroes were lovers. Ackerman explains this as a case of liminal, viz. transitory, homosexuality, deployed by the redactors as a textual means to assert David's rights against Jonathan's: the latter willingly alienated his princely status by bowing down (1 Samuel 20:41), sexually speaking, to the former. Nardelli disagrees and argues that the various covenants Jonathan engaged David into as the superior partner gradually elevated David's status and may be seen as marriage-like.

Susan Ackerman also believes that there is highly eroticized language present in six different sections in the Hebrew Bible in regards to the relationship of David and Jonathan. The six sections she mentions are 1) David and Jonathan's first meeting in 1 Sam. 18:1-18:4 2) the most important description of David and Jonathan's first few meetings in 1 Sam 19:1-19:7. 3) the incident of Saul berating Jonathan for his friendship with David in 1 Sam 20:30-20:34 4) David fleeing from the court of King Saul in 1 Sam. 20:1-20:42 5) the description of David and Jonathan's final meeting in 1 Sam. 23:15-23:18 and 6) David's lament (the Song of the Bow) for Saul and Jonathan. Of these six examples, Ackerman identifies the most important example being the last one (the Song of the Bow) due to David's assertion that Jonathan's love to David "was more wonderful than the love of women"....

Picture: David and Jonathan, windowfrom St. Mark's Portobello, Edinburgh, Scotland, 1882

Source from Wikipedia

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sailorgreywolf-legacy · 7 years

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Legacy - Chapter 30

Mexico looked down at America’s hand, which was holding onto his thigh possessively. America spoke, more to himself than to Mexico “That bastard. I swear I should hurt him for this.” Mexico sighed, “This is the part where I remind you that all this happened centuries ago. I’m the only one who’s allowed to hold grudges for hundreds of years.” America moved his hand even farther up Mexico’s thigh. He looked concerned “So, did he come back that night?” The other laughed and put his hand on America’s “Of course not. I didn’t see him again until the next day. As usual, he apologized for losing his temper, promised he would wait for my consent, and we continued the dance.” America growled “Fucking pedophile. He took advantage of you.” Mexico didn’t have any love for Spain, but he still felt the need to defend him “He isn’t a pedophile. I was a teen, at that time it was perfectly acceptable. Had I been consenting, there would have been nothing wrong with us sleeping together.” The other looked down for a second, obviously not happy with being corrected. Then he changed the subject “Well, your work paid off. I got your letter.” _________________________________________________________________________________________

America looked around to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything important. Packing up the winter camp had been quite a production, but the new found discipline had made it so the army was able to reform into marching condition very quickly. Alfred actually felt like he was the one holding up the progress. There was something that had not ceased to bother him, and that was Mexico. He had received weapons from Spain, which meant that France must have talked to Spain. But, as far as he could tell, France had failed to give his letter to Mexico. America knew he should have expected as much from France. He had probably seen Mexico and decided that he didn’t need the American boy as competition. He turned around one more time and decided that he truly wasn’t forgetting anything. He walked out of the stark building, which was now empty.

It was then that a man, not wearing the uniform of the colonial militia, walked up to him. In another second, the mortal had a gun to his head. The one holding the gun was a colonial solider, the very same Virginian that America had talked to about letters. The solider said “I recognize Spanish colors. What do you want? In 5 words or less.” The unknown messenger glared at the Virginian before looking back at America “Mexico sends his regards.” America’s heart leapt into his throat, Mexico actually got the letter. Better yet, he actually read it. He addressed the solider “That’s enough, Lee. Let him go.” The man obeyed, although he looked like he didn’t quite trust the Spanish man. Once the gun was lowered, the messenger produced a letter, which was neatly folded and sealed. He handed it to America, saying as he did so, “I was instructed to give this to you and only you. You can trust that Spain knows nothing of this letter, or yours.” America took the letter silently and stared at it.

He expected it to vanish as soon as someone pinched him. At this point, it could be a rejection and he wouldn’t care. Mexico had taken the time to put pen to paper and write to him, and that was enough for America. He waited until the other two men walked away. He finally broke the wax seal and unfolded the letter. The first few lines made America feel lightheaded. It read “I have already forgiven you. I forgave you long ago. Don’t worry yourself over my situation when your own is so critical.”

He was forgiven. Everything he had been hoping for came true. He read the rest of the letter as quickly as humanly possible. He skipped over the little words like “a” and “the” in an attempt to absorb the letter more quickly. It wasn’t flowery or sentimental. The language was to the point and relatively brusque, it wasn’t hard to imagine Mexico speaking the words in his usual fashion. But, the message couldn’t be clearer: Mexico didn’t hate him; rather he wished America the best of luck in winning the revolution. The last words were, even with the complete lack of sentiment, the sweetest things America had ever read “I will think of you Alfred, enough for the both of us. You need not think of me. You have a war to win, now go and win it.”

After he finished reading the actual words, America found himself staring at the handwriting. It had a kind of elegance to it, but there was a restrained passion in the flourish at the end of each word. He ran his finger over the words; they left grooves in the paper where they had been written. America tried to imagine Mexico sitting down and writing this letter. In his imagination, Mexico was wearing a white undershirt and very tight black trousers. His black hair was held back in a ponytail. He also, for some reason had a smear of black ink across his cheek, which made him look amazingly sexy. America shook his head and the vision disappeared. The letter was still in his hand, much to his surprise. He had expected it to vanish.

Once the shock began to fade, America felt empowered. If he could get Mexico to write to him just through the force of his words, he could defeat England easily in battle. He folded the letter back up and put it in his pocket. He was going to hold onto this letter, most likely, until the day he died, which, considering the state of his army, wouldn’t be any time soon. He looked up at the horizon, which seemed to have turned incredibly blue, and said, to no one in particular “I’m going to go win my freedom.” _________________________________________________________________________________________

It had been a while since Spain and Mexico had their confrontation, and everything had returned to normal. Or at the very least, everything had returned to as normal as it had been before. It had been easier to spend more and more time with Puerto Rico. She was a soothing person to be around; she was uncomplicated and sweet. After all the drama and political scheming, Mexico was glad to have a little less complication. The only irksome thing was that Puerto Rico had started talking about wedding plans. Mexico didn’t want to be married for many reasons, most prominent among them being that he didn’t want to feel even guiltier about his infidelity. It was almost comforting to know that Spain was never going to actually let them be married. All the same, days spent with Catalina were days that Mexico barely saw Spain aside from the daily dinner, and even that had become awkwardly quiet.

It was a lovely morning in fall and Mexico could not stand being cooped up inside. Puerto Rico actually was the one to suggest they both go for a ride to enjoy the weather. It was a somewhat unspoken reason that they both wanted to get away from prying eyes. Colombia seemed to always walk in on them, and Mexico knew exactly why. Colombia was attempting to prevent any feeling of intimacy by making it feel like it was impossible to get a private moment. The time outside would give them solitude.

He met her in the front hall of the house. Her long hair was held back in a loose braid. She was dressed in a light dress, with a corset around her waist, in short, women’s riding clothes. He was dressed relatively lightly as well, as was fit for a casual occasion. He walked up to her with a smile, “Good morning, Cat. You look beautiful.” She blushed and looked down modestly. He walked forward a few more steps and put his hand softly under her chin and tilted it back up. Their eyes met and they both smiled at the same time. He smiled sweetly, an expression that was matched by Puerto Rico, and he said “You always look beautiful.” She replied “You would say that. You see me through biased eyes.” He could tell that this was false modesty, as was befitting a catholic girl, but he replied to it accordingly “I’m not blinded by love. Everyone can see how lovely you are. I’m just lucky you are mine to love.” She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek “You’re sweet to me. Shall we go? I had one of the servants prepare a picnic for us.” Mexico nodded and took her hand.

The horses were waiting outside, where they were already prepared. Philippines handed Mexico his reigns wordlessly. He could tell from her glare that she didn’t approve of him spending this time with his fiancé. However, he ignored it. It was not her opinion that mattered in regard to his love life. He mounted his horse, which Philippines had miraculously been able to saddle. With a flick of the reigns, Mexico’s stallion took off at full speed. Mexico greatly disliked riding slowly; it was like restraining the horse’s natural potential. Puerto Rico kept up easily. It was not lady like, but she understood that she needed to keep up with her fiancé.

The horses eventually slowed down as they tired. With the speed they were riding, they reached an open clearing, surrounded on one side by trees. At this point they both stopped. Mexico dismounted first and walked over to his fiancé’s horse. He helped her down by putting his hands on her waist and lifting her down. Once she was on the ground, she smiled up at him and said “You’re such a gentleman, Alejandro.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips before saying “Only for you my love.” She responded “Then I am a fortunate woman.” She returned his kiss more passionately. For a couple moments, there was nothing but the feeling of her lips against his. When they finally broke apart, Mexico couldn’t help but smile.

He wished life was really this simple. He profoundly wished he could tell Puerto Rico everything about his life, all the secrets he was keeping, but he couldn’t because she would not understand his hate. In the moment, he was stuck between two feelings. He wanted this simplicity and sweetness, but the need for vengeance kept him from being able to give his whole heart to her. She spoke “We should unpack the things and then we can talk.”

They set up the picnic under a tree so that they were protected from the sun. Although it was a nice day, the warm weather was a bit uncomfortable in direct sunlight. At first the conversation was light, mostly the gossip around the court. She mentioned lightly “I heard one of your couriers met a rather unfortunate end recently.” Mexico knew exactly who she was talking about. He couldn’t abide traitors within his own ranks, especially with so much at stake. He responded “It is sad, but some men should pick their bar fights more carefully.” That was not strictly true, but it was close enough. The man had died in a bar, but Mexico had personally been there. It had not been a fight; it had simply been a knife between the ribs. Puerto Rico didn’t see the incident as anything more than an unfortunate accident, which was the way it should be. From there, the conversation lapsed back into light discussion.

However, eventually Puerto Rico brought up something that seemed to be bothering her deeply “Alejandro, do you still love me?” He was understandably shocked “Of course I do, why would you ask me such a thing?” To emphasize the sincerity of his statement, Mexico put his hand softly on her cheek. Puerto Rico looked down for a second, as though looking for the right words to state her observation. She finally looked back at him and said, her voice relatively measured, “I feel that you are slipping away from me. When we first met, you looked at me with so much lust and passion that it was almost frightening. But now, I don’t see any of it. It is like I have been replaced by some greater passion, I know not what. I fear that if I do not reach out to you soon, I will lose you.” Mexico should have figured as much, Puerto Rico was seeing that he was not committed to the relationship. He couldn’t tell her why though, because that would require telling her about his revolution.

He came up with a response that was somewhat close to the truth, “Cat, I love you; I always have and always will. Partially, I have learned to temper my passions because I knew it scared you. I have also been distracted by recent events in the Americas. The revolution in the English colonies is close to my Northern border.” She seemed to be studying his eyes to see if the words were genuine, or perhaps she was looking for some spark of passion. Whatever she seemed to see in his eyes comforted her. She matched his hand on her cheek by putting her hand on his, “Don’t shut me out. Let me be a balm for your worry. I will do anything to make you happy.” She took his hand from her cheek and moved it to her thigh, which was covered in only light cloth. She repeated, her dark brown eyes looking directly into his, “Anything at all that would make you happy.” She moved his hand farther up her thigh.

Mexico was quick to stop that “You do not need to use your body to make me happy.” He pulled his hand away, “Sin is not the answer. We are not yet married, to consummate before marriage is a sin.” She sighed and took a small sip of wine “We are going to be married, so does the time matter? Our engagement is never going to be annulled. If this will rekindle your passion for me, I will do it.” Mexico was not as against sinning as he was saying, his affair with Brazil proved that. But, although he did feel lust towards Puerto Rico, he wanted her to be pure. She was one of the few truly innocent people in his life, and he didn’t want to corrupt that innocence. He also knew that when the revolution came, their engagement would be broken. If she was not a virgin at that time, then she would eternally hate him for his deceit. He responded again “You don’t need to, Cat. All I need you to do is be there for me when I am in need of a sympathetic ear.” She nodded and looked slightly relieved. Mexico touched her cheek again and ran his hand lightly down her face and neck. He leaned in again and kissed her lips again. His hands were more brazen now to show his passion. He let them roam over her chest. She pulled herself closer, using one of her hands around his neck. They were dangerously close to both losing control, but it didn’t matter.

The moment was broken by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him. Mexico broke the kiss to turn around. A mortal messenger was standing behind him, looking at the two of them with a mix a fascination and envy. Mexico addressed him “I did specifically state that I did not want to be disturbed today. This better be very important.” The man spoke “Spain has summoned you. He said you must return at once. It is urgent.” The Aztec boy swore under his breathe, but he knew that he needed to heed the order. He looked at Puerto Rico and said “I’m sorry; I do not want to abandon you.” She responded “You have your duties, I can wait for you.” Mexico nodded and stood up. _________________________________________________________________________________________

The ride back was short, but it gave him time to think about things. He had no idea what could be so urgent, but summons from Spain were very rarely good. He reached the house and quickly found Spain in one of the larger rooms with Peru, Colombia, Bolivia, Chile, and Venezuela, the last of whom had come to Spain at the same time Mexico had. It must be a truly important matter if all of the big colonies were here to talk about it. Spain seemed exceptionally agitated; he was pacing rapidly. Once he had noticed Mexico’s presence, he said with a sweeping gesture “Good, everyone is here. You should all sit; I have a lot to say.”

Venezuela sat in the only available armchair. Predictably, Bolivia, Chile, and Peru all sat together on the biggest available couch. This left Mexico to sit with Colombia on a rather small couch. The other glanced suggestively at Mexico, who tried his best to ignore how provocative Colombia was being. Spain didn’t pay attention to the seating arrangements, which was lucky. Instead, he started speaking at once “I have received a letter from France. The 13 colonies have won the war for independence. He is now one country and he is calling himself the United States of America.” Everyone, with the exception of Chile, started talking at once, mostly to each other. Colombia turned to Mexico and said simply “So it is possible.” The Aztec boy responded “Not for anyone else, now Europe is on high alert.”

Spain quickly took control of the conversation, “Quiet, everyone. I am aware of how shocking this is. No one thought an upstart like him would ever be able to win. But I need to stress to you all that I am not England. We need to stand strong as an empire, not fracture. I will not tolerate revolution in my empire.” Mexico understood why Spain was resorting to bluster; revolution could spread now that it was proven to work. Spain, of all people, was scared of losing his empire. It was the only thing that had ever brought him prestige, and he couldn’t lose that. Spain continued to talk, “You are all strictly forbidden from communicating with the United States in any way. I will not have him corrupting any of you. If he attempts contact, I want to know at once.” He finally stopped pacing and looked directly at Mexico, “Alejandro, I want you to be especially cautious. Alfred has shown interest in you.” Colombia scoffed “Well that figures. Alejandro does seem to attract eyes.” Mexico glanced over at him. Colombia looked completely and utterly jealous. Spain concluded “That is all. Remember that revolution is the worst kind of sin, and god will not save your soul after I break your body. You are all mine, and that is not going to change, not now or ever at any point in the future.”

#hetalia #aph hetalia

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honestlyfrance · 4 years

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to cease intimacy

warnings/content: fluff, first dates, swearing, there's a scene where there's an almost car accident but it never happens, stargazing, college AU (but you wouldn’t really know)

word count: 7.4k

summary:

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Buck!” Sam spoke, his heart full of happiness it’s just shaking right out of him. “You really can’t have danger out of your hair. Keep your eyes on the road. You’ll have all the time in the world soon—”

“—to see the stars in your eyes, I hope so.” Bucky cheekily chimed in, quickly turning back towards the road, and soon he heard Sam’s charming laugh.

Bucky Barnes, a lover of the stars, begins to risk it all when Sam Wilson, a lover in his writing, had publicly posted about his reluctant crush. Never wanting anything so badly in his life, Bucky took the leap of asking Sam out despite not being sure if this crush was even him, which ensues into a fumbling mess of date ideas that were settled by a walk by the river and blunt confessions professed under the sunset.

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #winterfalcon #france: works #france: cease intimacy #france: writing

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wasalwaysagreatpickle · 4 years

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Sunday 11 February 1827

8 55/60

12 20/60

Incurred a cross thinking of Mrs B- [Barlow] –

In my room at 9 20/60 – finished dressing – breakfast at 10 20/60 – the thought struck me to write to Miss Fletcher and to Miss Yorke – sat musing till 11 5/60 –

Sat down to write to Miss Fletcher did two long ish lines musing how to go on for three quarters hour found I could not make it do so. Determined to give up the thought regretting the time I have just wasted I see if I wrote it will probably renew the correspondence I must say something to conciliatory and then there will be a chance of an intimacy. I do not wish for for I should neither like her she is too vulgar nor could she profit me let the matter rest as it is

Wrote the last [five] lines – at 12 took up my letter to IN [Isabella Norcliffe] written yesterday mention the difficulty we had in finding an apartment to suit us, and the day of our coming here – mention our no. of rooms – furnished for us by especial favour – this determined us to take the apartment though we ‘are a story higher than we intended and mount the staircase a good one ‘au fond de la cour’ – glad to get out of au hôtel garni – would have furnished for ourselves rather than not be in a maison bourgeoise – mention the occupiers of the house – our rent less than before but shall not save much this year on account of extras we have had to buy – have spent about £100, but hope we have got all we want – ‘Both my aunt and I dislike a premier; tis too near the noise and dust: - but we wished for a deuxième over au entresol; and our present apartment troisième –

Isabella, I have really thought of you after then you have fancied……the following sentence struck me forcibly – ‘ I much fear it will be out of my power to come to Paris’ – so long as your not coming depended upon my aunt’s health, I was satisfied, hoping that she might be better, or if not, being well assumed, that the not seeing my friends could not be many years protracted on her account – as it is, she is marvellously recovered since I wrote to you; - our present situation suits her admirably; - she is already much improved in strength, and looks, since we came here; - and yet, now that she is well enough to see you, other obstacles arise – you say not a word of your health – all I hope is, that it is not on this account, that you cannot once more visit Paris – But I have my fears and shall not be at ease on this subject till you have written to me again.’ –

Glad she does not doubt my affection – explain how 3 of my letters to Shibden having not been received there mention the date of the 2 last, my father and Marian had been annoyed and the former sent a message through Messers Rawson ‘preferred inquiring through my banker to writing 2 or 3 lines themselves!’

Observations on the dilatoriness of French workmen – mention my having written to Mrs Knight, and having lost not a moment in desiring to be put down as a subscriber for the benefit of the family –

‘I am not so forgetful of my friends in England as may be thought’ – send my love to Miss Ellen Duffin (think Mr D- [Duffin] will be 79 next June or July, but not certain of the month) ‘tell her I think she has as many of my thoughts as she would value’ should be glad of ‘a message to say more particularly that she and her sisters and children are well’ - …I should have liked much to be of your party to hear Mrs Bartley recite the ode on the passions – it would have reminded me of former days, days which I shall never cease to remember with interest and pleasure –

Time has been busy Isabel, with you and me since then – we are not what we were – our youth, and better years are gone – but our regard remains and surely, surely, shall remain till time itself be dead to you and me! Listen not, - listen not to the treacherous voice that e’er can whisper, I have forgotten you, or ceased to love you – Isabel! I am not so fickle as the world may think – and you and your family will be the last to leave a heart where they lived so long – I know I am not what I used to be; for cares and sorrows have not passed me by unheeded: but ‘the heart that has truly loved never forgets’; and memory can subsist with me on other food than letters – judge me by yours – I ask no more – like mine, your pen is idle, but your thought is true – If my aunt’s health continues improving, it is not quite impossible I may be in England for 2 or 3 weeks in the summer – should this be the case, it is surely not quite imposs[ible] that you may return with me’ – ask what Mrs N- [Norcliffe] can be about not to write to me – say they had best spend next winter here – ‘I do not think it would make any serious difference in your expenditure’ – Paris dull this winter – the lower classes in France much distressed and ‘ nobody in buoyant spirits’ …. ‘Mariana tells me of Duncan’s being gone to Addiscombe – she has great hope of being able to get Charles on the foundation at Eton, but is not quite sure yet – I trust, however, her indefatigable exertions will succeed; and thus she will have provided for 2 of those boys – I hope her family is sensible of the anxiety she has always felt to serve them’ - ….

‘I know not how it is, I am busy all the day, and asleep on the sofa every evening after dinner – I really cannot keep my eyes open – visiting is out of the question’ (had observed before I saw nobody but ‘Mrs B- [Barlow] Madame G- [Galvani] and very occasionally Madame Droz) – ‘I should certainly be slumbering – However, except a little inconvenience from indigestion, I am quite well – I am just getting in a stock of Burgundy, which you must help us to drink – Bordeaux is too acrid for my aunt’ – Had observed p.2. I had given myself no trouble about going to the theatre to see Yates ‘you will think me very stupid - perhaps you will think right – Now that I hope to be less harassed on my aunt’s account, and on other account’s, I intend to take care of myself, and try if I cannot make Paris agree with me better than it has done hitherto – I have suffered a good deal from what I never suffered before, indigestion – my aunt lives quite a l’anglais – I do not think this quite suits me in France – at all rates, I am not like you, a hater of French cookery’ –

From 12 3/4 to 1 3/4 read aloud (with difficulty having a little cold on my chest – have caught it from Mrs B- [Barlow?]) the morning prayers (leaving out the [literary] and communion service except the epistle and gospel) and sermon 116p. [Sandford] – Stayed talking to my aunt – just before and after reading prayers.

Wrote all but the 1st six lines of today which took me till now 2 25/60 – feel a good deal of wind on my stomach – somehow I cannot get rid of this indigestion – looking over my imperial for the satin ture gown I have lately meant at her request to give my aunt – gave it to her; and she thinks it will do very well –

Scaled my teeth cut my eye lashes and

Went out at 3 3/4 – direct to the Tuileries clock to see the hour – there through the barriere de l’etoile to the bois to the bois de Boulogne – just went in at the gate and got back to Mrs B- [Barlow’s], in 35 minutes at 5 20/60 – Jane up and better – Therèse better Mrs B- [Barlow] pretty well – she sat with me tête à tête in the drawing room till 6, and got home in 5 minutes –

Dinner at 6 1/4 in the drawing room at 8 20/60 – slept – came to my room at 9 40/60 – wrote the last 3 1/2 lines, and [did] my clothes for the wash and wrote out the bills, all and cutting [?] papers which took me till 11 55/60 very fine day –

Hard frost Fahrenheit 24 at 9 a.m. 30 at 12 1/4 p.m. 28 at 10 1/4 p.m.

#anne lister #maria barlow #1827 #paris #anne lister code breaker

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helloundercub · 5 years

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With their heady brew of well-known names, soiled secrets and techniques and Victorian ethical outrage, it’s no marvel the courtroom trials involving famend playwright Oscar Wilde enthralled most of the people through the last decade of the 19th century.

Wilde, an Anglo-Irish playwright and bon vivant, was recognized for his acerbic wit and celebrated works, together with Woman Windermere’s Fan, A Lady of No Significance, The Image of Dorian Grey and The Significance of Being Earnest. In early 1895, the husband and father of two was on the peak of his fame and success; his play, Earnest, had debuted to nice acclaim in February that yr, making him the toast of London.

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By the top of Might, Wilde’s life can be turned the wrong way up. Convicted of gross indecency, he was sentenced to 2 years of arduous labor in jail. Three years following his launch from jail, he would die, impoverished, in France.

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Oscar Wilde together with his lover Lord Alfred ‘Bosie’ Douglas, generally known as a spoilt dandy.

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His lover’s father was disgusted by the liaison.

Wilde (1854–1900) met Lord Alfred “Bosie” Douglas in the summertime of 1891 and the 2 quickly turned lovers. It was an affair of the guts that may span years, and continents, and would finally result in Wilde’s very public downfall. Douglas, the third son of the Marquess of Queensberry, was 16 years Wilde’s junior. Reportedly a dissolute, extravagant dandy, he was virtually inseparable from Wilde till the latter’s arrest 4 years later.

It was Douglas’s father’s response to the entire affair that prompted the fateful courtroom proceedings. Queensberry (John Sholto Douglas) was a Scottish nobleman greatest recognized for selling guidelines for novice boxing, the “Queensberry Guidelines.” By early 1894, Queensberry was sure the flamboyant Wilde was a gay and demanded his son reduce off contact with the author. (The Victorian period was particularly recognized for its tradition of sexual repression, and carnal exercise between males was a felony offense in the UK till the late 1960s.)

“Your intimacy with this man Wilde should both stop or I’ll disown you and cease all cash provides,” Queensberry wrote to his son in April of 1894. Douglas ignored his father’s rising condemnation of Wilde, incensing Queensberry and fueling his hostility towards his son’s alleged lover.

First, Queensberry tried to disrupt the debut of The Significance of Being Earnest, the place he deliberate to current the playwright with a bouquet of rotten greens and inform theatergoers of Wilde’s alleged scandalous way of life. Thwarted, he then visited London’s Albemarle Membership, of which Wilde and his spouse, Constance, have been members.

Queensberry left a card with the porter of the membership, asking that it’s handed to Wilde. Written on the cardboard was, “For Oscar Wilde, posing somdomite [sic].” Affronted and embarrassed, Wilde wrote to Douglas, saying he believed there was nothing left to do however criminally prosecute Queensberry for libel. “My entire life appears ruined by this man. The tower of ivory is assailed by the foul factor,” Wilde wrote.

Wilde went on the offensive.

Throughout preparations for his case towards Queensberry, Wilde’s legal professionals requested him immediately whether or not there was any fact to the allegations of homosexuality. In line with Wilde, the allegations have been “completely false and groundless.” Forward of the April 1895 trial date, Wilde and Douglas journeyed collectively to the south of France.

Wilde’s first trial (Wilde v. Queensberry) started April three on the Central Legal Courtroom of England and Wales, generally often known as Previous Bailey. Trying to get forward of Queensberry’s accusations, Wilde’s lawyer Sir Edward Clarke, included the studying of one of many playwright’s letters to Douglas that would recommend a gay relationship between the correspondents. Whereas Clarke admitted the wording could seem “extravagant,” he reminded the courtroom that Wilde was a poet, and the letter ought to be learn as “the expression of true poetic feeling, and with no relation no matter to the hateful and repulsive recommendations put to it within the plea on this case,” in line with trial transcripts.

Wilde quickly took the stand, telling the courtroom of the harassment he had endured from Queensberry. Requested publicly if any of the allegations have been true, Wilde replied: “There isn’t a fact in any way in any of the allegations, no fact in any way.”

Cross-examined by Queensberry’s lawyer Edward Carson, Wilde was referred to as upon to defend his revealed works on the idea they contained immoral themes, or had gay overtones. He was then questioned about previous relationships he had had with younger males.

The ever-eloquent Wilde displayed a dexterous command of the English language—and a penchant for witticisms that might ultimately incriminate him in courtroom. On the second day, Wilde was questioned a few 16-year-old male acquaintance named Walter Grainger and whether or not or not he had kissed the teenager. “Oh, pricey no. He was a peculiarly plain boy. He was, sadly extraordinarily ugly. I pitied him for it,” Wilde replied.

Urgent Wilde over his response, Carson continued to ask if that was the only cause he didn’t kiss the boy, just because he was ugly. “Why, why, why did you add that?” Carson demanded. Wilde’s reply? “You sting me and insult me and attempt to unnerve me; and at occasions one says issues flippantly when one ought to talk extra critically.”

The identical afternoon, the prosecution closed its arguments with out calling Douglas to testify as deliberate. It was not wanting good for Wilde.

Oscar Wilde Photograph By Napoleon Sarony by way of Wikimedia Commons

One trial beget one other.

In protection of Queensberry, Carson introduced in his opening speech that he meant to name to testify a lot of younger males with whom Wilde had had sexual encounters. Such accusations have been extra than simply phrases in 1895, when it was a criminal offense in England for any individual to commit “gross indecency,” because the regulation had been interpreted to criminalize any sort of sexual exercise between members of the identical intercourse. That night, afraid of the place the trial could lead on, Clarke urged Wilde to drop the case. The next morning, Clarke introduced the withdrawal of Wilde’s libel go well with towards Queensberry. A verdict of “not responsible” was the courtroom’s remaining choice within the matter.

Through the trial, Queensberry’s lawyer had forwarded copies of statements by the younger males scheduled to seem as witnesses to the director of public prosecutions, leading to a warrant for Wilde’s arrest on expenses of sodomy and gross indecency the identical day Queensberry’s “not responsible’ verdict was handed down.

Wilde would in a short time be again in courtroom—this time within the position of the accused.

The primary legal trial of Wilde (The Crown v. Wilde) started April 26. Wilde and Alfred Taylor, the person accused of procuring younger males for the playwright, confronted 25 counts of gross indecencies and conspiracy to commit gross indecencies. Wilde pleaded “not responsible” to the fees. Quite a few male witnesses testified for the prosecution, detailing their participation in sexual acts with Wilde. Most expressed disgrace over their actions.

In contrast to his look at Queensberry’s trial, a extra subdued Wilde took the stand on the fourth day. He continued to disclaim all fees towards him. Throughout his testimony, Prosecutor Charles Gill requested Wilde concerning the which means of a line in a poem by Douglas: “What’s ‘the love that dare not converse its identify’?”

“‘The love that dare not converse its identify’ on this century is such an excellent affection of an elder for a youthful man as there was between David and Jonathan, reminiscent of Plato made the very foundation of his philosophy, and resembling you discover within the sonnets of Michelangelo and Shakespeare,” Wilde answered. “It’s that deep religious affection that’s as pure as it’s good. It dictates and pervades nice artistic endeavors, like these of Shakespeare and Michelangelo, and people two letters of mine, resembling they’re… It’s lovely, it’s fantastic, it’s the noblest type of affection. There’s nothing unnatural about it. It’s mental, and it repeatedly exists between an older man and a youthful man, when the older man has mind, and the youthful man has all the enjoyment, hope and glamor of life earlier than him. That it must be so, the world doesn’t perceive. The world mocks at it, and typically places one within the pillory for it.”

Although Wilde’s reply appeared to strengthen the fees towards him, the jury reportedly deliberated for 3 hours earlier than deciding they might not attain a verdict. Wilde was launched on bail.

A 3rd trial sealed the author’s destiny.

Three weeks later, on Might 20, Wilde was again in courtroom to face the identical costs. The federal government was pushing for a verdict.

The prosecution, spearheaded by solicitor common Frank Lockwood, had tightened its case towards Wilde, reportedly dropping weaker witnesses from the primary legal trial. Summing up, Lockwood said: “You can’t fail to place the interpretation on the conduct of the prisoner that he’s a responsible man, and also you should say so by your verdict.”

Hours of deliberation handed earlier than the jury handed down their conclusion: responsible on nearly all of counts. Reviews of the time say Wilde’s face turned grey when the decision was learn.

Wilde and Taylor have been convicted of gross indecency and sentenced to 2 years exhausting labor, the utmost allowable for the crime. When the sentence was handed down, shouts of “Disgrace!” erupted within the courtroom. “And I? Might I say nothing, my Lord?” Wilde responded, however the courtroom was adjourned.

After his conviction, Wilde’s spouse Constance modified her and her sons’ final identify to Holland, in an effort to distance themselves from the much-discussed scandal, and moved to Switzerland the place she died in 1898. The couple by no means divorced.

Following his two years in jail, Wilde was bodily lowered and bankrupt. He went into exile in France, residing with buddies or staying in low cost lodging, writing little. Wilde died of meningitis on Nov. 30, 1900. He was 46.

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hellowolffootystuff · 5 years

Text

Getty Pictures

Thanks for watching!Go to Web site

Oscar Wilde together with his lover Lord Alfred ‘Bosie’ Douglas, generally known as a spoilt dandy.

Getty Pictures

His lover’s father was disgusted by the liaison.

Wilde went on the offensive.

The identical afternoon, the prosecution closed its arguments with out calling Douglas to testify as deliberate. It was not wanting good for Wilde.

Oscar Wilde Photograph By Napoleon Sarony by way of Wikimedia Commons

One trial beget one other.

Wilde would in a short time be again in courtroom—this time within the position of the accused.

Although Wilde’s reply appeared to strengthen the fees towards him, the jury reportedly deliberated for 3 hours earlier than deciding they might not attain a verdict. Wilde was launched on bail.

A 3rd trial sealed the author’s destiny.

Three weeks later, on Might 20, Wilde was again in courtroom to face the identical costs. The federal government was pushing for a verdict.

Hours of deliberation handed earlier than the jury handed down their conclusion: responsible on nearly all of counts. Reviews of the time say Wilde’s face turned grey when the decision was learn.

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The post How Oscar Wilde’s Libel Trial Backfired and Ruined His Life appeared first on Geek Sprinkles.

#Games #History & Culture #News

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ourartemisparker-blog · 5 years

Text

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Thanks for watching!Go to Web site

Oscar Wilde together with his lover Lord Alfred ‘Bosie’ Douglas, generally known as a spoilt dandy.

Getty Pictures

His lover’s father was disgusted by the liaison.

Wilde went on the offensive.

The identical afternoon, the prosecution closed its arguments with out calling Douglas to testify as deliberate. It was not wanting good for Wilde.

Oscar Wilde Photograph By Napoleon Sarony by way of Wikimedia Commons

One trial beget one other.

Wilde would in a short time be again in courtroom—this time within the position of the accused.

Although Wilde’s reply appeared to strengthen the fees towards him, the jury reportedly deliberated for 3 hours earlier than deciding they might not attain a verdict. Wilde was launched on bail.

A 3rd trial sealed the author’s destiny.

Three weeks later, on Might 20, Wilde was again in courtroom to face the identical costs. The federal government was pushing for a verdict.

Hours of deliberation handed earlier than the jury handed down their conclusion: responsible on nearly all of counts. Reviews of the time say Wilde’s face turned grey when the decision was learn.

)();

The post How Oscar Wilde’s Libel Trial Backfired and Ruined His Life appeared first on Geek Sprinkles.

#Games #History & Culture #News

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cautelo-sa · 5 years

Text

Getty Pictures

Thanks for watching!Go to Web site

Oscar Wilde together with his lover Lord Alfred ‘Bosie’ Douglas, generally known as a spoilt dandy.

Getty Pictures

His lover’s father was disgusted by the liaison.

Wilde went on the offensive.

The identical afternoon, the prosecution closed its arguments with out calling Douglas to testify as deliberate. It was not wanting good for Wilde.

Oscar Wilde Photograph By Napoleon Sarony by way of Wikimedia Commons

One trial beget one other.

Wilde would in a short time be again in courtroom—this time within the position of the accused.

Although Wilde’s reply appeared to strengthen the fees towards him, the jury reportedly deliberated for 3 hours earlier than deciding they might not attain a verdict. Wilde was launched on bail.

A 3rd trial sealed the author’s destiny.

Three weeks later, on Might 20, Wilde was again in courtroom to face the identical costs. The federal government was pushing for a verdict.

Hours of deliberation handed earlier than the jury handed down their conclusion: responsible on nearly all of counts. Reviews of the time say Wilde’s face turned grey when the decision was learn.

)();

The post How Oscar Wilde’s Libel Trial Backfired and Ruined His Life appeared first on Geek Sprinkles.

#Games #History & Culture #News

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go-varundhawan-love · 5 years

Text

Getty Pictures

Thanks for watching!Go to Web site

Oscar Wilde together with his lover Lord Alfred ‘Bosie’ Douglas, generally known as a spoilt dandy.

Getty Pictures

His lover’s father was disgusted by the liaison.

Wilde went on the offensive.

The identical afternoon, the prosecution closed its arguments with out calling Douglas to testify as deliberate. It was not wanting good for Wilde.

Oscar Wilde Photograph By Napoleon Sarony by way of Wikimedia Commons

One trial beget one other.

Wilde would in a short time be again in courtroom—this time within the position of the accused.

Although Wilde’s reply appeared to strengthen the fees towards him, the jury reportedly deliberated for 3 hours earlier than deciding they might not attain a verdict. Wilde was launched on bail.

A 3rd trial sealed the author’s destiny.

Three weeks later, on Might 20, Wilde was again in courtroom to face the identical costs. The federal government was pushing for a verdict.

Hours of deliberation handed earlier than the jury handed down their conclusion: responsible on nearly all of counts. Reviews of the time say Wilde’s face turned grey when the decision was learn.

)();

The post How Oscar Wilde’s Libel Trial Backfired and Ruined His Life appeared first on Geek Sprinkles.

#Games #History & Culture #News

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peachypeach-xoxo-blog · 5 years

Text

Getty Pictures

Thanks for watching!Go to Web site

Oscar Wilde together with his lover Lord Alfred ‘Bosie’ Douglas, generally known as a spoilt dandy.

Getty Pictures

His lover’s father was disgusted by the liaison.

Wilde went on the offensive.

The identical afternoon, the prosecution closed its arguments with out calling Douglas to testify as deliberate. It was not wanting good for Wilde.

Oscar Wilde Photograph By Napoleon Sarony by way of Wikimedia Commons

One trial beget one other.

Wilde would in a short time be again in courtroom—this time within the position of the accused.

Although Wilde’s reply appeared to strengthen the fees towards him, the jury reportedly deliberated for 3 hours earlier than deciding they might not attain a verdict. Wilde was launched on bail.

A 3rd trial sealed the author’s destiny.

Three weeks later, on Might 20, Wilde was again in courtroom to face the identical costs. The federal government was pushing for a verdict.

Hours of deliberation handed earlier than the jury handed down their conclusion: responsible on nearly all of counts. Reviews of the time say Wilde’s face turned grey when the decision was learn.

)();

The post How Oscar Wilde’s Libel Trial Backfired and Ruined His Life appeared first on Geek Sprinkles.

#Games #History & Culture #News

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